THE ESCAPE OF THE DOOMED.
Stareyes was right when she told Old Broadbrim on the range that Dick Waters was doomed to perish in the lower dungeon.
The young Briton, after his interview with Merle, had been shut up again in darkness, and with death staring him in the face.
The place seemed strong enough to hold a dozen men like him, and he had crept around the walls again and again in a vain attempt to find an outlet.
He was still on the hunt for one, when he heard a sound that thrilled him.
It was the cry of "Fire!" which penetrated to his prison, and caused him to hold his breath in anxiety and fear.
For some time he could not imagine what had caused the alarm, nor just where it was; but all at once the terrible truth flashed across his mind.
It was the ranch!
At the same time an awful thought took possession of Waters' brain, and he stood as one paralyzed in the darkness.
Shut up like a rat in a trap, with fire overhead and strong walls on each side, Dick Waters thought his temples would burst.
He pounded the walls of the prison, but the sound was drowned by the shouts above and the efforts put forth by the fire-fighters to save the house.
He listened against the stones, and tried to mark the progress of the grim destroyer, but in vain.
The wall which had receded to let him into the lower dungeon had gone back to its place, and he was cooped up with death before him and without hope.
He wondered if Old Broadbrim had come back.
If he had, had he thought of him, and would he look for the man who had become his ally?
At last a drop of water touched Waters' forehead.
He knew that it had soaked through the ceiling from the buckets of the ranchmen, and for a moment he took hope.
Perhaps, after all, he would be saved.
Now, with renewed desperation. Waters went to work on the wall already sounded fifty times.
He would not die where he was without an effort, a last one, for liberty.
Against the door by which Merle had entered the place he hurled himself, only to fall back exhausted.
But this did not check him.
Dick Waters, in the underground trap, intended to perish fighting; for, fire-chased, he would not let the demon get the best of him.
Seconds to a man in peril seem hours of torture.
It was thus with Waters.
But all at once there came to his ears a cry that tingled them with joy.
He heard voices now and knew that the fire fiend had been checked.
Saved! but only to perish where he was.
Waters drew back against the wall and clinched his bleeding hands.
Presently he heard nearer sounds, and a key turned in the door.
As he sprang forward he was stopped, for the door shut, and he stood again in darkness.
"Where are you, Waters?" cried some one.
"Here!"
A hand found the young man's arm and closed there.
"Thank Heaven! They did not finish you."
"Is it you, Tom?"
"Briggs! I am one of the three who seized you at her command; but, by heavens, I can't see a human being, and a pard at that, die in a trap like this."
Waters uttered a responsive thanksgiving.
"The coast is clear. The way to the south is open for you, but you must hasten. In a minute the avenue of escape may be closed."
"I am ready!"
Guided by the man who had come in the nick of time, Waters went up the steps into the starlight.
"This way," whispered Briggs.
Three minutes later the rescued man stood some distance from the blackened ranch house, and Briggs' hand pointed toward the south.
"You know the way to Perth," said he. "To be found here means death."
"But Riggs," said Waters, "is he back?"
"He is over there; but don't stop for him; Riggs can't help you at Robin Ranch. He has all he can do to care for himself. You must go or die here, Dick."
The young man hesitated.
Behind him stood the old house, and before the long trail to the provincial capital.
"I am going," he said as he held out his hand to his deliverer.
"That's right. It's life over there, but death for you here."
The two men separated.
"Should I leave Riggs here alone?" thought Waters, when he had reached the hills. "It is treachery. It would be called cowardice. He may need my help back there."
He looked in the direction of the ranch, and then turned his face deliberately toward it.
"I'll stand by Riggs! Together we play out our hand, or fall together."
Once more he tramped back with the courage of a lion.
He managed to flit past the house and caught sight of the varied groups of ranchmen in the light of lanterns and torches.
Suddenly the figure of Belle Demona loomed up before him as she directed the men still at work on the remnants of fire.
"A deadlier viper than that never lived in the bush," said Waters, as he watched her. "But for her Riggs would not be here looking for Merle, and she would slay on the spur of the moment. Her sting is death."
He slipped around the place hoping to catch sight of Riggs, but in this he failed.
Old Broadbrim was not to be seen.
Waters hid himself nearby and watched and waited.
He knew nothing of the two men standing in darkness in the ranch house.
He wondered what had become of Merle, but he did not dream that at that very moment he and Old Broadbrim faced each other in the little room, locked in, with revolvers in their hands.
Had Waters known this there might have been a change, but ignorant of the scene, he stood aloof from the ranch house and watched for the detective.
He was in the act of moving on when a footstep greeted him, and he turned quickly with his hand on the weapon Briggs had handed him.
"I nearly destroyed the nest," he heard a voice say in tones of triumph. "I gave it the match, but the men saved it. And Riggs fought the flames the best of all. It was calling off the hounds of death from him, for he was in the shadow when I lit the moss."
Waters made out the speaker standing in the narrow path within arm's length, and the next moment he had captured her.
Stareyes uttered a cry as she flashed a knife in his face, but he did not relinquish his hold.
"You fired the ranch—you!" said Waters, pulling the fair Australian forward. "You must hate Belle Demona."
"Does the bird hate the hawk that robs the nest?" she exclaimed. "Do I hate the beautiful serpent over there, and the man who does her bidding? Stand her before me and arm me with a keen blade, then ask me if I hate her."
"You say you saved Riggs?"
"I did. He was doomed on the guard line and stood in the shadow of death when my match created the diversion in his favor. It was a lucky thought, and I would not have cared if the feathers of the fine bird in yon blackened cage had shriveled in the flames my match made. It is only vengeance. But I've left him for Riggs, the detective. I only want to teach Belle Demona that one woman cannot rule all hearts with a rod of iron in this part of the world."
Waters, who had dropped Stareyes' arm, stepped back, but the girl eagerly followed him.
"The game is up," she went on. "Riggs is unmasked, and they know that he came out after Merle Macray. By their shrewdness he is in the jaws of death, and unless he closes in on Merle now he will end his trail in darkness."
"Where is he?"
"Ask me not."
"You saw him fighting the fire?"
"I did, but suddenly he vanished as if the hands of fate had shut upon him."
"Still he cannot be far away."
Waters looked toward the ranch and the gaze of Stareyes followed him.
"Wait! I'll go back and spy out the land," said the girl.
"You? Why, they'll see you and then your career will end."
"When they catch Stareyes there will be a sting in her hand," she hissed. "Merle is for Riggs, Belle Demona for me!"
She started off, and in a second Waters lost sight of her.
He heard her steps in the path after she had vanished, and then he looked toward the ranch house in vain to hear something of Old Broadbrim.
Let us follow the Australian girl.
She went back to the house like a bat in the night.
When near the half-burned structure she stopped and listened.
The fire had been totally extinguished and the voices of the guard came from the little house nearby which had escaped destruction.
Stareyes drew nearer and stood in the shadow of Ranch Robin.
The beautiful porch no longer had its network of vines, and burned wood lay everywhere.
She stepped upon the porch and leaned toward the door of the main dwelling.
A strange silence rested beyond it.
The avenger listened and heard at last the opening and shutting of a door.
A light gleamed for a moment in the house and Stareyes drew back.
Belle Demona stood before her.
The striking figure of the mistress of the ranch stood before her deadly foe.
The Australian breathed hard.
Her bosom rose and fell like the waves of the sea and she could hardly keep her eager hands off the creature before her.
What a chance it was.
Suddenly Belle Demona stepped toward the end of the porch and cast a glance toward the guard house.
A call issued from her throat, and Stareyes started.
In another instant a man appeared leading a magnificent black horse.
"Thanks, Burke. Keep them in ignorance of my departure," she said. "I'll pay you with your weight in gold. Good-night!"
She sprang into the saddle, gathered up the reins, and in another moment was riding toward Perth.
OLD BROADBRIM'S DESPERATE HAND.
"With me, when there is a murderer to catch, everything is fair!"
Such were the words that fell upon Merle Macray's ears when he looked into the eyes of the tireless tracker in the little room to which he had led him after the fire at the ranch.
The chamber had been flooded with light by the hand of the hunted man, but Old Broadbrim had arrested his hand in mid-air, and the revolver with which he hoped to clear his path had been rendered useless.
Yes, the man who had crossed the ocean on the trail, knew nothing but success.
With him, as he had said, everything was "fair" when it came to taking the guilty.
Merle could only look into the calm face of Roland Riggs, so-called, and curse himself for not putting an end to his career sooner.
A hundred opportunities had presented themselves, but he had let them slip.
He and Belle Demona had talked over the matter, but had failed in execution.
Old Danny's trap had failed to hold the man-hunter, and he now knew that the end of his own career was near at hand.
But he did not despair.
Belle Demona was still between him and the noose, and their guards, with the exception of Waters, were true.
Old Broadbrim could not take him to Perth, that would be folly, for one man cannot successfully fight against twenty stalwart Australian ranchers.
Old Broadbrim continued to clutch Merle's wrist and to look into his eye defiantly.
He suddenly twisted the weapon from the murderer's hand and thrust him into a chair.
"Silence, as thee value thy life, man!" he said, bending over his prey.
Merle gave him a look of braggadocia, but did not speak.
"I know what thee is thinking about," continued the Quaker detective. "This is Ranch Robin; thee thinks thyself safe here."
"You cannot take me away."
"We'll see. In the first place, thee will obey me."
"Proceed. Issue your first command."
Merle was getting back his old courage.
Old Broadbrim did not hesitate.
"Thee will follow me without a single word," said he. "The men are in the guard house. Thee will proceed with me to the stables spared by the fire."
"Come! You see how eager I am to obey you," answered Merle. "To the stables, did you say?"
"Yes."
The Quaker detective, with a cocked revolver in his hand and his keen eye fastened upon Merle, walked him to the door.
"One break for liberty—one signal to her or any of your men, and the murder of Custer Kipp will be avenged on Ranch Robin!" said a voice at Merle's back.
He did not look around to see who had spoken—he knew without that—and the door was opened.
They stepped into the starlight.
Nothing was seen of Belle Demona, and the sounds of noisy men in the guard house had died away.
The scene was strangely quiet after the fire, and the total absence of a living soul save themselves seemed to startle Merle.
"To the stables," whispered Old Broadbrim.
Merle turned in that direction, when all at once a figure stepped from the path.
Quick as thought the detective turned upon the intruder, but a hand was thrown up and a voice spoke:
"You have him, I see, Riggs."
"Waters!" cried Old Broadbrim, and Merle lost color.
"You have but little time to lose," continued the young Briton. "The steeds are in the stable and ready."
A minute later the party gained the stables of the ranch, and Waters opened the doors.
"Which horse will you ride?" asked Old Broadbrim, turning upon Merle.
There was no reply.
The whole thing seemed a dream to the man who had been tracked from America.
"Quick! Which horse?" said the detective.
"Whirlwind."
"I'll get him," said Waters, disappearing in the stable, but the next instant he came back to the door.
"Whirlwind is not here."
Merle seemed to start.
It was a mystery.
"Whirlwind is Belle Demona's horse, and she left the ranch some time ago."
"Left—Ranch Robin?" cried Merle.
"She rode away like the wind," answered Waters.
The rascal seemed to smile, but selected another horse, which in a little while was let forth, and he mounted under cover of Old Broadbrim's pistol.
In the saddle, as he settled himself as if for a dash, he turned to his captor and said:
"Do you hope to take me out of Australia?"
"What did I track you across the sea for, if I don't intend to hand you over to American justice?"
The lips of the doomed man met, and his eyes glanced over the long stretch of starlit barren that lay ahead.
It did not take Old Broadbrim and Waters long to secure their captive in the saddle, and then, with a last look at the dark structure a few feet away, they gathered up the reins.
"You got out, I see," observed Merle, for the first time addressing Dick.
"Yes; the dungeon, strong as it was, did not hold me long. The fire gave me a good fright, and for a time I thought all was lost, but help came."
"Help? I thought so. You could not have escaped without it."
There was no reply.
"Who was the traitor?" asked Merle.
"There was no traitor."
"But some one must have betrayed us—you know that, Waters."
The young man looked at Merle and caught the flash that lit up his eyes.
"There is one person whom you seem to have forgotten," was all he said, and then looked away.
Merle fell into a deep study, during which he was silent.
"I see it now. She helped you," he suddenly cried. "There comes a day of vengeance. When I am out of your hands, gentlemen, I will show this sand viper that there is a hand that kills."
Old Broadbrim and Waters exchanged glances.
When he was out of their hands?
That day, if they were not outwitted, would never come; and when Merle would think of paying Stareyes back for helping Waters to his freedom, he would be powerless to strike.
With Merle Macray between them, the two man-hunters rode swiftly over the open.
The stars had come out with unwonted brilliancy, and the whole surface of the heavens seemed studded with them, like a vast diamond field.
The road to Perth was well defined, and the steeds, which had traveled it often, knew the way without being guided.
Not for a moment did the captors of the hunted man remove their eyes from him.
Once Old Broadbrim ventured to break the reverie into which Merle had fallen, but the glance he got was enough.
"It's been a long trail, sir," said Old Broadbrim.
"You're not at the end of it yet," was the flashed response.
"You took the steamer ahead of me—the Campania. I found the clew in the papers left behind by Jason Marrow, the man killed the same night of the Fifth Avenue murder."
"His papers?"
"Yes; I know who that man was, and that makes your crime all the darker."
Merle's face clouded, but he did not speak.
"Jason Marrow was your half-brother, Merle," continued Old Broadbrim. "He held the secret of your life in Australia; he knew that you had leagued yourself with Belle Demona, the woman who planned the death of Custer Kipp, and he wrote out the story of your life and hers, in order that justice should find your trail if you slew him to render the dread secret safe. You searched the house near the little alley, after the second deed. You went from Custer Kipp's house to your brother Jason's. You found him alone, and the same hand that throttled the millionaire killed the other."
Merle looked into the detective's face, and for a moment it seemed that he would deny the charge, but he did not reply.
"It's been a long chase," pursued Old Broadbrim. "Thee might have checked pursuit in New York."
Merle's look said: "How?" in language not to be misconstrued.
"Thee forgot that the dead might speak and tell the very name under which thee embarked in the Campania. That name fastened the crime upon thee. I crossed the sea after 'Rufus Redmond,' but all the time I was looking for Merle Macray."
Once more the fine face above the saddle grew troubled and a baleful light came into the eyes, but it died away and Merle's countenance resumed its old appearance.
On, still on, under the stars of the far-off island rode the three men.
Hours passed.
Neither Old Broadbrim nor Waters had relaxed their vigilance.
All the time their ears were strained to catch the sounds of hoofs behind them.
If they could greet daylight without pursuit they would be safe.
All at once there came over the barren land the very sound they dreaded to hear.
Merle's face suddenly lighted up with secret joy and his figure seemed to turn in the saddle.
He knew what it meant.
The men of Round Robin Ranch had discovered the abduction, and were in pursuit.
Old Broadbrim, cool at all times, was never cooler than now.
He looked at Waters and saw that the young Briton was calm and collected.
In Waters' hand rested a cocked revolver and his clear, black eye was watching the prisoner's every quiver.
The three gave their steeds the spur, and the animals, rested a little, started off like a trio of arrows.
Merle listened with flushed cheeks to the sounds behind, and caught at last the first streaks of dawn in the eastern sky.
Twenty against three!
He knew how that would go.
"Don't build thy hopes on what's behind us," suddenly said Old Broadbrim. "It's a sea voyage or death for thee in the saddle. In case we are overtaken and my papers are not respected by the men of Ranch Robin, I will leave thee here dead with a bullet in thy brain."
Merle did not reply; but his face grew pale, for he knew the nerve of the man who had just spoken.
THE WOMAN WITH THE REVOLVER.
Let us go back a step in our story of crime and its detection, and keep track of another character—Belle Demona.
We saw her at last on her way toward Perth, well mounted and eager.
She was leaving Merle behind, and she knew it.
Somewhere in the house almost tenantless, thanks to Stareyes' avenging hand, he was facing Riggs, the guard, now known to both as the trailer from beyond the sea; but, for all this, she was deserting him, leaving him to fight his battles alone.
Belle Demona put the endurance of the horse to its utmost, and, as she careered over the barren, she glanced up now and then as if to mark the flight of time by the stars.
Nothing occurred to give her ride an eventful turn.
Day broke over her and lit up the way, and in due course of time she pulled into Perth, her black steed foamy at the bit and streaked with white at the flanks.
She looked romantically picturesque as she galloped down the main street of the provincial capital, looking on both sides and singling out certain people here and there.
Almost at the end of the street she drew rein and dismounted.
"He said the traitor was here," she muttered. "If so I'll face him and show him that I brook no disobedience."
She walked to the door of a small two-story house and knocked.
Her heated horse stood in the middle of the street.
The door was opened at last by an old woman who looked at Belle Demona, and then let her in.
As she crossed the threshold she clutched the old woman's arm and almost hissed:
"Where is he?"
There was a start and a recoil, for the speaker's eyes were dangerous in their light and quite enough to frighten one.
"You know me, Meg?" Belle Demona went on. "I came over on business. Jem is here?"
There was a hasty glance toward the ceiling, and the other said:
"Yes, I see. Is he asleep?"
"Yes, he came in but half an hour ago."
"Sober?"
"Reasonably so," was the answer, and then Belle Demona moved toward the door.
"How's Round Robin?" queried the old woman.
"Gone, but my vengeance remains!"
"Your vengeance?"
"Yes."
Before the older one could reply there were hasty footsteps on the stairs in the dingy hall and the figure of Belle Demona vanished.
Overhead a little door met her roving vision and she pushed it open.
Stretched on a sofa with his clothes on lay Jem, the Sydneyite, the man whom she had sent to Melbourne to discover the truth about Old Danny's trap.
He did not hear her.
For a moment Belle Demona, pistol in hand, looked at the sleeper, and a smile of vengeance came to her finely-chiseled lips.
After a while she went over to the sofa and let her gloved hand fall upon his shoulder.
It took a little shaking to open Jem's eyes, and the first look did not reveal the truth.
But when he looked again and saw the tensely-drawn face, and perhaps the cocked six-shooter in the woman's hand, he sat bolt upright and lost color.
She had unmasked him.
Belle Demona had come to prove that he had deceived her, that he had never gone to Melbourne, and perhaps she knew that his time had been passed in the gilded gambling hells and dance halls of Perth.
"I am here, traitor!" sternly spoke Belle Demona.
Jem shook off the last semblance of sleep and got up.
"You have played me false. You let another make you his slave. You have rested here in Perth."
What could he say?
There were marks of dissipation on his face, and he wondered if Riggs had gone back to the ranch and betrayed him.
"Stand over there against the wall!" commanded the queen of the ranch.
Jem hesitated.
"I'll kill you if you don't!"
He moved away and she continued:
"Merle told you to stop in Perth?" She looked at him as she spoke. "He gave you money—my money—with which to fight the tiger here."
Jem was ready for any confession now, for he saw the determined mien of his mistress, and knew that she came from Ranch Robin merciless and cool.
"Like a fool I listened to Merle," he said.
"Like a fool? Rather like a traitor!" cried the woman. "You must have met the man called Riggs?"
"He threw himself across my path."
"Why didn't you kill him?"
"I didn't suspect that he was the detective."
"Fool! you might have known that he would not seek you if not for a terrible purpose."
"Let me meet him again."
"That is never to take place."
The last words seemed to come through clinched teeth, and the hand of Belle Demona got a tighter grip on the revolver.
"My death would do you no good, woman," he said, seeing her determination as expressed in deep-set and glowing eyes.
"It would put a traitor out of the way. It would stop treason among those I have trusted. I will have no traitors in my way."
Jem, the Sydneyite, seemed to measure the distance between him and the woman, but a few steps away, and he knew that she would carry out the purposes of her heart to the letter.
"I have come to kill you!" deliberately spoke Belle Demona.
He did not plead for time or mercy.
Once more he looked across the space and tried to detect a quivering of her muscles, but failed.
Belle Demona fell back a step, and the deadly weapon looked Jem fairly in the face.
"When I pass from this room to fight to the bitter end the battle of life against the minions of the law, you will not be a witness against me," she said. "Your time is up, Jem!"
The finger against the trigger moved a little.
A jet of fire leaped into the man's face, and he reeled against the walls, throwing up his hands with a cry.
She appeared riveted to the floor while she watched the sinking body that finally reached the carpet with a white face turned toward hers.
Jem, the Sydneyite, did not move after striking the floor, and Belle Demona remained in her tracks a full minute.
Presently, with a last look at her victim, she moved toward the door, which she locked behind her.
With steady step she descended the stairs and looked in upon Meg in the lower room.
The face of the old woman was as white as that of the dead overhead and she greeted Belle Demona with a look which told that she knew all.
"Don't open the room for an hour," said the queen of Ranch Robin.
"Not for a day if you give the command."
"Well, say not for three hours. Jem, your lodger, was a traitor, Meg——"
"Death to all such, I say!" cried the old woman, and the woman with the revolver threw a lot of bills upon the clothless table.
Half a minute later Belle Demona stood once more in the street of Perth.
Her horse had waited for her and she mounted with the grace of a finished rider.
She cast a glance up the street as she did so and then moved away.
Suddenly at the second glance she changed color a trifle.
Three horsemen were just entering Perth in the early light of morning.
The figures, blended for some time, opened as they came on, and the face of the queen of the ranch became a study while she watched them.
Did she guess who they were?
Belle Demona turned aside at the first corner and rode into another thoroughfare.
"I'll wait and see," she said.
Riding down a narrow alley, still dark, she reined in her steed and turned his face toward the street.
There, with the revolver in her hand, she sat upright in the silken saddle and watched the mouth of the alley.
Not a muscle moved.
Like a hunted creature, this magnificent woman, beautiful despite her wild and reckless life, awaited the appearance of the three men.
Presently she caught the sound of hoofs and leaned forward.
"They will soon be here, and then——"
She did not complete the sentence, but broke it of her own accord and held her breath.
Nearer and nearer came the steeds as yet unseen, and the gloved finger of Belle Demona rested against the shining trigger of the six-shooter.
"He will never take him across the sea!" she hissed. "Here ends the trail of the Yankee spotter, and here finishes as well the story of Belle Demona's hate."
The next moment the horsemen came opposite the mouth of the alley, and the fair foe in ambush pressed the trigger, and a loud report rang out on the crisp air.
THE QUAKER'S TRUMPS WIN.
Sharp and clear was the report of Belle Demona's revolver.
The three horses in the street stopped, and one of the riders pitched forward, but did not fall to the ground.
With a cry that welled from the depths of her heart, the woman in the alley stood as one transfixed with horror.
"The wrong man!" she exclaimed.
In another moment a horseman dashed into the alley, and the queen of the ranch, with smoking revolver in her hand, stood undecided.
"You? I thought so," said a voice as a man leaned over the saddle and clutched her arm.
There was no answer, but with a quick recoil Belle Demona broke from the hand and started back.
"Not yet," she said, and then a figure flew down the alley and distanced the horseman, to escape in a small doorway some distance from the scene.
Old Broadbrim, who was the horseman, turned back and looked into the white face of Merle.
For once in her life, at least, her hand had trembled, and Belle Demona, instead of finishing the career of the Yankee, had sent a bullet through Merle's shoulder.
Old Broadbrim and Dick Waters, whom we left with their captive on the way from Round Robin Ranch, had been overtaken by the men of the bush, eager to capture their master.
The Quaker detective had met them with his accustomed coolness, and he and Dick had heroically faced the band.
Broadbrim was not to be baffled even in Australia, and, with a pistol at Merle's head, he coolly informed the guardsmen that if they attempted to enforce their demand he would send a bullet to the murderer's brain.
It was a parley with ready weapons in the open, and the ashen face of Merle looked pitiful while it lasted.
In the early flush of dawn his fate trembled in the balance, and when the detective rode on, he (Merle) cast a longing look at the horsemen moving back.
Old Broadbrim conducted his prisoner to the headquarters of the Perth police and there presented the papers he had brought from America.
Merle looked coolly on.
His wound had been dressed and he was silent while he listened to the detective.
But suddenly his eye caught the old-time fire and he thought of Belle Demona.
She did not intend to shoot him.
No, it was a mistake, and he felt that while she lived and was on the alert in the little town the detective and his new-found friend stood a good chance of failing.
It was found that on the next day a vessel would leave the port for Melbourne, and Old Broadbrim determined to take his prisoner on board and await the sailing.
Meantime the authorities of Perth scoured the town for the ranch queen.
She was not to be found, and no one thought of searching Meg's domicile.
Some thought she had gone back to the ranch, but Broadbrim was equally certain that he had not seen the last of the cool-headed creature.
Nor had he.
The little vessel rocking lightly in the bay of Perth was ready for the voyage of the morrow, and Old Broadbrim stood on the deck with the lights of the town before him.
The night was a beautiful one, and he knew that the arrest of Merle Macray had stirred up the rough populace and that it was the talk in saloon and dance hall all over the port.
Suddenly there came into view a dark, straggling object, which grew larger as it approached, and the detective leaned over the vessel's side and waited.
The Swallow was moored close to the dock, and as she was a vessel of a few tons burden, for she was a coaster, she was at the mercy of almost any mob, however small.
The Quaker detective's face grew sterner as he looked, and watched the crowd of Australians as it came on silently, but with determined mien.
It did not take him long to know what had happened.
The Yankee spotter was not to be permitted to get away with his prey, if the men of Perth could prevent.
Old Broadbrim doubted not that the police of the town stood in with Merle's friends, and they hated the American detective most cordially.
Behind it all stood Belle Demona and her almost unlimited wealth.
Presently the mob made a rush for the dock, and the detective, as yet the only one on the deck, [Transcriber's Note: the final words of this sentence are illegible due to a printing error which affects both copies of the book consulted for this project].
The greater part of the coaster's crew were in town, and the hour was most opportune for an attack.
At sound of his voice the crowd halted, and for a moment seemed on the eve of a retreat.
But the following minute a voice, which the detective had heard before, sang out and urged them on.
Belle Demona was at the head of the party.
The mob rushed to the very edge of the pier, but by this time several figures had reached Old Broadbrim's side, and the captain of the little coaster, with his mates, all determined men who had faced mobs before, stood on deck with repeating rifles in their hands.
It was a moment of suspense, and more than one life hung in the balance.
"Are you cowards, men?" cried the ranch queen. "Shall a Yankee spotter kidnap from under your very eyes the captain of Ranch Robin? Shall the man called Riggs, but who is a New York shadow, take from among us, to be hanged for an imaginary crime, Merle Macray—the open-hearted, brave Merle, my friend and yours?"
A chorus of "No's!" was the answer, but the men on the Swallow's deck only looked at each other and smiled defiance.
The menace of rifle and revolver was too much for the mob.
It was not quite drunk enough to rush to death, and at the suggestion of one of its number the rest adjourned to the wine shops once more.
The woman's figure remained on the dock.
Belle Demona's form was seen in the starlight as she faced the detective.
"I missed you this morning," she exclaimed, her voice having the old-time, silvery ring. "I fired at your heart, Josiah Broadbrim, but your horse saved it. Now I have you at my mercy!"
She finished by throwing up her hand, and the detective looked again into the muzzle of the deadly revolver.
This time her hand did not quiver.
The men of the vessel seemed to lose nerve at the danger that threatened the man from across the sea.
"It is my time, ferret!" said Belle Demona. "This is the end of your trail, and the sun of Australia will shine on your defeat!"
There followed a flash and a report, but not from the six-shooter in the hand of Belle Demona.
The fair-faced witch of two worlds threw up her hands and reeled away as the pistol dropped from her grasp.
"Shot! Retribution!" said the captain of the coaster.
"But look! the avenger is one of her own sex," was the response, as all saw a figure run to Belle Demona's side and stoop over her.
"Stareyes!"
And with the word on his lips Old Broadbrim bounded over the ship's side and dashed forward.
"I have found her. I told you I would some day settle with the queen of the ranch," said the young girl who encountered the detective's gaze from the side of the prostrate woman. "Don't say that Stareyes forgets. Merle is yours, but this woman—this creature who sent him across the sea, and who would have seen me starve, who would have burned me in the sheepsheds—she belongs to Stareyes."
Belle Demona was not dead, nor was she likely to cross the bar from Stareyes' weapon.
The girl was led away, and the queen of the ranch was afterward found by Meg, her friend, who took her home.
Long before daylight, and before the mob could again muster its motley spirits, the little Swallow spread her wings and once more stood out to sea.
And when Merle looked out upon the water he realized that the first stages of the journey back to doom had begun.
As for Belle Demona, that same day she rode homeward, but in her wake was the same implacable shadow destined in time to settle the old score forever.
There was a wait of a week in Melbourne, but at the end of that time Old Broadbrim and his prisoner, accompanied by Dick Waters, stepped on board a United States man-of-war, and the sea trail stretched once more toward the New World.
One bright morning while Clippers was in the act of opening his little house near the famous alley in New York, a footfall greeted his ear, and the next moment he fell back with a cry of astonishment.
Old Broadbrim stood before him.
"Back!" cried Clippers. "I'd given you up, and Hargraves and Irwin are still at fault. They declare that the mystery of Fifth Avenue is as dark as ever, and no one can throw any light upon the death of Jason Marrow."
"Wait, Clippers," smiled the detective. "Wait till you see Merle, the murderer——"
"What, did you find him?"
"What did I start out to do, Clippers, my boy?"
"I see—I see! You are back with the man who killed the two that night—the strangler of the millionaire and the recluse. Mr. Broadbrim, you are invincible!"
That same day the Quaker stood face to face with a young girl whose eyes sparkled with delight, and when he placed his hand on a four-leaved clover she could not keep back her enthusiasm.
"It brought you luck, Mr. Broadbrim!" cried Nora Doon. "I knew when I placed it in your keeping that it would make certain your triumph, and at the same time become your protector. You kept it through thick and thin."
"Through the perils of land and sea, Miss Nora. In the midst of London it was my talisman, in the heart of the Atlantic, and even in the shadow of death in the Australian bush."
The law dealt terribly, but justly with Merle Macray.
Weeks and even months had elapsed since the double murder of the night of the 12th of April; but from across the ocean, whither he had tracked his man with the persistence of the bloodhound, Old Broadbrim handed him over to the mercies of the noose.
Both the detective and Dick Waters were rewarded by Foster Kipp, who soon afterward became Nora's husband, and the young Briton remained in America.
As for Belle Demona, she found her ranch plundered when she returned, and, rather than remain in the shadow of desolation, she fled from the avenging hand of Stareyes, and never again set foot within the boundaries of Ranch Robin.
A year later she was found dead in one of the darkest districts of London, and the young girl who was seen in her shadow a few moments before was arrested and discharged.
No one followed her, and no one saw Stareyes step from a vessel in the Bay of Perth a few weeks later, with the secret of the end of the ranch queen's life known only to her and Deity.
Danny, of Melbourne, was discharged, after the arrest of Merle, and he went back to his den with the broken stairs.
Old Broadbrim was received in New York with profuse congratulations, but he took all with his usual modesty, feeling that he had kept his promise with Nora to find the murderer of Custer Kipp, even though he were compelled to track him around the world.
He had virtually done so, for he caught him in the bush, and, under guard, had brought him back across the ocean to expiate his terrible crimes within a few blocks of the spot where he had perpetrated them.
"It's just like Josiah Broadbrim," said Clippers, in an outburst of enthusiasm. "He always gets his game, no matter where it hides, nor how long the trail is. Old Broadbrim is as certain as death and taxes. You can bank on that."
THE END.
Think what it must be to have a hidden hand ever ready to do you injury, never to know when or where it is about to strike! This was the ordeal which the great Quaker detective had to undergo, when he was called into the famous Stark case, a case which created an unparalleled sensation at the time. What it was and how Broadbrim worked it up, in the face of extraordinary difficulties and dangers, will be found splendidly told in the next issue, No. 33, entitled "Old Broadbrim Doomed by an Invisible Hand; or, The Victims of the Vial of Death."