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WHO KILLED CONNIEI BURT?I

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( Copyright.) I WHO KILLED CONNIE I BURT? By GUY BOOTHBY, Author of "Dr. Nikola," "A Bid for Fortune," "The Marriage of Esther," "Pharos the Egyptian," "Long Live the King," "My Indian Queen," &c. '1 SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS: Sir Maurice Ogilvie, a handsome, impecunious baronet, is engaged to be married to Mis.- Mabel Gardiner, the only daughter of a millionaire. The engagement is distinctly one of convenience, Sir Maurice badly needing the £100.000 which his fiancee's father has promised the bridegroom on nis wedding day, while his family are am- bitious of entering higher social circles than are at present open to them. Sir Maurice has some apprehensions, however, as to the reception of the news of the wedding by Connie Burt, who, under the high-sounding name of Plantagenet, is a familiar vocalist of the music-halls. He fears the exposure which a breach of promise action would involve. However, before the day fixed for the wedding arrives. Sir Maurice receives a letter from Mabel Gardiner stating that she has left home to be married to a cousin whom she loved, and begging him to forgive and forget her. Hopelessly ruined. Sir Maurice makes up his mind to leave England. He goes to bid Connie Burt adieu, and drives with her from one music-hall towards another, where she has an engagement. He stops the coachman on the way and alights. On the carriage reaching the hall, Connie Burt is found dead, with a ghastly wound in the throat. Hurrying to Liverpool, Sii Maurice changes his dress for that of a sailor, and ships before the mast for Australia. On the way he hears for the first time of the death of his music-hall friend, and realises that the evidence against himself is irresistible. On arrival at Sydney he is recognised by an old acquaint- ance, now a sergeant in the police, who knows that a hue and cry has been raised, but believes Sir Maurice innocent, and assists him to make his way up-country, where he runs less risk of arrest. CHAPTER VI. ) In something like five weeks Manton's little party had reached Markanda Station, on the Diamantina River. They had travelled o er three hundred miles by the time they arrived there, and Maurice had learnt many things which were destined to be of the greatest im- portance to him in the near future. It was by no means an unpleasant occupation, and, when once he had settled down to it, he felt as if he had been at it all his life. On arriving at the station, they found the cattle ready for taking over. A mob, consisting of some seven hundred beasts, had been col- lected, and on the day after their arrival, Manron announced the fact that he was pre- pared to commence his journey to the South. Th'-ee other men who had been enjoying a holiday in Brisbane, had come out to join them, and these, with Maurice, and Sailor Jim, the cook, to say nothing of two black boys, Rocca and Wiora, completed the party. On the night before they left Markanda, they .1 y sat round the camp fire discussing the prospects of the long journey that lay before them. I' had been an excellent season, and grass and water, they knew, would be plentiful. Åa ¡ Maurice sat on his blankets, i pe in mouth, j and his toes toasting at the fire, while the ilames leaped up and threw range lights and r shadows among the trees overhead, and the wind sighed through the tong grass beside the ) lagoon, he could not help contrasting his present life with that of the fashionable young man about town he had oeen only a few months before. So far, no one save Harbridge had made the wildest guess at his identity, and he told h mself if he remained in the bush and did not go out of his way to attract attention, it was scarcely likely that anyone would do so. It wa; barely light next morning when Man ton roused them from their slumbers. A heavy mist hid the lagoon, and the sky, where it could be seen, was as pale a grey as the in- igid, of an oyster shell. When Maurice opened his eyes a tlock of Galas in a tree near at hand had just arrived at the conclusion that another day had commenced, aud, therefore, it would be as well for them to go in tearch of breakfast. The camp fire that had burnt ao cheerily the night before was now only a hea, of grey ash, but Sailor Jim was hard at voiv w).)n the wood pile close a* hand, and I in a v. y few minutes it would be alight. "Coi.ie, my lads. up with you." cried Mr. Mant n. shaking by the shoulders those who felt it, lined to doze again. "'There's no time tow;i- e. Rocca, and you, Wiora, go on after the horses, and run them up to the small yard b. .ind the store. After that come back and get :Y, tir breakfasis." The black boys accordingly departed in search the animals, while the rest of the party etched themselves in their blankets. It was o no means warm, but a brisk run down to i 3 lagoon and a dip in the cold water soon «.itered matters, and by the time breakfast was ready there was not a mail who did not feel inclined for it. Here it might be placed on record that there was not another man like Sailor Jim for cooking. For dampers, Johnny cakes, plum duff, and. indeed, everything in the culinary line, he had not his equal. To do a hard day's work, and to come back to camp to sit down to one f his meals, was to know what good living should be. As soon as they had finished their breakfast the black boys went off to harness two of the horses into the I ration cart and to bring it into the camp. Thereupon the swags were stowed away in the cart, together with the hobbles, ropes, camp ovens, pans. and all the other paraphernalia of J a drover's outfit. Wrhen everything was ready. Manton came up and inspected the load. "Now off you go, Jim," he said to the cook. Keep the creek on your left-hand until yon arrive at Sandy Crossing. Then cross and follow the track until you get to Sugar Loaf Hill. We'll spell there for an hour at midday. You can pull up under the big gum that was struck by lightning when we were out here in '83." Sailor Jilll signified by a nod that he under- stood, and immediately started his team. When they bad seen him disappear round the bend of the lagoon, the rest of the party made their were way to the stocky-K where their horse# were awaiting tlieiii. I. iu'V were all in the pink of J condition; neither !'><> f;i.r nor too lean, but 5ns* of the fettle !• upon the work that j lav before them. The jinin'id-* 'hat were to be ( rid n that day havw.g hee'i selected, the rest j %vere <'riven to the wui :c paikiock, v. here j the in- b tliey were to take over was waiting, in chart of the station hands. Manton had alreauy received hi- papers anu had given his j treceipt «o that nulhing remained now but tO fatait it o the charges on their long journey to the SouU;. Now, <-r-rr man who has tried his hand at j will tell you that a gre«n mob | is by no means easy to handle. The beasts know their owr country, and have no desire to move off it. l iey are quite unused to being driven, and as a natural result they make it a point [ of honour to break away on every possible I opportunity. To give them a better start, ha.lf. a-dozen of the station men accompanied them for the first day's stage, and remained to share -the first night's watch. After that all was comparatively smooth sailing. One of the herd elected himself king, and from that day forwaid was to be seen leading like the born ruler be was. Their route for the first seven days lay through thickly timbered country, running parallel wifh a noble range of hills. Grass and waLe. '*tre plentiful, and for green beasts the I' animals were behaving themselves remarkably weT. i ni the eighth day they crossed the Ranges a CMaped at night beside a big water hole • an npeu plain. It was left to Sailor Jim i-I deride upon the camp, and for this reason always travelled Ire or six miles ahead. According to custom they boxed the cattle on (he plain and then drove them down to water. When they had drunk their fill, the black boys iftiled them On r,, cauip, and one of them stood watch while the remainder of the party had tea. „ ] After the meal the fire was replenished, and 1, after darkness had fallen they sat round it, ■sn o!Jng and yarning. Overhead the stars iwmkled brightly, and away in a gully in the ranges they had crossed that day a wild dog calling to his mate. w "Roll that log into the fire, Patterson, md Manton, pointing to a log that laj neat Maurice's blankets. "For all we btow to thf I contrary, it may be full of centipede- Maurice did as he was directed, and soon the wood was well alight, and sendiaf a volley I of sparks into the darkness. "Rum things, centipedes," said Harry the j Digger, pressing the tobacco into his pipe with the top of his little finger. "I knew a chap at Beudigo, a schoolmaster, who used to collect cm and bottle 'em. He called it Science-but other folk called it madness. By tba time he had finished he had a rare lot of 'em of all sorts aud sizes. One day he forget te, put the cork in, and the bottle was upset." What happened ? "They got him. He never collected oentipeclea again. He'd run if yon only shewed him one." "1 knew a man on the Murrumbid«ee," said Three-Fingered Dick, who never liked to be out-done in a story, "who lost as fine a wife as anyone could clap eyes on, and, what's more, with a couple of thousand pounds at her back, just by reason of taking her out for a walk one Sunday afternoon, and a sittin' her down on an old gum log. She had been there about five minutes when she was bitten by a centipede on the calf of her leg. The duffer wouldn't go away when she gave him the hint. but must needs slav alongside. talking about poetry and all that sort of stuff, when she wanted "to be investigating. She fainted clean off at last, and he had to carry her home. She was that disgusted with his foolishness that she would have nothing more to do with him, but married a publican down on the Wentworth side." Ten minutes or so later, the man who had been on the watch came in, and it was Maurice's turn to take his place. Catching his night horse, he mounted and rode out to where the mob was grazing quietly on the plain. The moon had just made its appearance above the Ranges, and the night was very still. As he kept a watchful eye on his charges, he found himself reviewing his past. How different it was to the present The free, open-air life of the bush was just suited to his taste. tiom the confeinplation of his own wasted life, his thoughts turned to those of other people. From one to another they passed until they at last reached Miss Sherrard. He pictured her as he had so often seen her, seated under the awning of the Fotheringay. He recalled the night when she had spoken to him about the whale that had risen so mysteriously near the ship's side. Very probably she had forgotten "Sot such a person as himself existed, yet he ,'oi forgotten her. The memory of her voice and of her pretty face was more 'j^^wosant to him than he could say.. "Ah he mused to himself, when he thought over the matter, "there was once a time wl en 1 could have met her as an equal, and have done my best to win her. Now. however-- But, there I What would she think of me if she knew of the awful crime of which the world believes me guilty? For the remainder of his days, he reflected, he must be an outcast, afraid to bear his own name, and never knowing when a hand n ight be placed upon his shoulder and he himself be made a prisoner. His watch at an end, he rode leisurely up to the raoip, and, having dismounted, woke Thrce- Fingered Dick, who was to take his place. Then, when he had tethered his horse, he curled himself up in his blankets and endeavoured to sleep. For the first time since he had been in the bush, however, he found himself unable to do so. He had not been feeling particularly I well for two days, and that night an intense melancholy had settled itself upon him, and, do I what he would, he could not shake it off. He was still awake when Sailor Jim began to build his fire, preparatory to cooking the morning's breakfast. Feeling that it was no use remain- ing where he was, in the condition he was then in, he got up and helped the other. During the morning Mr. Manton, for the first time, saw that there was something really wrong with him. He accordingly rode up alongside of him. "What's the matter with you, Patterson?" he inquired. "You've a face as long as a fiddle." "I'm sorry to hear it," said Maurice, with a forced laugh. "I've got a fit of the blues, I suppose. I trust it will soon work off, how- ever." Unfortunately the fit did not work off as he had predicted. Indeed, his spirits sank lower and lower as their journey progressed. Once ) more he slept no better that he had done on the previous night. In vain he tried to reason it out with himself, in the hope that he Mould be able to convince himse f that there was really no sort of reason why he should be so mi sera'it}, i Who would be likely to recognise in William j Paiterson, the drover of Australia, the once fashionable Sir Maurice Ogilvie, of the West- end of London. Towards the end of the day's march his condition gradually grew worse. What was the matter he could not tell. He said nothing j about it, however, to his comrades, but went about his share of the work as though he were enjoying his usual good health. another bad night's rest set the seal upon and when the order was given to march ..he following day, he moved towards his horse like an old man. The effort to mount p-oved too much for him, and after two un- successful attempts to reach his saddle, he fell backwards in a dead faint upon the ground. Manton and Three Fingered Dick immediately ran to his assistance, but it was some time before they were able to restore him to con- sciousness. It having been agreed that he was not in a condition to ride that day, a place was found for him in the ration cart. By midday he was much worse, and by nightfall Manton was beginning to grow seriously alarmed. j "I wonder what is the best thing to do with him ?" he asked of his companions. He can't go on like this, and we're more than twenty miles from the township." "There is a hospital at Barrambah," Aid Sailor Jim, who knew the place well "If he isn't better in the morning we'd best get him there as soon as may be." Maurice certainly was not better next morning. If there was a change it was for the worse. By midday he was delirious. The accumulated troubles of the past six weeks were wreaking their vengeance upon him. This being so there seemed nothing for it but to hurry the cattle forward for a few miles, and then to transport the sufferer, by means of Sailor Jim's waggon, to the township of Barrambah. What it was that had caused the breakdown everyone was as ignorant as the unfortunate victim. By nightfall his connection with Manton's I overlanding party had ceased, and he was lying in a galvanised iron hut, which is supposed to represent, a hospital in that small community, fortunately for him the doctor engaged by the Committee at 1 hat time was a gentleman of some attainments. He was, moreover, an en- thusiast in his profession, and, having had nothing to occupy him for some time, save a tew biosen limbs caused by accidents, he entered upon Maurice's case with a zeal that w.is oeyond all praise. For more than a fort- nignt the latter'a life trembled in the balance, and during that time a close friendship sprang up between the two men "Whoever the fellow is, or was," said the rjocor o limself on one memorable occasion, -he is no ordinary man. He's been a bigger swell in his day than I have ever been or ever shall be. And yet the people who brought him here entered Jus name as William Patterson, j However, I don t suppose the name matter* very much. It's not the first of his class I've J had to do with." j Five weeks later Maurice was convalescent, j and about as sorry a specimen of the genus man j be found in the whole of the Australian ] ,j» vle had shrunk from his former robust to a mere shadow. Indeed, one would not have known him for the same man who had taxi!ted out of Bourke, in company with the redoubtable Dick Manton, so short a time 1 before. Barrambah Bush Hospital is not the sort of place to whose mercies one would entrust the welfare of a delicate invalid. hatever else it J ma) be. however, it was certainly a. place both of refuge and of healing for Maurice. He could not have been more carefully tended bad he had his pick of all the great London Ht.jpitals. Dr. Fairfield, for this was the medico's name, did his work as a labour of love, and there can be no more faithful service. "I began to think we were going to plant you in the field they dignify by the name of Cemetery, out yonder," he said to Maurice one day as they sat in the verandah of the hospital. "But, by Jove! you've pnlled through marvel- lously, and in another week's time, if all goes weU, I hope to set you on your feet once nacre." J J ..I™ Bui"e I'm extremely obliged to you for ^lVrouble." Maurice replied. U1 mm •Traid, however, it has been wasted. What 1 am going to do when I am about again, I don't I know. I had a splendid billet with Manton, and this illness has made me lose it." "There are plenty of other good berths to be had," said me other, comfortingly. "Wait until you are really fit to get about again, and until you are really fit to get about again, and I'll see what I can do for you. I'm necessarily familiar with most of the owners hereabouts, and I feel that, if anyone can get them to give you a lift, I am that man." More than once during his convalescence Maurice experienced the agonising fear lest in his delirium he should have let slip some-hint of his terrible secret. When, however, the I days went by and the good little doctor said nothing to him on the subject, he began to gain heart. One day, however, with Machiavelian subtlety, he led the conversation with the hospital attendant, a tall, thin, cadaverous man, with a demeanour that made him not unlike Uriah Heap, into the channel he wanted. In an airy manner they discussed great crimes and criminals, and Maurice, to his relief, was able to convince himself that the other bad heard nothing from him concerning the famous Plantagenet murder. Two days later Maurice was dismissed from the hospital as cured. "Thev want a new storekeeper out at Borrilah," said the medico, who was anxious to help Maurice as far as he could. "Why don't you try for it ? I saw the head overseer in the township last night, and if you care to go out there I think you will very probably get the job." Maurice determined to do so, and in the morning mounted his horse, which Manton had left behind, and with Billy the pack-horse set off for the station in question. He was too late to get the position of storekeeper, but in place of that he obtained one as an ordinary hand, lie kept this for three months, during which time he added daily to the experience he had already gained. Then the death of the owner threw him upon the world once more, after which he drifted from station to station, for upwards of a year, gc'ting work where and how he could. His intention was, if possible, to discover Manton once more, and, if he would have him, to join him again on one of his overlanding trips. At last he left Queensland, crossed the border and found himself in New South Wales. Then, in the township of Rongonilla, another serious illness laid him low, and when he rose from his bed a month later he was but little better than a skeleton. After leaving Rongonilla he made his way further into New South Wales, until he found himself in Mr Sherrard's country. He determined to go to the head station in order to see what luck would do for him should he try to obtain a situation there. On a certain hnt morning he quitted the township at which he had spent the night, and following the direction he had been given turned off at the Cross Tracks in the Mulga, three miles or so beyond the Government Well. "The station is fifteen miles from here, they say," he muttered to himself, as he left the sandy main track, and branched off on what was little better than a cattle path. "If all goes well I should hit it. by midday." In the timber the heat was overpowering, but he plodded steadily on. Later the track entirely vanished, and he was compelled to steer by dead reckoning. He crossed hill after hill, but the Mulga remained with him, apparently growing thicker with every mile he progressed. Hour after hour he toiled on, but still no sign of a station could he see. The sun sank lower above the tree-tops, yet there was no sign either of water or of tho buildings he was so anxious to reach. What was worse, with unpardonable carelessness he had neglected to fill his water- bag before he left the township that morning, and in consequence his tongue was parched with thirst. On and on he plodded; then he looked up and saw before him a curious sandstone rock. He remembered that he had encountered one like it already that morning, and had been struck by its resemblance to a horse's head. He recalled the fact that while resting beneath its shade he had put in the eye of the animal with his knife. Half fearing what he might find he walked towards it. Then he was filled with a terror that shook him to the very ccntre of his being. He looked at the rock again, and, having done so. knew his fate. No, there could be no doubt about it. He was bushed t He had not advanced a yard upon his journejrl He had betn uvuthrinj t in a c-irele all day I (Tv lw com iii v- d.)

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