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diff --git a/23059-0.txt b/23059-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..de8943b --- /dev/null +++ b/23059-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1140 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of My Friend The Murderer, by A. Conan Doyle + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: My Friend The Murderer + +Author: A. Conan Doyle + +Release Date: October 17, 2007 [EBook #23059] +Last Updated: September 30, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY FRIEND THE MURDERER *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +MY FRIEND THE MURDERER + +By A. Conan Doyle + + +“Number 481 is no better, doctor,” said the head-warder, in a slightly +reproachful accent, looking in round the corner of my door. + +“Confound 481” I responded from behind the pages of the _Australian +Sketcher_. + +“And 61 says his tubes are paining him. Couldn’t you do anything for +him?” + +“He is a walking drug-shop,” said I. “He has the whole British +pharmacopaæ inside him. I believe his tubes are as sound as yours are.” + +“Then there’s 7 and 108, they are chronic,” continued the warder, +glancing down a blue slip of paper. “And 28 knocked off work +yesterday--said lifting things gave him a stitch in the side. I want you +to have a look at him, if you don’t mind, doctor. There’s 81, too--him +that killed John Adamson in the Corinthian brig--he’s been carrying on +awful in the night, shrieking and yelling, he has, and no stopping him +either.” + +“All right, I’ll have a look at him afterward,” I said, tossing my paper +carelessly aside, and pouring myself out a cup of coffee. “Nothing else +to report, I suppose, warder?” + +The official protruded his head a little further into the room. “Beg +pardon, doctor,” he said, in a confidential tone, “but I notice as 82 +has a bit of a cold, and it would be a good excuse for you to visit him +and have a chat, maybe.” + +The cup of coffee was arrested half-way to my lips as I stared in +amazement at the man’s serious face. + +“An excuse?” I said. “An excuse? What the deuce are you talking about, +McPherson? You see me trudging about all day at my practise, when I’m +not looking after the prisoners, and coming back every night as tired as +a dog, and you talk about finding an excuse for doing more work.” + +“You’d like it, doctor,” said Warder McPherson, insinuating one of his +shoulders into the room. “That man’s story’s worth listening to if you +could get him to tell it, though he’s not what you’d call free in his +speech. Maybe you don’t know who 82 is?” + +“No, I don’t, and I don’t care either,” I answered, in the conviction +that some local ruffian was about to be foisted upon me as a celebrity. + +“He’s Maloney,” said the warder, “him that turned Queen’s evidence after +the murders at Bluemansdyke.” + +“You don’t say so?” I ejaculated, laying down my cup in astonishment. I +had heard of this ghastly series of murders, and read an account of +them in a London magazine long before setting foot in the colony. I +remembered that the atrocities committed had thrown the Burke and Hare +crimes completely into the shade, and that one of the most villainous +of the gang had saved his own skin by betraying his companions. “Are you +sure?” I asked. + +“Oh, yes, it’s him right enough. Just you draw him out a bit, and +he’ll astonish you. He’s a man to know, is Maloney; that’s to say, in +moderation;” and the head grinned, bobbed, and disappeared, leaving me +to finish my breakfast and ruminate over what I had heard. + +The surgeonship of an Australian prison is not an enviable position. It +may be endurable in Melbourne or Sydney, but the little town of Perth +has few attractions to recommend it, and those few had been long +exhausted. The climate was detestable, and the society far from +congenial. Sheep and cattle were the staple support of the community; +and their prices, breeding, and diseases the principal topic of +conversation. Now as I, being an outsider, possessed neither the one nor +the other, and was utterly callous to the new “dip” and the “rot” and +other kindred topics, I found myself in a state of mental isolation, +and was ready to hail anything which might relieve the monotony of my +existence. Maloney, the murderer, had at least some distinctiveness and +individuality in his character, and might act as a tonic to a mind sick +of the commonplaces of existence. I determined that I should follow the +warder’s advice, and take the excuse for making his acquaintance. When, +therefore, I went upon my usual matutinal round, I turned the lock of +the door which bore the convict’s number upon it, and walked into the +cell. + +The man was lying in a heap upon his rough bed as I entered, but, +uncoiling his long limbs, he started up and stared at me with an +insolent look of defiance on his face which augured badly for our +interview. He had a pale, set face, with sandy hair and a steely-blue +eye, with something feline in its expression. His frame was tall and +muscular, though there was a curious bend in his shoulders, which almost +amounted to a deformity. An ordinary observer meeting him in the street +might have put him down as a well-developed man, fairly handsome, and +of studious habits--even in the hideous uniform of the rottenest convict +establishment he imparted a certain refinement to his carriage which +marked him out among the inferior ruffians around him. + +“I’m not on the sick-list,” he said, gruffly. There was something in the +hard, rasping voice which dispelled all softer illusions, and made me +realize that I was face to face with the man of the Lena Valley and +Bluemansdyke, the bloodiest bushranger that ever stuck up a farm or cut +the throats of its occupants. + +“I know you’re not,” I answered. “Warder McPherson told me you had a +cold, though, and I thought I’d look in and see you.” + +“Blast Warder McPherson, and blast you, too!” yelled the convict, in +a paroxysm of rage. “Oh, that’s right,” he added in a quieter voice; +“hurry away; report me to the governor, do! Get me another six months or +so--that’s your game.” + +“I’m not going to report you,” I said. + +“Eight square feet of ground,” he went on, disregarding my protest, and +evidently working himself into a fury again. “Eight square feet, and I +can’t have that without being talked to and stared at, and--oh, blast +the whole crew of you!” and he raised his two clinched hands above, his +head and shook them in passionate invective. + +“You’ve got a curious idea of hospitality,” I remarked, determined not +to lose my temper, and saying almost the first thing that came to my +tongue. + +To my surprise the words had an extraordinary effect upon him. He seemed +completely staggered at my assuming the proposition for which he had +been so fiercely contending--namely, that the room in which he stood was +his own. + +“I beg your pardon,” he said; “I didn’t mean to be rude. Won’t you +take a seat?” and he motioned toward a rough trestle, which formed the +head-piece of his couch. + +I sat down, rather astonished at the sudden change. I don’t know that +I liked Maloney better under this new aspect. The murderer had, it is +true, disappeared for the nonce, but there was something in the smooth +tones and obsequious manner which powerfully suggested the witness of +the queen, who had stood up and sworn away the lives of his companions +in crime. + +“How’s your chest?” I asked, putting on my professional air. + +“Come, drop it, doctor--drop it!” he answered, showing a row of white +teeth as he resumed his seat upon the side of the bed. “It wasn’t +anxiety after my precious health that brought you along here; that story +won’t wash at all. You came to have a look at Wolf Tone Maloney, forger, +murderer, Sydney-slider, ranger, and government peach. That’s about my +figure, ain’t it? There it is, plain and straight; there’s nothing mean +about me.” + +He paused as if he expected me to say something; but as I remained +silent, he repeated once or twice, “There’s nothing mean about me.” + +“And why shouldn’t I?” he suddenly yelled, his eyes gleaming and his +whole satanic nature reasserting itself. “We were bound to swing, one +and all, and they were none the worse if I saved myself by turning +against them. Every man for himself, say I, and the devil take the +luckiest. You haven’t a plug of tobacco, doctor, have you?” + +He tore at the piece of “Barrett’s” which I handed him, as ravenously as +a wild beast. It seemed to have the effect of soothing his nerves, for +he settled himself down in the bed and re-assumed his former deprecating +manner. + +“You wouldn’t like it yourself, you know, doctor,” he said: “it’s enough +to make any man a little queer in his temper. I’m in for six months this +time for assault, and very sorry I shall be to go out again, I can tell +you. My mind’s at ease in here; but when I’m outside, what with the +government and what with Tattooed Tom, of Hawkesbury, there’s no chance +of a quiet life.” + +“Who is he?” I asked. + +“He’s the brother of John Grimthorpe, the same that was condemned on my +evidence; and an infernal scamp he was, too! Spawn of the devil, both of +them! This tattooed one is a murderous ruffian, and he swore to have my +blood after that trial. It’s seven year ago, and he’s following me yet; +I know he is, though he lies low and keeps dark. He came up to me in +Ballarat in ‘75; you can see on the back of my hand here where the +bullet clipped me. He tried again in ‘76, at Port Philip, but I got the +drop on him and wounded him badly. He knifed me in ‘79, though, in a bar +at Adelaide, and that made our account about level. He’s loafing round +again now, and he’ll let daylight into me--unless--unless by some +extraordinary chance some one does as much for him.” And Maloney gave a +very ugly smile. + +“I don’t complain of _him_ so much,” he continued. “Looking at it in +his way, no doubt it is a sort of family matter that can hardly be +neglected. It’s the government that fetches me. When I think of what +I’ve done for this country, and then of what this country has done for +me, it makes me fairly wild--clean drives me off my head. There’s no +gratitude nor common decency left, doctor!” + +He brooded over his wrongs for a few minutes, and then proceeded to lay +them before me in detail. + +“Here’s nine men,” he said; “they’ve been murdering and killing for +a matter of three years, and maybe a life a week wouldn’t more than +average the work that they’ve done. The government catches them and the +government tries them, but they can’t convict; and why?--because the +witnesses have all had their throats cut, and the whole job’s been very +neatly done. What happens then? Up comes a citizen called Wolf Tone +Maloney; he says, ‘The country needs me, and here I am.’ And with that +he gives his evidence, convicts the lot, and enables the beaks to hang +them. That’s what I did. There’s nothing mean about me! And now what +does the country do in return? Dogs me, sir, spies on me, watches me +night and day, turns against the very man that worked so very hard for +it. There’s something mean about that, anyway. I didn’t expect them to +knight me, nor to make me colonial secretary; but, damn it! I did expect +that they would let me alone!” + +“Well,” I remonstrated, “if you choose to break laws and assault people, +you can’t expect it to be looked over on account of former services.” + +“I don’t refer to my present imprisonment, sir,” said Maloney, with +dignity. “It’s the life I’ve been leading since that cursed trial that +takes the soul out of me. Just you sit there on that trestle, and I’ll +tell you all about it, and then look me in the face and tell me that +I’ve been treated fair by the police.” + +I shall endeavor to transcribe the experience of the convict in his own +words, as far as I can remember them, preserving his curious perversions +of right and wrong. I can answer for the truth of his facts, whatever +may be said for his deductions from them. Months afterward, Inspector H. +W. Hann, formerly governor of the jail at Dunedin, showed me entries in +his ledger which corroborated every statement Maloney reeled the story +off in a dull, monotonous voice, with his head sunk upon his breast and +his hands between his knees. The glitter of his serpentlike eyes was the +only sign of the emotions which were stirred up by the recollection of +the events which he narrated. + +***** + +You’ve read of Bluemansdyke (he began, with some pride in his tone). +We made it hot while it lasted; but they ran us to earth at last, and a +trap called Braxton, with a damned Yankee, took the lot of us. That was +in New Zealand, of course, and they took us down to Dunedin, and there +they were convicted and hanged. One and all they put up their hands +in the dock, and cursed me till your blood would have run cold to hear +them--which was scurvy treatment, seeing that we had all been +pals together; but they were a blackguard lot, and thought only of +themselves. I think it is as well that they were hung. + +They took me back to Dunedin Jail, and clapped me into the old cell. +The only difference they made was, that I had no work to do and was +well fed. I stood this for a week or two, until one day the governor was +making his rounds, and I put the matter to him. + +“How’s this?” I said. “My conditions were a free pardon, and you’re +keeping me here against the law.” + +He gave a sort of a smile. “Should you like very much to get out?” he +asked. + +“So much,” said I, “that unless you open that door I’ll have an action +against you for illegal detention.” + +He seemed a bit astonished by my resolution. + +“You’re very anxious to meet your death,” he said. + +“What d’ye mean?” I asked. + +“Come here, and you’ll know what I mean,” he answered. And he led me +down the passage to a window that overlooked the door of the prison. +“Look at that!” said he. + +I looked out, and there were a dozen or so rough-looking fellows +standing outside the street, some of them smoking, some playing cards +on the pavement. When they saw me they gave a yell and crowded round the +door, shaking their fists and hooting. + +“They wait for you, watch and watch about,” said the governor. “They’re +the executive of the vigilance committee. However, since you are +determined to go, I can’t stop you.” + +“D’ye call this a civilized land,” I cried, “and let a man be murdered +in cold blood in open daylight?” + +When I said this the governor and the warder and every fool in the place +grinned, as if a man’s life was a rare good joke. + +“You’ve got the law on your side,” says the governor; “so we won’t +detain you any longer. Show him out, warder.” + +He’d have done it, too, the black-hearted villain, if I hadn’t begged +and prayed and offered to pay for my board and lodging, which is +more than any prisoner ever did before me. He let me stay on those +conditions; and for three months I was caged up there with every +larrikin in the township clamoring at the other side of the wall. That +was pretty treatment for a man that had served his country! + +At last, one morning up came the governor again. + +“Well, Maloney,” he said, “how long are you going to honor us with your +society?” + +I could have put a knife into his cursed body, and would, too, if we had +been alone in the bush; but I had to smile, and smooth him and flatter, +for I feared that he might have me sent out. + +“You’re an infernal rascal,” he said; those were his very words, to a +man that had helped him all he knew how. “I don’t want any rough justice +here, though; and I think I see my way to getting you out of Dunedin.” + +“I’ll never forget you, governor,” said I; “and, by God! I never will.” + +“I don’t want your thanks nor your gratitude,” he answered; “it’s +not for your sake that I do it, but simply to keep order in the town. +There’s a steamer starts from the West Quay to Melbourne to-morrow, and +we’ll get you aboard it. She is advertised at five in the morning, so +have yourself in readiness.” + +I packed up the few things I had, and was smuggled out by a back door, +just before daybreak. I hurried down, took my ticket under the name +of Isaac Smith, and got safely aboard the Melbourne boat. I remember +hearing her screw grinding into the water as the warps were cast loose, +and looking back at the lights of Dunedin as I leaned upon the bulwarks, +with the pleasant thought that I was leaving them behind me forever. +It seemed to me that a new world was before me, and that all my troubles +had been cast off. I went down below and had some coffee, and came up +again feeling better than I had done since the morning that I woke +to find that cursed Irishman that took me standing over me with a +six-shooter. + +Day had dawned by that time, and we were steaming along by the coast, +well out of sight of Dunedin. I loafed about for a couple of hours, and +when the sun got well up some of the other passengers came on deck and +joined me. One of them, a little perky sort of fellow, took a good long +look at me, and then came over and began talking. + +“Mining, I suppose?” says he. + +“Yes,” I says. + +“Made your pile?” he asks. + +“Pretty fair,” says I. + +“I was at it myself,” he says; “I worked at the Nelson fields for three +months, and spent all I made in buying a salted claim which busted up +the second day. I went at it again, though, and struck it rich; but when +the gold wagon was going down to the settlements, it was stuck up by +those cursed rangers, and not a red cent left.” + +“That was a bad job,” I says. + +“Broke me--ruined me clean. Never mind, I’ve seen them all hanged for +it; that makes it easier to bear. There’s only one left--the villain +that gave the evidence. I’d die happy if I could come across him. There +are two things I have to do if I meet him.” + +“What’s that?” says I, carelessly. + +“I’ve got to ask him where the money lies--they never had time to make +away with it, and it’s _cachéd_ somewhere in the mountains--and then +I’ve got to stretch his neck for him, and send his soul down to join the +men that he betrayed.” + +It seemed to me that I knew something about that _caché_, and I felt +like laughing; but he was watching me, and it struck me that he had a +nasty, vindictive kind of mind. + +“I’m going up on the bridge,” I said, for he was not a man whose +acquaintance I cared much about making. + +He wouldn’t hear of my leaving him, though. “We’re both miners,” he +says, “and we’re pals for the voyage. Come down to the bar. I’m not too +poor to shout.” + +I couldn’t refuse him well, and we went down together; and that was the +beginning of the trouble. What harm was I doing any one on the ship? +All I asked for was a quiet life, leaving others alone and getting left +alone myself. No man could ask fairer than that. And now just you listen +to what came of it. + +We were passing the front of the ladies’ cabin, on our way to +the saloon, when out comes a servant lass--a freckled currency +she-devil--with a baby in her arms. We were brushing past her, when she +gave a scream like a railway whistle, and nearly dropped the kid. My +nerves gave a sort of a jump when I heard that scream, but I turned and +begged her pardon, letting on that I thought I might have trod on her +foot. I knew the game was up, though, when I saw her white face, and her +leaning against the door and pointing. + +“It’s him!” she cried; “it’s him! I saw him in the court-house. Oh, +don’t let him hurt the baby!” + +“Who is it?” asked the steward and half a dozen others in a breath. + +“It’s him--Maloney--Maloney, the murderer--oh, take him away--take him +away!” + +I don’t rightly remember what happened just at that moment. The +furniture and me seemed to get kind of mixed, and there was cursing, +and smashing, and some one shouting for his gold, and a general stamping +round. When I got steadied a bit, I found somebody’s hand in my mouth. +From what I gathered afterward, I concluded that it belonged to that +same little man with the vicious way of talking. He got some of it out +again, but that was because the others were choking me. A poor chap can +get no fair play in this world when once he is down--still, I think he +will remember me till the day of his death--longer, I hope. + +They dragged me out on to the poop and held a damned court-martial--on +_me_, mind you; _me_, that had thrown over my pals in order to serve +them. What were they to do with me? Some said this, some said that; but +it ended by the captain deciding to send me ashore. The ship stopped, +they lowered a boat, and I was hoisted in, the whole gang of them +hooting at me from over the bulwarks, I saw the man I spoke of tying up +his hand, though, and I felt that things might be worse. + +I changed my opinion before we got to the land. I had reckoned on the +shore being deserted, and that I might make my way inland; but the ship +had stopped too near the Heads, and a dozen beach-combers and such like +had come down to the water’s edge and were staring at us, wondering what +the boat was after. When we got to the edge of the surf the cockswain +hailed them, and after singing out who I was, he and his men threw me +into the water. You may well look surprised--neck and crop into ten feet +of water, with sharks as thick as green parrots in the bush, and I heard +them laughing as I floundered to the shore. + +I soon saw it was a worse job than ever. As I came scrambling out +through the weeds, I was collared by a big chap with a velveteen coat, +and half a dozen others got round me and held me fast. Most of them +looked simple fellows enough, and I was not afraid of them; but there +was one in a cabbage-tree hat that had a very nasty expression on his +face, and the big man seemed to be chummy with him. + +They dragged me up the beach, and then they let go their hold of me and +stood round in a circle. + +“Well, mate,” says the man with the hat, “we’ve been looking out for you +some time in these parts.” + +“And very good of you, too,” I answers. + +“None of your jaw,” says he. “Come, boys, what shall it be--hanging, +drowning, or shooting? Look sharp!” + +This looked a bit too like business. “No, you don’t!” I said. “I’ve got +government protection, and it’ll be murder.” + +“That’s what they call it,” answered the one in the velveteen coat, as +cheery as a piping crow. + +“And you’re going to murder me for being a ranger?” + +“Ranger be damned!” said the man. “We’re going to hang you for peaching +against your pals; and that’s an end of the palaver.” + +They slung a rope round my neck and dragged me up to the edge of the +bush. There were some big she-oaks and blue-gums, and they pitched on +one of these for the wicked deed. They ran the rope over a branch, tied +my hands, and told me to say my prayers. It seemed as if it was all up; +but Providence interfered to save me. It sounds nice enough sitting here +and telling about it, sir; but it was sick work to stand with nothing +but the beach in front of you, and the long white line of surf, with the +steamer in the distance, and a set of bloody-minded villains round you +thirsting for your life. + +I never thought I’d owe anything good to the police; but they saved +me that time. A troop of them were riding from Hawkes Point Station to +Dunedin, and hearing that something was up, they came down through the +bush and interrupted the proceedings. I’ve heard some bands in my time, +doctor, but I never heard music like the jingle of those traps’ spurs +and harness as they galloped out on to the open. They tried to hang me +even then, but the police were too quick for them; and the man with the +hat got one over the head with the flat of a sword. I was clapped on +to a horse, and before evening I found myself in my old quarters in the +city jail. + +The governor wasn’t to be done, though. He was determined to get rid of +me, and I was equally anxious to see the last of him. He waited a week +or so until the excitement had begun to die away, and then he smuggled +me aboard a three-masted schooner bound to Sydney with tallow and hides. + +We got far away to sea without a hitch, and things began to look a bit +more rosy. I made sure that I had seen the last of the prison, anyway. +The crew had a sort of an idea who I was, and if there’d been any rough +weather, they’d have hove me overboard, like enough; for they were a +rough, ignorant lot, and had a notion that I brought bad luck to the +ship. We had a good passage, however, and I was landed safe and sound +upon Sydney Quay. + +Now just you listen to what happened next. You’d have thought they would +have been sick of ill-using me and following me by this time--wouldn’t +you, now? Well, just you listen. It seems that a cursed steamer started +from Dunedin to Sydney on the very day we left, and got in before +us, bringing news that I was coming. Blessed if they hadn’t called a +meeting--a regular mass-meeting--at the docks to discuss about it, and +I marched right into it when I landed. They didn’t take long about +arresting me, and I listened to all the speeches and resolutions. If I’d +been a prince there couldn’t have been more excitement. The end of all +was that they agreed that it wasn’t right that New Zealand should be +allowed to foist her criminals upon her neighbors, and that I was to be +sent back again by the next boat. So they posted me off again as if +I was a damned parcel; and after another eight-hundred-mile journey I +found myself back for the third time moving in the place that I started +from. + +By this time I had begun to think that I was going to spend the rest of +my existence traveling about from one port to another. Every man’s +hand seemed turned against me, and there was no peace or quiet in any +direction. I was about sick of it by the time I had come back; and if +I could have taken to the bush I’d have done it, and chanced it with my +old pals. They were too quick for me, though, and kept me under lock and +key; but I managed, in spite of them, to negotiate that _caché_ I told +you of, and sewed the gold up in my belt. I spent another month in jail, +and then they slipped me aboard a bark that was bound for England. + +This time the crew never knew who I was, but the captain had a pretty +good idea, though he didn’t let on to me that he had any suspicions. +I guessed from the first that the man was a villain. We had a fair +passage, except a gale or two off the Cape; and I began to feel like +a free man when I saw the blue loom of the old country, and the saucy +little pilot-boat from Falmouth dancing toward us over the waves. We ran +down the Channel, and before we reached Gravesend I had agreed with the +pilot that he should take me ashore with him when he left. It was at +this time that the captain showed me that I was right in thinking him a +meddling, disagreeable man. I got my things packed, such as they were, +and left him talking earnestly to the pilot, while I went below for my +breakfast. When I came up again we were fairly into the mouth of the +river, and the boat in which I was to have gone ashore had left us. The +skipper said the pilot had forgotten me; but that was too thin, and I +began to fear that all my old troubles were going to commence once more. + +It was not long before my suspicions were confirmed. A boat darted out +from the side of the river, and a tall cove with a long black beard came +aboard. I heard him ask the mate whether they didn’t need a mud-pilot to +take them up in the reaches, but it seemed to me that he was a man who +would know a deal more about handcuffs than he did about steering, so +I kept away from him. He came across the deck, however, and made +some remark to me, taking a good look at me the while. I don’t like +inquisitive people at any time, but an inquisitive stranger with glue +about the roots of his beard is the worst of all to stand, especially +under the circumstances. I began to feel that it was time for me to go. + +I soon got a chance, and made good use of it. A big collier came athwart +the bows of our steamer, and we had to slacken down to dead slow. There +was a barge astern, and I slipped down by a rope and was into the barge +before any one missed me. Of course I had to leave my luggage behind me, +but I had the belt with the nuggets round my waist, and the chance of +shaking the police off my track was worth more than a couple of boxes. +It was clear to me now that the pilot had been a traitor, as well as the +captain, and had set the detectives after me. I often wish I could drop +across those two men again. + +I hung about the barge all day as she drifted down the stream. There was +one man in her, but she was a big, ugly craft, and his hands were too +full for much looking about. Toward evening, when it got a bit dusky, I +struck out for the shore, and found myself in a sort of marsh place, a +good many miles to the east of London. I was soaking wet and half +dead with hunger, but I trudged into the town, got a new rig-out at a +slop-shop, and after having some supper, engaged a bed at the quietest +lodgings I could find. + +I woke pretty early--a habit you pick up in the bush--and lucky for me +that I did so. The very first thing I saw when I took a look through a +chink in the shutter was one of these infernal policemen standing right +opposite and staring up at the windows. He hadn’t epaulets nor a sword, +like our traps, but for all that there was a sort of family likeness, +and the same busybody expression. Whether they followed me all the time, +or whether the woman that let me the bed didn’t like the looks of me, +is more than I have ever been able to find out. He came across as I was +watching him, and noted down the address of the house in a book. I was +afraid that he was going to ring at the bell, but I suppose his orders +were simply to keep an eye on me, for after another good look at the +windows he moved on down the street. + +I saw that my only chance was to act at once. I threw on my clothes, +opened the window softly, and, after making sure that there was nobody +about, dropped out onto the ground and made off as hard as I could run. +I traveled a matter of two or three miles, when my wind gave out; and +as I saw a big building with people going in and out, I went in too, +and found that it was a railway station. A train was just going off +for Dover to meet the French boat, so I took a ticket and jumped into a +third-class carriage. + +There were a couple of other chaps in the carriage, innocent-looking +young beggars, both of them. They began speaking about this and that, +while I sat quiet in the corner and listened. Then they started on +England and foreign countries, and such like. Look ye now, doctor, this +is a fact. One of them begins jawing about the justice of England’s +laws. “It’s all fair and above-board,” says he; “there ain’t any secret +police, nor spying, like they have abroad,” and a lot more of the same +sort of wash. Rather rough on me, wasn’t it, listening to the damned +young fool, with the police following me about like my shadow? + +I got to Paris right enough, and there I changed some of my gold, and +for a few days I imagined I’d shaken them off, and began to think of +settling down for a bit of rest. I needed it by that time, for I was +looking more like a ghost than a man. You’ve never had the police after +you, I suppose? Well, you needn’t look offended, I didn’t mean any harm. +If ever you had you’d know that it wastes a man away like a sheep with +the rot. + +I went to the opera one night and took a box, for I was very flush. I +was coming out between the acts when I met a fellow lounging along +in the passage. The light fell on his face, and I saw that it was the +mud-pilot that had boarded us in the Thames. His beard was gone, but I +recognized the man at a glance, for I’ve a good memory for faces. + +I tell you, doctor, I felt desperate for a moment. I could have knifed +him if we had been alone, but he knew me well enough never to give me +the chance. It was more than I could stand any longer, so I went right +up to him and drew him aside, where we’d be free from all the loungers +and theater-goers. + +“How long are you going to keep it up?” I asked him. + +He seemed a bit flustered for a moment, but then he saw there was no use +beating about the bush, so he answered straight: + +“Until you go back to Australia,” he said. + +“Don’t you know,” I said, “that I have served the government and got a +free pardon?” + +He grinned all over his ugly face when I said this. + +“We know all about you, Maloney,” he answered. “If you want a quiet +life, just you go back where you came from. If you stay here, you’re a +marked man; and when you are found tripping it’ll be a lifer for you, +at the least. Free trade’s a fine thing but the market’s too full of men +like you for us to need to import any.” + +It seemed to me that there was something in what he said, though he had +a nasty way of putting it. For some days back I’d been feeling a sort of +homesick. The ways of the people weren’t my ways. They stared at me in +the street; and if I dropped into a bar, they’d stop talking and edge +away a bit, as if I was a wild beast. I’d sooner have had a pint of old +Stringybark, too, than a bucketful of their rot-gut liquors. There +was too much damned propriety. What was the use of having money if you +couldn’t dress as you liked, nor bust in properly? There was no sympathy +for a man if he shot about a little when he was half-over, I’ve seen a +man dropped at Nelson many a time with less row than they’d make over a +broken window-pane. The thing was slow, and I was sick of it. + +“You want me to go back?” I said. + +“I’ve my order to stick fast to you until you do,” he answered. + +“Well,” I said, “I don’t care if I do. All I bargain is that you keep +your mouth shut and don’t let on who I am, so that I may have a fair +start when I get there.” + +He agreed to this, and we went over to Southampton the very next +day, where he saw me safely off once more. I took a passage round to +Adelaide, where no one was likely to know me; and there I settled, right +under the nose of the police. I’d been there ever since, leading a quiet +life, but for little difficulties like the one I’m in for now, and for +that devil, Tattooed Tom, of Hawkesbury. I don’t know what made me +tell you all this, doctor, unless it is that being lonely makes a man +inclined to jaw when he gets a chance. Just you take warning from me, +though. Never put yourself out to serve your country; for your country +will do precious little for you. Just you let them look after their own +affairs; and if they find difficulty in hanging a set of scoundrels, +never mind chipping in, but let them alone to do as best they can. Maybe +they’ll remember how they treated me after I’m dead, and be sorry for +neglecting me, I was rude to you when you came in, and swore a trifle +promiscuous: but don’t you mind me, it’s only my way. You’ll allow, +though, that I have cause to be a bit touchy now and again when I think +of all that’s passed. You’re not going, are you? Well, if you must, you +must; but I hope you will look me up at odd times when you are going +your rounds. Oh, I say, you’ve left the balance of that cake of tobacco +behind you, haven’t you? No; it’s in your pocket--that’s all right. +Thank ye, doctor, you’re a good sort, and as quick at a hint as any man +I’ve met. + +A couple of months after narrating his experiences, Wolf Tone Maloney +finished his term, and was released. For a long time I neither saw him +nor heard of him, and he had almost slipped from my memory, until I +was reminded, in a somewhat tragic manner, of his existence. I had been +attending a patient some distance off in the country, and was riding +back, guiding my tired horse among the boulders which strewed the +pathway, and endeavoring to see my way through the gathering darkness, +when I came suddenly upon a little wayside inn. As I walked my horse up +toward the door, intending to make sure of my bearings before proceeding +further, I heard the sound of a violent altercation within the little +bar. + +There seemed to be a chorus of expostulation or remonstrance, above +which two powerful voices rang out loud and angry. As I listened, there +was a momentary hush, two pistol shots sounded almost simultaneously, +and with a crash the door burst open and a pair of dark figures +staggered out into the moonlight. They struggled for a moment in a +deadly wrestle, and then went down together among the loose stones. +I had sprung off my horse, and, with the help of half a dozen rough +fellows from the bar, dragged them away from one another. + +A glance was sufficient to convince me that one of them was dying fast. +He was a thick-set burly fellow, with a determined cast of countenance. +The blood was welling from a deep stab in his throat, and it was evident +that an important artery had been divided. I turned away from him in +despair, and walked over to where his antagonist was lying. He was shot +through the lungs, but managed to raise himself up on his hand as I +approached, and peered anxiously up into my face. To my surprise, I +saw before me the haggard features and flaxen hair of my prison +acquaintance, Maloney. + +“Ah, doctor!” he said, recognizing me. “How is he? Will he die?” + +He asked the question so earnestly that I imagined he had softened at +the last moment, and feared to leave the world with another homicide +upon his conscience. Truth, however, compelled me to shake my head +mournfully, and to intimate that the wound would prove a mortal one. + +Maloney gave a wild cry of triumph, which brought the blood welling +out from between his lips. “Here, boys,” he gasped to the little group +around him. “There’s money in my inside pocket. Damn the expense! Drinks +round. There’s nothing mean about me. I’d drink with you, but I’m going. +Give the doc my share, for he’s as good--” Here his head fell back +with a thud, his eye glazed, and the soul of Wolf Tone Maloney, forger, +convict, ranger, murderer, and government peach, drifted away into the +Great Unknown. + +I cannot conclude without borrowing the account of the fatal quarrel +which appeared in the column of the _West Australian Sentinel_. The +curious will find it in the issue of October 4,1881: + + “Fatal Affray.--W. T. Maloney, a well-know citizen of New + Montrose, and proprietor of the Yellow Boy gambling saloon, + has met with his death under rather painful circumstances. + Mr. Maloney was a man who had led a checkered existence, and + whose past history is replete with interest. Some of our + readers may recall the Lena Valley murders, in which he + figured as the principal criminal. It is conjectured that + during the seven months that he owned a bar in that region, + from twenty to thirty travelers were hocussed and made away + with. He succeeded, however, in evading the vigilance of + the officers of the law, and allied himself with the + bushrangers of Bluemansdyke, whose heroic capture and + subsequent execution are matters of history. Maloney + extricated himself from the fate which awaited him by + turning Queen’s evidence. He afterward visited Europe, but + returned to West Australia, where he has long played a + prominent part in local matters. On Friday evening he + encountered an old enemy, Thomas Grimthorpe, commonly known + as Tattooed Tom, of Hawkesbury. + + “Shots were exchanged, and both were badly wounded, only + surviving a few minutes. Mr. Maloney had the reputation of + being not only the most wholesale murderer that ever lived, + but also of having a finish and attention to detail in + matters of evidence which has been unapproached by any + European criminal. _Sic transit gloria mundi!_” + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s My Friend The Murderer, by A. 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