The Bushranger's Secret Part 9

Yet even as he said it his face turned an ashy white; the great sweat-drops broke out upon his brow, his knees trembled under him. He had heard again the sound of a cautious footstep and the rustle of the brambles as if some hand was moving them. He rushed to the door of the hut and looked round; but as before all was still and silent. He gave a loud shout, but no answer came, save the echo from the rocks. He waited there some moments, but he saw no sign of a human presence.

Yet he was now absolutely certain he had heard a footstep. The very hair began to rise on Gray's head, a freezing terror seized hold of him. A moment before he had feigned to disbelieve in the supernatural, but now, in an agony of mortal fear, he cried out to himself that it was no living man who was d.o.g.g.i.ng him thus. A living man he could have faced, but not this mysterious visitant from the world beyond the grave.

In a calmer moment Gray might have reasoned with himself, but he did not stop to reason now. He felt he must escape from this horrible place at once, or madness would come upon him. His horse was still tied to the door-post, and was cropping the thin gra.s.s that grew up between the crevices in the rocky platform on which the hut was built.

Gray hurriedly unfastened him and led him towards the entrance to the gully. He had gone a short distance when he remembered he had left his knapsack and pistol-case on the floor of the hut. All the money he had, a scanty store, was in the knapsack. He could not leave it behind.

Still holding the horse by the bridle he went hurriedly back. He flung the rein over the door-post and made one step into the hut. Then he fell back with a sharp and sudden exclamation. The hut was no longer empty. Leaning in an easy att.i.tude against the window with a revolver in his hand stood Lumley, the ex-gardener of the Mortons.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE MEETING IN "DEADMAN'S GULLY"]

There was a sardonic grin on his thin peaked face.

"So you have come back of your own accord, Mr. Gentleman Gray," he said. "I was just about to order you back."

CHAPTER VI.

THE TREASURE FOUND.

Gray's first feeling was one of intense, overpowering relief. That dreadful terror which had beset him left him when he saw that it was indeed Lumley who had followed him. He spoke sharply:

"What do you mean by following me up like this, and skulking in the brambles? It was a dangerous game, mind you! I might have sent a shot into them just now, you know."

Lumley looked at him and laughed.

"You're a pretty fellow to go bushranging. When did you look at your pistols last, eh?"

Gray caught up his pistols and looked at them. The charges had been tampered with. They were useless.

Lumley stood regarding him with vicious amus.e.m.e.nt in his foxy eyes.

"You'd best have stuck at an honest trade, mate," he said. "You're no good at bushranging at all. It's been too easy to take you in. You needn't look at 'em any more, you know. I made 'em safe enough at Stuart's place."

Gray dropped the pistols on the ground.

"How dare you?" he began in a choked voice. Then he checked himself.

"I'll trouble you to tell me what you mean," he said. "And--"

He made a dash to s.n.a.t.c.h the revolver from Lumley's hand, but Lumley was too quick for him. He jumped back and levelled the weapon full at Gray.

"Stand where you are or I'll fire," he said coolly. "Move a limb, and you'll have a bullet into you."

Gray stood still. A cold sweat broke out upon his brow. Lumley had dropped all disguise now. The evil soul of the man looked out from his face.

"That's better," he said. "Just stand there, will you?" He seated himself on some of the fallen _debris_, still keeping his revolver pointed at Gray.

"Now we'll have a comfortable little talk together, mate," he said.

"You can sit down now if you like."

Gray looked round and carefully chose a seat. The pallid look of terror had gone from his face. He had recovered his calmness and his power of thought. He saw clearly enough that he was in Lumley's power.

He guessed his reason for following him; and he had determined on his course of action. If Lumley chose to insist upon it, he would tell him Dearing's secret and leave him to get the money if he could; and he would go straight to the nearest station and inform against him. Not for all the money in the world, Gray declared to himself, would he put his reputation into this man's keeping.

"That's right, mate. Now we'll be comfortable," said Lumley, with a grin, "and we'll talk about the business that's brought me here. You know what it is well enough."

"Well, I can make a pretty good guess," Gray said, carefully selecting a cigar and proceeding to light it. "But you'll have to tell me plainly, you know, before going any further."

The change in Gray's manner was too striking to escape Lumley. He looked at him with a steady crafty look before answering.

"There ain't no money hid here, I s'pose? You're on a pleasure toor, ain't you? That pick in your knapsack is for ge'logical specimens, ain't it?"

Gray carefully flicked a little ash from the end of his cigar, and then looked up.

"You are quite wrong, Lumley. That pick is not meant for geological specimens at all. It's meant to be used for digging up a large sum of money hidden somewhere about here. Unfortunately I don't know where."

"You don't?"

"I haven't the faintest idea. Perhaps you know?"

Lumley glared at him like a wild beast.

"Was that why you were going away?"

Gray nodded.

"Tom Dearing didn't tell you where 'twas hid? Don't you try to deceive me, man. I'll not stand it. I'll have that swag if I've got to swing for it to-morrow. What made you go proddin' and pryin' round those old trunks for, eh? You tell me that."

"With all the pleasure in life, my man. But I should like to hear a few things from you first. How did you get to know of this money? I may not be far wrong in supposing you an accomplice of our good friend, lately deceased, Mr. Tom Dearing?"

"I'd wring your neck for tuppence," Lumley muttered savagely.

Gray looked up at him with a pleasant smile.

"What did you say?"

Gray was beginning to feel thoroughly satisfied with himself again. He felt himself very much more than a match for Mr. Lumley.

That individual made no reply to his last inquiry.

"So you want to know how I got on this job. I'll tell you quickly enough. Dearing made a dying speech and confession, didn't he?"

"Something of the kind."

"He'd do that for sure and certain. That was his way. He was always half-hearted, Tom was. P'r'aps he didn't mention a pal of his, Bill Clay, eh?"

"I think he did, now I come to think of it. I suppose you are that gentleman. Is Clay your real name, or one of your many aliases?"

"You're right, mate. I'm Bill Clay, as you'll find out before you're done with me," said Lumley, with a savage look. "I wasn't in that business with the bank, but Tom told me he'd hidden the money; but he didn't tell me where he'd hid it, d'you see. _You've_ got to tell me that, Mr. Gentleman Gray."