A Crime of the Under-seas Part 18

(Curtain on Act II.: subdued lights and music suggestive of much Mystery.)

A week later the entries of the Barcoola Jockey Club's Autumn Meeting were announced, and Mr. J. Medway's Young Romeo, and Mr. R. Beverley's The Gift, were in the list of compet.i.tors.

The training of both animals was proceeding satisfactorily, and the owner of Young Romeo, _alias_ Tommy Dodd, informed Miss Morris that the bracelet she so much coveted must certainly become her property.

Beverley had written to her that morning to the same effect.

"The Rooster" ferreted about until he discovered his equine friend's abode, and at the same time learnt all he cared to know about the owner.

Then, remembering the insult of three years before, he saw a chance of revenge. He was quick-witted enough to notice the rivalry between Beverley and Medway, and he quite understood that both men had staked their life's happiness upon the issue of the race. He knew more about Tommy Dodd than any man living, so he took Beverley into his confidence, and revealed the animal's one peculiarity. That gentleman gave him a sovereign to hold his tongue, and as Young Romeo was the only horse he feared, he now saw his way clear to victory.

(Here Act III. terminates, with much red fire and music suggestive of conspiracy.)

It is all nonsense to say that a good day's sport cannot be enjoyed without grand-stands, electric scratching-boards, and telegraphs. The Barcoola Jockey Club possessed none of these advantages, and yet their races were always wonderfully successful. The fact is, in North Queensland the horse is _the_ consideration; but the farther you go south, the nearer you get to directors' meetings and bank overdrafts--consequently, the more iniquitous and black-guardly the sport becomes.

Jack Medway drove his party on to the course in great style, and pretty Gerty Morris sat beside him, looking the picture of health and happiness. Beverley watched the waggonette draw up in a good position, and smiled sardonically. (The Gift was as fit as hands could make him: Young Romeo was his only enemy; and armed with "The Rooster's"

knowledge, he knew he held _him_ safe.)

Now, the secret was very simple after all. Years before, when Tommy Dodd was in Government employ, he had been put to a good deal of torture by one small telegraph boy, whose peculiar pleasure it was to flay him daily with a green hide whip. When this amiable young gentleman had succeeded in rawing the horse's sides to his own satisfaction, he still further goaded the poor brute by raising the hide as if to strike, yet never letting it descend. The result of this was that, even in his racing days, Tommy Dodd could never be persuaded to pa.s.s a lifted whip.

This was "The Rooster's" secret, and the sequel you shall know directly.

The races opened splendidly. A Bush Handicap of 30 sovs., half a mile, was won after a determined struggle by Mr. Exton's Headstrong, 7 st. 2 lb., totalisator dividend, 3 10s. The District Plate went to Mr.

Goodwyn's Endymion, 6 st. 10 lb., totalisator dividend, 5 6s. After that, hampers were opened, and every one went to luncheon. d.i.c.k Beverley lunched with the Barcoola party, and made himself vastly agreeable to all concerned--his rival included. The Bracelet Stakes was the first event after luncheon, and the two men went away to dress.

Young Romeo had been excellently prepared, and for old a.s.sociation's sake took to the process very kindly. "The Rooster" kept The Gift out of the way till he was wanted, on the plea that he was "a mighty nervous 'oss to 'andle."

After weighing in, Jack Medway offered Beverley a level fifty against his mount. "I'll take you," said Beverley, and strolled away to saddle.

Every one was pleased with the appearance of Young Romeo. He carried himself prettily, and swept over the ground with that easy gliding motion characteristic of a thoroughbred. His rider looked and behaved well in the saddle, so the ladies were unanimous in their praise. The Gift was not a handsome horse, but he had a wear-and-tear appearance that was better than mere beauty, and more than one who could judge of horse-flesh slipped away to put "just a saver" on him. The remainder of the field were a very so-so lot indeed.

As the rivals pa.s.sed the Barcoola party in their preliminary canter, Gerty Morris scanned both men carefully, but could not make up her mind which she preferred. However, Medway had openly promised her the bracelet, so he had that in his favour. His colours were white jacket, red sleeves and cap; and she had worked a tiny sprig of ivy on the collar, of which he was inordinately proud.

After a little delay at the post, the flag dropped to a good start.

Warrigal was the first away, with Endymion and The Gift in close attendance; Young Romeo was unfortunate, and brought up the rear with The Jackeroo and Blush Rose. As they pa.s.sed the windmill, Endymion changed places with Warrigal, and Young Romeo came up to fourth place.

Then The Gift forged to the front and led by a length. On entering the dip, Medway pushed Young Romeo to second place, and remained there watching events until they came into the straight. The crowd, thinking all was over, commenced shouting, "The Gift wins," "The Gift in a canter," "The Gift," etc., etc., etc., until Jack Medway thought it time to make play, so he set sail in pursuit. Young Romeo was full of running and overhauled his rival foot by foot; when fifty yards from the post they were locked neck and neck. Both were doing all they knew. Then "The Rooster's" secret flashed through Beverley's mind, and instantly he raised his whip, _but did not strike_. Next moment he was past the post with a couple of lengths to spare. To every one's surprise, Young Romeo, on his right, had shut up like a concertina just as he had it all his own way. _The bracelet was the property of Miss Brown._

Next day we were informed that Gerty Morris had accepted Beverley, of Kimona, with her parents' full consent, and, strange to say, at the dinner given to celebrate that wonderful event she wore the bracelet of the famous race. Medway was among those invited, but he declined the invitation on the plea that business demanded his presence elsewhere.

"I often think that if he knew everything he would be the first to regret having hurt 'The Rooster's' feelings that night in Bourke Street.

They say he is not having a very happy time of it with his wife--once the Widow Leversidge."

Now don't you think I'm right about the importance of Little Things?

Quod Erat Demonstrandum

"That this is doctrine, simple, ancient, true; Such is life's trial, as old Earth smiles and knows.

If you loved only what were worth your love, Love were clear gain, and wholly well for you; Make the low nature better by your throes!

Give earth yourself, go up for gain above!"

--R. Browning.

Any afternoon, between three and five, you will probably find in the Club Library, somewhere near the S T E and T R A Bookcase, a thin, restless-eyed man of perhaps five-and-fifty years of age. He will answer to the name of Pennethorne--Cornelius Pennethorne--and he can _sometimes_ be trusted to converse in a fairly rational manner.

Generally, however, he is chock-full of nonsensical ideas, founded on what he calls "Inferences from Established Principles," and these make it almost impossible for him to do anything, from tying his bootlace to reducing his Overdraft, except on theories of his own determining.

He sold out of the Army because he had proved to the War Office that the science of modern warfare was founded on an entirely wrong basis, and the greyheads refused his aid to set it right. So, washing his hands of the whole affair, he came to Australia. This was in '69, or perhaps '70.

Knowing nothing about station work, he gave sixty thousand pounds for a property on the Diamantina, in order to demonstrate his own theories on cattle-breeding. And when they proved unworkable, he spent a small fortune inventing a gold-crushing plant--another failure. In similar manner all his pet projects faded away, one after another, like cats'-paws on a big lagoon.

But he learnt nothing from these rebuffs, and there was no _kudos_ to be gained by showing him what an utter a.s.s he really was. You _can_ reason with some men, but not with Pennethorne: he came from obstinate Cornish stock; and as soon as he saw the theory of the moment a failure, he threw it away and dived deeper still into something else.

When he had exhausted cattle-breeding, horse-breaking, irrigation and gold-mining, he hunted about for some other channel in which to sink his money; but for the moment nothing came to hand.

Then some one sent him a pamphlet ent.i.tled "The Folklore of our Aboriginal Predecessors," or something of an equally idiotic nature; and in this he saw a fresh opening. His district was infested with blacks, so he plunged holus-bolus into their private affairs. He argued that the theory of their treatment was altogether wrong, and for three months he choked the Colonial Press with lengthy screeds denouncing every one concerned in their government. Beginning with the Protector of Aboriginals and his staff, he took in the Commissioner of Police, and clergy of all denominations. Then, working through the Legislative and Executive Councils, he finished with a great blare at the Governor himself. It never, for an instant, struck him that he was making an egregious a.s.s of himself. That, probably, would be some one else's theory.

Now of all this absurd man's absurd ideas, his fondest, and consequently his most absurd, was that, fundamentally, the nature of both blacks and whites is the same. He contended that education and opportunity are alone responsible for the difference. He said he would prove it.

Taking from the nearest tribe a little half-caste girl, perhaps eight years of age, he sent her south to school, and, cutting off all communication with her people, sat himself down to watch results.

After the child had been enjoying the advantages of every luxury for ten years, he went down to ascertain what progress she had made, and was astounded at the result. In place of the half-wild urchin he remembered, he found a well-mannered, accomplished girl, able to hold her own anywhere. She received him with an air of _abandon_ that staggered him, and he was pleased beyond measure. He said he would go down to the Club and show the scoffers there that one theory, at least, had proved successful.

On reaching it he discovered a strange generation, and was not a little chagrined to find himself and his theories almost forgotten. The younger men watched him meandering about the rooms, and said to each other, "Who is this old bore Pennethorne, and what forgotten part of the interior does he come from?"

So delighted was he with the success of his scheme that he sent the girl to Europe for a year, he himself returning to the Back-blocks. It must be remembered here that her colour was not pure black, but a sort of dirty brown, that she was by no means ill-looking, and that she had been perfectly educated.

Then came the situation he should have foreseen, "When her education was completed, what was to be done with her?" In the loneliness of his station he thought and thought, but could come to no conclusion. She would know enough to make a perfect governess; but then, perhaps, no one would care to give her employment. It was impossible that she should go back to the tribe, and it was equally unlikely that any suitable man would ask her hand in marriage. He began to realize what a white elephant he had raised up for himself.

One cold winter's night, when the rain was beating down and the wind whistling round the station-house, it flashed through his mind that it would be by no means unpleasant to exchange his grumpy old housekeeper for a younger woman--one who could make the evenings pleasant with music and intellectual conversation. But it would have this drawback--it would mean matrimony.

All this time his _protegee_ was writing him charming letters from Rome and Naples, commenting shrewdly on all the wonders she was seeing.

Sometimes on the run he would read these letters, and think out certain schemes all by himself.

On her return he went down to Sydney for the special purpose of meeting her. He found a pretty little woman in a neat dark blue travelling dress awaiting him. Her white cuffs and collar contrasted charmingly with her dark complexion. She received him very nicely, and he noticed that she had picked up the little mannerisms of the better-cla.s.s Englishwomen she had met. They drove to the Australian, and a week later were married by special licence.

Most men who remembered him said he was a very big fool; the rest said that they would give _their_ opinions when they saw how events turned out.

Directly they were married they posted straight off to the station. And herein Pennethorne acted very unwisely. He should have toured Tasmania and New Zealand, or visited j.a.pan in the orthodox way. But he was unlike other men, and it was a moral impossibility for him to act like a rational being--his theories got in the way and tripped him up.

For the first year or so everything progressed beautifully, and he wrote glowing accounts of his new life to the few men whose friendship he had thought worth retaining. Then the correspondence ceased abruptly, and his friends marvelled.