"Well, you have altered our minds slightly, already; but to have our free consent, state the case frankly."
"I will. You remember when we made an excursion into the country some three months since, that we had a brush with a party of bushrangers, and that we captured a number, and among them Bill Swinton, the leader?"
We nodded. We began to comprehend him. Mr. Brown continued, after first glancing around the room to see that no one was listening save ourselves,—
"You will also recollect, if you tax your mind, that I endeavored to get Bill to make some revelations concerning a quantity of dust which he helped rob a guard of many months since."
We remembered the circumstance, and also the furious manner in which Bill had refused to divulge his knowledge of the transaction.
"I told him then that I should learn in what part of the country he had buried his share of the treasure, but if I am not mistaken, I was laughed at and defied."
We confirmed Mr. Brown's words in that respect.
"Well," continued the ex-officer, "poor Bill has taken leave of this world, and I hope has gone to a better one. He was hardly suited for this bustling sphere, and I think his cares were too much for him."
"When did he die?" I inquired.
"Last night."