The Rider of Waroona Part 26

When Harding returned to the bank the next morning, he presented such a careworn appearance that Wallace was genuinely concerned.

"Hullo," he exclaimed, "you look as if you had had enough of acting night-nurse to wounded men. It has been too much for you, my lad."

"It has been an anxious night," Harding replied. "At first both were fairly well, but towards morning old Mr. Dudgeon became very bad. You have heard all about the affair, I suppose?"

"I have had a visit from Mr. Gale. There was only one thing he could talk about. You will guess what that was. The heroism of Mrs. Eustace."

A cloud came over Harding's face at the mention of her name.

"I have a message for her from the doctor. She offered to return to-day if he wanted her help. He asked me to let her know how bad the old man had been, and is, and say he would be glad if she could go out at once.

I've had no sleep all night and am fairly tired out. If you don't mind, I'll go and have a few hours' rest."

"Why, of course, my lad, I'll manage the office by myself all right. Go and get all the sleep you can. You have earned it."

"Will you let her know what the doctor said?"

"I'll send word to Mr. Gale--I've no doubt he'll let her know," Wallace said with a short laugh.

"But isn't she here?"

"No. Gale said the place was in darkness when they pa.s.sed and rather than disturb me she went on to the hotel, where they put her up. Very considerate of her, I must admit. She seems to have made the most of her time on the drive back with Gale, for he knew all about her having to leave the bank premises, and told me he had secured a vacant cottage there is in the towns.h.i.+p for her. But don't waste time talking, my lad.

You look worn out. Go and get to bed for a few hours. I'll see she has the doctor's message."

Harding went to his room with heavy steps. He locked the door and sat down, took the crumpled letter out of his pocket and read it through again.

Then, sitting on the side of the bed with the letter in his hand, he stared at it as he asked himself once more the question which had been haunting him since the first rush of indignation pa.s.sed.

What should he do with it?

Had the letter come into his possession the night of the scene in the boudoir, he would have had no hesitation. But much had happened since then. He had learned what he believed was the truth about the Eustace marriage; he had learned that the love he had treasured so dearly was still his. It was the latter which made it so hard for him to know what course to follow.

A doubt had come into his mind, a doubt which operated in her favour. To hand the note over to the police was to admit he had no faith left in her, and he had faith. He could not bring himself to regard her as being so absolutely conscienceless as the circ.u.mstances suggested. Rather did he lean towards the idea that, after all, despite the evidence of the facts as they stood, she was innocent. And on that point he wanted to be sure rather than sorry.

The opinion of another would be a help to him in coming to the right conclusion, but to whom could he turn?

He dare not consult Wallace, who was already prejudiced against her; Brennan was out of the question. There was only one other--Durham--and he was out of reach, and would be so for some time to come.

So the matter came back to where it started, and Harding, urged one way by his love and another by his reason, ultimately adopted a middle course.

He determined to confront her with the letter, and tear the mask of hypocrisy from her face--if one were there--at the first opportunity.

For the present the letter should be placed where no one but himself could find it.

Taking off his coat, he cut through the seam of the lining, placed the letter inside, st.i.tched it to the lining and resewed the seam.

"I will not condemn her unheard," he said. "She shall have the chance of defending herself to me before I denounce her. But, if this is true, then G.o.d help her--and me too."

He flung himself on the bed. He was too tired to worry further. The irksome question was shelved--for the moment there was peace, and before that moment pa.s.sed Harding was sound asleep.

Before he awakened, Mrs. Eustace visited the bank, received the doctor's message and went on her way to Taloona.

She came with Gale.

"Has Mr. Harding returned yet?" she asked, before Wallace could speak.

"He was to bring me word whether the doctor wanted me to help to-day."

"He came in about half an hour ago, utterly worn out. I have sent him to bed for a few hours," Wallace replied. "He left a message for you--old Mr. Dudgeon is very bad, and the doctor sent word that if you could go out at once it would be a great help to him."

"Of course I'll go," she exclaimed. "Mr. Gale, you offered to drive me if I were wanted. Will you go for the buggy while I get some things together to take with me?"

She turned to Wallace when Gale had left the office.

"I suppose you have no objection to my going upstairs?"

"None whatever," he answered.

"I will get what things I want. The others can be taken away later to the cottage I am renting. I will give Mr. Gale a list, as he very kindly offered to see to the removal if I had to go out to Taloona again."

He held the door open while she pa.s.sed into the residence portion of the building, and closed it after her. He was not a lady's man, even under the best of circ.u.mstances; with the conviction that Eustace was the culprit, not only in the bank robbery, but also in the outrage at Taloona, he wished to have as little to say to her as possible. The sooner she was out of the place the better he would be pleased.

As he returned to his work, which, at the moment, was a lengthy report he was preparing for despatch to the head office in condemnation of Eustace, she went through to the kitchen, where she found Bessie.

"I am leaving the bank to-day, Bessie, and all my things are going away.

I have taken Smart's cottage and am going to live there. Although I engaged you, if you think you will do better for yourself by staying here, don't let me prevent you."

"Stay on here, Mrs. Eustace? What, after you've gone? No, ma'am, no! If you don't want me any longer, there may be someone else in Waroona who does, but if this is the only place where I can stay, I'm off to Wyalla," Bessie exclaimed.

"I would not like them to think I took you away, Bessie."

"I'm not the Bank's servant; I'm yours. Shall I help you get the furniture ready now?"

"No, not just at once. I am going out to Taloona to help the doctor nurse Mr. Dudgeon. I only want to take enough with me for a few days.

Mr. Gale will arrange for removing the rest, but I would like you to see they are all taken."

"I'll see that they're taken, and go with them, too, Mrs. Eustace. I don't want to stay in a place where everything I do is spied on and made bad of. Let me come and help you now."

By the time they had packed a small box, Gale drove up in front of the bank.

"I'll take this down," Bessie exclaimed. "It's not heavy."

Mrs. Eustace followed her out of the room.

At the door she stopped. On the other side of the landing was Harding's room. She glanced at the closed door.

Stepping over to it, she tapped. There was no response. She turned the handle; the door was locked.

She did not want to go without a word for him. She opened her bag to see if she had a sc.r.a.p of paper or a card on which she could scribble a line. As she did so, Bessie came up the stairs to ask if there was anything else she could do.

"No, that is all, Bessie. You might tell Mr. Harding I have gone. He is asleep at present."