IN THE WAKE OF A MYSTERY.
Old Broadbrim did not let the woman's warning deprive him of the society of his friend, and some hours later he emerged from the house with the thousand-and-one lights of London before him.
Drawing his collar up, for the night was cool and a brisk wind was coming in over the waters of the Thames, he started back, intending to walk to a cab station in the immediate neighborhood and from there take a cab.
London was well filled, from what the detective could see, and some of its inhabitants were in the same condition.
Every now and then he was jostled by a drunken man or woman, and in some instances almost crowded off the narrow sidewalk.
Presently he was clutched by a hand and forced into the mouth of an alley.
"Don't talk, for it's all right," said a voice which he thought he recognized. "I followed you and I hope I've done no wrong, sir. The man is still watching you, sir. I hung onto the back of the cab, sir, and got a good jolting over the stones. But I'm here, sir, to tell you that you're still in peril."
It was the same warning woman, and her face was the very picture of starvation.
"Where is he?" asked Old Broadbrim.
"You can't see him from here, sir; but he's across the way near the Star and Garter over there. If you look very sharp you may see a man in the shadow of the place. That's him."
"What is he like?"
"He's a tall, slim fellow with the keenest eyes you ever saw in a human head; but those eyes mean mischief and death."
"And you?"
"Oh, sir, I'm Mag of the Dusthole. I'm out for wictims; but I saw him watching you, and I couldn't help wanting to spoil his game."
"You don't know him, then?"
"I know him, and that's why I want to bring his schemes to naught. It's Jem—Jem, the Sydneyite."
"I have no such enemy by that name."
"Mebbe not; but he's watching you, all the same. He used to live in Sydney, Australia, and——"
The detective started.
"In Australia?" broke in Old Broadbrim.
"Yes, yes. He came back from there a year ago, and has been lording it over some people in London ever since. He's cool-headed, and has the softest fingers you ever saw. Jem's a bad one."
"I don't doubt it. I'll see to him."
The detective pushed toward the mouth of the alley, and with a cry the woman fled.
It was a strange proceeding on her part, but the detective did not think anything of it.
Almost directly across the street stood a small, old-fashioned tap-house, called the Star and Garter.
It was like many others of its class in London, disreputable from the ground up, and he looked at it trying to make out the figure of his enemy.
Half screened himself by the shadows of the building at the opening of the alley, Old Broadbrim used his eyes to advantage, and presently made out a form across the street.
It moved.
Standing still, he watched it saunter off, and at last it came toward the alley on the same side.
The spy was coming to investigate, and the detective made ready for the meeting.
The figure of the spy was tall and agile.
It came along the sidewalk and seemed about to pounce down upon the American tracker with the greatest ease.
Old Broadbrim held his breath.
At the very mouth of the alley the spy stopped and looked into the darkness.
He did not stir for ten seconds.
"Gone, I guess," Old Broadbrim heard him say. "It's too bad. I wonder if the cat warned him. If she did, I'll throttle her and leave her in the cellar."
With an oath the man withdrew, and in another moment the detective heard his receding footsteps.
He was saved!
Old Broadbrim waited a while, and then slipped down the street.
He had eluded the spy, and now, perhaps, could get a better look at him.
But in this he was doomed to disappointment, for the fellow vanished too quickly for him and he turned at last and went to the lodging he had selected.
He thought of Rufus Redmond, or Merle Macray, who was on the high seas bound for Australia.
He recalled every incident in the crime in New York, and thought of his work so far.
The trail was growing longer.
It stretched across the great deep to a land still unknown, in part, to the world.
He recalled the letter from Perth, and knew that beyond that faraway town lay the deserts of West Australia and the wild tribes and wilder animals.
But he slept at last, and in the morning awoke refreshed.
He was at breakfast in a little chop-house near the inn when some one came in, and took a seat beside him.
He looked and saw that it was Owens, the Scotland Yarder.
"I have news for you," cried Owens. "There's a steamer going to sail for Sydney this afternoon."
Old Broadbrim gave utterance to an exclamation of joy.
"I don't think they really want any passengers, for it is a private expedition conducted by Lord Harway, but you might see him."
"I'll do that, and if money or finesse will get me a berth on the vessel I am off to-day."
Old Broadbrim finished his breakfast in a jiffy, and before the hour ended he stood in Lord Harway's private office.
The story he told, one not connected with a chase after a murderer, enlisted his lordship's sympathies, and at the close of it the detective was told that he could have a berth on board the yacht Maybloom, one of the fastest vessels of the kind afloat.
Once more he was in luck, and there was some hope of beating Merle Macray to Melbourne.
Old Broadbrim had few preparations to make, and by the time he was through the yacht was ready to sail.
As he stepped aboard he glanced toward the dock, and caught sight of a figure that startled him.
It was the man of the previous night—the spy who had tracked him to the mouth of the alley.
He had not abandoned the chase, but had tracked him to the yacht, and knew that he was bound for Australia.
Old Broadbrim, however, did not hesitate.
He went quietly to the little room assigned him and shut himself in.
He had taken passage under the name of Logan Lane, and as such was known to Lord Harway.
In a little while he heard his name called in the corridor beyond his door, and upon going out he found his lordship there.
"We are off," said the Englishman, with delight. "The Maybloom is cutting the water like a knife, and I want you to come up on deck and look at her."
Old Broadbrim ascended to the main deck and looked at the receding city.
Lord Harway handed him his glass, and the detective put it to his eager eyes.
He scanned the crowds on the pier, and suddenly found the man he had seen on two occasions within the past twenty-four hours.
He was looking at the yacht with expressions of chagrin, and the detective could see that he was bitterly disappointed.
He had escaped him, and when he thought of the threat he had breathed against Mag of the Dusthole, he feared for her safety.
As long as he held the glass to his eyes he could see the man watching the Maybloom, and at last he turned away confident that he had outwitted Merle Macray's spy.
Now the ocean lay before him and in a few days he would be in Sydney, ready for the task before him.
Old Broadbrim found the occupants of the yacht the best of companions, and at times his conscience rebelled against the deception he was playing, but he promised himself that some day he would explain all to Lord Harway and beg his pardon.
The Maybloom proved to be a splendid sailer, and day after day was passed on deck.
It was a long voyage and one without incident to our old friend the detective.
When at last the headland of Australia hove in sight, there was some stir on board and the Maybloom came to anchor in the spacious harbor.
They had passed several vessels bound different ways on the high seas, but, so far as the detective could make out, none of these was the Intrepid.
Merle Macray was ahead of him and he did not expect to beat him to Melbourne.
In Sydney Old Broadbrim went at once to the hotel and put up.
He changed his garments and washed, and then came out on the street to find out when he could get a vessel to Melbourne.
Luck favored him again, and he learned that early the following morning he could take passage in a coaster for the capital of Victoria.
The day was spent in looking around Sydney and passing the time as best he could.
Old Broadbrim was soon up the next day and went on board the coaster in which he had secured passage.
In Melbourne he went direct to the house of the chief of police, but that official was not in the city.
Old Broadbrim went back to the wharf and stood watching a splendid vessel just coming in.
Something seemed to thrill him while he watched the craft which majestically rode the waves, and all at once he uttered a little exclamation of joy.
It was the Intrepid!
After all he had beaten his quarry to Melbourne.
Merle Macray, thanks to an accident to the vessel in mid-ocean, as Old Broadbrim afterward learned, was delayed, and he now came in a little behind time, but in time for him to spot his man.
Well concealed, he watched the passengers as they came over the planks to the pier, and every one was closely scrutinized.
"What's become of him?" cried Old Broadbrim, as the last one stepped upon the quay. "Did the ocean get him? Have I lost my man and justice her prey?"
He was nonplused, for no one answering the description of the Cunarder's passenger had landed from the Intrepid in Melbourne.
"But he's there. I'll bet my head on it!" said Old Broadbrim, as he turned away.
SPOTTED IN AUSTRALIA.
If Merle Macray had landed from the Intrepid on the quays of Melbourne he had done so under a disguise that had deceived the detective of two continents.
Old Broadbrim for once seemingly had used his eyes in vain, and after a while he went back, walking up the quay, and turned into Collins Street in a deep study.
If he had watched a certain little old man who walked from the vessel he might have changed his mind.
This person, who carried a valise, had been among the first to disembark, and had hastened to get beyond the piers.
Half an hour later he might have been seen to enter one of the offices of the cable company and to ask for a message for "Ira Black."
The person in charge at the time lifted a message from a hook and handed it across the counter.
It was promptly paid for in gold, and the receiver, placing it in his pocket, walked out.
There was a smile on his face, and it lingered there some time, or until he entered a hotel and went up to a room on the third floor.
There, with the door locked behind him, he pulled forth the telegraph envelope and tore it open.
The message was from London and was very short, but it startled him.
In the soft Australian sunlight that entered the chamber he read at a glance, as follows:
"The Wolf follows. He is off on the Maybloom, bound for Sydney.
Jem."
The recipient of the cablegram looked up with a snarl of defiance on his face, now no longer old-looking, but with the mask removed, and young and handsome.
"So he is on the trail," he cried; "so this ferret from afar is on the hunt? Well, I am ready to meet him, but there's many a trap he never dreams of!"
He tore the message into tatters and threw them out the back window, to see the wind carry them in very many directions.
"You're a good one, Jem, but it would have been best if you had silenced the wolf and not put me to this trouble," he said in undertones. "It's all one, though. I guess we're equal to the task. If we are not no man can be."
Meantime, Old Broadbrim had gone back to the hotel near Collins Street for a little rest.
He waited till night deepened and then stepped into the street again.
The sights that encountered his gaze were new to him.
He was in one of the most wonderful cities in the world.
Melbourne, the capital of Victoria, and the haunt of the cattle king, the sheep prince, the gold nabob and the miner, presented scenes to be duplicated nowhere under the sun.
In the glare of the electric lights, the hurry and bustle of business, the revelry of saloon and dance hall, in the haunts of the tough and the palaces of the money kings, there is always something exciting and new.
Old Broadbrim had been to strange places in his career, but never in one just like Melbourne.
He jostled the gold hunter who had come to the city to spend his dust, and perhaps get a knife in his heart before he left it; he was pushed aside by the cattle boy in his jacket and sombrero, and the air was ladened with the slang of mine and camp till it disgusted the detective.
As he turned into one street Broadbrim saw ahead a brilliant sign which told him that beyond the door nearby one could see one of the sights of Melbourne, the great Paradise Dance Hall.
Unhesitatingly Old Broadbrim walked in.
It was a sight worth coming miles to see.
The vast place was brilliantly lighted up and the fun was at its height.
Music filled the air and the forms of dancers of both sexes went hither and thither under the chandeliers.
Broadbrim selected a spot from which he could witness the revel and not be in any one's way.
Hundreds were constantly coming and going.
For some time he watched the exciting scene, and he was in the act of moving out when he saw enter a man at whom he looked the second time.
This person with American ways came forward and stood near the detective while he cast his eye over the revelers.
He was tall and well built.
His garments were faultless and his face had lately felt the keen edge of the razor.
All at once a man sprang from the crowd and came up to the newcomer.
"Back, are you, Merle?" this man said, as he grasped the other's hand and wrung it. "I haven't seen you for months. How's the Queen and Round Robin Ranch?"
The other appeared a little chagrined over this profuse greeting, but it was impossible to avoid the man.
Old Broadbrim saw the keen, black eyes sweep the crowd as if in search of him, but they soon came back to the other one.
"Things are all right at the ranch," he said. "Belle is as pretty as ever, and——"
"I'm glad of that. I've been thinking of going out and taking a look at the place. You've been at home all spring, eh?"
"Yes, all the time."
"Wish I had gone then. You didn't take that trip to the States, then?"
"I hadn't time."
"Too much to do on Round Robin Ranch? That's it. Where there's money and lots of it one would better stay. But you're looking well, Merle——"
"There, don't call me Merle," the voice of the speaker dropped almost to a whisper, but the old detective heard. "I'm in Melbourne on a bit of secret business and I don't care to be 'Merle' here."
"That's all right, but why didn't you say so at the start? I am always ready to do you a favor, Me—Jack. There, that's one of the old names, you know. It'll do, won't it?"
"Yes, 'Jack.' That name is all O. K."
The other slipped away and left Merle to himself covertly watched by the detective who was secretly rejoicing over this bit of good luck.
He knew his man now.
Once more he had found Rufus Redmond, the Cunarder's passenger, but in a distant part of the world, and there he had blossomed out again as Merle Macray.
Merle did not remain long at the dance.
With a last look around the hall he slipped out, and immediately after the detective's corner was deserted and the old sleuth was on the trail outside.
Now he must not lose his man.
Perhaps Merle Macray thought that in Melbourne he was safe.
He did not appear the least frightened, but walked erect and led the detective a long chase.
All at once he turned into a little street, very narrow and rather dark, but Broadbrim did not hesitate.
He caught sight of the quarry down the street and plunged after him.
Merle stopped at a door and rapped.
In another moment it opened and he went in.
Old Broadbrim came up and looked at the house.
Beyond that door lay a mystery which he wanted to fathom.
Merle Macray, traced across the sea, had entered the house and was out of sight.
Old Broadbrim stood near the door and listened.
Perhaps it was a risky thing to do, but he took risks.
There were voices beyond the walls of the house, and he heard some one say:
"Chased from London, eh? What have you been up to now?"
It was the voice of an old man.
There was a laugh in reply, and then Broadbrim heard the voice of Merle Macray:
"What do you think I've done, Danny Minks? Do I look like an assassin? Do I have the appearance of a housebreaker or a ticket-of-leave man, that I should be tracked from London?"
"No, no, Merle, my boy, but why have you been tracked?"
"Go out there and ask the tracker."
"But he's not in Melbourne, I hope?"
"I can't say. I know he's on the road."
"On the water, you mean?"
"Put it as you please, Danny."
"Well?"
"I want you to tell me where the girl is now."
"Stareyes?"
"Yes, Stareyes. Is she in the city?"
"I don't know."
"Come, no lies, old man," and an oath followed the words. "I am not to be fooled again. If she's here I want to know it."
A moment's silence followed.
"She hasn't been here for three months."
"She was here, then, was she? The witch!"
"I saw her but half an hour then, and she slipped away before I could talk with her."
"You should have fixed her. That was the bargain, you know."
"I know, but——"
"I'll forgive you this time, but there must be no failure the next time she comes. You know the tenth step?"
"I know it."
"See that she finds it. No blood, no money, Danny."
"I'll obey."
Old Broadbrim heard this conversation while he leaned against the door of the house, and then he withdrew.
He believed that Merle would soon come out again, but he waited in vain.
He waited till nearly midnight, but no one came from the place, and then he went back.
Hastily changing his face by supplying a new set of whiskers, he went up to the door and knocked.
There was a shuffling of feet on the inside, and then the portal opened.
Old Danny stood before him with a light in his hand.
The detective slipped past the little man and turned on him in the hallway.
"What is it?" cried Danny, falling against the wall and nearly dropping his light.
"Merle is in danger. I want to warn him."
Old Danny gave Old Broadbrim a look that seemed to pierce him like an arrow.
"In danger? Merle?" he cried. "By the officers of the home government? I'll show you where he is. This way."
He crossed the room and opened a narrow door.
Old Broadbrim followed. He saw the shadow of a flight of steps leading downward, and Danny, with the light, entered the place and cried:
"Come!"
THE TERRIBLE DEATH-TRAP.
The detective found himself in a dark place with the ghostly steps under his feet.
A step in advance was the little ogreish figure of Old Danny, his shoulders humped like an imp's and his face twisted awry as if at some time the flames had licked it.
"I'm glad you've come to warn Merle," said the little man, looking over his shoulder. "You're very good."
"Something had to be done," said Old Broadbrim. "Merle's in danger and he must know."
"Yes, yes."
A chuckle followed the last word, and Danny's face grew white and ghastly.
The stairs seemed to creak beneath the detective's feet.
He did not know whither he was going, but he thought that Old Danny had taken the bait and was lighting him to the man he had tracked across the sea.
He intended to end the chase there and then.
He would drag Merle Macray before the authorities of Melbourne, and would not relinquish his hold till he had the murderer of Custer Kipp back in New York.
But suddenly he thought of the conversation he had overheard between Old Danny and Merle concerning the person called Stareyes.
What did Merle mean about the tenth step?
It came to Old Broadbrim's mind like a flash of light in darkness.
It thrilled him.
He had gone down six steps of the stairs, and Old Danny's light did not show him the bottom.
Suddenly a wisp of wind extinguished the light, and they stood in total darkness.
"My light's out!" cried Old Danny. "But it's all one. We're almost at the bottom anyhow, and there I'll strike a match."
Broadbrim made no reply, but hugged the nearest wall, for the stairs cracked beneath his weight.
"Come on," said the old man's voice.
Broadbrim put out his hand, but he could not touch Danny.
The little fellow had got beyond his reach, and now he could not hear him.
The tenth step!
Perhaps the stairs was a death-trap and there was no tenth step at all.
The thought startled the detective.
He stopped, and then, in a shiver of excitement which he could not suppress, he started back.
"This way!" said a voice which he recognized as Old Danny's.
Broadbrim did not move.
He was lying along the stairs in the gloom waiting for something to show him the true situation.
"I'm down," repeated Danny, far below. "It's all right, sir. This way to Merle."
Broadbrim started up again.
If Danny had reached the floor beneath then why not he, too?
He was more than a match for this old man with the ape-like shoulders and scarred face.
And he had crossed the sea to find Merle Macray, and now he would not let him escape.
Once more, pistol in hand, the detective of New York started down the stairs.
He counted three more steps, and put his foot forward again.
But this time it touched nothing.
He fell back with a half-expressed cry of horror, and then tried to save himself from falling.
But he had retreated too late.
In another moment the flight of steps seemed to tilt deeper, deeper, into the abyss, and Broadbrim hung from the last one over the dark death.
It was a terrible situation, and he felt the strain of it all through him.
He knew all now.
Old Danny had been too sharp for him.
He had recognized him as an enemy of Merle Macray, and had taken him to the death stairs.
Broadbrim saw that his strength was leaving him.
He could not hold on much longer, and when he let go his trail would end forever.
Darkness was everywhere.
The figure of Old Danny had vanished, and he did not know what had become of the old villain.
The American detective clung for life to the step.
He tried to pull his body up, but the flight seemed to recede whenever he did so, and he taxed his powers in vain.
Somewhere in the darkness, he did not doubt, stood Danny, waiting for his doom.
The old scoundrel knew how to reach the safety point, but he (Old Broadbrim) had been trapped.
Why had he undertaken to hunt a man like Merle Macray all over the world?
To die in a trap like that?
At last he hung by the very tips of his fingers, as it were.
His body was already over the abyss, and he would in a few seconds be compelled to let go and drop.
Suddenly the stairs shook violently and a door opened overhead.
A light was seen and it streamed over his face.
Broadbrim saw a man above him, and a glance told him that it was Old Danny.
The hump-backed demon was looking down to see if his scheme had succeeded.
There was a wolfish gleam in the little eyes and a demonic grin on the thin lips.
Danny held the light over his head and saw Broadbrim as he clung to the last step.
"You want Merle, eh?" he cried. "Well, you'll never see him. You will lie in the pit forever. It is bottomless!"
With that the light was swung over Danny's head, and he laughed derisively.
"Down you go!" he went on. "So you're the wolf on the scent, and it's a pretty game you're playing. Crossed the sea to play it, eh? Well, now it's all up with you, Scotland Yarder."
Something, till then unseen, was lifted above Old Danny's head, and came toward the detective like a weapon from a catapult.
Broadbrim could not dodge.
The billet struck him in the face, and with a cry he dropped out of sight while the face of Old Danny was the last object he saw in the light of the lantern.
Broadbrim struck ground far below the stairs, and after hitting what appeared to be the sides of a narrow shaft.
But for this he would have fallen like a stone to the bottom of the well, and been killed at once.
As it was, he was stunned and for some time lay on his back unable to move.
Darkness surrounded him, and he could not see a bit of light from the lantern overhead.
How long he lay there he did not know when a light shot out of the gloom above him.
He saw the light swing back and forth, and then caught the impish grin of Old Danny's face.
The demon of Melbourne was leaning over the abyss, trying to inquire into his fate.
For some time the light remained there, and then it vanished.
In darkness again the detective arose and felt the stone walls of the shaft.
These were nearly smooth.
He tried to pull out a stone, but found that he was too weak for the task, and desisted.
At last he caught a sound from beyond the pit that seemed to startle him.
Some time had elapsed since his fall, and the thought that some infernal agency was flooding the pit flashed across his mind.
Broadbrim waited a while, and then felt the water at his feet.
He was to be drowned, and with water Old Danny would complete the work of crime.
Broadbrim leaned against the wall of the pit and felt the water about his feet.
In his desperation he reached up and caught hold of a stone that projected a few inches from the wall.
He tugged at it with herculean strength and forced it out of the wall.
He must work his way upward out of the reach of the water.
It was that or death!
Never before had the detective found himself in just such a place.
Traps had held him, but never a terrible trap like that one.
The first stone out, the next one yielded without so much trouble, and the third easier than the others.
It was upward now toward the fatal stairs.
Old Broadbrim stopped in his terrible climb, but not to rest long.
No doubt the water was several feet deep in the bottom of the pit.
Suddenly he heard a noise overhead.
He looked up, but held his breath.
"You're sure he went down, Danny?" asked some one.
"Sure? Of course! Didn't I see him lying in the bottom of the pit with my own eyes?"
"That's good evidence. And you've flooded it?"
"Yes, turned the water in, and it's knee-deep by this time."
"You're a trump, old man—a regular full hand!"
"I'm glad you acknowledge it."
"Now if the girl comes back, play the tenth step game on her, too, and I'll make you a nabob of Melbourne."
"I'll do it. Ha, ha, ha! Won't she make a good companion for him? Too good almost. Why, he hung to the ninth step till he couldn't hang any longer, and down he went headlong."
There was a double chuckle of delight at these words and then the voices ceased.
Old Broadbrim grated his teeth.
Merle Macray had come back, and it was fortunate that Old Danny's positiveness had prevented him from looking down into the pit, else he would have been discovered hugging the wall above the dark flood at the bottom of the well.
The detective breathed freer when the two vanished, but he took a startling oath in his prison.
He would triumph or die in the attempt to reach victory.
He would catch Merle Macray despite all his traps and schemes, he would show this cunning, red-handed murderer that he had not crossed the sea in vain.
But he was still in the toils—a death stairs overhead and underneath the waters of death.
"I didn't come here to die like a rat!" he cried. "I came for vengeance, and I'll be content with nothing else."
DEMONA, THE RANCH QUEEN.
Three weeks after the events we have just chronicled there might have been seen in the town of Perth, the largest place in West Australia, a young girl who stood on the principal street, with a pair of coal-black eyes riveted upon a man who had just emerged from one of the rich gaming resorts of the colonial capital.
Her figure was perfect and her face was white and handsome.
She may have passed her teens, for she showed a few marks of having reached and passed the twentieth mile-stone, but for all this she was striking, with her dark skin and her lustrous eyes.
Her prey stood in the light of a lamp that swung in a glass case over the door of the El Dorado, as the place was called, and now and then she seemed to start while she regarded him.
Those who knew the man would have called him Merle Macray, and his well-rounded figure, dressed in a rich ranch costume, was shown off to advantage.
"Wait!" said the girl through her clinched teeth. "My time will come, and then you will feel the vengeance of Stareyes. I never forget, monster, and by and by the hand of fate will fall and smite you. It can't always last thus. You can reign on the ranch as its king, but here and elsewhere you can't play out your hands and chuckle your satisfaction.
"I've waited for you to come back," she went on, her eyes flashing again. "I could have entered the nest and killed the bird there, but I thought I would wait till your return, and now you're back. It won't be long, Merle, the ranchman. It won't be long, I say," and she laughed as she turned away and left the man to himself.
Around the corner she darted into a small place and went upstairs to where an old woman sat in a dim light, sewing.
"I've seen him, Hester," cried the girl, standing in front of the woman and looking down upon her with passion.
"I've watched him for an hour and yet didn't touch the rascal."
"It was your chance, girl."
"I know it, and I had the weapon in my hand at the time, but I spared him. Am I not merciful?"
And she laughed.
"Merciful! You should have a crown for your mercy."
"The time will come. Yes, I have taken the oath that will not be forgotten. He is back from the far-off land. He has been out to Round Robin Ranch, but he is in Perth to-night."
"You missed him in Melbourne——"
"I did," broke in the girl. "But that wasn't my fault. I didn't know just what vessel he was coming out on, and when the Intrepid came in I must have overlooked him, for I watched her passengers."
"He must have been disguised."
"Yes, yes, that's it—disguised! He will need the best of masks to escape me."
"Of course," said the old woman. "This man must feel our hand, girl."
"He shall!"
"He must die."
"Nothing less than death!"
"That's it. His crime must meet with the proper punishment. But what, think you, took him to America?"
"Time will tell, but I believe she sent him."
"Belle Demona?"
"Yes, Demon Bella," and the face of Stareyes seemed to lose every vestige of color. "I could have strangled her on the ranch despite her dogs and her agility. She is on the watch all the time, but I had her for half an hour at my mercy, though she knew it not. I could have thrown a snake from the bush into her bed, and they would have found her a bloated corpse in the morning, but I did not. I could have shot Merle to-night, but I withheld my hand."
"Don't do it again, girl. We may be too lenient."
"Just so. I will strike soon."
Stareyes went over to a corner and sat down.
The light falling upon her face showed traces of her excitement, and she fell to watching her companion, who went back to her work, and seemed to forget all that had passed between them.
"If he did anything for her—if he committed any crimes while he was away—they may come after him and take him from us," suddenly said the old woman, looking up.
"They shall not!" cried Stareyes. "I'll kill the hunters first!"
"That's it. He's not to escape us."
"Mother, never."
Meanwhile Merle Macray had departed from Perth.
The night was a beautiful one, and he had mounted a horse in the principal square, and, with a young man for company, was riding in a northeasterly direction from the Australian town.
His companion was younger than he, and not so good-looking.
Both were well mounted, and the horses, being fresh, bore them rapidly over the gently-undulating country, with a light breeze at their back and a good highway before them.
It was a long ride for the pair, for in a short time they passed beyond the line of human habitation and found themselves in an open country under the broad expanse of the starlit heavens.
Midnight overtook them in the same desolate land, but all at once the scene changed.
The country began to grow diversified with grass and timber, and pasture lands appeared on either side.
They had reached a grazing district, and the long wire fences met them as they rode along.
Presently the barking of dogs was heard, and in a few moments the riders threw their lines over the steeds' necks and dismounted.
A light appeared in the courtyard of a large ranch house in front of them, and the voice of a woman was heard.
"Back again!" exclaimed the woman, who stood in the court with a light in her hand.
"Yes," cried Merle Macray, as he sprang forward and pressed something into her hand.
She looked at it and smiled.
She was a person of five-and-twenty, regal in appearance and splendidly handsome.
Her figure was commanding, and her face, a little dark like the face of Stareyes, was strikingly beautiful.
Merle left his companion to take care of the horses and entered the house with the woman.
Inside everything was in keeping with wealth.
On every side was to be seen rich hangings and articles of virtu.
Rich carpets that yielded to the feet covered the floors and the walls were adorned with the costliest pictures.
It was a typical sheep king's home in West Australia, the palace of wealth in that quarter of the globe.
Beyond it lay the bush.
Not far away began the Desert of Death, and among its sand valleys lurked the lizard and the sun snake, whose bite is certain destruction.
Merle Macray strode into the house and stopped in the large parlor to the right of the hall.
His companion took a seat on a sofa and regarded him with eyes which seemed capable of devouring him.
"Tell me. Did you make sure of the tracker?" she asked.
"Didn't I?"
He laughed.
"Of course you did not see him."
"No. How can I see a man who is at the bottom of Old Danny's pit?"
"But you did not see him there."
"I know he's there, for Old Danny never lies, and he saw him in the pit and then flooded it with water. But I've assured you of this before."
"I know that, but you know how we women are. We get our spells of doubt sometimes, and——"
"Don't let them spoil your sleep now. It's all right. The man who played shadower is dead, and sleeps to-night where he should sleep—at the bottom of the pit!"
She crossed the room and opened a sideboard ingeniously set in the wall.
In another moment she came back with bottle and goblets and filled the latter with red wine.
"Drink with me, then. I feel like a new woman. It is accomplished! I told him that he should feel my hand, no matter where he went, and my threat has been fulfilled. You did it well, Merle. I am proud of you."
Merle Macray, looking over the brim of his goblet, saw her eyes get a merry, triumphant light, and then he downed his wine and set the glass on the onyx-topped table.
"I have secured the additional hands you need," said he. "I had some little trouble in picking them up in Perth and they will be here in a day or two."
"You got good men?"
"Yes. I left it to Jot and he will send those I did not get to see. How are the natives?"
"A little troublesome, but with the force I sent for we'll meet them triumphantly. It's not to be that I have to succumb to a lot of brigands and I will not pay tribute to their chief."
"That's right—not a pound!" cried Merle. "We will take the initiative as soon as the men arrive, and we'll show them that they can't levy tribute on Round Robin Ranch."
"Indeed we will. I am Belle Demona, or Belle, the Demon, as they shall learn, and when our men come we will show these scoundrels that we are not to be bled."
Merle drank off another glass of wine, and the woman left him alone.
Round Robin Ranch was the largest and richest sheep ranch in the district.
It belonged to the woman who was known as Belle Demona and whose wealth was said to be almost marvelous.
She had come out some years before the opening of our story and had made money hand-over-fist in the new lands of Australia, and her sheep were to be seen by thousands on the grazing lands of Round Robin Ranch.
Her overseer and general agent was Merle Macray, who had come out with her and who had just come back after an absence of over six months.
No one knew where he had been, though it was said that he was in London investing some of the ranch queen's savings and attending to other business for his mistress.
There were rumors that at one time the ranch queen had led a wild life in the capitals of Europe, and even in far-off America, but no one cared to make a public declaration of this sort.
The woman would not have submitted to such reports, and she was known everywhere as a perfect shot and a creature who feared nothing, not even the plundering bands that now and then raided the rich ranches and levied tribute on their owners.
But there was one person who knew where Merle Macray had been.
Old Broadbrim carried the true secret of his long absence in his bosom, and he had followed him to the island, tracking him from the scene of crime in New York to cling for life in the pit trap of Old Danny in Melbourne.