The GIRL WHO HELPED NED KELLY

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 750, 24 August 1929, Page 28

The GIRL WHO HELPED NED KELLY

B’J

CHARLES E. TAYLOR

[ Copyright ]

CHAPTER XV. ARRESTED’ “Perhaps.” “With distinguished guests.” She made no comment. “The old man’s pretty friendly -with the gang, isn’t he?” Briant went on. “You should know whether he is or not —you lived with him,” was her non-committal rejoinder. "Well, what’s your opinion?” “I have heard lots ot things. People will talk, you know.” “If you were called as a witness to give evidence if Jackson were charged as a Kelly sympathiser, what would you say?” “My evidence would be useless, because it would be only hearsay.” Jack laughed. “You’re much to clever for me, Nita. Well, as Sam and the old lady aren't home, I suppose we’d better be getting back.” “Yes, it must be getting late.” Both were strangely silent on the homeward journey. When they had put away the horses and they stood at the door, Jack took her hand, but she pulled it away. “Not one good-night kiss, Nita?” he asked. “Don’t—don’t torture me!” she cried, as she ran from him. As Briant awoke next morning the familiar figure of Constable Costello stood beside his bunk. “What the —” “Get your clothes on and come with me!” The trooper’s command was peremptory. "I'll see you damned first!” “I’ve a warrant for your arrest.” Jack gasped. “For my arrest! What tor?” “Highway robbery.” Costello produced a blue paper from his pocket, and read its startling contents —official jargon which, translated into plain English, charged Jack Briant with having, on the previous; night, while under arms, robbed John Cleggett, a neighbouring farmer, of £7. The stereotyped warning as to anything he might say being used in evidence against him, followed. “So hurry into your fclothes, and come along with me.” added Costello. "You’ve put this up on me, you dirty skunk!” cried Briant. To his surprise, the trooper merely smiled.

Attracted by their voices, Jacobson came up. “Why this early call, Costello?” Costello told him, adding with evident relish that the penalty for that sort of crime was at least seven years’ gaol. “You’re mad, man,” laughed Jacobson. “He rode across to Jackson’s last night, and Nita went with him. Here, Nita!” The girl came running over. She started at the sight of the policeman. “I suppose you didn’t know that while I was with you last night I was also over the Winton road robbing old John Cleggett,” Briant said. “Costello says so, and he’s got a warrant to arrest me.” "Arrest you!” Nita's face lost some of its colour. “Cleggett got a good look at the man who bailed , him up, aud his description tallies with Briant,” Costello told her. “But I was with him last night.” “What time did you get back from Jackson’s?” The trooper turned from one to the other. “Honestly, I don’t know,” Jack replied. “But I do,” cut in Nita. “I looked at the clock—it was 25 to 10.” “Oh, was it? Well, Cleggett was robbed about half-past 10, and it doesn’t take more than 20 minutes to get from here to where he was bailed up.” There was a note of triumph in his voice. “It’s absurd,” cried the girl. “That’ll be for the magistrate to say,” snapped the trooper. “Hurry up there!” “Look here, Costello, if you weren’t a policeman, I’d punch your head.” Jacobson jumped forward in alarm. “Don’t do anything foolish. Interfering with a trooper is serious business.” “But, father,” protested Nita, "Constable Costello is mistaken. Jack wouldn't do such a thing if he had the chance.” “If you’re so cocksure, perhaps you’ll come and give evidence for him,” sneered the trooper. “I certainly shall,” she flashed at him. “Court sits tomorrow, so you won’t have long to wait. Come on, Briant, I'm not going to wait here all day for the likes of you.” “You’ll wait here till I’ve had my breakfast, anyway.” Costello was about to make an angry retort, when Jacobson led him

up the yard. They talked earnestly for a few minutes. “It won’t do any harm to go -with him,” Jack’s employer remarged on their return. “You can easily prove ■where you were last night. He’s going to wait till you’ve had your breakfast, though. It’s rough on you, I know, but lots of people suffer through policemen’s mistakes.” “Costello has a set on me, but I’ll get even with him yet,” said Briant, as he went inside. The trooper interrupted the meal by saying lie had waited long enough, and didn’t intend to wait any longer. “Very well, then, you’d better be going,” jeered Briant. I am going, and you’re coming, too.” “When I’ve finished by breakfast. Take your ugly mug out of this—it spoils my digestion.” Costello, purple with rage, whipped out his handcuffs, but Jacobson stepped in front of him. “Put those away, Costello; you know they’re not needed.” “Don’t you interfere with me in the execution of my duty!” . “ I !1 have no high-handed business m my house,” Jacobson shot at him. “Yon know what it means to interfere with the police?” cried the enraged young trooper. “I also know what happens to a silly young fool who loses his head and tries to exceed his duty. The boy’s going in with you when he’s finished his breakfast, and there’s no need for all this flasfoness.” “Will you have another cup of coffee, Jack?” Nita asked. “Thanks, Nita, I will,” he replied, not because he wanted it, but because the delay would annoy Costello. It did annoy him, to the extent of declaring that Briant had had enough and he didn’t intend to wait any longer for him. “So you’re going to say how much I’m to eat and drink, are you?” Jack jeered. “Really, your interest in my welfare is quite touching. If I’m keeping you from duty, just go along. I’ll follow you later.” Almost beside himself with rage, Costello stepped in front of Nita as she brought Jack’s refilled cup. With a snarl of anger Jacobson roughly pushed him aside. “You remember, Costello, your business is with Briant. Don’t you dare interfere with my daughter!” “Thank you, father,” laughed Nita. "You saved me the trouble of throwing this coffee in his face.”

“I’ll make all of you sorry for this,” Costello blurted, trembling with rage. “You’re a fool, Costello.” exclaimed Jacobson. “Hear, hear to that!” laughed Briant. Costello glared at both of them. “You know what happened at the Kelly’s when they assaulted Fitzpatrick,” he reminded them.

“I do happen to know,” rejoined j Jacobson. “I know a woman was ] sent to gaol on the word of a drunken j policeman.” The trooper’s eyes gleamed. “A policeman’s word is always accepted.” “Not always,” Jack cut in. “It wasn't in Donnellan’s case. It mightn’t be in Costello’s. Donnelltm was a silly young fool like yourself, and did things that even Headquarters couldn’t stand.” “I’m not waiting here ail day,” snapped Costello, who obviously was impressed by the reference to the hotheaded young trooper who had been dismissed for many acts of | arrogant brutality, which culminated i in an attack on an old man named j Thompson. “I’m ready now,” Jack announced, as he rose from the table. “How do you propose to take me?” “You’ll walk alongside my horse with the darbies on,” replied Costello, again producing his handcuffs. Briant' smiled and shook his head. "Not that way.” Costello took a step forward. Nita took Jack’s arm, “Come on,” she said. “I’ll drive you in.” “No you won’t.” Nita walked up to the trooper, and staring him full in the eyes, said: “That’s the way lie’s going in. Constable Costello. If you’ve any objection you can tell the magistrate al! about it. Help me to get the horse in, Jack.” Not quite sure of himself Costello followed them into the yard. Briant shot an amused glance in his direction. “Haven’t you forgotten something? You can’t tell the Bench tomorrow that you searched the prisoner and his bedroom, but failed to find any trace of the stolen money or the robber’s revolver. By the way, what sort of revolver was it? I’m curious to know the kind of weapon my criminal half uses while my law-abiding half lies snugly in bed. Not only am I a criminal part of my time, but I seem to possess the extraordinary power of being in two places at once. You’ll have an interesting story to tell the Bench. Why not have a look round for the plunder while you’re waiting?” Costello gritted his teeth, but did not move or speak. Jack continued his banter. , "To make sure you won’t be shot while I’m driving alongside of you. I’ll show you I haven’t a pistol on me.” He turned out all liis pockets, removing a few shillings from one and several letters from another. “Oh, this isn’t any of Cleggett’s money. This is part of last week’s wages.” The horse had now been harnessed, and Nita had taken her seat in the buggy. Jack climbed up beside her. “I shan’t be long, Mr. Jacobson," lie shouted to his employer as they drove through the gate. “You go ahead,” Costello commanded. “That’s very good of you,” remarked Briant. “It’ll save us the unpleasantness of having to look at you for the whole trip.” “Bv God! You’ll be sorry for all this!” If looks could kill, Briant would have died on the spot. “No: it’ll be you who’ll be sorry, Costello —in about a week’s time.” “What do you mean by that?” “Wait and see.” Costello said very little during the rest of the journey, except occasiona y to demand a better pace. Nita, too, mostly was silent. Jack talked to her at intervals, but she replied in monosyllables. Their arrival at Benalla caused some stir, and when they drove up to the police station a group of idlers gathered round the door. “That ain’t Joe Byrne ’e’s got, is it?” one old fellow laughed. Briant overheard the remark. “Bless you, no,” he laughed. “I’m Ned Kelly!” The old man, with a startled gasp, hid himself behind his companions. “Pooh! That ain’t Ned Kelly!” exclaimed a hoy. “Ned’s got whiskers you could ’ide in!” This rather reassured the old chap, who timidly emerged from his hiding place. “Who you got there?” Costello was asked. “Highway robber,” he replied, with some show of pride. To Jack—-“ Now then—step lively.” To the crowd’s astonishment Briant turned to the trooper and said: “Don’t be rude, Costello.” “By God! E’s a ’ard un!” exclaimed a bystander. Costello, feeling that he was being humiliated, seized Jack by the shoulder. The appearance of a sergeant of police put an end to his contemplated demonstration, however “Is this your man?” asked the sergeant, closely scrutinising the prisoner. “What are you doing here. Miss Jacobson?” “Constable Costello behaved so badly at our place that I thought I’d like to come,” she replied . The sergeant looked at Costello, who said with an angry frown: “The whole lot of them interfered with me. Sergeant. I had hard work to get the prisoner here.” “You damned liar!” cried Briant. “Here, here, that language won’t do,” the sergeant remonstrated. “You clear out, the lot of you!” he added to the little knot of excited spectators i who surged round the door. Inside the police station were i several officers and a venerable-look-1 ing bearded man, whom Jack | recognised from photographs he had seen as Superintendent Hare. A tall, grizzled countryman looked Jack up and down with a puzzled expression on his well-tanned face. He came forward and looked intently at him. “Is that the man?” asked Hare, after the formal charge had been read. “Oh. I say,” Briant protested, ‘this method of identification is ‘ather irregular.” “Have you ever been identified before?” sharply inquired the Superintendent. “I have not, but I know something of legal procedure! Still, go ahead if it suits you.” Superintendent Hare frowned. The old man, whom Jack took to be John Cleggett, his supposed victim, walked round him slowly, and then whispered to the sergeant, who in turn, said something in an undertone to the Superintendent. (To be continued on Monday)