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diff --git a/23059-h/23059-h.htm b/23059-h/23059-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fc360fe --- /dev/null +++ b/23059-h/23059-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1310 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + My Friend the Murderer, by A. Conan Doyle + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +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 + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + MY FRIEND THE MURDERER + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By A. Conan Doyle + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + “Number 481 is no better, doctor,” said the head-warder, in a slightly + reproachful accent, looking in round the corner of my door. + </p> + <p> + “Confound 481” I responded from behind the pages of the <i>Australian + Sketcher</i>. + </p> + <p> + “And 61 says his tubes are paining him. Couldn’t you do anything for him?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + The cup of coffee was arrested half-way to my lips as I stared in + amazement at the man’s serious face. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “He’s Maloney,” said the warder, “him that turned Queen’s evidence after + the murders at Bluemansdyke.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not going to report you,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “How’s your chest?” I asked, putting on my professional air. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t complain of <i>him</i> 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!” + </p> + <p> + He brooded over his wrongs for a few minutes, and then proceeded to lay + them before me in detail. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “How’s this?” I said. “My conditions were a free pardon, and you’re + keeping me here against the law.” + </p> + <p> + He gave a sort of a smile. “Should you like very much to get out?” he + asked. + </p> + <p> + “So much,” said I, “that unless you open that door I’ll have an action + against you for illegal detention.” + </p> + <p> + He seemed a bit astonished by my resolution. + </p> + <p> + “You’re very anxious to meet your death,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “What d’ye mean?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “D’ye call this a civilized land,” I cried, “and let a man be murdered in + cold blood in open daylight?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve got the law on your side,” says the governor; “so we won’t detain + you any longer. Show him out, warder.” + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + At last, one morning up came the governor again. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Maloney,” he said, “how long are you going to honor us with your + society?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll never forget you, governor,” said I; “and, by God! I never will.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Mining, I suppose?” says he. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I says. + </p> + <p> + “Made your pile?” he asks. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty fair,” says I. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That was a bad job,” I says. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that?” says I, carelessly. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got to ask him where the money lies—they never had time to + make away with it, and it’s <i>cachéd</i> 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.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed to me that I knew something about that <i>caché</i>, and I felt + like laughing; but he was watching me, and it struck me that he had a + nasty, vindictive kind of mind. + </p> + <p> + “I’m going up on the bridge,” I said, for he was not a man whose + acquaintance I cared much about making. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It’s him!” she cried; “it’s him! I saw him in the court-house. Oh, don’t + let him hurt the baby!” + </p> + <p> + “Who is it?” asked the steward and half a dozen others in a breath. + </p> + <p> + “It’s him—Maloney—Maloney, the murderer—oh, take him + away—take him away!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + They dragged me out on to the poop and held a damned court-martial—on + <i>me</i>, mind you; <i>me</i>, 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + They dragged me up the beach, and then they let go their hold of me and + stood round in a circle. + </p> + <p> + “Well, mate,” says the man with the hat, “we’ve been looking out for you + some time in these parts.” + </p> + <p> + “And very good of you, too,” I answers. + </p> + <p> + “None of your jaw,” says he. “Come, boys, what shall it be—hanging, + drowning, or shooting? Look sharp!” + </p> + <p> + This looked a bit too like business. “No, you don’t!” I said. “I’ve got + government protection, and it’ll be murder.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s what they call it,” answered the one in the velveteen coat, as + cheery as a piping crow. + </p> + <p> + “And you’re going to murder me for being a ranger?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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 <i>caché</i> 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “How long are you going to keep it up?” I asked him. + </p> + <p> + He seemed a bit flustered for a moment, but then he saw there was no use + beating about the bush, so he answered straight: + </p> + <p> + “Until you go back to Australia,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you know,” I said, “that I have served the government and got a + free pardon?” + </p> + <p> + He grinned all over his ugly face when I said this. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You want me to go back?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve my order to stick fast to you until you do,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, doctor!” he said, recognizing me. “How is he? Will he die?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + I cannot conclude without borrowing the account of the fatal quarrel which + appeared in the column of the <i>West Australian Sentinel</i>. The curious + will find it in the issue of October 4,1881: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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. <i>Sic transit gloria mundi!</i>” + </pre> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg’s My Friend The Murderer, by A. 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