CHAPTER VIII A VISIT FROM WHISPERING PETE

Three months later the shearing of my small flock was at an end, and the result, an excellent clip, had been dispatched to market. Then, having a good deal of spare time on my hands, I held a consultation with Sheilah, planned our house, and set to work upon it. Like my own old home, it was to be of pisa, would consist of five rooms and a kitchen, and have a broad verandah running all round it. No man, who has not built a house under similar circumstances, will be able properly to understand what the construction of that humble abode meant to me, and how I worked at it. Every second that I could possibly spare was given to it, and as bit by bit it raised itself above the earth, my love for Sheilah seemed to grow stronger and purer with it. It was a proud day for me, you may be sure, when the roof was started, and a still prouder when it was completed. The windows and doors were then put into the walls, the floors of the rooms and verandah laid, the papering and painting completed, until at last it stood ready for occupation. A prettier position no man could possibly have desired, and as far as construction went, well, when I say that I had worked at it with the patience and thoroughness that can only be brought to bear by a man in what is a labour of love, you will have some idea of what it was like. Ah! what a glorious time that was—when everything animate and inanimate spoke to me of Sheilah. When I rose from my bed in the morning, with the sun, it was to work for her, and when I returned to it again at night it was with the knowledge that I had done all that man could do for her, and was just so many hours nearer the time when she would be my wife. It may be a strange way of putting it, but if you've ever been in love yourself you'll understand me when I say that her gentle influence was with me always, in the wind blowing through the long bush grass, in the whispering of the leaves of the trees, in the rising of the moon above the distant ranges, and in the murmur of the water in the creek. Nor did I want for encouragement. When the day's work was done I would cross the creek and discuss it with my sweetheart and her father, and even Colin McLeod, now that it was all definitely settled between us and he knew his fate, treated me quite as one of the family, and without a sign of his old antagonism.

Then, at last, the joyful day was fixed, and I knew that on a certain Thursday two months ahead, all being well, Sheilah would become my wife. The house was completely finished, painted, papered, and furnished, and even the garden, which I had constructed so that it should slope down to the river, was beginning to show signs of the labour that had been expended on it. Then, in the midst of my happiness, when I felt so secure that it seemed as if nothing could possibly come between me and the woman I loved, something happened which was destined to be the precursor of all the terrible things I have yet to tell, and which were to bow Sheilah's head and mine in sorrow and shame down even to the very dust.

It was a night at the end of the first week after the completion of the new house. Having finished his supper, my factotum had gone across to the township, and I was paying my evening visit to Sheilah. About ten o'clock I started for home. It had been hot and thundery all the afternoon and evening, and now a mass of heavy cloud had almost covered the heavens. The wind whistled dismally through the she-oak trees in the scrub and moaned along the valley. A premonition of coming ill was upon me, and when I reached the new house, where I had already installed myself, I went into the kitchen feeling ready to jump away from my own shadow. The fire just showed a red glow, and to my amazement gave me the outline of a man sitting beside it.

'You're up late, Dick,' I cried, thinking it was my man returned from his evening's outing. But he did not answer.

I lit a candle and held it aloft. Then I almost dropped it in horror and astonishment.

The man sitting beside the fire was Whispering Pete!

'Good heavens, how did you get here?' I cried, as I set the candle down upon the table.

'Rode,' he answered laconically, getting on to his feet. 'My horse is in your stockyard now. I've ridden three hundred miles this week, and must be over the border before Tuesday.'

'But why have you come here of all other places?' I asked, resolved to let him see that I was not at all pleased to have him on my premises.

'Because I had to see you, Jim, for myself.' Here he stopped and went over to the door and looked out. 'Nobody about is there?' he asked suspiciously.

'Not a soul,' I answered. 'Go on, out with it, what do you want to see me for?'

He came closer and sank his voice almost to a whisper, as he said,—

'Because, Jim, if we're not careful there'll be trouble, and what's more, big trouble. The police are looking high and low for Jarman, and naturally they can't find him. The rumour which I had circulated that he followed the horse Gaybird up to Northern Queensland has been exploded, and now they're coming back to the original idea—that we know something of his whereabouts.'

'Don't say "we" if you please,' I answered hotly. 'Remember I had nothing at all to do with it.'

Once more he leant towards me. This time he spoke in the same curious undertone, but with more emphasis.

'Indeed, and pray who had then? Jim Heggarstone, if you're wise you won't try that game with me. It will not do. Just review the circumstances of the case, my friend, before you talk like that. What horse did you ride in that race? Why, the horse that was discovered to have been stolen. Where did you spend the evening after the race? In my house. Jarman was among the guests, wasn't he? Who took his dead body away and buried it in the mountains, and then disappeared himself? Why, you did. Are those the actions of an innocent man? Answer me that question before you say anything more about having had nothing to do with it!'

I saw it all, then, with damning distinctness. And oh, how I loathed myself for the part I had played in it.

'You have contrived my ruin, Pete!' I cried, like a man in agony.

'Don't be a fool,' he answered. 'I only tell you this to show you that we must stand by each other, and sink or swim together. If they ask me, I shall admit that he dined with us and went away about ten o'clock. I should advise you to do the same. If you did your work well they can hunt till all's blue and they'll not find the body. And as long as they can't find that we're safe. I came out of my way here to warn you, because inquiries are certain to be made, and then we must all give the same answer. Present a bold front to them, or else clear out or do away with yourself altogether.'

I could say nothing—I was too stunned even to think. I wanted air and to be alone, so I opened the door, and went out into the night. The wind had dropped and an unearthly stillness reigned, broken at intervals by the sullen booming of thunder in the west. It was a night surcharged with tragedy, and surely my situation was tragic enough to satisfy anybody.

'And where are you going to now, Pete?' I asked, when I went into the room again.

'I'm off to Sydney,' he replied. 'I shall show myself there as much as possible, for I do not want it to be supposed that I am in hiding. Then I shall wait awhile, and, when things get settled down a bit, clear out of Australia altogether. If you are wise, I should advise you to do the same!'

'Never!' I answered firmly. Then, after a little pause, I continued, 'Pete, does it never strike you what a cruel wrong you have done me? Fancy, if the girl I am about to marry—whom I love better than my life—should hear of my part in this dreadful business? Imagine what she should think of me?'

'She would think all the more of you,' he answered quickly. 'Remember you are sacrificing yourself for your friend, and as long as it doesn't make any difference to them, women like that sort of thing.' Then, changing his voice a little, he said, 'Jim, you must not think I'm ungrateful. If ever the chance serves I'll set it right for you—I give you my word I will.'

He held out his hand to me, but I would not take it. It seemed to me to reek with the blood of the murdered man.

'You won't take my hand?—well, perhaps you're right. But I tell you this, man, if you think I haven't repented the stab that killed him, you're making the greatest mistake of your life. My God! that poor devil's cry, to say nothing of the expression on his face as he fell back in his chair, has been a nightmare to me ever since. I never go to sleep without dreaming of him. Out there, in the loneliness of the West, I've had him with me day and night. Think what that means, and then see if you can judge me too harshly.'

'God help you!' I cried. 'I cannot judge you!'

'And you will help to save me, Jim,' he said, with infinite pleading in his voice. 'You will not draw any tighter the rope that is round my throat—will you?'

'What do you mean by drawing it tighter?'

'I mean, you will not say or do anything that may lead them to suspect?'

'What do you take me for?' I cried. 'I am not an informer. No; I will do my best for you, come what may. But, remember this, Pete, I'll not have you coming round here any more. It isn't safe.'

'I'll remember it, never fear,' he answered. 'You shall not set eyes on me again. Now I'll lie down for an hour, and then I must be off.'

There and then he laid himself down on my kitchen floor near the wall, and in less than five minutes was fast asleep, for all the world as if he had not a care upon his mind. I sat by the window, thinking and thinking. What a position was I in! Just as I had thought myself clear of my old life for ever, it had sprung up again, hydra-headed, and threatened to annihilate me. A deadly fear was tearing at my heart-strings; not fear for myself, you must understand that, but fear for Sheilah—Sheilah, who believed in me so implicitly.

At the end of an hour, almost to the minute, Pete sat up, rubbed his eyes, and then leapt to his feet.

'Time's up,' he said briskly. 'I must be getting on again. Will you come down to the yard with me?'

'Of course,' I answered, and followed him out of the door. We walked across the paddock together, and when his horse was saddled, he turned to me and said, solemnly,—

'As you deal by me, Jim, so may God deal with you! I'm not the sort of chap you would associate with religion, but, little though you may be able to square it with what you know of me, I tell you I am a firm believer in a God. My account with Him is a pretty black one, I'm afraid; but yours, old man, is made a bit whiter by what you've done, and will do for me—there's a sermon for you! Now, good-bye; perhaps we may never meet again.'

'Good-bye,' I answered, and this time, almost without knowing it, I shook him by the hand. Then he swung himself into his saddle, and without another word drove in his spurs and galloped off into the darkness. I stood and watched him till I could see him no longer, then back I went to the house, my heart full of forebodings. Try how I would, I could not drive the memory of his visit out of my mind. An unknown, yet all-consuming, terror seized me at every sound. I thought of the lonely grave among the rocks near the Blackfellow's Well, of the mysterious man in grey who had appeared, no one knew whence, to relieve me of the horse on that awful night. Then I fell to wondering what Sheilah and her father would say if they knew all. I never thought of bed. Indeed, when the sun rose, he found me still gazing into the ash-strewn fireplace thinking and thinking the same interminable thoughts.

That afternoon Sheilah commented on my haggard appearance, and I had to invent an excuse to account for it. Then under her gentle influence my fears slowly subsided, until I had forgotten them as much as it would ever again be possible for me to do.

On the Thursday following Pete's visit, I wrote to my father informing him of my approaching marriage and imploring him to make the occasion an opportunity for a reconciliation. To my letter I received the following characteristic reply:—

'Sir,—I have to acknowledge the receipt of your communication of yesterday's date, and to thank you for the same. In reply, I beg to state that I have noted the contents as you desire me to do. With regard to the step you intend taking, as it has been arranged without any consideration of my feelings, I am not prepared to venture an opinion of its merits. As to the latter portion of your communication, I may say that on and after your wedding-day I shall be pleased to consider you once more a member of my family.—I am, Your paternal parent,

'Marmaduke Heggarstone.

'P.S.—I may say that I have in my possession certain jewels which were the property of your mother, and which are heirlooms in our family. On your wedding-day I shall, according to custom, do myself the honour of begging your wife's acceptance of them.'

CHAPTER IX SHEILAH'S LOYALTY

A fortnight before my wedding-day it became necessary for me to send a small mob of cattle away to Bourke, and as I had no drover, and could not afford to wait for one to put in an appearance, I determined to take them down myself. Accordingly, having bidden Sheilah good-bye, off I went, and, after what seemed an eternity, delivered them to the agent and paid the cheque I received in return into the bank to my account. Then, with a joyful heart, I turned my horse's head towards home once more. The journey back was a quicker one than it had been going, and only occupied four days. Night was falling as I reached the township, and as soon as I had turned my horses loose and snatched a hasty meal, I changed my clothes and crossed the creek to McLeod's homestead. It was the night before my wedding-day, and with a wave of happiness flooding my heart I shut the gate behind me and went up the path. A warm glow of lamplight streamed from the window of the sitting-room, and as the blind had not been drawn, I could see Sheilah, her father and Colin McLeod sitting talking earnestly together at the table. The solemn expressions on their faces frightened me, though I could not tell why, and it was with almost a feeling of nervousness that I pushed open the door and walked into the room.

When I entered there was a little embarrassed silence for a moment, and then Sheilah came across the room and kissed me before them all and wished me joy of being home again. Both old McLeod and Colin then shook me by the hand, but it seemed as if there were something they were keeping back from me. I passed with Sheilah to the other end of the room, and stood leaning against the mantlepiece waiting for the matter to be explained to me. It was Sheilah who spoke first. She stood beside me, and, taking my hand, said to her father,—

'Dad, dear, do not let us beat about the bush. Tell Jim straightforwardly what is said about him.'

I pricked up my ears and felt a chill like that of death pass over me. What was coming now? I asked myself. Old McLeod rose from his chair as if he were going to make a speech, while Colin looked another way.

'James, my lad,' said the old man, 'ye must forgive us for ever listening to such talk on the eve of your wedding-day, but we will trust to your good sense to understand why we do it. Remember, none of us believe it. But we feel we ought to have your word against those who are hinting things against ye.'

'What is it they are saying against me?' I asked, my heart fairly standing still with fear of what his answer would be.

Old McLeod paused for a moment, and then, looking me full in the face, said,—

'James, while ye have been away inquiries have been made concerning the disappearance of the Sydney detective, Jarman, who was here at the time of the races last year, and who has never since been heard of.'

'But what has that got to do with me?' I asked, feeling all the time that my face must be giving damning evidence against me. 'Do they accuse me of having murdered him, or what?'

'No, no! Not quite as bad as that! But they say he was last seen walking through the township towards Whispering Pete's house in your company; and that he has never been seen since.'

'Of course, he was seen with me,' I said. 'He dined and spent the evening with us at Pete's house. But I don't see anything suspicious in that—do you?'

'Not at all,' said the old man. 'But what became of him afterwards?'

'How can I tell you?' I cried impatiently. 'I was told that he went after the horse up North. He did not make me his confidant. Why should he? I had never seen him before that day, and I have never seen him since.'

'Don't be angry with father for telling you what people say, Jim, dear,' said Sheilah, looking into my face with her beautiful eyes. 'Remember, none of us have ever doubted you for a moment.'

'Thank God for that, Sheilah,' I answered. 'It would not be like you to believe ill of an innocent man.'

Colin McLeod was the next to speak, and what he said was to the point—straightforward and honourable, like himself.

'Heggarstone,' said he, 'in my official capacity I have to follow any instructions that are given to me; but I want you to understand that personally I do not believe you had any hand in the man's disappearance.'

'Thank you, Colin,' I said. 'I don't believe you do.'

Old McLeod seemed to me to be considering something in his mind, for presently he turned from looking out of the window and said,—

'James, it's a nasty thing to ask ye to do. But I do it for motives of my own. Here is a Bible.' He took one down from a shelf and laid it on the table before me. 'For form's sake, will ye swear on it that ye know nothing of, and had nothing to do with, the disappearance of this man? It will make my mind easier if ye will, because, then, I can give your accusers the lie direct.'

I looked from the old man to the open Bible, then at Sheilah, then last at Colin. But before I could do anything, Sheilah had sprung forward and snatched up the Bible, crying, as she did so, 'No! no! There shall be no swearing. I won't have it. Jim's word is the word of a God-fearing, honest man, and we'll take that or nothing. Then, turning to me, she said, 'Jim, you will tell them, on your love for me, that you know nothing of the matter, won't you, dear?'

The room seemed to rock and swing round me. A black mist was rising before my eyes. I was conscious only that I was lost; that I was about to lie, and wilfully lie, to the one woman of all others that I wanted to think well of me. What could I do? If I refused to tell them I would be giving assent to the charges brought against me, and in that case send Pete to the gallows, while, by being compelled to give her up, I should break Sheilah's heart. If I perjured myself and swore that I knew nothing, then some day the truth might come out; and what would happen then? Like a flash up came the remembrance of Pete's visit, and my oath to him. Already I felt that they were wondering at my silence. Oh, the agony of those moments! Then I made up my mind; and, taking Sheilah's hand, lifted it to my lips, and said deliberately, with a full knowledge of what I was doing—but with every word cutting deeper and deeper into my heart,—

'I swear, by my love for you, Sheilah, that I know nothing of the man's fate.' Then she pulled my face down to hers and kissed me before them all.

'Jim,' she said, 'you know that I never doubted you.'

The others shook me by the hand, and then, after a few words about the arrangements for the morrow, I said good night and went home. But I went like a man who did not know where he was going. I took no heed of my actions, but walked on and on—turning neither to the right hand nor to the left—conscious only of my degradation, of my lie to Sheilah. I was ruined! Ruined! Ruined! That was my one thought. Then, arriving at the river bank, I threw myself down upon the ground, and cried like a little child. Never shall I be able to rid my mind of the memory of that agonising night. From long before midnight till the stars were paling in the east, preparatory to dawn, I lay just where I had dropped, hopeless even unto death! All joy had gone out of existence for me. And this was my wedding-day—the day that should have been the happiest of my life.

Gradually the darkness departed from the sky, and in the chill grey of dawn I rose to my feet, and, worn and weary past all belief, like a hunted criminal fearing to be seen by his fellow-man, I crept down to the water's edge and laved my burning face. Then, fording the river higher up, I went back to my home. There, in the morning sunlight, stood the pretty house I had built, surrounded by the garden on which I had expended so much loving thought and care. On the posts of the verandah and along the eastern wall the geranium creeper was just beginning to climb. My dog came from his kennel near the wood heap and fawned upon me; my favourite horse whinnied to me from the slip panels near the stockyard gate; everything seemed happy and full of the joy of living—only I, who by rights should have been happiest of them all, was miserable. I stooped and patted the dog, and then went into the house. In every room was the pretty furniture of which Sheilah and I were so proud. The dining-room, with its neat appointments, seemed to mock me; the drawing-room, in the corner of which stood Sheilah's piano, sent over the previous day, turned upon me in mute reproach. All the happiness of my life called me coward and liar, and taunted me with my shame. I went into my bedroom and looked at myself in the glass. I could hardly believe that it was my own face I saw reflected there, so drawn and haggard was it. As it was not yet five o'clock, I threw myself upon my bed and tried to sleep; but it was impossible. I could do nothing but think. Over and over last night's scene I went; with horrible distinctness every circumstance rose before me. At last I could bear it no longer; so I got up and went out of the house again. And this was my wedding-morn. God help me! My wedding-morn!

In ten hours—for the ceremony was fixed for three o'clock in the afternoon—I should be standing by Sheilah's side to swear before God and man that I would take her into my keeping, that I would love and cherish her all the days of my life. How had I already shown my love for her? How had I cherished her? Oh, wretched, wretched man that I was! It were better for me that I should die before I took that vow!

In an attempt to discover some relief from my awful thoughts I set myself some work, fed the animals, milked the cow, boiled myself some water, and made a cup of tea; and then, finding that it was not yet eight o'clock, I caught a horse and rode off into the back country. How far I went I could not say, for I took no heed of time or distance. But it must have been a good journey, for when I returned to the homestead my horse was completely knocked up. By this time it was one o'clock, and I knew that in another hour I should have to begin my preparations for the ceremony. A bath somewhat revived me, and I passed to my bedroom, where my wedding suit lay staring at me from the bed, feeling a little refreshed. By half-past two I was ready and waiting for the kind-hearted storekeeper I have mentioned before, and whom I had asked to act as my best man. I dreaded his coming, for some unknown reason; yet when I heard his firm step upon the path it seemed to brace me like a tonic. I called him into the house.

'Good luck to you,' he said, as he entered and shook me by the hand. 'If ever a man deserves a change of fortune, you're that one. Heaven knows you've worked hard enough for it.'

'It's about time, for hitherto luck hasn't run my way, has it?' I answered bitterly.

'Hullo!' he cried, looking at me in surprise. 'This is not the sort of humour to be in on your wedding-day. Jim, my boy, if I didn't happen to know that you love the girl you are going to marry with your whole heart and soul, I should feel a bit concerned about you.'

'Yes, you know I love her, don't you?' I answered, as if I desired that point to be reassured on by an independent witness. 'There can be no possible doubt about my love for Sheilah—God bless her! But I'm afraid!—horribly afraid.'

'Of what?' he asked; then, mistaking my meaning, 'but, there, it's only natural. They say every bridegroom's afraid.'

'Then God help every bridegroom who feels as I do—that's all I can say.'

'Come, come,' he said, picking up his hat, 'this won't do at all. I can't have you talking like this. Anyhow, we had better be off. It's close upon a quarter to three now, and it would never do to keep them waiting.'

Accordingly we passed out of the house, and set off for the church, which stood on a little hill above the township. All through that walk I stumbled along like one in a dream, talking always with feverish eagerness, afraid even to trust myself to think of what I said. For was I not marrying Sheilah with a lie upon my lips?

As it happened, we were the first to arrive at the church, so we went inside and waited. Presently others began to put in an appearance, until by three o'clock the little church was well filled. A few moments later there was a turning of heads, and a whisper went about that the bride was arriving. By this time I was trembling like a leaf, and, I don't doubt, looked more like a man about to be hanged than a bridegroom waiting for his bride. Then the doors were pushed open, and in a stream of sunshine Sheilah, dressed all in white, entered leaning on her father's arm. When she got half-way up the aisle I went down to meet her, and we walked to the altar rails, where the old clergyman was waiting for us, together. Then the ceremony commenced.

When the last words were spoken, I, James, had taken Sheilah to be my wedded wife, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, swearing to love her and to cherish her, till death should us part. The good old man gave us his blessing, and then, with my bride upon my arm, I passed down the aisle again towards the porch. The greatest event of my life was celebrated, Sheilah and I were man and wife.

The little crowd, gathered on either side of the porch, parted to let us through, and we were in the act of turning down the path which would bring us out opposite McLeod's gate, when I was conscious of a tall figure in uniform coming towards me. It was Sergeant Burns, chief of the township police. He came up and stood before us—then, placing his hand upon my shoulder, said,—

'James Heggarstone, in the Queen's name, I arrest you on a charge of murder. I warn you that anything you may say will be used as evidence against you.'

Darkness seemed suddenly to fall upon me but before it enveloped me completely I saw the crowd draw closer to us. I felt Sheilah slip from my side and fall, with a little moan, to the ground. After that I remember no more of what happened, till I woke to find myself in a cell at the police station, feeling the most miserable man in the whole scheme of the universe.

The blow had fallen at last.