Part 6 (1/2)

”Next day he came to me where I was doing a job on a step ladder. He leaned his elbow against the steps for a moment, and rubbed his hand over his forehead, as if it ached and he was tired.

”'I've seen him, Mitch.e.l.l,' he said.

”'Yes.'

”'You were mates with him, once, Out Back?'

”'I was.'

”'You know Drew's hand-writing?'

”'I should think so.'

”He laid a leaf from a pocketbook on top of the steps. I read the message written in pencil:

”'To Jack Mitch.e.l.l.--We were mates on the track. If you know anything of my affair, don't give it away.--J. D.'

”I tore the leaf and dropped the bits into the paint-pot.

”'That's all right, Doctor,' I said; 'but is there no way?'

”'None.'

”He turned away, wearily. He'd knocked about so much over the world that he was past bothering about explaining things or being surprised at anything. But he seemed to get a new idea about me; he came back to the steps again, and watched my brush for a while, as if he was thinking, in a broody sort of way, of throwing up his practice and going in for house-painting. Then he said, slowly and deliberately:

”'If she--the girl--had lived, we might have tried to fix it up quietly.

That's what I was hoping for. I don't see how we can help him now, even if he'd let us. He would never have spoken, anyway. We must let it go on, and after the trial I'll go to Sydney and see what I can do at headquarters. It's too late now. You understand, Mitch.e.l.l?'

”'Yes. I've thought it out.'

”Then he went away towards the Royal.

”And what could Jack Drew or we do? Study it out whatever way you like.

There was only one possible chance to help him, and that was to go to the judge; and the judge that happened to be on that circuit was a man who--even if he did listen to the story and believe it--would have felt inclined to give Jack all the more for what he was charged with. Browne was out of the question. The day before the trial I went for a long walk in the bush, but couldn't hit on anything that the Doctor might have missed.

”I was in the court--I couldn't keep away. The Doctor was there too.

There wasn't so much of a change in Jack as I expected, only he had the gaol white in his face already. He stood fingering the rail, as if it was the edge of a table on a platform and he was a tired and bored and sleepy chairman waiting to propose a vote of thanks.”

The only well-known man in Australia who reminds me of Mitch.e.l.l is Bland Holt, the comedian. Mitch.e.l.l was about as good hearted as Bland Holt, too, under it all; but he was bigger and roughened by the bush. But he seemed to be taking a heavy part to-night, for, towards the end of his yarn, he got up and walked up and down the length of my bed, dropping the sentences as he turned towards me. He'd folded his arms high and tight, and his face in the moonlight was--well, it was very different from his careless tone of voice. He was like--like an actor acting tragedy and talking comedy. Mitch.e.l.l went on, speaking quickly--his voice seeming to harden:

”The charge was read out--I forget how it went--it sounded like a long hymn being given out. Jack pleaded guilty. Then he straightened up for the first time and looked round the court, with a calm, disinterested look--as if we were all strangers and he was noting the size of the meeting. And--it's a funny world, ain't it?--everyone of us s.h.i.+fted or dropped his eyes, just as if we were the felons and Jack the judge.

Everyone except the Doctor; he looked at Jack and Jack looked at him.