BRITISH MYSTERIES - Fergus Hume Collection: 21 Thriller Novels in One Volume. Fergus Hume

to the machine, but now the washing up invariably gave twenty ounces, and small nuggets of water-worn gold were continually found in the three machines. The main drive following the lead still continued dipping westward, and McIntosh now commenced blocking and putting in side galleries, expecting when this was done he would thoroughly prove the Devil’s Lead, for he was quite satisfied he was on it. Even now the yield was three hundred and sixty ounces a week, and after deducting working expenses, this gave Madame Midas a weekly income of one thousand one hundred pounds, so she now began to see what a wealthy woman she was likely to be. Everyone unfeigningly rejoiced at her good fortune, and said that she deserved it. Many thought that now she was so rich Villiers would come back again, but he did not put in an appearance, and it was generally concluded he had left the colony.

      Vandeloup congratulated Madame Midas on her luck when he was going away, and privately determined that he would not lose sight of her, as, being a wealthy woman, and having a liking for him, she would be of great use. He took his farewell gracefully, and went away, carrying the good wishes of all the miners; but McIntosh and Selina, still holding to their former opinion, were secretly pleased at his departure. Madame Midas made him a present of a hundred pounds, and, though he refused it, saying that he had money from France, she asked him as a personal favour to take it; so M. Vandeloup, always gallant to ladies, could not refuse. He went in to Ballarat, and put up at the Wattle Tree Hotel, intending to start for the metropolis next morning; but on his way, in order to prepare Kitty for his coming, sent a telegram for her, telling her the train he would arrive by, in order that she might be at the station to meet him.

      After his dinner he suddenly recollected that he still had the volume which Dr Gollipeck had lent him, so, calling a cab, he drove to the residence of that eccentric individual to return it.

      When the servant announced M. Vandeloup, she pushed him in and suddenly closed the door after her, as though she was afraid of some of the doctor’s ideas getting away.

      ‘Good evening, doctor,’ said Vandeloup, laying the book down on the table at which Gollipeck was seated; ‘I’ve come to return you this and say good-bye.’

      ‘Aha, going away?’ asked Gollipeck, leaning back in his chair, and looked sharply at the young man through his spectacles, ‘right—see the world—you’re clever—won’t go far wrong—no!’

      ‘It doesn’t matter much if I do,’ replied Vandeloup, shrugging his shoulders, and taking a chair, ‘nobody will bother much about me.’

      ‘Eh!’ queried the doctor, sharply, sitting up. ‘Paris—friends—relations.’

      ‘My only relation is an aunt with a large family; she’s got quite enough to do looking after them, without bothering about me,’ retorted M. Vandeloup; ‘as to friends—I haven’t got one.’

      ‘Oh!’ from Gollipeck, with a cynical smile, ‘I see; let us say—acquaintances.’

      ‘Won’t make any difference,’ replied Vandeloup, airily; ‘I turned my acquaintances into friends long ago, and then borrowed money off them; result: my social circle is nil. Friends,’ went on M. Vandeloup, reflectively, ‘are excellent as friends, but damnable as bankers.’

      Gollipeck chuckled, and rubbed his hands, for this cynicism pleased him. Suddenly his eye caught the book which the young man had returned.

      ‘You read this?’ he said, laying his hand on it; ‘good, eh?’

      ‘Very good, indeed,’ returned M. Vandeloup, smoothly; ‘so kind of you to have lent it to me—all those cases quoted were known to me.’

      ‘The case of Adele Blondet, for instance, eh?’ asked the old man sharply.

      ‘Yes, I was present at the trial,’ replied Vandeloup, quietly; ‘the prisoner Octave Braulard was convicted, condemned to death, reprieved, and sent to New Caledonia.’

      ‘Where he now is,’ said Gollipeck, quickly, looking at him.

      ‘I presume so,’ replied Vandeloup, lazily. ‘After the trial I never bothered my head about him.’

      ‘He poisoned his mistress, Adele Blondet,’ said the doctor.

      ‘Yes,’ answered Vandeloup, leaning forward and looking at Gollipeck, ‘he found she was in love with an Englishman, and poisoned her—you will find it all in the book.’

      ‘It does not mention the Englishman,’ said the doctor, thoughtfully tapping the table with his hand.

      ‘Nevertheless he was implicated in it, but went away from Paris the day Braulard was arrested,’ answered Vandeloup. ‘The police tried to find him, but could not; if they had, it might have made some difference to the prisoner.’

      ‘And the name of this Englishman?’

      ‘Let me see,’ said Vandeloup, looking up reflectively; ‘I almost forget it—Kestroke or Kestrike, some name like that. He must have been a very clever man to have escaped the French police.’

      ‘Ah, hum!’ said the doctor, rubbing his nose, ‘very interesting indeed; strange case!’

      ‘Very,’ assented M. Vandeloup, as he arose to go, ‘I must say good-bye now, doctor; but I am coming up to Ballarat on a visit shortly.’

      ‘Ah, hum! of course,’ replied Gollipeck, also rising, ‘and we can have another talk over this book.’

      ‘That or any book you like,’ said Vandeloup, with a glance of surprise; ‘but I don’t see why you are so much taken up with that volume; it is not a work of genius.’

      ‘Well, no,’ answered Gollipeck, looking at him; ‘still, it contains some excellent cases of modern poisoning.’

      ‘So I saw when I read it,’ returned Vandeloup, indifferently. ‘Good-bye,’ holding out his hand, ‘or rather I should say au revoir.’

      ‘Wine?’ queried the Doctor, hospitably.

      Vandeloup shook his head, and walked out of the room with a gay smile, humming a tune. He strolled slowly down Lydiard Street, turning over in his mind what the doctor had said to him.

      ‘He is suspicious,’ muttered the young man to himself, thoughtfully, ‘although he has nothing to go on in connecting me with the case. Should I use the poison here I must be careful, for that man will be my worst enemy.’

      He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turning round saw Barty Jarper before him. That fashionable young man was in evening dress, and represented such an extent of shirt front and white waistcoat,—not to mention a tall collar, on the top of which his little head was perched like a cocoanut on a stick,—that he was positively resplendent.

      ‘Where are you going to?’ asked the gorgeous Barty, smoothing his incipient moustache.

      ‘Well, I really don’t know,’ answered Vandeloup, lighting a cigarette. ‘I am leaving for Melbourne to-morrow morning, but to-night I have nothing to do. You, I see, are engaged,’ with a glance at the evening dress.

      ‘Yes,’ returned Barty, in a bored voice; ‘musical party on,—they want me to sing.’

      Vandeloup had heard Barty’s vocal performance, and could not forbear a smile as he thought of the young man’s three songs with the same accompaniment to each. Suppressing, however, his inclination to laugh, he asked Barty to have a drink, which invitation was promptly accepted, and they walked in search of a hotel. On the way, they passed Slivers’ house, and here Vandeloup paused.

      ‘This was the first house I entered here,’ he said to Barty, ‘and I must go in and say good-bye to my one-armed friend with the cockatoo.’

      Mr Jarper, however, drew back.

      ‘I don’t like him,’ he said bluntly, ‘he’s an old devil.’

      ‘Oh, it’s always as well to accustom oneself to the society of devils,’ retorted Vandeloup,