Ernest thought this, for him, unnecessary, and fell back upon soda-water; but Greffham, apparently, was disinclined for immediate retirement. He and Merlin sat up long, telling apparently never-ending, half-forgotten tales, and smoking furiously.
As Mr. Neuchamp, restless and feverish, chose to get up at dawn and pace the verandah, he saw Markham and Merlin holding colloquy in low tones, amid which he involuntarily caught the sound, on Markham’s side, of the words ‘all right.’
Shortly after the sharply disciplined troopers were astir at stable duty, and at sunrise the whole party were on their way to the fatal creek.
Bright and himself, Mr. Neuchamp thought, looked the freshest of the party, having had a few hours of sound sleep. Merlin’s spirits were high, as on the previous day. Greffham looked if anything more indifferent, more calm and careless about all earthly concerns, his fellow-creatures in particular, than usual.
‘It was by this track, round this very clump of pines, that you saw the men ride off, Greffham?’ said Merlin. ‘It is quite fortunate that you should be in a position to state your impression at a time which could not have been many hours before their deaths. How did they look? Do you think they had been drinking?’
‘Can’t say,’ answered Greffham after a pause, as if trying to recall the exact circumstances. ‘Carroll was a reserved, sulky-looking beggar, I always thought; one of those men that you could not tell liquor upon as long as he could keep his legs. Now I think of it, they did look rather stupid.’
‘You are quite correct about Carroll, old fellow,’ said Merlin airily; ‘he was reserved and taciturn, a ridiculously unsuitable habit of mind for a subordinate. Odd thing that nothing has been heard of the gold or notes.’
‘I suppose whoever took them,’ said Greffham—‘(try one of these cigars, little Seguadil sent me a box)—whoever took them had sense enough to conceal them for a while. The gold will turn up eventually.’
‘But not the notes, you think?’ persisted Merlin.
‘Not unless there is something uncommon about them—(this cigar won’t draw)—numbers taken and so on. If they are the ordinary well-thumbed paper-promises current at diggings, they will be hardly identifiable.’