Читать книгу A Tail of Gold - David Hennessey - Страница 4

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ONE Christmas Eve, in a cool corner of the big smoking-room of a Melbourne Club, Major Smart might have been heard laying down the law to some of his acquaintances. He had a difficult task in hand, for he was trying to persuade himself, as well as his audience, that what he said was true.

A party had just gone up country, fishing and shooting, and the 'Mud Major,' as he was called, sub rosa, in the club, was expatiating upon his knowledge of the Bush, declaring that it was not only free from dangerous wild animals, but absolutely devoid of anything ghostly or uncanny.

'It's too new a country,' he said, 'for anything of that sort,' and he looked around the group of men with a self-complacent air, which challenged any assertion to the contrary.

Among others, a young lieutenant, who had had some experience in the vast solitudes of the interior and had fought in South Africa, was listening to him; and as the Major waxed warm in speech, not a few mysterious occurrences which he had been unable to explain by natural causes came into his mind.

The men smoked for a while in silence, for in Australia, Christmas Eve is usually alive with old memories and thronged with the ghosts of other days. No one seemed inclined to question Major Smart's assertion.

At last Lieutenant Monckton, throwing away his cigar and moistening his lips from the glass which stood on the table beside him, broke the silence. 'It's Christmas Eve, gentlemen,' he said. 'Let me tell you a story, and Major Smart shall explain the "secrets of the prison house" to us, if he can.'

'You have no doubt read in the papers lately about a man who is said to be a typhoid carrier. He seems to be immune himself: but he carries the disease around, and, here and there, makes a present of it to an acquaintance, as a man might give another a cigar.'

A close observer would have noticed that Major Smart, at this, moved uneasily in his chair. They happened to be his cigars which most of the men were smoking, although Monckton was probably unaware of the fact; but he regarded the lieutenant, whom he had known from his childhood, with a look of suspicion and dislike.

'There was a man I knew in South Africa,' continued the lieutenant, 'who carried accidents around with him, in much the same way. Men couldn't have anything to do with him, but something unaccountable happened to them. Usually they died by accident in some remarkable fashion; but he was in no way to blame. I bumped up against him once in the Basuto Country, and nearly lost my life. I'll tell you the story if you care to hear it.'

Monckton waited for some encouragement to proceed: but he was taken aback by the silence which followed his suggestion. A story was usually acceptable, and Monckton was known to be a good raconteur; but to-night no one seemed anxious to listen to him. Not that they were at all discourteous, rather the reverse: but they all made excuses to get away. Colonel Pearce, with uncommon courtesy for him, went over and said 'Good-night,' adding mysteriously: 'No offence to you, lieutenant, only your story might have been a bit rough on Major Smart.'

The Major, during the long silence, had turned as pale as when, one parade day, his horse threw him nearly under the Governor's carriage. Looking at his watch, he muttered something about having another engagement.

It was getting late, but the lateness of the hour did not account for the sudden dispersion of the party. The significance of the thing was that none who were in the know explained to Will Monckton why his story was likely to ruffle the feelings of Boswell Smart.

The lieutenant had innocently hit a snag, as the saying is, and he had cause to remember it afterwards.

Major Smart was colonial rather than Australian. Which is another way of saying that his whole person, carefully groomed and tailored as it was, suggested mediocrity. He was of medium height, and ample girth; but too loudly dressed. He had light hair, was of middle age, of mixed Hebrew, Manx and Manchester nationality; and very smooth of speech. Blue evasive eyes looked over a prominent nose and clean shaven jaw. Across his vest glittered a heavy chain, and on the fourth finger of his right hand there shone a diamond ring. To use a mining illustration, a bulk sample of him panned out would have shown much mica glitter but little gold.

A large brass plate at the entrance to commodious offices in Collins Street described him as an Attorney at Law and Commissioner for Affidavits; but he never practised in the Courts, and so far as any one knew, his only business was the legal management, as co-trustee, of a gold mine in which he and his family held the chief interest. Bye-products were company promoting and mining speculation; but these were not nearly so remunerative as the steady old gold mine, which had once belonged to his father, and which for over twenty years had returned in dividends an average of several thousand pounds annually.

He was reputed wealthy by business men, but was not greatly esteemed; for Boswell Smart's luck was a one-sided thing, which rarely benefited any one but himself. However, he had influence and followers, as will most men who have money at command, whether it be their own or other people's.

How he got into the military will be readily understood, when it is explained that he had money and influence, and that his father was there before him in the old days of civilian officers. He used to tell how his 'old man' had spent a fortune upon the regiment in the good old days of gold mining; but Boswell had inherited none of his father's generosity, and knew as little of soldiering as he did of law. However, the square peg having got into the round hole, it stopped there, as it has a fashion of doing in Australia. Smart had been purposely affronted by fellow-officers both at mess and on parade in the hope that he would resign his commission; but the title of Major sounded too dignified to be readily relinquished. So they had to tolerate him, with his led horse and officious manners; they laughed at him behind his back, and, because he was afraid to ride, called him the Mud Major.

He was a bit of a mystery moreover, for through a quarrel with his father over money matters, he had been absent from Victoria for some years prior to the old gentleman's death. He returned then with a considerable amount of money, which he said he had made in mining.

He was extremely reticent about these years, which he was supposed to have spent in Queensland; but Mrs. Madge Maguire, who probably knew more about him than any one else, had been heard to remark that the Major had a cupboard in his office which contained a skeleton.

Anyhow, on his return he dropped into his father's shoes, and took the old man's place, so far as he was able, both in the military and in the hurly-burly of Melbourne life. He had a strange habit of starting when spoken to and an astonishing right-about-face jump when he wished to cut an acquaintance; but society neglected him, for he was no gentleman, and it was rumoured that he had a fearful fatality pertaining to him. It was seriously asserted that he dared not ride, or drive, or sail a boat, or fire off a gun, or indeed travel by coach, steamer, or rail; for, whenever he did so, something was almost sure to happen, by which the Mud Major was injured, and some other man killed.

Probably this was an exaggeration; but at the time of this story no less than ten persons who had been associated with him in business had paid the penalty, in sudden death or frightful accident, and always, somehow, to the Major's advantage.