"Sit down—sit down—sit down," repeated Newton, still confused. "Let us talk over everything. As to trying to find you, we never dreamed of finding you, considering that twelve, fourteen years ago we had an account of your death from an eye-witness."
"Cowardly liar! It was worth a Jew's ransom to see him turn white and drop into a chair when I confronted him the day before yesterday."
"Why did you not communicate with me on hearing of your father's death?"
"When do you think I heard of it? Do you fancy I sat down in the midst of my busy day to pore over the births, deaths, and marriages in a paper, like a gossiping woman? Kith and kin were dead to me long ago. What did I care for English papers? What had my life or the life of my poor mother been that I should give those I had left behind a thought?" He paused, and taking a chair, looked very straight at Katherine. "Now I shall tell you my story, once for all, to show you that there is no use in disputing my rights. You know"—addressing Newton—"how my life was made a burden to me, and that I ran away to sea, ready to throw myself into it rather than return to my miserable home. After several voyages I found myself at Sydney. A young fellow who had been my mate on the voyage out, an active, clever chap, proposed that we should start for the gold fields; so we started. It was a desperate long tramp, but we reached them at last. Life was hard and rough, and for a time we worked and worked, and got nothing. At last we found a pocket, just as we were going to give up, and having secured a fair lot of gold, we divided our gains and determined to leave the camp, which was not too safe for a successful digger, before the rest knew of our treasure-trove. We decided to trudge it to the nearest place where we could buy horses, and then to make our way to Sydney as fast as we could. Somehow it must have got out that we had gold, for as the dusk of evening was closing round us on the second day of our march we were attacked by some men on horseback—bush-rangers, I suppose. We showed fight, and I was hit in the shoulder. At the same time I stumbled over a stump, and pitched on to my head, which stunned me. Just then, it seems, the sound of horses approaching frightened the scoundrels, and they made off. My mate, not knowing whether the new-comers were friends or foes, he says, got away as fast as he could. His story is that as soon as all was still he crept back, and finding me apparently quite dead, went on to report the catastrophe at the first road-side inn he came to. I believe that, thinking me dead, he took all my gold, and said precious little about me."
"His story to me," interrupted Mr. Newton, "was that he got assistance and buried your remains as decently as he could."
"What induced him to apply to you at all?"
"I do not know. I fancy it was to hand over a few small nuggets, which he said was your share of the findings, and which he took from your waistband before committing you to the grave. As he seemed frank and straightforward and quite poor, I confess I believed him, and even requested Mr. Liddell to give him some small present. He said he was going afloat again, and would sail in a few days. He had an old clasp-knife which I myself had given you, and with it a small pocket-book in which your name and my address were written in your own hand. These were tolerably convincing proofs that he at least knew you. Moreover, there seemed no need whatever that he should have made any attempt to communicate with your people. He might have held his tongue, and no question would have been raised respecting you."
"You are right," returned Liddell, bitterly.
"And how did you escape?" asked Katherine, with eager interest.
"He—this Tom Dunford—did go to the next inn and told of the attack; he even guided some men to the spot, and left them to bury me, because he was obliged to hurry on to Sydney; but I believe he returned, before going to the inn, and robbed me. Anyhow I was not killed by the bullet, but stunned by the fall. Some of the fellows who came with Tom fancied I did not seem quite dead. Finally I recovered, and instead of digging for gold myself, got others to dig for me. I set up an inn and a store, with the help of an American whose daughter I married, and now I am rich enough to be a formidable foe. I have a little girl, and when my wife died I determined to realize everything, to come to England, and have the child brought up as an English lady. On the voyage home I fell in with a man—a fellow of the rolling-stone order—to whom I used to talk now and again. He turned out to be the brother of one of your clerks, and from him I heard that my father had died intestate, that my cousin had taken possession of everything, and that I was looked upon as dead. Did you never attempt to prove the truth of Tom Dunford's story?"