"Now," replied Glenarvan, "will you tell me how and why Harry Grant's quartermaster is in Australia?"
"How, I do not know," said MacNabb; "and the police declare they know no more than I on the subject. Why, it is also impossible for me to say. Here is a mystery that the future will explain."
"The police do not even know the identity of Ayrton and Ben Joyce," said Captain Mangles.
"You are right, John," replied the major; "and such information would be likely to facilitate their search."
"This unfortunate, then," remarked Lady Helena, "intruded into O'Moore's farm with a criminal intention?"
"There is no doubt of it," continued MacNabb. "He was meditating some hostile attack upon the Irishman, when a better opportunity was offered. Chance threw us in his way. He heard Glenarvan's story of the shipwreck, and, like a bold man, he promptly decided to take part in the expedition. At the Wimerra he communicated with one of his friends, the farrier of Black Point, and thus left distinguishable traces of our course. His band followed us. A poisonous plant enabled him to gradually kill our oxen and horses. Then, at the proper moment, he entangled us in the marshes of the Snowy, and surrendered us to the convicts he commanded."
Everything possible had been said concerning Ben Joyce. His past had just been reviewed by the major, and the wretch appeared as he was,—a bold and formidable criminal. His intentions had been clearly proved, and required, on the part of Glenarvan, extreme vigilance. Fortunately, there was less to fear from the detected bandit than the secret traitor.
But one serious fact appeared from this explanation. No one had yet thought of it; only Mary Grant, disregarding the past, looked forward to the future. Captain Mangles first saw her pale and disconsolate. He understood what was passing in her mind.
"Miss Mary!" cried he, "you are weeping!"
"What is the matter, my child?" asked Lady Helena.