The Dis-Honourable

Front matter

BY J. D. HENNESSEY LONDON SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON AND COMPANY LIMITED St. Bunstan's l^ouse Fetter Lane, Fleet Street, E.C. CONTENTS. CHAPTEK. PAGE. I. — The Look-Oot Tree -..-_---- J II. — A Russian Leather Pocket Book - - - 7 III. — Edna Forrest -----.---- 12 IV. — A Night of Adventure -------23 V. — " It was Really Cleverly Done " - - - 34 VI. — The Westmead Land Sale- ----- 44 VII. — Joe Stunner Appears on the Scene - - 54 VIII. — The Flooded Mansion -------67 IX. — Old Pinchpenny's Donation ----- 78 X.— A Half Ruined City ------ - PAGE.

CHAPTER. XI.

— A Rejected Offer of Marriage - - 95 XII.— Edna's Dream - - - - 107 XIII.— Cutts the Banker ------- 113 XIV. — What the Newspapers Said - - - - 123 XV.— The Inquest ---------132 XVI. — Mrs. Stunner's Advice ----- 137 XVIL— Constant M'Watt's Will ----- 142 XVIII. — A Strange Funeral Sermon - - - - 155 XIX. — In Conference -------- 167 XX. — Jackson Arrested ------- 172 XXI. — Caler Angel --------- 181 XXII. — "At the Back of the Iron Drawer" 192 XXIII. — De Ville, J.P., Reveals Himself - - 199 XXIV. — An Interview with the Prisoner - - 205 XXV. — The Defence Finally Arranged - - 216 XXVI. — The Trial Commences ------ 224 XXVII. — A Sensational Scene in Court - - - CHAPTEE. PAGE. XXVIII. — Speech of the Crown Prosecutor - - 252 XXIX. — The Defence : A Thrilling Appeal - 259 XXX.— The Wrecker's Story ------ 273 XXXI. — Edna's Perplexity : The Dream Song - 279 XXXII. — De Ville's Explanation : A Lawyer's Letter ---------- 283 XXXIIL— De Ville is Discomfited ----- 290 XXXIV. — The Bethel Calvinists Forego the Lawsuit --------- 296 XXXV. — The Mystery Solved 303 XXXVI. — Clear Shining After Rain - - - - ilSf

Chapter I

, The Look-Out Tree, Upon the shores of Moreton Bay, on the cast coast of Australia, is a point of land stretching seaward in the direction of a Government penal settlement, on an island known as St. Helena. Other islands are clustered in close proximity, and with the long hills on Stradbrook and Moreton Islands in the distance, the scene is one of striking beauty. In the summer months, this part of the Bay forms a favourite rendezvous for yachting parties from the Queensland capital. The point of land referred to rises high above the water, with the Bay on one side and the estuary of a small river on the other. The shore — half mud, half sand — which stretches for a long distance at low water, is, on the seaward side, thickly fringed with mangroves ; Avhile overlooking them, upon the utmost headland, one tall tree — pushing out from among its fellows — stands sentinel over the miniature penin sula.

B This forest giant, with black massive trunk and branches, is an Australian blood-wood, and presents a singular appearance to the observant onlooker. Its huge limbs, but slightly clothed with foliage, are gnarled and crooked into ungainly and fantastic shapes, by centuries of battling with the south-east gales that not unfrequently sweep fiercely across the Bay from the Pacific Ocean. The tree possesses none of the symmetry common to trees of European or Asiatic growth, except that in some remarkable way its huge ungainly trunk has maintained the perpendicular. Turnings and twistings and contortions notwithstanding, it preserves its general erectness to the very topmost branch, over a hundred feet from the ground, where by a strange freak of nature, a huge bole has been developed, out of which a branch, thicker than a man's body, grows for several feet at a right angle in the direction of the Bay.

On a Friday afternoon in February, 1893, there might have been discerned the figure of a man on that dizzy natural platform, as, grasping a smaller branch above him for support, he gazed intently across the water in the direction of the entrance to the River Brisbane. Since the commencement of the year the weather had been unusually wet, but that week had beaten all previous record. With brief intervals, of a few hours duration, in the early part of the week, it had rained steadily both night and day. Not in warm genial showers, such as the poet remembered when he wrote of " The useful trouble of the rain," but in a fierce, pitiless, persistent downpour, with gales of wind from the south-east, which had drenched, and drenched again, the sodden earth, until every sloping piece of roadway was a river, and every gully was filled with roaring torrents, and THE LOOK-OUT TREE. 3 every creek, swollen far beyond its natural limits, was trans formed into a red, rushing, devastating flood.

What the River Brisbane was like this Friday afternoon may be imagined. Floating wreckage and other debris, that had been brought down by its swirling angry current, had just made its appearance in the Bay. It was reported that houses had already been destroyed, and that lives had been lost, but the worst was yet to come. For days neither sun nor sky had been seen through the thick canopy of clouds. Night was closing in upon the landscape earlier than usual when the solitary watcher might have been seen descending from his conning tower. He came down carefully, but sailor-like and quickly, as though assisted by some foot hold and a rope, and without pausing or looking around, hurried off in the direction of the point. He there descended a grassy sloping bank, some fifteen or twenty feet to the shore, where he was completely hidden from the homestead, which might have been seen a quarter of a mile or more in the distance.

Here he took off his boots and socks, and placed them in the hollow end of a log, where they were protected from the rain, which had now commenced again in good earnest. George Jackson stood up, after depositing his foot gear in the log. He was a manly looking fellow of about thirty, and stood five feet eleven without his boots. It was getting too dark to note his features well, but despite his rough dress there was no mistaking the well-bred bearing of the man, or the determination of the mouth which, overhung by a brown wavy moustache, was closely shut. He looked the sort of man one would expect to ride pretty well anything in the shape of horseflesh, pull a strong steady oar, and show plenty pf cool courage in a time of danger. b As he rolled up his trousers over a pair of muscular legs, in preparation for a wade through the shallow water, and mud, and sand, and mangrove roots, he appeared to be equal to any emergency, and quite at home with his surroundings.

Who he was, and how he came to be in the strange circum stances in which we find him, will have to be explained later on. Like most of the foreshore of Moreton Bay, the land shelved very gradually toward deep water, and Jackson had to wade some distance before he reached the thick fringe of mangrove trees lining the eastern shore. Even at this distance the water had not risen to his knees. " Tide is rising fast," he said to himself, as he worked his way carefully through the mangroves, towards a black object which had become entangled with the sweeping branches of one of these singular trees. It proved to be a good-sized punt, such as is often used by fishing parties, tarred outside and inside, with two sliding seats. The punt contained a few inches of water, and half submerged on the floor lay the dead body of a man, his eyes staring skyward.

One hand, on which was a diamond ring, lay clenched beside him, the other was buried deep in the breast of a large waterproof overcoat, which was tightly buttoned around the corpse. It was a gruesome sight, and the solitary beholder's stout limbs trembled under him, as, just for a moment, he started back, and clung, with one hand, to the branch of a mangrove tree for support. It was raining steadily, darkness was approaching, the tide rising, and yet the man stood there, now over his knees in the water gazing as though he were under some mesmeric spell, into the death-white face of the corpse. He took in every feature of the weird and ghastly THE LOOK-OUT TREE. 5 spectacle. The punt was without oars or side rowlocks, but in the stern was a new pivot rowlock to hold an oar for sculling or steering.

A hole had been recently bored through the flat board fastened on the fore part of the punt, and a strong rope dragged from it in the water. One of the stanchion plates was torn off, and the fretted sides of the punt seemed to indicate rough contact with passing objects. There was no sign of luggage of any description. The unfortunate occupant had seemingly made no preparation for the strange journey, on which death had so ruthlessly and mysteriously overtaken him. The corpse was that of a man well advanced in years, medium height and fairly stout, black greyish hair and beard, white face and hands — bleached whiter still by exposure to the rain, and death — large nose, and thin hard mouth. The head, with hair falling back from the forehead into the water, was without covering, but showed no mark of violence.

The strange turn in one of the eyes was evidently a natural defect, probably more noticeable now than when living. The dress was not disarranged, collar and black silk necktie, fastened with a gold pin, set with a single diamond, had seemingly been wetted only by the rain. A strong dark tweed overcoat, with cape of military cut, and fashionable trousers and boots, completed as much of the dress as was visible. " Good God ! " Jackson exclaimed at last, " how horrible ! I never expected this. Surely he has not been murdered ? " As though seized by some sudden impulse, he moved nearer to the punt, and hurriedly drew the right hand from the folds of the overcoat. It seemed at first to stick or cling, as though held by something, and on being withdrawn left a bulky leather pocket-book half protruding from the breast.

Jackson reached to take it, but a swell on the water moved the punt at the moment, and in his haste and effort to steady himself, it fell into the water at the bottom of the punt. He soon, however, recovered it, and shaking off the water, safely deposited it in the side pocket of his coat. He then drew the cape of the overcoat over the dead man's face, fastened the painter of the punt to the trunk of a mangrove, and commenced to wade back to the shore. As though struck by a sudden thought, he turned quickly back again, and steadying the punt with both hands, placed his ear on the breast of the corpse, and remained in that attitude for half a minute. He listened for the ticking of ihe dead man's watch — and distinctly heard it. It must have been wound up the previous night. Death, however it came about, would have taken place within the past twenty four hours.

Reaching the shore the man recovered his boots and socks, and without waiting to put them on, Avalked with rapid strides through the long wet grass and fallen timber toward the house.

Chapter II

A Russian Leather Pocket Book. Both homestead and peninsula are known as Darton's Point. The farm, comprising the usual six hundred and forty acres, was only used for grazing and dairying purposes. It had been the property of the Darton family before Separation from New South Wales, and was now occupied by its present owner, largely through the pressure of the times. John Darton found when he came into the property, on the death of his father, that the place would not let at anything like a satisfactory rental. Although now well grassed, it was mostly cold and wet on account of a clay subsoil ; so, feeling it necessary to retrench somewhat himself, he took the bull by the horns, moved his household down from the city, where he averred there was not enough business doing to keep a cat, and took to dairy farming.

The house was a fair-sized comfortable-looking wooden dwelling of about a dozen rooms, built on the highest part of the peninsula, and commanded a fine view of both the river and the Bay. It had wide verandahs on the two sides over looking the Bay. Of course it was lonely. The nearest neighbour lived a mile and a quarter distant, in the direction of a small semi-fashionable marine township, part of which could be seen on another headland from Darton's Point ; but, as John Darton told people, and his wife occasionally ; notwithstanding its loneliness, the place had its advantages. Like most Queensland country dwellings the house had been added to from time to time, as occasion required, and a three-roomed weatherboard cottage, with verandah in front, which might have been, and probably was, the original dwelling, stood a few yards from the main building on the lower and western side.

George Jackson made his way to this cottage, and hurriedly entered by a middle door from the verandah, quietly closing and carefully locking it after him. He felt certain that no one had noticed him. The servant man and woman had not come up from the milking yards, and John Darton had been up in Brisbane since the previous day. Edna and Mrs. Darton and Nora were pretty sure to be busy preparing tea. It was raining heavily. There was no covered way from the house to the cottage. The married couple occupied the room with the separate door, nearest to the house, and the others were appropriated by him, as bedroom and private sitting room. When once the rooms were done up by Nora for the day, he was seldom disturbed. He looked at his watch, it was a quarter to seven. Tea would not be served until a quarter past.

There was plenty of time to dress, and what he wanted just now very badly — time for thought. After having lit a lamp and drawn the blinds, for there were two windows to the room (before even removing his damp clothes) he took out the wet pocket-book, and holding it to the lamp examined it carefully. It was of Russian leather, expensively got up, with solid silver mountings, and had evidently belonged to a well-to-do man. It was full of A RUSSIAN LEATHER POCKET

BOOK. 9

papers, slightly wetted by their temporary immersion in the water of the punt. He unfolded one after another and glanced over their contents with evident interest, spreading them out upon the table afterwards, so that their damp edges might be dried. Having in this way emptied the outer compartments, he came to a centre one, locked by one of the patent fasteners, which usually give some trouble before the uninitiated can get them undone. It was crammed full, and must have been squeezed hard before the snap had closed, and it was some minutes before Jackson got it open. " Notes ! " he exclaimed, as he drew out a lump of crisp paper. " Fifty, or a hundred pounds perhaps, for travelling expenses or something." He undid the bundle, but on scanning them turned ashy pale. His hand trembled with excitement as he looked them over.

He had expected to find them ones, and fves, and possibly tens. He saw instead fifties, hundreds, and last of all, no less than twenty single notes, each for five hundred pounds. They were all of them dated some years back, and were on different banks. " Good Heavens ! " he exclaimed, " there's thirty thousand pounds sterling." With the bank notes heaped before him on the table, Jackson drew up a chair, and sitting down he stared at them for several minutes as though absorbed in thought. How new and crisp they were ! They could not have been handled much. Thirty thousand pounds ! He put his elbows on the table, and hid his face in his hands. At last he might have been heard to ejaculate, " God help me ! " " God pity me !" There was anguish in his voice. It was between a sob and a groan. The man's stalwart frame shook as he uttered it.

Was it a prayer, wrung from the struggling soul in the unutterable travail of a great crisis? Or was it an ejaculation of the shuddering conscience as the man felt himself to be tottering upon the precipice of a great crime, and caught a momentary glimpse of the black abyss beneath ? It was a close night, notwithstanding the rain ; but it was something more than that which caused great drops of sweat to stand thick upon George Jackson's brow, as he lifted his head from his hands, and, with a determined look upon his face, put the notes and papers back into the pocket book and locked it in the drawer. All this had taken time, and he now hurriedly put off his damp clothes, and repeatedly bathed his face, and eyes, and head, in water. It was to restore something harder to get back than cleanliness.

When the tea bell rang a few minutes afterwards, it was a well-dressed gentlemanly man that stepped out upon the verandah of the cottage. Opening an umbrella to protect himself against the pouring rain, he leaped across the stream of water that was coursing down the pathway, and in a few strides reached the friendly shelter of the main building. It was dark by this time, and a wild tempestuous night. Nora, the Irish maid servant, met him at the entrance. " Sure, sir, it's an awful night, and I'm afraid it's wet you are. Pity now there is not a covered way down to the cottage." Jackson made some pleasant answer — for Nora was an obliging, and moreover agreeable, and not bad-looking girl — and passed into a room where the bright lamps, and well spread, well appointed table, formed a pleasant contrast to the outside darkness and raging storm. Was it the lamp-light that cast a momentary shadow across Jackson's face as he turned round to where there A RUSSIAN LEATHER POCKET

BOOK. 11

stood near the table a fair young girl in the fresh bloom and beauty of early womanhood, or was it the transient vision of that ghastly thing that lay there in the mangroves, waiting for him, with its dead face turned upwards from the flooded waters to the wrathful sky ? It was gone, however, in a moment, and there was no shadow of guilt on the face that was turned with a smile towards Edna Forrest. He had carefully closed the door as he entered, and going up to the girl, put both arms around her in a close embrace and kissed her. There was passion in the kiss, passion that was returned too, for she placed her fair arms around his neck, and kissed him back. "Now let me go," she said, ".someone will be coming." Another kiss was placed upon her ripe, red lips, by way of answer, and then, stopping for a moment as he let her go, he said, " Edna, will you always, always, love me ?

" " I suppose so," the girl replied demurely, a playful twinkle in her eye. " If you always, always, make me love you, as you do now." They were seated at their own places at the table, composed and self-possessed, talking about the rain and floods, when a minute afterwards the room door was opened by Mrs. Darton, followed by her husband, and by Nora bringing in the tea. i Mrs. Darton was in many respects a clever, capable woman, who dressed well, and looked well, and sometimes spoke well. She knew a good deal, and thought she knew more. As with many another capable woman, however, tho atmosphere of her own home was thick with passion and tragedy, of which she was profoundly ignorant.

Chapter III

Edna Forrest. There was an air of comfort, and even elegance, about the apartment in which the family had gathered for tea. It was never used for other meals, and not always for this, but on rough unpleasant nights especially, it was Mrs. Darton's pleasure to have tea laid in the drawing room. There were flowers and choice pot plants on the table, and the whole surroundings indicated taste and refinement which " The hand of gentle woman, sedulous to please, creates for him she loves." Mrs. Darton was of a good family, a M'Dermott, had brought her husband some money, and knew what it was to have a much finer home than that at Darton's Point. But it was since the advent of Edna Forrest, John Darton's niece, into the family circle, that the home life had received much of the grace and refinement that adorned it.

Edna was the only daughter of a sister of John Darton's, who had married when very young into a wealthy English family. Both parents had unhappily died when she was quite a child, and John Darton became her guardian, with the Hon. Constant M'Watt as co-trustee. Her fortune, of about ten thousand pounds, had been, on the advice of the last-named trustee, withdrawn from England and invested in Queensland. She had been sent to England and the Continent to finish her education, and Mrs. Darton predicted for her a brilliant match. It was Edna who had painted the life-like glimpses of English landscape scenery, which hung over her sweettoned piano at the end of the drawing room. She it was who gathered the ferns and orchids out of the "run," and draped the red pots in which she planted them with picturesque art muslin and dainty silks.

She was a born musician, and had a voice of rare sweetness and compass, which had been carefully trained. To hear her sing to her own accompaniment was, as John Darton said, a revelation to most people. They had heard the song fifty times before, but on Edna's lips it became something, which, although sweetly familiar, was strangely new. She inherited from her father, who was no mean musician, this gift of song. Edna could ride well, and row, and manage a boat if necessary, and was a good swimmer, and graceful dancer, yet she seemed one of the quietest of girls, and evidently was quite content with her temporary country residence at Darton's Point. She was a great reader, and even quaint in some of her fancies and pursuits. The young clergyman of the district, after one of his rare visits, pronounced her a charming creature, but a veritable blue stocking, who, if she were only a good church woman, would have made a perfect treasure of a parson's wife.

" Why," said he to an intimate friend, " they were all out, and I put in quite an hour's conversation with her. I started the usual small talk about the weather, and the neighbours, &c, but she wouldn't have it, and I had to keep all my wits about me. She even quoted Eusebius and Dr. Channing, and thought Pearson on the Creed obsolete. Then to hear her talk about the labour question, and the present state of the colony. She actually advised me to read a new German work by Pastor Von Bodelschwingh on Farm Labour Colonies, and said she feared that ministers of religion generally, were too much waiters upon Providence, and hadn't the courage of their convictions. She admired Dr. Broad, of Melbourne, and told me to my face that if she lived in a city she thought she would have to attend an Unitarian Church.

And yet, upon my word, she had such a sweet face with her, even when her observations and opinions were most uncomplimentary and obnoxious, that to have her talk to you was like taking medicine mixed with some elixir of paradise, which over powered its unpalatableness. I believe that I could almost have turned Unitarian at the time, to have got a smile from her such as she gave a fellow living with the Dartons, they call George Jackson. It is said that he is an Oxford man ; came out about three years ago, and got his colonial experience by losing a lot of money in land and mining speculations, and is now studying for the Bar. I suppose that he is after the girl, or he surely would not bury himself down at Darton's Point." Edna was quieter to-night than usual, as also was Jackson, and Mr. and Mrs. Darton had the conversation largely to themselves.

" Well, John dear," commenced Mrs. Darton, as they sat down to tea, " you must have had a roughish time of it in Brisbane the last two days. It has rained here awfully. Edna and I haven't been outside the house. I suppose they will have a flood in Brisbane if the rain continues ? " " Yes, it's been wretched weather in town," replied John. " Slush and water everywhere. When I left the. railway station this afternoon, the river water was running over the lower parts of Stanley Street, and was rising fast. I heard, too, that some parts of Melbourne-street and the Montague Road were so much flooded that the people were moving out of their shops and dwelling houses. Flagge's away north, but the weather forecast published by his assistant at the Observatory this morning, is far from reassuring. It's my opinion that if this rain continues, and we have a big flood, it will put the finishing touch to Brisbane.

It's just like our luck in this wretched, mis governed, God-forsaken colony." " Here's the Government," he continued, after helping himself to another cutlet, " practically without money, for just now they daren't interfere to any large extent with the Government deposits held by the Banks. We've had one trouble after another, and yet all our legislators seem to think of, after seeing that their own salaries are paid, is to gad about the country at the public expense, and make fat billets for themselves and their friends. And, by George ! the astonishing thing is that public opinion seems to be defunct." He paused for a moment to go on with his tea, but no one spoke, and Edna especially, seemed to be giving him her smiling attention. Although that was nothing, for no one ever knew by Edna's smile what she really thought — it was a playful, bewitching, " Will o' the wisp " sort of smile, which, alas ! often led luckless men and women into unexpected pitfalls.

It was too bad of Edna, although she would never plead guilty to having beguiled them ; but when her smiling attention had actually enticed them into a full disclosure, how she' would sometimes come down upon them! Not to really hurt them, or their feelings, over much, but like the big ocean wave that dallies playfully for a moment, and then makes you run for safety, as it rises up to overwhelm you with its volume, brightly capped with sunshine, spray, and foam. But we had remarked that no one spoke, and Edna smiled attention, so John Darton continued : " There's Sir Anthony Short and Sir Wilmot Strong, both away from the colony, and we have an irresponsible Acting-Chief Secretary, who, to my mind, is just now a sort of acting cat's paw to pull hot chestnuts out of the fire for other members of the Ministry.

They subsidise all sorts of speculations out of the public funds, and pocket monstrous retaining fees and refreshers, for their eminent services. But, if the farmers or the working classes, or some genuine new industry wants assistance, it's the old cry, " Government has no funds." And the people are that disheartened by their losses, and cowed by the unparalleled eminence, and exaltation, and audacity of their rulers, that they daren't say a word. Gad ! I'd like to see the whole lot of them swept clean out of power at the general election, and have the country governed by men of less legal and educational eminence, and fewer Imperialistic fancies. What the colony really wants is a Government of ordinary common sense, honesty, and sobriety. The newspapers talk about legislative genius, and administrative capacity, and the knowledge of Parliamentary procedure, and a lot of other things, as being necessary for public positions.

I'd like to know what these precious acquisitions have done for us in Queensland during the past seven years. Goodness knows, we've had genius, and scholarship, and capacity, and culture, to the full. We've had statesmen whose names have been spoken in European Courts as belonging to men of rare ability, and whose legislative enactments have been thought good enough to be imitated in older lands, and what have they done for us? Landed the colony in a very slough of despond, by their extravagance and financial juggling, and utter incompetency, when dealing with the every-day wants of the people of the colony. They had all been smiling at John Darton's vehement tirade against the powers that be ; but when at its climax the orator stopped, quite out of breath, to take a draught from his fragrant cup of tea, they broke into a hearty laugh.

"John," said Mrs. Darton, "they ought to put you into Parliament at the next election as labour member for the district ; but if they did, you'd have to get another wife, or go without one. I'll never be connected with the unwashed mob. But do get on with your tea, dear, that cutlet of yours will be quite cold. It's my opinion," the lady continued, without giving her husband the chance to get in a word, " that the colony will always be ruled much as it is now ; and I don't blame men, when they have the chance, for making good billets for themselves and their friends. The only people that are doing any good for themselves just now, are the men in political power, and those in the civil service, and the big financial institutions. What's the good of men getting hold of the reins if they don't drive the coach so as to give their own friends a bit of a lift by the way ?