The Rider of Waroona Part 37

Harding started as though he had been struck.

"How? When?" he exclaimed.

"Brennan and I found him, as we were returning from Waroona Downs this evening. He was lying on his face in the creek where it crosses the road in the range. He was drenched with water from head to foot, but the water at the ford is barely six inches deep. There were no footprints on the track either side of the ford to show how he had entered the water.

He was shot in the back, the bullet having pa.s.sed through his right lung, coming out at his chest. His wrists were bruised and chafed as though he had been tightly bound and had struggled to escape. The only thing found on him was this."

He produced a handkerchief with two round holes burned in the centre.

"It was such a handkerchief one of the men who stuck up Taloona was wearing," he added.

"Where is he now?" Harding asked.

"We brought him in and took him over to the police-station. It is for Mrs. Eustace, of course, to say what is to be done about the funeral.

Will you break the news to her by yourself, or shall I do it?"

"You have told Mr. Wallace?"

"Yes. He suggested I should see you. The news upset him very much."

"It will be better if I see her alone, I think."

"I think so too. Not that I want to put the burden upon you, but coming from me----" he shrugged his shoulders. "I will leave you then, and ask her to come in."

Harding met her at the door. Closing it behind her, he took her hand and led her to the chair where she had been sitting before Durham arrived.

"Jess," he said softly, as he stood by her, still holding her hand, "I have sad news to tell you."

Her fingers closed tighter upon his, but beyond that she made no sign.

"Durham asked me to tell you."

"Charlie," she said in a tense whisper. "It is about him. He is----"

A shudder went through her and her voice broke.

He placed his other hand upon hers gently.

"He is gone, Jess."

She rose to her feet with a gasp, clutching his arm.

"Not dead!"

"Yes, Jess."

Her hands fell to her sides, limply, nervelessly; her lips parted, but no sound came from them; for a second she stood motionless.

He took her hand again and rested his arm upon her shoulder, fearing she would fall.

"Dead!"

The word came in a low whisper, but the parted lips did not move nor the staring eyes change.

"My poor, poor Jess," he whispered.

"Oh, Fred!"

A great wavering sigh escaped her, a sigh that ended in a sob, plaintive, wailing, sad. But still her eyes stared blankly.

"Sit down, Jess," he said softly.

"No, no. Let me stand. Let me--I want to face it. Don't leave me, Fred, don't leave me."

She swayed, and the staring eyes closed. He slipped his arm round her waist to support her and at the touch she came forward, flinging her arms round him as her head drooped upon his shoulder and she burst into a fit of wild, tempestuous weeping.

So he held her, his head bent upon hers, his arms supporting her. Not until the storm of sobs had abated did he speak.

"Sit down, now, Jess. You will be better resting," he whispered.

"No, no," she answered. "No, no. Let me stay--a moment."

A hum of voices came from the road outside, for the news, flying through the town, brought everybody out to tell and hear.

With one accord they gathered round the police-station, which was almost opposite the cottage, and stood in the road discussing the latest phase of the mystery, the phase which brought into it the note of tragedy.

Then someone remembered the cottage and who was in it, and pa.s.sed the word along. The loud voices were hushed as the men, actuated by the rough sympathy of the bush, quietly moved away so that the sound of their voices should not reach the woman on whom a fresh blow had fallen.

Bessie, hearing the noise, went out to ascertain the cause. Hearing what the news was, she rushed back into the cottage and precipitately burst into the sitting-room. As she opened the door, Harding signed to her to keep quiet.

"Here is Bessie, Jess. Will you stay with her?" he said.

She drew away from him slowly.

"No, don't go yet," she answered. "Tell me everything. I can hear it now."

Bessie slipped out of the room and softly closed the door after her.

Mrs. Eustace took the chair Harding placed for her and he sat down by her.

"Who--did it?" she asked.

"No one knows yet," he answered.

She looked at him quickly.

"Do they think--it was--himself?"

"No; it could not have been."