Rycroft jerked his thumb significantly over his left shoulder by way of answer.
“You mean that we must see this butchery of the innocents through,” said Ogilvie.
“I see no help for it,” replied Rycroft. “We will start back to Brisbane to-morrow, and when we get there draw up the report; I had better attend to that part of the business, of course under your superintendence. We must both sign it. But first had we not better cable to Grayleigh? He must have expected to hear from us before now. He can lay our cable before the directors, and then things can be put in train; the report can follow by the first mail.”
“I shall take the report back with me,” said Ogilvie.
“Better not,” answered his companion, “best trust Her Majesty’s mails. It might so happen that you would lose it.” As Rycroft spoke a crafty look came into his eyes.
“Let us pack our traps,” said Ogilvie, rising.
“The sooner we get out of this the better.”
The next morning early they left the solitude, the neighborhood of the lofty peaks and the desecrated earth beneath. They reached Brisbane in about four days, and put up once more at the Waharoo Hotel. There the real business for which all this preparation had been made commenced. Rycroft was a past master in drawing up reports of mines, and Ogilvie now helped him with a will. He found a strange pleasure in doing his work as carefully as possible. He no longer suffered from qualms of conscience. The mine would work really well for six months. During that time the promoters would make their fortunes. Afterward—the deluge. But that mattered very little to Ogilvie in his present state of mind.
“If I suffer as I have done lately from this troublesome heart of mine I shall have gone to my account before six months,” thought the man; “the child will be provided for, and no one will ever know.”