But, as in all comprehensive schemes of legislative repression the individual suffers for the general advantage, so the occasional misdirections of justice, in that era of widespread license which might so easily degenerate into lawlessness, were but lightly regarded as incident to a period of martial law; and no one gainsaid the fact that the practised readiness, prompt decision, and stern resolve which Mr. M'Alpine brought to bear upon the thousands of cases were of priceless advantage to the body politic and all law-abiding citizens.
It was this Rhadamanthus, before whom so many an evil-doer trembled, that Lance Trevanion found himself compelled to confront. He knew him, of course, by fame and report, as who did not?—but had never met him, as it happened, personally. He did not doubt, however, but that a few words of explanation would suffice to set him free. It was therefore with a sense of awakening hope that he obeyed the summons to follow one of the constables to the court-house. This was a large but not imposing building, composed of weather-boards, rude, indeed, and deficient as to architectural proportions. However, it was a great improvement upon the large tent which did duty as a hall of justice in the primitive days of the gold outbreak.
Erect upon the bench, regarding the herd of prisoners, as one by one they came before him, with a stern countenance and searching glance, sat Mr. M'Alpine. His eyes had that fixed and penetrating expression generally acquired by men who have had long experience of criminals. His face seemed to say to such: 'I can identify you, if necessary—I know every thought of your vile heart—every deed of your ruffian life. Don't dare to think of deceiving me or it will be worse for you—plead guilty if you are wise, and don't insult the court by a defence!'
Long and so sombre had been Mr. M'Alpine's experiences of every kind of iniquity, of evasion, if not defiance of the law, that it is doubtful if he considered any person ever brought before him to be perfectly innocent. Certainly not, unless conclusively proved by competent witnesses. The onus probandi lay with the accused. It is asserted by outsiders that all police officials in time acquire a tinge of the hunter instinct, which impels them to pursue, and, if possible, run down every species of quarry once started, irrespective of guilt. But this, doubtless, is an invention of the enemy.
After the squad of 'drunks and disorderlies' had been dealt with, the names Launcelot Trevanion and Edward Lawless were called; 'the prisoners' were ordered to stand up.
A novel experience, truly, for the heir of Wychwood. The court was crowded. It had somehow leaked out that Trevanion, of Number Six, Growlers', had been 'run in' by Sergeant Dayrell for horse-stealing. The news had not yet got as far as the Gully proper—the time not having allowed. But every 'golden-hole man' was pretty well known on the 'field,' and Lance was a prominent personage, by repute, in the mining community.
'What the blazes has a chap like that any call to shake a horse for—that's what I want to know?' inquires a huge, blackbearded digger. 'Why, they say he's worth forty or fifty thousand, if he's worth a penny, and the claim washing-up better and better every week?'
'He never stole no moke,' returned his companion decisively, 'no more than you or me prigged the post-office clock, that's just been a-striking! He's a free-handed chap with his money, and that soft that he don't know a cross cove from a straight 'un. He's been had by Ned Lawless and his crowd. That's about the size of it.'
'They can't shop him for that, though,' said the first man, contemplatively filling his pipe. 'They say he was riding a crooked horse when he was took. Kate Lawless was with him on another. The yard was half-full of horses the Lawlesses had worked from hereabouts. It looked ugly, didn't it?'
'Looked ugly be blowed!' said his more logical and experienced friend. 'Things is getting pretty cronk if a chap can't ride alongside a pretty gal without wanting to see a receipt for the nag she's on! I believe it's a plant of that beggar Dayrell's. He wants a big case, and that poor young chap may have to suffer for it.'