Rodman The Boatsteerer And Other Stories. Becke Louis

solemn, wooden-faced soldier looked at her steadily for a second or so, and then, being a man of few words, got through with them as quickly as possible.

      “Beg pardon, madam, doctor sent me with a message to Mr. Bolger, telling him he was at liberty to leave his cabin; found he was gone; heard his voice in here; waited to see if could be of any assistance to you, madam.”

      There was a kindly ring in his voice which encouraged her.

      “Matthews, did you hear what Mr. Bolger was saying?”

      The sergeant looked stolidly before him. “I did, madam—part of it.”

      “Part?” she repeated agitatedly.

      “Yes, madam—about Adair and some other men.”

      She pressed her hand to her throat. Matthews was an old, tried servant of her husband’s in former years. “Close the door!” she said suddenly.

      Opening a locker, she took out a leathern-bound writing-desk, unlocked it, and in a moment or two more turned to the sergeant with a small but heavy purse in her hand.

      “Sergeant,” she said quietly; “this money, nearly a hundred guineas, is for you. I may not live to reach the settlement at Port Jackson. And I would like to reward you for—for–” The rest died away.

      Matthews understood. He took the money, saluted, and with softened tread left the cabin. He was not a hard man, and had meant to do his duty when he heard Bolger speak of Adair’s intended escape; but a hundred guineas was a large sum to him.