At ten o’clock the guests took their seats at a table, over which Olbinett had cast his experienced eye. Paganel had just explored the town, in company with Robert, and now related his nocturnal impressions in a very laconic style. He had seen absolutely nothing.
However, a man less absentminded would have observed a certain excitement in the streets of Seymour. Groups were formed here and there, which gradually increased. People talked at the doors of the houses, and questioned each other with an air of anxiety. Various daily papers were read aloud, commented upon, and discussed. These signs, one might suppose, could not have escaped the most careless observer; Paganel, however, had suspected nothing.
The major, on the contrary, without even leaving the hotel, had ascertained the fears that were agitating the little community. Ten minutes’ conversation with the loquacious landlord had informed him; but he did not utter a word. Not until supper was over, and Lady Helena, Mary, and Robert had retired to their chambers, did the major say to his companions:
“They have traced the authors of the crime committed at Camden Bridge.”
“Have they been arrested?” asked Ayrton, quickly.
“No,” replied MacNabb, without seeming to notice the eagerness of the quartermaster.
“So much the worse,” added Ayrton.
“Well,” inquired Glenarvan, “to whom do they attribute the crime?”
“Read,” said the major, handing to Glenarvan a copy of the Australian and New Zealand Gazette, “and you will see that the police-officer was not mistaken.”
Glenarvan read aloud the following passage:
“Sydney, Jan. 2, 1865.—It will be remembered that on the night of December 29 an accident took place at Camden Bridge, five miles from Castlemaine Station, on the Melbourne and Sandhurst Railway, by which the night express was precipitated at full speed into the Lutton River. Numerous thefts committed after the accident, and the corpse of the guard found half a mile above, prove that it was the result of a crime; and, in accordance with the verdict at the inquest, this crime is to be attributed to a band of convicts who escaped, six months ago, from the Perth penitentiary, in Western Australia, as they were about to be transferred to Norfolk Island. These convicts are twenty-nine in number, and are commanded by a certain Ben Joyce, a dangerous criminal, who arrived in Australia several months ago in some way, and upon whom justice has not yet succeeded in laying hands. The inhabitants of the cities, and the colonists and squatters of the stations, are warned to be on their guard, and requested to send to the undersigned any information which may assist his investigations.
When Glenarvan had finished reading this article, MacNabb turned to the geographer and said:
“You see, Paganel, that there may yet be convicts in Australia.”
“Runaways there may be, of course,” replied Paganel, “but not those who have been transported and regularly received. These people have no right to be here.”
“Well, at any rate they are here,” continued Glenarvan; “but I do not suppose that their presence need cause us to change our plans or delay our journey. What do you think, captain?”
Captain Mangles did not answer immediately. He hesitated between the grief that the abandonment of the search would cause the two children, and the fear of compromising the safety of the party.
“If Lady Glenarvan and Miss Grant were not with us,” said he, “I should care very little for this band of wretches.”
Glenarvan understood him, and added:
“Of course it is not advisable to give up our undertaking; but perhaps it would be prudent for the sake of the ladies to join the Duncan at Melbourne, and continue our search for Captain Grant towards the east. What do you think, MacNabb?”
“Before replying,” said the major, “I should like to hear Ayrton’s opinion.”
The quartermaster, thus addressed, looked at Glenarvan.
“I think,” said he, “that, as we are two hundred miles from Melbourne, the danger, if there is any, is as great on the southern as on the eastern road. Both are little frequented, and one is as good as the other. Moreover, I do not think that thirty malefactors can intimidate eight well-armed and resolute men. Therefore, in the absence of better advice, I should go on.”
“Well said,” replied Paganel. “By continuing our course we shall cross Captain Grant’s track, while by returning to the south we should go directly away from it. I agree with you, therefore, and shall give myself no uneasiness about the runaway convicts.”
Thus the determination to make no change in the programme was unanimously approved of.
“One more remark, my lord,” said Ayrton, as they were about to separate.
“Speak.”
“Would it not be advisable to send an order to the Duncan to sail to the coast?”
“Why?” asked Captain Mangles. “It will be time enough to send the order when we arrive at Twofold Bay. If any unforeseen event should compel us to return to Melbourne, we might be sorry not to find the Duncan there. Moreover, her injuries cannot yet have been repaired. I think, therefore, that it would be better to wait.”
“Well,” replied Ayrton, without further remark.
The next day the little party, armed and ready for any emergency, left Seymour, and half an hour after re-entered the forest of eucalyptuses, which appeared again towards the east. Glenarvan would have preferred to travel in the open country, for a plain is less favorable to sudden attacks and ambuscades than a thick wood. But they had no alternative; and the cart kept on all day between the tall, monotonous trees, and at evening encamped on the borders of the district of Murray.
They were now setting foot on one of the least frequented portions of the Australian continent, a vast uninhabited region stretching away to the Australian Alps. At some future day its forests will be leveled, and the home of the colonist will stand where now all is desolation; but at present it is a
