Dorothy's Double. Volume 3 (of 3)

  CHAPTER XXII

  The evening after the departure of the men who had terrorised the camp,a general meeting was held and the proceedings of Judge Lynch wereendorsed by a unanimous vote. It was resolved that the camp should bekept free from professional gamblers and hard characters, and JudgeLynch was requested to give warning to any such men as might come, toclear off without delay. Except those absolutely concerned in the affairof the night before, none in camp knew who were the men who had carriedit out. It was an understood thing in the mining camps that the identityof Judge Lynch and his band should not be inquired into or even guessedat. Had their identity been established, it would have been unsafe forany of them to have gone beyond the limits of their camp, and the riskwould have been so great that it would have been difficult to get men toact, had they not known that the most absolute secrecy would bemaintained.

  Some of the miners who were in the habit of playing high grumbledsomewhat at the expulsion of Mason, who had not himself been concernedin any of the shooting affrays. Two or three of them packed up theirkits and left the camp on the day following the expulsion of the gamblerand his associates, but the general result was that the saloon wasbetter attended than ever. There was still a good deal of play going on,for cards formed one of the few amusements of the miners, but as long asthey played against each other, the stakes were comparatively moderate,and men were pretty sure that if they lost they, at least, lost fairly.

  The intimacy between Ned Hampton and the girl who went by the name ofLinda increased. She had given him a bright nod the first time he wentinto the saloon after the revolution.

  'You see there was nothing to be nervous about,' he said; 'the matterwas very easily carried out.'

  'It is a comfort to know that they are all gone. I hope we shall havepeace and quiet now. I hope no one knows that you had anything to dowith it.'

  'No; it is known only to those who took part in it, and no one butyourself knows that I was one of them.'

  'No, but some suspect it. My father and Murdoch both do. They weretalking about it this morning. They don't know whether to be glad orsorry. Mason paid well for the use of that inner room, but of latecustom has fallen off in other respects. During the last two days wehave taken twice as much as we were doing before, so that I think thingswill be about even. They were asking me about you, and if I knewanything of your history; but, of course, I could tell them nothing,because I don't know anything myself.'

  'I don't think any of us know much of each other's antecedents,' Nedsaid. 'For anything you know I may be either an escaped convict or aduke in disguise; for anything I know you may be the daughter of the manyou call your father or you may not. You may be a lady of rank, who has,from a spirit of adventure, come out here. You may have been brought upin poverty and misery in some London slum. It is certainly not the rulehere in the diggings to ask people who they are or where they comefrom.'

  The girl had turned suddenly pale. She was silent for a moment when heceased speaking, and then said--

  'It is not very civil of you to suggest that I may have been brought upin a slum.'

  'I was merely putting it generally,' he said. 'Just as I suggested thatI might be an escaped convict for aught you knew.'

  Truscott and Murdoch had indeed noticed with some uneasiness that thegirl had seemed inclined to be much more friendly with Ned than she hadbeen with any one else since they had come out. On the journey acrossthe plains they had travelled so much faster than the majority thatthere was no opportunity for forming many intimacies. Since they hadbeen in California they had seen with great satisfaction that she hadstrictly followed out the line they had impressed upon her, that whilecivil to all she had treated them with the most absolute impartiality,showing no preference of the slightest kind. The rough compliments paidto her were simply laughed away, and, if persevered in, those whouttered them found that they had no further opportunities ofconversation, and that they were completely ignored the next time theycame to the bar.

  The interests of the two men were so strongly concerned in the matterthat they watched her closely, and were not long in noticing thatwhenever Ned presented himself at the bar she would in a very short timecome across from her place behind to speak to him, sometimes onlyexchanging a word or two, at others, if business happened to be at allslack, chatting with him for some minutes. That day, when as usual theysat down to dinner together, Truscott said:

  'You seem to be taken with that young fellow who chucked Wyoming Billout the other day. I should not encourage him, or it will be noticed bythe others, and that will do us harm.'

  The girl flushed angrily. 'You can keep your advice to yourself,' shesaid. 'He is the most decent man I have met out here, and I like to talkto him; he does not pay me compliments or talk nonsense, but just chatsto me as he would to any one else. I don't interfere with you, and youhad best not interfere with me.'

  'Well, you need not be so hot about it,' the man said; 'there was noharm meant.'

  And so the subject dropped for the time, but the two men talked it overseriously when they were alone.

  Another fortnight passed. Ned worked steadily on the claim, which wasturning out exceedingly well. Jacob went backwards and forwards forsupplies. The camp increased in size, and most of the miners were doingfairly well. The saloon was crowded at meal times, and in the evening;the back room was still used for play, but no professional gambler hadventured into the camp. Truscott himself, however, frequently took thebank, although always making a protest before doing so, and putting itas a favour. He refused, however, to play for really high stakes, butthe amounts staked were considerably above those played for by theminers at the other tables.

  Jacob, who occasionally went to the saloon with Ned, was more and moreconvinced that the woman behind the bar was the girl he had known inPiper's Court; and the sudden change in her face when he had spoken toher as to what her past history might be, had still more brought Nedover to the belief that the lad might be right. He himself was feelinganxious and undecided. He seemed no nearer getting at the end he desiredthan he had been a month before, and he could not conceal from himselfthat this girl showed pleasure when she met him, that her mannersoftened, and that once or twice when he had come suddenly upon her, hercheek had flushed. An occasional rough joke from his mates showed thatit was considered in camp a settled thing that he would carry off thewoman whose presence was considered by the superstitious miners to havebrought luck to them all.

  Hitherto, except on the occasions when she came out to speak to him, hehad only met her at the bar. She had more than once mentioned that shewent out every morning and afternoon for a stroll through the camp whilethe diggers were all at work, but being unable to arrive at anyconclusion as to his best course, he had not availed himself of whatseemed to him a half invitation to meet her. At last, however, hedetermined to see what would come of it, and making some excuse to leavehis work soon after breakfast, went up into the camp. From his tent hecould see the saloon, and after watching for half-an-hour he saw thegirl come out. Marking the way she went, he followed and overtook herjust outside the camp. There was no mistaking the look of pleasure inher face.

  'Not at work?' she said. 'Is anything the matter?'

  'Nothing is the matter, except that I felt unusually lazy, and catchingsight of you, I thought if you would let me I would join you. I thoughtit would be pleasant to have a talk without having that bar between us.'

  'I should like a talk very much,' she said, 'but--' and she looked rounda little nervously.

  'You mean people might talk if they saw us together. Well, there isnothing to talk about. A man and a woman can be good friends just as twomen or two women may be--and we are good friends, are we not?'

  'Certainly we are,' she said, frankly. Ned's manner had indeed puzzledher; he had always chatted to her as a friend: he had, as she had said,never once paid her a compliment or said a word that might not have beensaid had there been other men standing beside him at the bar.

  'Do y
ou know, when I first saw you,' he said, 'you reminded me sostrongly of some one I knew in England that I could have taken you forher?'

  'Indeed,' she said, coldly; 'was it some one you knew well?'

  'Very well. I had known her from the time when she was a little child.'

  'Did you care for her much?'

  'Yes, I cared for her a great deal. She was engaged to be married tosome one else.'

  'Is she married to him now?' she asked.

  'No. At least I believe not.'

  'Did you come out here to tell me this?' she asked, suddenly facinground upon him.

  'Partly,' he replied. 'We are friends, and I thought you ought to know.I am not fool enough, Linda, to suppose that you would be likely in anycase to feel anything more than a liking for a rough miner like myself,but I thought that it would, at any rate, be only fair that you shouldknow that much of my past history.'

  'Then you still care,' she said, after a pause, 'for this woman who isso like me?'

  'Yes, Linda. I shall always care for her.'

  'And it was only because I was like her that you liked me?' she said,bitterly.

  'No,' he said. 'I do not think the likeness had anything to do with it.I liked you because I saw how well you were playing your part in a mostdifficult position; how quietly you held your own among the roughspirits here; how much you were respected as well as liked by them. Ithought how few young women in your position would have behaved sowisely and discreetly. Of course, you had your father.'

  'He is not my father,' she broke in; 'he has brought me up, but he isnot my father. We are partners, nothing more. I have a third share inthe saloon, and could leave them whenever I chose. There, we have talkedenough together: it is just as well that we should not be seen here. Itwould be thought that we had arranged to meet, and I do not want to betalked about, even if the talk is not true. Good-bye;' and turning shewent back into the camp, while Ned Hampton making a wider detourreturned to his tent.

  That night there was again trouble at the saloon. 'Shooting again,Jacob,' Ned said, as a pistol shot was heard. 'Some quarrel over thecards again, I suppose. I only hope that it was what they call a fairfight, and that there will be no occasion for Judge Lynch to interfereagain. However, we may as well go down and see what is the matter.' Theywent down together to the saloon; a number of men were standing outsidetalking excitedly.

  'What is the matter?' Ned asked, as he arrived.

  'Will Garrett, and a man they call Boots, caught the boss there,cheating at cards, and there was a row over it. White drew first, butBoots was too quick for him, and got first shot.'

  'Has he killed him?' Ned asked, anxiously.

  'They say not, but the boys don't think he will overget it. Those whowere there don't blame Boots, for the last two or three evenings therehas been a good deal of talk about the play; either the boss had thedevil's own luck or he cheated, and several of the boys made up theirminds to watch him close. They suspected him three or four times, but hewas so quick that they could not swear to it till to-night Boots spottedit, and swore that he saw him cheat. Then there was a tremendous row.The saloon-keeper whipped out a pistol, but Boots had one in his coatpocket and shot from it without taking it out. No one blames him, for ifthe other had been a little quicker Boots would have been carried outinstead of him.'

  The men were pouring out from the place now, Murdoch having begged themto leave at once in order that the wounded man might have quiet. One ofthe miners, who had thrown up his profession as a doctor for theexcitement of the gold-fields, had been in the room at the time and wasnow looking after him. A messenger was just starting on horseback tofetch another surgeon who was practising at Cedar Gulch, thirty milesaway. The next day it was known that the surgeons had some hopes ofsaving the saloon keeper's life. A tent had been erected a shortdistance from the building, and to this he had been carried and thesaloon was again opened. Linda, however, did not appear at the bar, andMurdoch was in sole charge of the arrangements. Ned had called early toask if there was anything he could do. The girl came to the entrance tothe tent. 'There is nothing to be done,' she said, 'the two doctors areboth within. Mrs. Johnson is coming over from the store at six o'clockthis evening to take my place by him for a few hours. The doctors say itmay be a long business. I want to speak to you; if you will come to theback door at half-past six I will come out with you for a short time.'

  There was something very constrained and cold about her manner, and Nedwondered what she could want to say to him just at the present time. Shecame out directly he sent in to say that he was there.

  'I do not want to go far,' she said; 'we can walk up and down here andtalk as well as anywhere else. Will you give me a plain answer to aquestion?'

  'Certainly I will--to any question.'

  'Are you the man who followed us from England, and who arrived at NewOrleans the evening before we left it?'

  'And was all but murdered that night. Yes, I am the man.'

  'Then you are a police spy,' she said in a tone of utter scorn, 'and youhave been pretending to be a friend only to entrap us.'

  'Not at all,' Ned answered calmly; 'I have nothing to do with thepolice, nor have I had any desire to entrap you. My name is Hampton; Iam a captain in the English army.'

  'It is no matter to me who you are,' she said, angrily. 'What is yourobject in following us here?'

  'I might reply by asking what was the object of the two men with you insetting a man on to murder me in New Orleans.'

  Her face changed at once. 'I knew nothing of it,' she exclaimed; 'I knowwe hurried away from our hotel, and they told me afterwards that Warbleshad recognised some one he knew on board a steamer that had just comein. But they never could have done that. Were you much hurt?'

  'It was a miracle I was not killed,' he said; 'as it was I was laid upfor three weeks.'

  'I cannot believe that they had anything to do with it. Why do youaccuse them?'

  'Simply because they were the only persons who had an interest in mydeath, or, at any rate, in my detention for a period, which as theythought would throw me completely off their track, and enable Warbles,as you call him, to place himself beyond the reach of the law.'

  'And you have followed us?'

  'Yes, I followed you. I had undertaken the task, and when I onceundertake a thing I always carry it through if I can.'

  'What was your object?'

  'I will tell you frankly. My object at first was to obtain the arrestand extradition of yourself and the man you call Warbles on the chargeof being concerned in stealing two diamond tiaras, the property ofGilliat, a jeweller in Bond Street, and of obtaining under falsepretences a thousand pounds from a gentleman named Singleton. Failing indoing this it was my intention, if possible, to obtain from you awritten acknowledgment of your share in the business. I need hardly saythat since I saw you I have altogether abandoned the first intention. Iwas convinced that you were but an instrument in the hands of others,and only hoped that the time would come when you would undo the harmthat had been done by acknowledging that you personated Miss Hawtrey,upon whom the most unjust suspicions have naturally fallen and whoselife has been to a great extent ruined by it.'

  'Why should it have been?' the girl asked. 'Warbles told me that shecould have no difficulty in proving where she was at the time.'

  'She had a difficulty. She had been in Bond Street at the same hour, andshe could not prove that she was not either in the jeweller's shop or atMr. Singleton's chambers. Her position has been a terrible one. The manWarbles first prepared the ground by circulating rumours that she wasbeing blackmailed for money, and this gave a reason for her obtainingthe jewels. I heard before I left England that in consequence of thiscruel suspicion she had broken off her engagement.'

  The girl turned fiercely upon him.

  'Ah! and you think to go home and clear her and then to receive yourreward; and for this you have acted your part with me. Well, sir, I denyaltogether any knowledge of what you have been talking about, and I defyy
ou to do your worst.'

  She was turning to leave him when he said--'One moment longer. I am inno way acting for myself, but solely for her. My leave is nearly up, andI shall probably return direct to India, in which case I shall not beback in England for another eight or ten years, and she may be marriedbefore as many months are passed--may indeed be married now for aught Iknow. It is for my girl friend that I have been working, not for thewoman that I love. You and I are friends now, and were you in difficultyor trouble you could count upon me to do my best for you as I have beendoing for her.'

  She waved her hand in scornful repudiation of any claim upon him, andwent swiftly back to the tent.

  'Anything wrong, Captain?' Jacob asked, as he returned to the fire.

  'Not worse than might be expected, Jacob. I have spoken to her, told herwho I am, and why I came here. Naturally enough, she is sore at present,and considers that I have been deceiving her, which is true enough. Atfirst she denied nothing, but afterwards fired up, and for the presentregards me as an enemy; but I believe it will all come right. She isangry now because it seems to her that I have been taking her in for myown purposes, but I think that when she thinks it over calmly she willdo what I want.'

  Just as Ned Hampton was thinking of turning in for the night a man cameup to the fire. He recognised him at once as Murdoch, Truscott's partnerin the saloon.

  'I have come round to have a bit of a talk with you,' the man said, ashe seated himself on a box near the fire. 'Linda has been telling methat you are the man I saw at New Orleans, and that you followed ushere. She has also been telling me what you came for, and the girl isdownright cut up about it. Up till now I have never known the rights ofthe job she and Warbles had done in England. She has not told me muchabout it now, only that she acted the part of another girl and gotthings in her name, and that the other girl has been suspected of it,and that you want to clear her. Now when I first saw her at New OrleansI took an oath I would do what I could for her, and would see that shewas not wronged in any way. I have been watching her pretty close forsome time. I could see she liked you. If you had pretended to be fond ofher so as to wheedle her into doing what you wanted in this business,and had then chucked her over, I would have thought no more of shootingyou than I would of putting my heel on a rattler's head; but I am boundto say that you haven't. I could see that whatever your game was, youwere not trying to make her like you; and when I said something aboutit, when she was talking to me, she flared up and said that you hadnever been more than civil to her, and there was no thought of lovebetween you.

  'I don't think she quite spoke the truth on her side, but that was onlynatural. Anyhow, I don't feel any grudge against you, and it is only tomake things best for her that I have come here. There is nothing hardlyI would not do for her, and I want to make things as smooth as possible.You behaved like a man in that affair with Wyoming Bill, and I guess asyou are at the head of Judge Lynch's band, and I look upon you as astraight man, and I am not afraid of talking straight to you. It was Iwho set that nigger on you at New Orleans. I knew nothing about youexcept that you would have spoilt our plans, and might even get herarrested. Your life was nothing to me one way or another; I had got tostop you and I did it. I told the nigger to hit you so that you would belaid up for a time, but not to kill you; but when I did so I tell you Ididn't care the turn of a straw whether he killed you or not. I havebeen thinking over for the last hour what I had best do, and I concludedto come to you and put it to you straight.

  'Warbles is pretty nigh rubbed out; I doubt if he will get round; hetakes a lot of liquor every night, and always has done, and that tellsagainst a man's chances when he is hurt. You know well enough that youcould do nothing against the girl here. If a sheriff came to arrest herthe boys would pretty well tear him to pieces, but the chap that couldtravel as you have done, from England to the States, and then across toCalifornia, would certainly be ready to wait and bide his time, andsooner or later you would catch her.'

  'I have no wish to catch her,' Ned Hampton said. 'I have told her so. Ibelieve that she has been deceived throughout by this man Warbles, whois, I know, a very bad lot. I have a strong admiration for her; inperson she marvellously resembles a lady to whom I am much attached, andthe manner in which she behaves here and remains untouched by theadmiration she excites is admirable, and I am convinced that she actedin England solely under Warbles' influence and without any knowledge orthought of the harm she was doing. I am anxious--most anxious--to obtaina written confession from her that would clear the reputation of thelady she impersonated, but if she will not make that confession I shallcertainly take no steps whatever against her or put the law in motion tobring about her arrest.'

  'That is well spoken, sir, and if I can help you I will. If Warbles diesI shall do my best to be a father to the girl until the time comes whenshe will choose a husband for herself. I have been a pretty bad man inmy time, and in most things she could hardly have a worse guardian, butat any rate I will watch over and keep her from harm, and would shootdown any man who insulted her as I would a dog. That is all I have gotto say now. I hope you don't bear any ill will for that job at NewOrleans, but I will tell you fairly, I would have done it again here hadI thought you were coming to try to win her heart just for yourpurposes, or you had been scheming to get her arrested and sent toEngland to be punished.'

  'I have got over the affair at New Orleans,' Ned said, 'and feel nomalice about it now; and had I done so, the feeling would have beenwiped out by the sentiments you express towards Linda. I don't know herreal name.'

  'Nor do I,' Murdoch said, 'beyond the fact that at first Warbles oftencalled her Sally, I don't know who she is or where he got her from. Iknow he had her educated, because one day when she was angry she saidthat she felt no gratitude to him for that, for he had only had hertaught for his own purposes. At present he is too bad to talk, but if hegets a bit better I shall try and get the whole story out of him, and ifI do you shall have it. As to Linda, she feels pretty bad at present.She has taken a liking to you, you see, and she feels sore about it, butI expect in time she will come round. It depends a great deal on whetherWarbles gets well again. She doesn't like him, and she fights with himoften enough, but when it is something he's downright set on she alwaysgives way at last. I think she has got an idea that she is bound to doit. I guess it was a sort of agreement when he had her educated that shewould work with him and do whatever he bid her. If it had not been forthat I believe she would have thrown it up at New Orleans, and for aughtI know long before that. If he gets well again she will do as he tellsher in this affair of yours. If he dies, you may take it from me thatshe will own up as you want her to do. You don't mean to hurt her, and Idon't think there is any one in England she could go back to, so therecan't be any reason why she should not make things straight. Well, Iwill let you know if there is any change. I shall see you over there, nodoubt. She won't be going into the bar, so you can drop in when youlike. You are sure to find me there. There is no one else to see aboutthings.'

  For the next few days it was understood in the camp that the boss of theEldorado was likely to get round. It was reported that he was conscious,and was able to talk freely. Indeed, the doctor said it would be muchbetter that he should not talk as much as he did. The doctor had beenone of the ten men who had helped to clear out the camp. When notprofessionally employed he worked at a claim some distance from that ofNed Hampton's party, and as he and his partners messed together insteadof taking their meals at either of the saloons Ned seldom saw him. Aweek after his interview with Murdoch he happened to meet him.

  'How is your patient really going on, Ryan?'

  The latter shook his head. 'I think he is going downhill fast. He willtalk. We have tried opiates as strong as we dare give him, but theydon't seem to have any effect, which is often the case with steadydrinkers. He has not been a drunkard, I believe, but he has been in thehabit of taking a lot of liquor regularly. He scarcely sleeps at all.That girl nurses him with wonderful patience,
but she is breaking downunder the strain. She wasn't in his tent this morning, and it is thefirst time that she has been away. When I called the other man, Murdoch,seemed a good deal put out. I don't know what about, and when I told himoutside the tent that the other was worrying himself and was a good dealweaker than he was two days ago, he muttered, "The infernal skunk, it isa pity he didn't go down twenty years ago." So I suppose there has beensome row between them.'

  'He was a bad lot, Ryan; I know something of his past history, andbelieve that he was a thorough scoundrel.'

  'Is that so? I never saw much of him. I don't throw away my money at thebars; my object is to make as much money as will buy me a snug practicein the old country.'

  'Quite right, Ryan; it's a pity that more do not have some such objectin view, and so lay by their earnings instead of throwing them away inthose saloons or in the gambling hells of Sacramento.'