COLONEL THORNDYKE’S SECRET,

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 23, Issue 8, 30 January 1912, Page 5

COLONEL THORNDYKE’S SECRET,

copyright.

BY C. A. HENTY,

Author df “Dorothy’s Double,” “A Hidden Foe,” &c. &c. PART 5. CHAPTER YT. J ohn Thorndyke had been introduced to several of the officials of the department, and called upon them at intervals to obtain nows of the penal colony, Tima; years after its establishment, a Crown colony had been "opened for settlement in its vicinity, as the climate was said to be very line and the country fertile, and land could be taken up without payment. The number who went out was considerable, there being ;,bo additional attraction that convicts •jf good character would be allotted tp Settlers as servants and farm hands. Six years after Arthur Bastow had Bailed the squirt; learned that there had been a revolt of the convicts; several had been killed and the mutiny suppressed, but about a dozen had succeeded in geeting away. These had committed several robberies and some murders among the settlers, and a military l force from the prison was scouring the country for them. ‘Of course, Mr, Thorndyke,’ the official said, ‘ the Governor in his report does not give us the names of any of those concerned in the matter, he simply says that the mutiny took place in the quarters occupied by the worse class of prisoners. By worse class he means the most troublesome and refractory out there. The prisoners are not classified according to their original crimes. A poacher who has killed a gamekeeper, or a smuggler who has killed a revenue officer, may in other respects be a quiet and well conducted man, while men sentenced' for comparatively minor offences may give an immense deal of trouble, I will, however, get a letter written to the Governor asking him if Arthur Bastow was among those who took part in the revolt, and if so, what has become of him.'

It was more than a year before the reply came, and then the Governor reported that Arthur Bestow, who was believed to have been the leading spirit of the mutiny, was among those who bad escaped and had not yet been recaptured. It was generally believed that be bad been killed by the blacks, but of this there was no actual proof. Mr. Bastow was much disturbed when be heard the news. 1 Suppose he comes back here, Mr. Tbunnlyke,’ ‘ 1 won’t suppose anything of the sort,’the squire replied. M don’t say that it would be altogether impossible, because now that vessels go from time to time to Sydney, he might, of course, be able to bide in one of them and not come uu. deck until she was well on her way, when, in all probability, be would be allowed to'work bis passage, and might be put ashore without any information being given to the authorities. 1 have no doubt that among the sailors there would be a good deal of sympathy felt [or the convicts. Xo doubt they have n bal’d time of it, and we know that Urn gangs working on the roads are always ironed. Still this is very-un-likely, the chances are all in favour of his being in biding in the bush.

‘The shepherds and other hands on the farms are chiefly convicts, and would probably give him aid when he required it, and there would be.no difficulty in getting a sheep now and then, for, as all reports say, one of the chief troubles out there are the wild dogs, or dingoes as they are called, any loss in that way would readily be put down to them, As to money, he would have no occasion for it; if he wanted it, he would get it by robbing the settlers. He would know that if he came back here he would run the risk of being seined or probably hunted as uu escaped convict. I don’t think that there is the slightest occasion for us to trouble ourselves about him.’ Tut though the squire spoke so confidently, he felt by no means sure that Arthur Bastow would not turn up again, for his reckless audacity had make a great impression upon him. The proceeds of the robberies, in which be bad*no doubt played a part, would have furnished him with money with which he could bribe a sailor to hide him away, or pay his passage money to England if necessary, when discovered on board, and perhaps maintain him when he got home until he could replenish his purse by some unlawful means. Lastly, the squire argued that the fellow’s vindictive nature and longing for revenge would net as an incentive to bring biin back to Loudon. He talked the matter over with Mark who was now a powerful young fellow of twenty, who, of course, remembered ihe incidents attending Bastow’s capture tnd trial. ‘ I cannot help fancying that the fellow will come back, Mark,’ ‘ Well, if he does, father, we must make it our business to lay him by the heels again. You managed it last time, and if he should turn up you may be sure I will help you to do it again.’ ‘Yes,.but we may not hoar of bis having returned until he strikes a blow. At auv rate, see that your pistols are loaded' and close at hand at night.’ ‘They always are, father. There is no saying when a house like this, standing alone, and containing a good deal of plate and valuables, may be broken into.’ •' Well, ran might as well carry them ’.rhen roll go out after it is dark. 1 ~.>.«!! itjVrak to Knapp, and request him to let me know if he hears of a suspicious looking ; , hara”t , .'r, or of any stranger, in fsef. bid:::; not mod in. or about the village, ami 1 ■■ball hare a talk with .Sinmox, the bead at K'eicate, and a-k him K- do i*.•et'of. lie is not the .-oae who level at tlie time as, but he was in

the force then, and as one of the constables who came up to take the prisoners down, to •Reigute, he will have all tin* facts in his mind. He is a sharp fellow, and though Bastow has no doubt changed a good deal since then, he would hardly fail to recognise him if his eye fell upon him. Of course we may he alarming ourselves unnecessarily, but there are several reasons why I should object to be shot just at the present time.’

‘ Or at any other time, I should say, father,’ the young man said, with a laugh. ‘ I shall know him, squire, safe enough,’ the head constable replied when John Thorudyke weut down to see him ou the following day, ‘ but 1 should think that if he does come back to England he will hardly be fool enough to come down here. He was pretty well known iu town before that affair, and everyone who was in the court-house would be sure to have his face strongly impressed upon their minds. You may forget a man you have seen casually but you don’t forget one you have watched closely when he is iu the dock with two others charged with murder. My four men were all constables at that time, and would know him again the minute they saw him ; but anyhow I will tell them to keep a sharp look-out in the tramps’ quarters, and especially over the two or three meu still here that Bastow used to cousort with. I should say that Reigate is the last place in the world where he would show his face.’ t>

<1 hope so,’the squire said. ‘He has caused trouble enough down here as it is; his father is getting an old man now, and is by no means strong, and fresh troubles of that kind would undoubtedly kill him.’ A month later the Eeigate poach was stopped when a short distance out of the town .by two highwaymen, and a considerable prize obtained by the robbers. Soon afterwards news came of private carriages being stopped on various commons in the south of Loudon, and of several burglaries taking place among the houses round Clapham, Wandsworth, and Putney. Such events were by no means uncommon, but following each other in such quick succession they created a strong feeling of alarm among the inhabitants of the neighbourhood. John Thorndyke, A going up to town shortly afterwards, went to the headquarters of the Bow street runners, and bad a talk with their chief in reference especially to the stoppage of the Keigate coach. Mr. Chetwynd had lately died and John Thorndyke had been unanimously elected by his fellow magistrates as chairman of the bench. ‘No, Mr. Thorndyke, we have no clue whatever. Our men have been keeping the sharpest watch over the fellows suspected of having a hand in such matters, but 4bey all seem pretty quiet at present, and none of them seem to ; be particularly flush with money. It is the same with these burglaries iu the south of London. We are at our wit’s end about them. We are hooded with letters of complaint from residents,but though the patrols on the commons have been doubled and every effort made, we arc as fur off as ever. As fur as the burglaries are concerned, we have every reason to Hi ink that it is the work of two or three new hands, The jobs are not neatly done, and certainly not with tools usually used by burglars. They seem to rely' upon daring rather than skill. Anyhow, we don’t know where to look for them, and are altogether at sea.

‘ Of course it is as annoying to tr as it is to anyone else; more so, because the justices of the peace are sending complaints to the Home Secretary, and he in turn drops on us and wants to know what we are doing. 1 have a sort of fancy myself the fellows who are stopping the coaches are the same as those concerned in the burglaries. I could not give you my reasons for saying so, except that on no occasion has a coach been stopped and a house been broken into on the same night. I fancy that at present •we shan’t hear much more of them. They have created such alarm that tin* coaches carry with them two men armed with blunderbusses, in addition to the guards, and I should fancy that every householder sleeps with pistols within reach, and has got arms for his servants. At many of the large houses 1 know a watchman has been engaged to sit in the hall all night, to ring the alarm bell and wake the inmates directly he hears any suspicious sounds. IVrhaps, the fellows may be quiet for a time, for they must, during'tbe last mouth, have got a wonderful amount of spoil, Maybe they wiU go west —the Bath road is always a favourite one with these fellows —maybe they will work the northern side of the town. I hope we shall lay hands upon them one day, but so far I may say frankly we have not the slightest clue.’ ‘ But they must put their horses up somewhere ?’

‘ Yes, hut unfortunately there qre so many small wayside inns that it is next to impossible to trace them. A number of these fellows are in alliance with the highwaymen. Some of them, too, have small farms in addition to their publichouse businesses, aud the horses might be snugly put up there, when we search the inn stables in vain. Again, there are rogues even among the farmers themselves ; little men. perhaps, who do not farm more than thirty'or forty acres, either working them themselves, or by the aid of a hired man who lives perhaps at a village a mile away. To n man of this kind, the offer of n couple of guineas a week to keep two horses in an empty cowshed, and to ask no questions, is a heavy temptation. ‘ We have got two clever fellows going about the country inquiring at all the, villages whether two mounted men have gone through there late at night, or early in the morning, so as to narrow down the area to be searched, but nothing has come of it, althoiu’h 1 am pretty sure that they must have three or foul' places they use in various directions. Men have picked up stories of horsemen being heard, occasionally, but they come from various directions, and nowhere have thev been noticed

with any regularity. besides. there are other knights of the road about, so we arc uo nearer than we wen; on that line of inquiry.’ A month later John Thorndyke had occasion to go up again to town. This time Mark accompanied him. Both carried pistols, as did the groom, sitting beside them. The squire himself was but a poor shot, but Mark had practised a great deal. ‘ ’Tis a good thing to be able to shoot straight, Mark,’ his father had said to him two years before. ‘l. abhor duelling, but there is so much of it at present that airy gentleman might find himself in a position when lie must either go out or submit to be considered a coward. Then, too, the roads are infested by highwaymen. For that reason alone it would be well that a man should be able to shoot straight. You should also practise sometimes at night; settingup some object at a distance so that you can just make out its outline, and taking a dozen shots at it. 1 know it is very difficult when you cannot see your own pistol, but you can trust to your arm to come up to the right height and in the right direction. Of course, you must wait until morning, and then find out where, your bullet has gone.’ Two days after they had reached town the squire received a letter from Mrs. Cunningham. ‘ Dear Mr. Thorndyke,—Knapp has been up this morning to tell me that a stranger dismounted yesterday at the ale-house, and while his horse was being fed, he asked a few questions. Among others he wished to be told if you were at home, saying that ho had known you some fifteen years ago, when you lived' near Hastings, and should like to have a talk with you again. In fact, he had turned off from the main road for the purpose. He seemed disappointed when he heard that you had gone up to town, and hearing that you might not be back for three or four days, said he should be coming back through Kcigate iu a week or ten days, and he dared say he should be able to find time to call again. Knapp did not hear about it until this morning; he asked the landlord about the man, and the landlord said he was about thirty, dark, and sparely built. He did not notice his horse particularly, seeing that it was such as a small squirt* or farmer might ride, He carried a brace of pistols iu his holsters. The landlord was not prepossessed with his appearance, and it was that that made him' speak to Knapp about him. 1. have told the men to unfasten the dogs every night, and I have asked Knapp to send up two trustworthy men to keep watch.’ ‘ It may mean something and it may not,’ tin* squire said, as he handed the letter to Mark ; 1 it is a suspicious looking circumstance; if flic fellow had been honest he would surely have* said something about himself. Then* is no doubt these housebreakers generally find our what' chance there is of resistance, and hearing that we were botli away might have decided on making an attempt. 1 have pretty well finished our business and ordered nearly all the provisions that Mrs. Cunningham requires. \ have to call at my lawyer’s, and that is generally a longish business. ‘lt is half-past two o’clock; if we start from here at five we shall be down soon after eight, which will be quite soon enough. We shall have a couple of hours’ drive in the dark, but that won’t matter, we have got the lamps,’ ‘I am quite ready to start, father. 1 am engaged to sup with lieginald Ascot, but I will go over this afternoon and malt my excuses.’ At five o’clock they started. ‘ You have got your pistols iu order, Mark ?’ the squire asked, as they drove over London bridge. ‘I have them handy, father, one in each pocket.’ 1 James, are your pistols charged ?’ , ‘ Yes, .sir.’ At six o’clock it-was beginning to get dusk, and they stopped while the groom got down and lit the lamps; then they ■ resumed ’their journey. They were within five miles of Keigate when suddenly two horsemen rode out from a side road with a shout of 1 .Stand and deliver !’ The lashed the horses, and a moment later a pistol was fired, and the ball went through John Thorndyke’s

hat. By the light of the lamps Mark • saw the other man raise his hand aud he , fired at once; then, as there was no reply to his fire, he discharged the j second barrel at the first who had shot, ; and who had at once drawn another pistol. The two reports rang out almost at the i same moment, but Mark’s was a little the first. There was a sharp oxcUuua- ■ tion of pain from the highwayman, who wrenched round his horse and galloped down the lane from which he had issued, : the groom sending two bullets after him. ‘ Where is the other man ?’ Mark exclaimed, as his father reined in the horses. | ‘ Somewhere on the ground there, Marty 1 saw him fall from his saddle as we passed him.’ . j ‘ Is it any use pursuing the other, ; father? I am pretty sure 1 hit him.’ | ‘ I am quite sure you did, but it is no ' good our following ; the side roads are ■; so cut up by ruts that we should break a spring before we bad goue a hundred yards. . No, we will stop and look at ’ this fellow who is unhorsed, Mark.’ | ‘ He is dead, father.’ j 1 1 think you had better lift him up on tho footboard behind; James can ride his horse. Wc will hand the body over to the constable at Beigate. He may know who ho is, or find something upon him that may afford a clue that will lead to the capture of his companion.’ ‘ No, 1 don’t know him, squire,’ the constable said as they stopped before his house and told him what had happened. ‘ However, he certainly is deed, aud I will get one of the men to help me cany him into the shed behind the courthouse. So yon say that you thiuk that the other is wounded.’ ‘ 1 am pretty sure he is. 1 heard him give an exclamation as my son shot.’ 1 That is good shooting, Mr. Mark,' the constable said. ‘ If every passenger could use his arms as you do there 1

would soon be an end to stopping coat-lies. I will see what he has goi about him, and will come up and let j you know, squire, the first thing in the morning.’ ‘ I will send Knapp down,’ John Thorndyke suid, as they drove homewards. ‘I am rather curious to know if this fellow is the same as .Mrs. Cunningham wrote about. 1 will tell him to take fetors along with him.’ ‘ I hardly see that there ran be any connection between the two. llighI wayiuen don’t go in for housebreaking. ' 1 tiiink they consider that to he a lower branch of the profession.’ | ‘ Generally they do, no doubt, Mark ; but vou know I told you that the chief 'at Ho w street said that he had a suspicion that the highway robbers and the housebreakers who have been creating so mneh. alarm are the same mens’ j ‘ It, is cumins that they should have happened to light on us, father, if they ' were intending to break into our house.’ i John Thorndyke made no reply, and ; in a few minutes drove up to the house, i Their return a couple of days before ; they were expected, caused great satis-f.i.-tion to Mrs. Cunningham and Millii ciir. The former, however, had wisely kept from the girl the mutter on which ; slit- had written to the squire, and the suspicion she had herself entertained. ‘ It is very dull without you both,’ Millicent said. ‘I was telling .Mrs. ■Cunningham that I though it would be a good thing, when you got back, for us , two To take a run up to town for a week, just to let vou see how dull the place is when two of us are away. You are I looking quite serious, uncle. Is ■anything the matter?’ i 4 Happily nothing is the matter with us. dear, hilt we have had an adventure, and not a very pleasant one.’ 4 What was it?’ the girl asked. ‘lf you examine my hat closely, Millicent, it will tell you.’ The girl took up the hat. from a chair on which he had put it, ami brought it to the light. ' 4 There, are two holes in it,’ she said; ‘ Oh, Gnardy, have you been shot at ?’ ‘lt looks like it, dear. Two gentlemen highwaymen, at least that is what 1 believe they call themselves, asked us i pressing!v to stop, ami as we would not comply with the.ir request, one fired at me, and, as \mi see, it was an uncommonly good Tim other-was about to tire wlicii .dark’s pistol pul a slop to him, and his ’second barrel stopped the fellow who fired first; he was hit, for ,we hoard him give an exclamation of pain, but before any more shooting could , be done he turned and rode oft' down a narrow lane where we could not, . follow.’ i 4 And what became of the first ? ’ Millicent asked, with open eyes, j 4 He was dead before we could get ( down to examine him ; ho will not I disturb the king’s peace again. It. happened about four miles from home, so we brought him in and gave him and his horse into the charge of the constable at Reigatc.’ ; 4 And you have really killed a man ? ’ Millicent said, looking up with an awestruck expression to Mark, -— u Wd■ liras tliomar wbuT(l“liave killed , us if 1 hadn’t, T cannot say, Millicent, ; that lus death weighs in any way heavily on my mind. If he were as good u shot as the other, my father’s life would not have been worth much, for as we were driving'past, he was not above half as far away as the other had been when he fired/ Just the same, I suppose, as g would be in a battle; a man is going to shoot you aud you shoot him first, and 1 don’t suppose it ever troubles you afterwards,’ i 4 Of course 1 don’t mean that I blame you, Mark, but it does seem shocking.’ 4 1 don’t suppose you would think that, Millicent, if a burglar, who had taken one shot at you and was about to finish you with another, was cut short I in the operation by a shot from my I pistol, 1 believe that your relief aud thankfulness would be so great that the ‘idea that it was a shocking thing for • me to do, would not as much as enter your head.’ 4 l wish you had shot the other man as well as the one you did, Mark,’ the s lire said, as he walked with his son down to Reigatc to attend the inquest the next morning on the man he had

brought in. Mark looked at his father in .surprise. 1 There is no doubt I hit him, father,’ he said; ‘but I should not. think that he will be likely to tnc. . again. ■‘ .I wish I felt quite sure of that. Do you know that 1 have a strong suspicion that it was Arthur Bastow (’ Mark had, of course, heard of Bastow’s escape, but had attached no great importance to it. The crime had taken place nearly eight years before, and although greatly impressed at the time by the illdoings of the man, the idea that he would ever return and endeavour to avenge himself on his father for the part he had taken had not occurred to him, Beyond mentioning his escape, the squire had never talked to him on the subject. ‘ It was he who bade us stand and deliver, and the moment he; spoke, the voice seemed familiar to mo, and, thinking it over, 1 have an impression that it was his. I may -he mistaken, but I have had him in my mind ever since I heard that he had escaped. I may, therefore, have connected the voice with him erroneously, ami yet 1 cannot but think that I was right. You see, there arc two or three suspicious circumstances. In the lirst place, there was this man down here making inquiries. Knapp went down early this morning with the innkeeper,and'told me before breakfast that Peters at once recognised the fellow you shot as the fellow who had made the inquiries. Now, the natural result of making inquiries would have been that the two men would the next evening have broken into the house, thinking that during our absence they would meet with no resistance. Instead of doing this they waylaid us on the road, which looks as if it was I they intended to attack, and not the house.’ ‘ But how could they have known that it was us, father? It is certainly singular that one of the two men should have been the fellow who was up at the

mn, but it may be only a matter ot coincidence.’

‘ i don’t know, Mark, I don’t say tliat singular coincidences don’t occur, hut 1 have not much faith in them. Still, if they were journeying down to attack the house last night they would hardly have stopped travellers by the wav when there was a rich booty awaiting them; as it is evident they believed there was, or that man would not have come, down specially to make int|nines. My own impression is that when they heard that we should return in two or three, days one of them watched us in London, and as soon as they learned that we were to start for home at live o’clock, they came down hen; to stop us. _ They would hardly have done that mV rely to get our watches aud what money we had in our pockets.’

‘ No, I should think not, father; but they might be friends of some of the men who have got into trouble at Jleigate, and us yon were chairman of the bench may have owed a special grudge against you for their conviction.’ ‘ That is, of course, possible, and 1 hope.that it is so.’ ‘ But even if Arthur Bastow had escaped, father, why should he come back to England, where he would know that he might be arrested again, instead of staying quietly out in Australia V’ ‘ There are two reasons. In the first place the life out there would not be a quiet one; there would he nothing for him but to attack and rob the settlors, and this, as they are sure to be armed, is a pretty dangerous business. Then there are perils from the blacks, and lastly, such L life would be -absolutely devoid of comfort and be that of a hunted dog, living always in the bush, and scarcely venturing to sleep lest he should be pounced upon either by the armed constables of the colony or by tlic 1. as. It is not as if the country were extensively populated; there is not a very largo number of settlers there yet, and therefore verysmall scope for robbers. These people would keep very little money with them, and the amount of plunder to be got would be small indeed. Therefore, I take it that the main object of any escaped convict would be to get away from the

place. That, is one of the reasons why the fellow might come back to England in spite of the risks. The other is that I believe him to be so diabolically vindictive that he would run almost any peril in order to obtain revenge upon me or his father. Twice he has threatened me, the first time when we captured him, the second time as he left the court after he had received his sentence. I am not a coward so far as I know, Mark, but I am as certain as I stand here, that he meant what he said, and that, during these years of imprisonment and toil out there, lie has cherished the thought of coming home some day and getting even with me. You see he is said to have been the leader of this convict revolt. There is no doubting his daring, and to my mind the attac k upon us last night, when they kriew that they could have managed asuoccssful robbery here, points to the fact that it is the result of personal animosity, and strengthens ray belief that it was Arthur liastow who called upon us to stand and deliver.’

‘ It is a very unpleasant idea, father.’ ‘ Very unpleasant, and it seems to me that wo should at any rate spare no pains in hunting the man you wounded down.’

‘ I will undertake that if you like. I have nothing particular to do, and it would be an excitement. You have a lot to keep you here.’ 4 I don’t fancy that you will find it an excitement, Mark, for of course the detectives will do the hunting, blit 1 should certainly be glad if you would take a letter for me to the head of the Detective Department, and tell him what I think, and ray reason for thinking so. and say that 1 offer a reward of a hundred pounds for the capture of the man who tried to stop us, and who was, we are certain, wounded by you. Unless he has some marvellously out of the way hiding-place, it ought not to be difficult. A wounded man could scarcely lie hidden in the slums of London without its being known to a good many people, to some of whom a reward of the sum of a hundred pounds would bean : ’resistible temptation.’ By this time they had reached Reigate. The inquest did not last man} minutes, and the jury without hesitation returned a verdict of justifiable homicide.

CHAPTER YII. HE next morning Mark went lip to London. v ‘ Of course, Mr. Thorndyke,' the chief at Bow street said, ‘ your father’s suspicions as to the man’s identity may or may not be justified; that, however, makes nc difference to us. Here is a highwayman who lias been wounded and would certainly be a valuable capture. I will set my men to work at once; ii he is in Loudon they will get news oi him before many days. That I think there is no doubt of; and though my men in any case would do their duty, your father’s offer will certainly stimulate their energy. Where are you stopping ?’ 1 At the Bull, in Hoiborn.’ 1 Very well, I will be sure to let you know as soon as we get any clue to the man’s identity.’ Mark , remained in Loudon a week, and at the end of that time he received a note from Bow street saying that the superintendent wished to see him. So fur l here was no news of the man for whom they were searching. • 1 mu sorry that I have no news for you, Mr. Thorndyke,’ the officer said, when he called upon him. 1 Every place where such a man would bo likely to be in hiding has been searched, and no due whatever has been obtained. We shall now circulate notices of the reward throughout the eouutry. If'the man was at all severely hit, we may assume that ho must be somewhere in the neighbourhood of Loudon, whereas, if the wound was a slight one, he might

oe able to oo a lon.tr fbstaneo arn*. may be now in York, for aught. we know. However, now that tin; search in London has terminated, I fan really see no use in .your staying here any longer; we will let you know directly we have auv news.’

i Three months later John Thorndyke I received a letter from the detective office, asking lira to c all the next time he came I up to town, as, although no news had i been obtained that would lead to the man’s immediate arrest, news had at any rate been obtained showing that he was alive. It happened that Mark was in--1 tending to go up on the following day, and his father asked him .to call for him : at How street.

| ‘ Well, Mr. Thorndyke, we have heard about your man, and that after we had quite abandoned the search. I had'come to the conclusion that the 1 wound you gave him had been a fatal one, hind that he heel been quietly buried by some of the people with whom he was connected. The discovery was, as half these discoveries are gene- ■ rally, the result of accident. Last ! week a gentleman entered the bank 1 and asked for ■ change in gold -l for a fifty-pound note. The cashier, looking at the number, found that it was one of those that had been stolen from a passenger by one of the south coaches several mouths ago. ; The gentleman was at once taken into a private office 1 and questioned as to how he had obtained the note. The account that he gave was that tie was a surgeon in practice at Southampton. A gentleman had arrived on a date which we found to be the day after that on which yon were stopped; he was well-dressed, and had the air of ; a gentleman ; had come down by coach i and was evidently very ill. He told the surgeon that he had been engaged in a 1 duel, that the pistols had been dis- ' charged simultaneously, and hat he i had killed his man, but had himself ' been severely wounded. He said that the '• person whom he had killed had influential connections, and that it would be necessary for him to remain in seclusion fora time, and In* asked him to take charge, of his case, as he had ample moans of paying him handsomely. The surgeon examined the wound, and found it to bo indeed a serious one, and as he thought probably fatal. However, having no doubt as to 1 lie truth of the story, ho had taken the gentleman in, and he remained under his charge until a week before he came up to town.

‘ For tin- first mouth he had been dangerously ill, hut he completely recovered. The surgeon had no reason whatever for doubting his patient being a gentleman; he was fashionably dressed, and had evidently changed his clothes after the duel, as there were no blood stains upon them. He was, however, glad when he left, as Ids conversation did not please him from its cynical tone. The hank at once sent to us as soon as the man presented the note, which he stated had been given to him in part payment for his medical services and the board and lodging of the patient. The total amount hail been £75, and the balance was paid in gold. As he was able to give several good references and was identified by three gentlemen, he was of course released, I have no i doubt whatever that the fellow was your inan. The surgeon sauLwhoever he was, he must have been a man of iron I resolution to have made such a journey in the state he was.’ ! I Ao doubt he must havo k ridden straight to the place he used as his headquarters, where he had his wound roughly bandaged, changed his clothes, and had then ridden the next morning to some point that the coach passed on its way to Southampton. Of course we obtained a minute description' from the surgeon of the man’s appearance. We found that the people at the coach office had no remembrance of there being anyone answering to that description among the persons who travelled by the coach, but 'of course that would not go for much, for over three months had elapsed. There were only three inside passengers besides himself, and he had to he assisted into the coach. The waybill, on being turned up, showed that an inside -passenger had been taken up at Kingston. I have already sent down men to make inquiries at every village in the district between Reigateand Kingston, and L'trust that we shall lay hands on him. especially- now we have got an accurate desi ription of him, while before we were working in the dark in that respect,’ ‘ What is the desi-iiption, sir? My father is much interested on that point, for, as I believe 1 told you, he has a l strong suspicion that the fellow is the ; man who was transported more than eight years ago to Australia and who made his escape from the prison there.’ ‘ Yes, I know. At first it appeared to me very improbable, but I am hound to say tile description tallies very clearly with that given of him. The surgeon took him to be nearly thirty ; but after what he has gone through, he may well look three or four years older than he is. He had light hair, rather small gray eyes, and a face that would have been good-looking had it not been for its supercilious sneering expression.’ , ‘lean remember him,’ Mark said; ■ ‘ and that answers very closely to him. ' I should say that it is certainly Bastow, and ray father made no mistake when he asserted that he recognised his voice.’ The officer added a note to the description in his register; ‘ Strongly suspected of being Arthur Bastow, trans- ! ported for connivance with highway--1 men ; was leader of a mutiny in convict ■ gaol of Sydney two years and a half ago. i Made his escape.’ j 1 \ltngether a desperate character. : No doubt ho is the man who has been concerned in most of these robberies in the southern suburbs. We must get hold of him if we can, and once we do so there will be an, end of his travels, for a mutiny in prison and escape is a hanging business, putting aside the affairs since he got back. Well, sir, L hope he will give you and your father no more trouble.’ ‘ 1 :«in -mv .1 hope so,’ Mark said. ‘ f suppose that the fellow who was shot w.-is one of the men who escaped with him from the convict orison.’

‘ That is likely enough. ! get home as, easily as one, m l the fact i that thev were, both strangers hero would account for the difficulty our men have had in their search for him. You see, wo have had nothing whatever to go on. You must not be too sanguine about our catching the man in a short tiale. He is evidently a clever fellow, and I think it likely that once he got j hack he lost no time in getting away I from this part of the country, and we are more likely to find him : n the “west or north than we arc of laying' hands on him here. We will scud descriptions all over the country, and las soon as I hear of a series of Icrimcs anywhere I will send off two of my best men to help the local constables.’ | On his return home, Mark told his ! father what he had done. I ‘ I thought that I could not have been mistaken, Mark; we have got that rascal on our hands again. I hope now that they have got a description of him to go by, they will not be long before they catch him, but the way he escaped after being badly wounded shows that he is full of resources, aud he may give them some trouble yet if I am not mistaken. At any rate, I will have a talk with the Reigate constable, ami tell him that there is very little doubt that the man who attacked us was Arthur Bastow, who has, as' we have heard, escaped from Botany Bay, and that he had best tell his men to keep a sharp look-outfor him, for that owing to his animosity against us for his former capture and conviction it is likely enough'thaksooner or later he will be in this neighbourhood again.' " After his determined attempt at my life when pretending to rob ns, I shall certainly not feel comfortable until I know that—he is -under lock and key. You were in court when he threatened mo after ho was sentenced, and I believe thoroughly that the fellow would run any risk to revenge himself on mo.’ , i

‘ 1 wish, Guardy, you would give up this magistrate’s business,’ Millicent said, at dinner, 1 1 am sure that it is worrying you, and I can’t see why you should go on with it.’ ‘lt does not worry me,'as a rule, Millicent,- indeed, I like the duty; besides, every Taudowuer of standing ought to take his share in public work; there are only two of the magistrates younger than I am, and whatever you may’think of me I feel myself, capable of doing what work th-re is to do. When Mark gets a few years older I shall resign and let him . take my place on tiro bench. I own, though, that I should be glad if these highway robberies could be stippressud. Poaching and the ordinary' offences of drunkenness. and assaults are disposed of without any-trouble ; but this stopping of coaches, accompanied occasionally by the shooting'of’ the coachman or guard, gives a great deal of trouble, and the worst of it is that we are practically powerless to put such crimes down. Nothing short of patrolling the roads in parties of three or four between sunset and sunrise would put a stop to them, and the funds at our disposal would not support such an expenditure. ‘ It is a pity that you cannot gather a corps like the yeomanry and call it the mounted constabulary,’ said Mark. ‘ There are at least a dozen fellows I know who would, like myself, he glad to join it, and I dare say we could get a score of young farmers or fanners’ sons.’

‘lt is not a bad idea, Mark, -and I dare say that for a time the duty would be zealously performed, but before very long you would tire of it. 'A few wet nights or winter’s cold, and you would cease to see the fun of it, especially as you may be sure that the news that the roads are well patrolled would soon come to the ears of these scoundrels, and they would cease to work in the district.’ _

1 ‘ Perhaps you are right.- sir, but I j think that a few of us would stick to it.’ 1 ‘ Perhaps so, Mark, but I should be ■ sorry to wager that the work would he i thoroughly done. . .The first county ot : hunt ball, or even dinner party, .more j than htdf of them , would be away. I j don’t say that you personally might not | for some considerable time persist in patrolling the roais, for you have a sort of personal interest in the matter; but I would .wage!' that before two montu-s have passed you would find you were the only one who attended at the ren- : dezvous regularly. | Four days later the party were waled round the lire in the dusk., Mr. Bus-

tow was sitting next to (iie squire, and was in unusually good spirits. Ho bad kcatd no word of what the squire had discovered, nor dreamt that his son vs as again in England, still less that one of the men who had endeavoured to stop the squire and his 'son on tLur drive from London was suspected to be hi! son Arthur. Suddenly there was the crack of a pistol outside, and a bail passed between him and the squire. Without a .word, Mark Tiiorntiyi.c rushed to the door, seized a pistol from his riding-coat, and snatching, up a heavy whin, dashed 01$ into the garden. tTo be Continued.)