The Barrakee Mystery

Ellesmere Guardian, Volume LIX, Issue 59, 26 July 1938, Page 6

The Barrakee Mystery

ii " Written by A. W. Upfield ni i

THRILLING STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE

[LVIIL]

LURE OF THE BUSH

"The lure of the bush gripped him. I could see it in his face, and I marvelled. He felt the lure and could not explain it even to himself. And then came this last, this fatal yet inevitable surrender. He fell in love with a black gin. He was betrothed to a beautiful white girl, he was heir to a great estate, yet he fell in love with a gin. Mr Dugdale reasoned with him. I discovered the affair and pleaded with the girl. She went away, persuaded by me, but the youth learned of her whereabouts and wrote passionate letters, and she, being a woman, and, poor ignorant black woman, too, could not resist.

"Blame not the boy, Little Lady. You could not wipe from his heart the lure of the bush planted by his black father, not with all your I forethought, all your love. Do not blame nor cherish anger against him, Mr Thornton. Would you not long for the bush? You are wholly white, but the lad was half-black, half-wild, half' of the bush. And you, Miss Flinders, bear no rancour for the wrong done you. Crimson lips and black velvet cheeks were a greater magnet than your lily complexion and azure eyes. For countless ages his ancestors found beauty in large black eyes and black velvet cheeks. "The boy fought his battle, the battle which could end only in his defeat. I watched and wondered. I saw a headstone in the cemetery bearing the name of Mary Sinclair. I knew Clair's name was Sinclair, from a friend in North Queensland who remembered him. And at last I saw the light. I saw clearly how Mrs Thornton's maternal desires overwhelmed her judgment, her prudence, even her morality. As I have said, she took to her bosom an asp. "I knew what she knew. I knew that Ralph Thornton was to marry Miss Flinders, that Mary Flinders, unknowingly would marry a halfcaste Australian aboriginal. The wonder of it was that neither she nor Mr Thornton guessed. Even during the few months I have been at Barrakee I have seen Ralph's skin slowly darkening, as my skin slowly darkened when I was his age. Five or six more years at the outside, and the colour of his skin will be as mine is. "My duty, then, was clear. Sinclair, in his letter to Mrs Thornton, written just before he died — for even the water has not obliterated the drops of blood which I assume fell from his lips—rings clear the call to duty. This is what it says:—

"Dear Mrs Thornton, J 'I am dying-, and have but a l few hours at most to live. Friends have been supplying- me with tucker, but Knowles got me. If he hadn't, some other policeman would. Only yesterday I heard that your adopted son is betrothed to the Darling of the Darlings, and that is not right. You must not let that be: you must not wrong a white woman. Let her be told and then if she wishes they can marry. "You know me for a poor man, my sister for a poor working woman. Yet our people were high, and always did we keep our colour. Keep yours. Do not let your love of Mary's child blind your eyes to facts. "You are safe, Little Lady. I am about to pay the price for all you did for Mary. When I die, I die free of debt to you. And dead, I demand of you that this marriage does not take place. "Till the end, "Your obedient servant, "WILLIAM SINCLAIR. Bony folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. In the same envelope he put Mrs Thornton's letter to Sinclair, and then for a while regarded her and her husband and niece with curious

jntensity.

"GUARDIAN" SERIAL FEATURE.

"JUDGE NOT

Memory of a Sydney waxwork exhibition occurred to him in gazing at the Little Lady. The waxen pallor of her face, the expressionless immobility of her features, the absolute stillness of her body, caused her to resemble nothing so much as a dainty doll. What she was thinking or what she felt was hidden by a deathlike mask. Her husband seated at her side, appeared shrunken in stature, hardly recognisable for the hale bluff, and genial squatter of Barrakee. Kate, only Kate, retained her vividness, but down her cheeks Bony observed that now and then ran unheeded a tear.

"It is not for me, or for any man, to judge you, Mrs Thornton," he said very softly. "Only a woman could understand a woman's craving for a baby to love, a woman's determination to fight for a baby she has come to love. Throughout your actions there is, I think, only one point to censure, and that was in not telling your husband that King Henry was Ralph's father. Had you confided in him, you both would have been better able to meet the inevitable event of his return to his native wilds, whilst the betrothal doubtless wduld never have been permitted.

I "My duty,- as I saw it, is fin- | ished. lam a stickler for duty, as was that illustrious man whose name I bear. These letters are now yours. Destroy them. I shall forget their existence. The case of King Henry will end with the death of Sinclair, who has paid the price that the law would have exacted. "As for the young man, you will never get him wholly back. The chains forged by countless nomadic ancestors are too strong. I know for I am bound by the same chains. Probably he will tire of the gin and return to you for a few weeks but the bush will draw him back for ever longer periods. I will send him to you this evening, after I have told him everything. Judge him not for you cannot judge him, as I, Bony, cannot judge you." MATERNAL LOVE With quite startling suddenness Mrs Thornton came to life. Her eyes, flashing upward, met those of the detective; in them a blazing white light of hope and joy. Yet, if her eyes became alive, her body for a few seconds longer remained immobile. Instinctively the halfcaste rose to his feet, whereupon the Little Lady rose, too, and almost ran to him. "Bony, did I hear you say that you would send him to me- presently?" she cried appealingly, 'placing both her hands on his shoulders and searching his face with eyes that were astoundingly brilliant. "I did so, madam," he said gently. This morning I discovered their camp. I shall now return to it, where I shall explain everything to the lad. I cannot promise that he will remain with you; in fact, I know he will be unable to do so, but I can promise that he will come to you this day." And then Mrs Thornton did a very strange thing for a woman so proud, so self-contained, so strong of will. She sank on her knees and took his hands in hers whilst looking up into the red-black downcast face.

"Oh, Bony," she cried softly, "I am a wicked woman. I have been a wicked woman for years and years, and now when I should be scourged with scorpions you whip me with a feather. You say you cannot judge me, but I know you understand how I loved Mary's baby, how I thought ahead for it, how always my mind dwelt upon its future and my heart lay down for its little feet to tread. upon.,, If God had only let my real baby live!" Slowly her head fell forward on their closed hands. For a moment Bony kept still, His usually impas-

sive features were softened to an almost beautiful expression of tenderness. Gently he raised the Little Lady to her feet, when she regarded him once more, but with eyes no longer wide and appealing, her face showing again its habitual firmness. Into her eyes came suddenly a cloudiness, and her body drooped. "Take me to a seat—l am tired," she gasped. "Bring me a little water, please." Her husband instantly was at her side, and almost carried her to a settee, where Kate Flinders was arranging the cushions. A glass of water was offered, and she drank as though exceedingly thirsty. "Sit down, please; I have something to say," she said painfully at last. "Just a moment—my heart is beating—too fast. Better presently." It was Kate who ministered to her aunt, wetting her fingers and soothing the Little Lady's forehead, whilst one round arm was about her shoulders. The others one by one sat down, and after a while Mrs Thornton spoke with her eyes closed. "I have fought many battles and won them all, but this is my Waterloo," she said haltingly. "Like the great Emperor, I have risen to great heights and tasted the joy of life; and like him, too, when the pinnacle was reached, I fell. His enemy was Man; my enemy is Nature. (To be continued)