“I may as well inquire for any letters or cables that are waiting for me,” he said.
Rycroft lit his pipe and went out. He had never seen Philip Ogilvie before, and was surprised at his general appearance, and also at his manner.
“Why did they send him out?” he muttered. “Sensitive, and with a conscience: not the sort of man to care to do dirty work; but perhaps Grayleigh was right. If I am not much mistaken, he will do it all the same.”
“I shall make my own pile out of this,” he thought. He returned to the hotel later on, and the two men spent the evening in anxious consultation. The next day they started for Rockhampton, and late in the afternoon of the fourth day reached their destination.
The mine lay in a valley which had once been the bed of some prehistoric river, but was now reduced to a tiny creek. On either side towered the twin Lombard peaks, from which the mine was to take its name. For a mile on either side of the creek the country was fairly open, being dotted with clumps of briggalow throwing their dark shadows across the plain.
Beyond them, where the slope became steep, the dense scrub began. This clothed the two lofty peaks to their summits. The spot was a beautiful one, and up to the present had been scarcely desecrated by the hand of man.
“Here we are,” said Rycroft, “here lies the gold.” He pointed to the bed of the creek. “Here is our overseer’s hut, and he has engaged men for our purpose. This is our hut, Ogilvie. I hope you don’t mind sharing it with me.”
“Not in the least,” replied Ogilvie. “We shall not begin operations until the morning, shall we? I should like to walk up the creek.”
Rycroft made a cheerful answer, and Ogilvie started off alone. He scarcely knew why he wished to take this solitary walk, for he knew well that the die was cast. When he had accepted Lord Grayleigh’s check for ten thousand pounds he had burnt his boats, and there was no going back.
“Time enough for repentance in another world,” he muttered under his breath. “All I have to do at present is to stifle thought. It ought not to be difficult to go forward,” he muttered, with a bitter smile, “the downhill slope is never difficult.”