"Dust and Diamond " or Edward Bingham's Experience.

Free Lance, Volume III, Issue 111, 16 August 1902, Page 20

" Dust and Diamond " or Edward Bingham's Experience.

V.\ PI! it OR THE ' PRI.b L\_\CE')

IV. The new-comer held a ie\olver in Ins hand, and pointed it straight at the head of Mr. Richard Glaisby, and at tho same moment a constable came foiwaid and laad his hand on the shoulder of Glaisby. ' Richard Glaisby, I arrest \ou, said the constable. •On what charge" asked the prisoner, with What I could see was an attectataon of innocence and perplexity. "On a charge of receiving stolen pioperty!" The parcel dropped from the hands of Glaisby, and Ins face grew grey. "Is this a plant?" he asked, with a sneer. "Yes, it is," answeied my assailant, whom I now perceived to be a detective officer. "But not as far as this gentleman is concerned," he added, indicating me by a nod. "He knew so more about it than you did. But I may as well clear it all up. I arrest you for being: in posseission of one diamond necklace and one pearl necklace, of the total vaiue of £1100, the property of Mrs. Eleanor Montague, of Macleaystireet, Sydney, widow, both of which we shall find 'in that parcel that has just, dropped from your hand." The detective now replaced his revol ver in his pocket, and the constable stood beside Glaisby. I looked on in silent amazement. The officer read the address. . 'Ah, with 'Harry's love', too' he remarked, with a chuckle. "Pity Harry cannot be with us to present his love in person, — eh, mother?" This last scoffing question was addressed to thei woman, who had opened the door, and who now stood fuming. "But, come along, I've got a cab, said the officer. And in a few minutes we were all at the station again, the charge was duly entered, and the prisoner taken to a cell till the case could be heard before the Resident Magistrate. * • * "Now Mr. Bmgham," said the chief, "we know all about you. You are not in this) job at all. We know that. But I hope it will be a warning to you for the future, never to take parcels and commissions for strangers. In the meantime, let me tell you frankly how it all happened. Yon see, this jewellery was stolen a month ago, and though the Sydney police knew the gang that must We done the job, they could get no clue to the plant. They found out, however, that Coker was coming here by the steamer, and warned us to be on the look out, though they had then really no charge against Coker. We, on our side, have always had an eye on Gladsby as a 'fence,' but he has baffled us repeatedly. When Mr. Patrick here (indicating my assailant) saw you land, he observed that you were ?tuite a stranger, and when you asked or 935, Cuba-street, and seemed to be in a hurry to get there, he resolved (he is a bold boy, that Patrick I) to do a big stroke. He says he had a 'revelation,' and acted upon it. However, the only way he could think of was to collar your 'swag,' and, siure enough, when he brought it here, and we opened it with thifl handy little 'jemmy' (here the chief exhibited a curious-looking implement), we read the address, and recognised the hand-writing as that of one of the cleverest criminals in Sydney. That was enough. Oh, no, we did not open the parcel. We had the list of the stolen property, and we agreed the best way would be to let you deliver the parcel, and for Patrick to nab the man immediately after. Now, Patrick here is very sorry for having distressed you, but he says he was careful not to huit you." "Oh, he didn't hurt me," I admitted. "In fact, he was quite benevolent and considerate in his style of highway robbery. But I am satisfied. Shake hands." And Patrick and I grasped hands. "I don't think I should have handled you so gently if I had got you last night, though." I said laughing. "No, I thought not," he answered, "so I bolted into the 'Hole in the Wall,' and had a drink while you tore up Chew's Lane. Ha,! ha! ha'" "Well, now," said Tartan, "there is a big reward for this stuff, and Patrick and I will have pleasure in handing you a ten-pound note to reimburse you for your services." "No!" I cried, "I'm poor enough, but I could not take that. Thank you all the same, because I recognise your good feeling." "Good-bye, then, Mr. Bmgham; and if you want help or information remember Tartan and Patrick." We shook hands cordially, and parted with many expressions of goodwill. And I stood alone in the wide, cold, gloomy highway known as Lamb ton Quay.

Y. Frve years after. The jewellery had been. lestored to the Macleay-street widow, and the old 'fence" had got his deserts. The pseudo-parson had never been caught. Things, had changed with me. I had succeeded to a considerable fortune, had married a young lady in New Zealand, and had purchased a very pretty station property. And two years after that we had decided to taike a trip o England, where my wife had never been. We preferred the long seia voyage by a sailing vessel, and took nassage in the "American," a large full-rigged ship, which carried a dozen saloon passengers only. We had been a week at sea, when, onei day, at noon, as one of the hands went aft to "relieve the wheel," the man's face struck me as somehow familiar. He had a considerable beard and moustache^, and wore the ordinary dressi of a seaman. But there was something in his walk, and in the glance of his eye, that startled me • and when, observing my look of half-recog-nition, he, in his turn, looked hard at me, I knew ham at once. It was my friend, the "Rev. T. C. Badminton," who had played a trick upon me that had nearly brought me into serious trouble. The recognition was mutual, and I felt myself flushing with indignant surprise, when there came into the fellow's eye a look of pleading which sieemed to silence me. That evening, after dinner, during the second "dog-watch," one of the cuddy-servants, spoke to me as I came on deck, and was lighting a cigar. "One of the hands was asking if you would speak to him a moment, sir. It's 'Gentleman Tom,' they call him. Will you see him, sir?" "Certainly," I answered. "Here, I'll go and sit down on the grating under the long boat on the weather-side." The steward went away, and I seated myself. In a moment more the man I had seen in the morning joined me. He raised his hat. "May I harve a word with you, sir?" he asked, humbly. "Yes; here I am," I answered. "I know you, I may as well say at once. What business can you have with me?" "Only this. Mr. Bingham," he replied, "I have always meant, if ever I got a chance, to ask your forgiveness for the trick I played on you in Sidney that time. I don't know why, but you see I have been a gentleman in my time , and that trick is the meanest thine I ever did, and — well, I'm sorry for it !" His face expressed genuine distress. His manner disarmed me, and I said, frankly extending mv hand "I have forgiven you. Do not mention or think of the subject again. What can I do for you?" "Well, Mr. Bingham," he answered, "you're a rich man I know, and you may probably think I want to appeal to your purse. But I don't. I want to appeal to yourself, and to ask you to hear my story. Oh, sir, lam a derelict, tossed about the world, and I have not a friend anywhere, or anbodv in whom I can confide." "If it would relieve you, or do you good." I answered gently, "speak to me freely. All you say to me will be kept within mv own breast." (To be continued.)

( Continued.)