“Tall and dark” (I said), “not bad-looking.” Here Mr. Blount bowed. “Dressed like any other gentleman travelling for pleasure. Rough tweed suit and leggings. Left a few things here. Went away a month ago, with Little-River-Jack.”
“What for—did he say?” the Senior Constable asked.
“Yes! he talked quite free and open. Said he wanted to see the country—what gold-diggings were like, and all that. Jack promised to show him a regular mountain claim—the ‘Lady Julia.’ Tumberumba Dick when he came by, said ‘he’d sold his share to him for £20. He was full up of mountain claims, was clearing out for West Australia, where there were big rises to be made.’”
“Why didn’t they serve warrants, then?”
“The Senior Constable had a long talk with our old Sergeant—he’s retired now, but everybody puts great faith in him.”
“Did you hear what he said?”
“No—but it came out that the Sergeant told him to be careful about arresting men on suspicion—there was no direct evidence (those were the words) against any of the men named. Nobody could swear to their having been seen taking or branding cattle. Those who knew the O’Haras spoke of them as hardworking diggers—who sold their gold to Little-River-Jack or got him to sell it for them. As for Jack Blunt they said—” here the speaker hesitated.
“Well, what did they say about him?”
“I hardly like to tell you, sir.”
“Oh! come, out with it. What does it matter?”