BRITISH MYSTERIES - Fergus Hume Collection: 21 Thriller Novels in One Volume. Fergus Hume
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as he took his departure. “Australia isn’t so over-crowded as all that.”
But if Sal Rawlins was in Australia at all she certainly must have been in some very remote part. All efforts to find her proved futile. It was an open question if she was alive or dead; she seemed to have vanished completely. She was last seen in a Sydney den with a Chinaman whom afterwards she appears to have left. Since then, nothing whatever was known of her. Notices offering large rewards for her discovery were inserted in all the newspapers, Australian and New Zealand; but nothing came of them. As she herself was unable to read there seemed little chance of her knowing of them; and, if, as Calton surmised she had changed her name, no one would be likely to tell her of them. There was only the bare chance that she might hear of them casually, or that she might turn up of her own accord. If she returned to Melbourne she would certainly go to her grandmother’s. She had no motive for not doing so. So Kilsip kept a sharp watch on the house, much to Mrs. Rawlins’ disgust, for, with true English pride, she objected to this system of espionage.
“Cuss ‘im,” she croaked over her evening drink, to an old crone, as withered and evil-looking as herself, “why can’t ‘e stop in ‘is own bloomin’ ‘ouse, an’ leave mine alone—a-comin’ round ‘ere a-pokin’ and pryin’ and a-perwenting people from earnin’ their livin’ an’ a-gittin’ drunk when they ain’t well.”
“What do ‘e want?” asked her friend, rubbing her weak old knees.
“Wants?—‘e wants ‘is throat cut,” said Mother Guttersnipe, viciously. “An’ s’elp me I’ll do for ‘im some night w’en ‘e’s a watchin’ round ‘ere as if it were Pentridge—‘e can git what he can out of that whelp as ran away, but I knows suthin’ ‘e don’t know, cuss ‘im.”
She ended with a senile laugh, and her companion having taken advantage of the long speech to drink some gin out of the broken cup, Mother Guttersnipe seized the unfortunate old creature by the hair, and in spite of her feeble cries, banged her head against the wall.
“I’ll have the perlice in at yer,” whimpered the assaulted one, as she tottered as quickly away as her rheumatics would allow her. “See if I don’t.”
“Get out,” retorted Mother Guttersnipe, indifferently, as she filled herself a fresh cup. “You come a-falutin’ round ‘ere agin priggin’ my drinks, cuss you, an’ I’ll cut yer throat an’ wring yer wicked old ‘ead orf.”
The other gave a howl of dismay at hearing this pleasant proposal, and tottered out as quickly as possible, leaving Mother Guttersnipe in undisputed possession of the field.
Meanwhile Calton had seen Brian several times, and used every argument in his power to get him to tell everything, but he either maintained an obstinate silence, or merely answered, “It would only break her heart.”
He admitted to Calton, after a good deal of questioning, that he had been at Mother Guttersnipe’s on the night of the murder. After he had left Whyte by the corner of the Scotch Church, as the cabman—Royston—had stated, he had gone along Russell Street, and met Sal Rawlins near the Unicorn Hotel. She had taken him to Mother Guttersnipe’s, where he had seen the dying woman, who had told him something he could not reveal.
“Well,” said Mr. Calton, after hearing the admission, “you might have saved us all this trouble by admitting this before, and yet kept your secret, whatever it may be. Had you done so, we might have got hold of Sal Rawlins before she left Melbourne; but now it’s a mere chance whether she turns up or not.”
Brian did not answer to this; in fact, he seemed hardly to be thinking of what the lawyer was saying; but just as Calton was leaving, he asked—
“How is Madge?”
“How can you expect her to be?” said Calton, turning angrily on him. “She is very ill, owing to the worry she has had over this affair.”
“My darling! My darling!” cried Brian, in agony, clasping his hands above his head. “I did it only to save you.”
Calton approached him, and laid his hand lightly on his shoulder.
“My dear fellow,” he said, gravely, “the confidences between lawyer and client are as sacred as those between priest and penitent. You must tell me this secret which concerns Miss Frettlby so deeply.”
“No,” said Brian, firmly, “I will never repeat what that wretched woman told me. When I would not tell you before, in order to save my life, it is not likely I am going to do so now, when I have nothing to gain and everything to lose by telling it.”
“I will never ask you again,” said Calton, rather annoyed, as he walked to the door. “And as to this accusation of murder, if I can find this girl, you are safe.”
When the lawyer left the gaol, he went to the Detective Office to see Kilsip, and ascertain if there was any news of Sal Rawlins; but, as usual, there was none.
“It is fighting against Fate,” he said, sadly, as he went away; “his life hangs on a mere chance.”
The trial was fixed to come off in September, and, of course, there was great excitement in Melbourne as the time drew near. Great, therefore, was the disappointment when it was discovered that the prisoner’s counsel had applied for an adjournment of the trial till October, on the ground that an important witness for the defence could not be found.
Chapter XVII.
The Trial
In spite of the utmost vigilance on the part of the police, and the offer of a large reward, both by Calton, on behalf of the accused, and by Mr. Frettlby, the much-desired Sal Rawlins still remained hidden. The millionaire had maintained a most friendly attitude towards Brian throughout the whole affair. He refused to believe him guilty, and when Calton told him of the defence of proving an ALIBI by means of Sal Rawlins, he immediately offered a large reward, which was in itself enough to set every person with any time on their hands hunting for the missing witness.
All Australia and New Zealand rang with the extremely plebeian name of Sal Rawlins, the papers being full of notices offering rewards; and handbills of staring red letters were posted up in all railway stations, in conjunction with “Liquid Sunshine” Rum and “D.W.D.” Whisky. She had become famous without knowing it, unless, indeed, she had kept herself concealed purposely, but this was hardly probable, as there was no apparent motive for her doing so. If she was above ground she must certainly have seen the handbills, if not the papers; and though not able to read, she could hardly help hearing something about the one topic of conversation throughout Australia. Notwithstanding all this, Sal Rawlins was still undiscovered, and Calton, in despair, began to think that she must be dead. But Madge, though at times her courage gave way, was still hopeful.
“God will not permit such a judicial crime as the murder of an innocent man to be committed,” she declared.
Mr. Calton, to whom she said this, shook his head doubtfully.
“God has permitted it to take place before,” he answered softly; “and we can only judge the future by the past.”
At last, the day of the long-expected trial came, and as Calton sat in his office looking over his brief, a clerk entered and told him Mr. Frettlby and his daughter wished to see him. When they came in, the barrister saw that the millionaire looked haggard and ill, and there was a worried expression on his face.
“There is my daughter, Calton,” he said, after hurried greetings had been exchanged. “She wants to be present in Court during Fitzgerald’s trial, and nothing I can say will dissuade her.”
Calton turned, and looked at the girl in some surprise.
“Yes,” she answered, meeting his look steadily, though her face was very pale; “I must be there. I shall go mad with