Project Gutenberg Australia
a treasure-trove of literature
treasure found hidden with no evidence of ownership

Title: In the Dark
Author: Fred M White
* A Project Gutenberg Australia eBook *
eBook No.: 1402141.txt
Language: English
Date first posted: May 2014
Date most recently updated: May 2014

Produced by: Maurie Mulcahy

Project Gutenberg Australia eBooks are created from printed editions
which are in the public domain in Australia, unless a copyright notice
is included. We do NOT keep any eBooks in compliance with a particular
paper edition.

Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this

This eBook is made available at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg Australia Licence which may be viewed online at

To contact Project Gutenberg Australia go to


Title: In the Dark
Author: Fred M White


Published in the Wagga Wagga Advertiser, N.S.W., Saturday 6 April, 1907.



Nobody was hurt so far as Gerald Allison could see. He was slowly
recovering from a smashing blow in the centre of his forehead, blood
was flowing freely from a cut over the left eye. Half-a-dozen dim
figures with swinging lanterns moved up and down the line. When the
thousand and one stars dancing before his eyes twinkled out one by one
Allison joined them.

"It's all right, sir," the guard said, "at least nobody is hurt. We
were taking the curve very slowly, luckily for us. Engine ran into a
tree that had fallen across the metals. The coupling rod's broken.
Three or four hours before we get another engine, perhaps."

Allison was glad to find it was no worse. Still the delay was
irritating enough. A clock somewhere behind the velvet blackness of the
night struck nine. It was very dark, too, for the cutting on the other
side was shaded by trees. There was no help for it now but to go back
to the carriage and wait with what patience one could. And Allison was
a restless mortal at the best.

"Whereabouts are we?" he demanded of the guard. "I expect you know this
line pretty well. Are we anywhere near a place called Courthope?"

"Sir Walter Ramsden's place," the guard said thoughtfully. "Not much
over two miles, sir, if you keep to the fields. I'll come to the end of
the cutting and put you in the right way, sir."

Allison wanted nothing better. Here was a stroke of fortune hardly to
be expected in the circumstances. It was nothing to Allison that he had
never seen Sir Walter in his life; it did not seem to him in the least
unconventional to turn up in a more or less dilapidated condition at a
strange gentleman's house and demand his instant and best hospitality.
These things are a matter of course in the Colonies, and Allison was
quite new to England. His own people had done business with Ramsden's
firm, and what more was needed.

"That's very good of you," he said. "I'll just step back and get my
kit-bag first. As all the rest of my luggage is labelled, I'll leave
that to take cure of itself."

He returned to the head of the cutting presently, kit-bag in hand. All
the passengers in the train were back in their carriages now, resigned
to the inevitable. After all, the coaches were snug and warm, and the
autumn night with its touch of frost bit shrewdly. There was no moon,
but the misty night was full of stars.

"You can't very well miss it, sir," the guard said in conclusion. "Keep
to the path along the big wood, and bear to the left. You'll come in
time to a pair of iron gates, which is the old drive up to the house.
Follow this again till you reach a big clump of beeches, and take the
bridle path. Only be careful of the stone quarry on the left."

Allison nodded carelessly enough. A man absolutely at home on the veldt
or in the bush makes little of a two mile walk across English meadows.
As a matter of fact, Allison was looking forward to it with enjoyment.
The cool, bracing air raised his spirits, the racking pain in his head
was passing away. He could smell the sweet herbage of the hedgerows,
the frosty grass crackled under his feet.

Another twenty minutes now and the journey would be over. Here were
the iron gates with the long grass beyond them. There was the clump of
beeches with the bridle path sloping downwards. It seemed to Allison
that he could see the gleam of lights behind the trees. As he stepped
into the bridle path something rose under his feet with a whirr and a
cackle, a great blundering cock pheasant went drumming and whistling
down the drive. It was so startling and unexpected that Allison stepped
back a pace or two. His heels seemed to be balancing on nothing, the
solid earth had turned to paper.

Down, down he went, sliding at first, clutching desperately the tangle
of briar and bramble, his head quite clear, his soul not at all afraid.
He knew exactly what had happened, the warning of the guard came back
with vivid force. He had fallen into the quarry. Even as he pitched he
still clung to his black kit-bag.

It was some little time before he was in a position to accurately grasp
the true state of affairs. An any rate, there were no bones broken,
and apparently nothing wrong internally, only Allison was feeling
very giddy and sick and his knees were trembling. It seemed to his
philosophic mind that he was destined to spend the night here. The
quarry was very dark; to attempt to scale those granite walls was not
to be thought of without a guide. There was a flask of brandy in the
kit-bag, with a suit of evening clothes and etceteras besides. If the
worst came to the worst the clothing could be transformed into a bed.

Allison unceremoniously turned everything out, and tossed the bag away.
He took a hearty pull at the flask, and felt all the better for it.
There was only one thing now, and that was to wait till daylight. The
bracken down there was dry and warm. . . .

Allison sat up alert and listening. His trained ear had caught the
sound of footsteps. The steps were dragging and cautious, like those of
some skulking enemy. A poacher perhaps, or some other kind of marauder.
The steps were coming nearer now; evidently the intruder knew his
ground. Then between the brambles and the bracken flashed the light of
a lantern. Instinctively Allison crouched closer. A little way from
him his bag lay in an open space, and the Colonial hoped that it would
not betray him. It needed no voice to tell him that the man with the
lantern was up to no good. A moment later and he was at the bottom of
the quarry.

Allison could see his face now that he had placed the lantern on
the ground. It was not a prepossessing face--indeed, it was a very
repellent one. Yet something bearing the faintest resemblance to a
smile crossed the sullen features as the man's eyes rested on the bag.

"So Joe is here!" he muttered. "Began to think he'd funked it. Pity he
can't trust anybody but himself. That's his bag, o' course. I hope he
won't be long. I'm late as it is."

The stranger pulled out a short clay pipe and began to smoke. He sat
there for a few minutes listening alertly all the time. He did not
appear to be altogether at his ease. Presently a partridge called in
the wood above and the man whistled softly.

"All right," came a hoarse voice from the head of the quarry. "Show me
the least suspicion of a light. Hurry up."

A long lane of light flashed up the side of the granite walls showing a
zigzag path fringed with bushes. Down this the second man came with a
small sack on his shoulder. His countenance was no more prepossessing
than that of his ally, and Allison crouched closer still. These men
were no poachers, the Colonial decided. He felt sure of it as he heard
the contents of the sack tinkle into his kit-bag. His hand quietly
slipped to his hip pocket only to find nothing there. He had forgotten
that revolvers are not necessities in England.

"Got the whole bloomin' lot," the newcomer chuckled. "They was all in
the billiard room, and the servants 'aving 'igh jinks in the 'all. The
softest job I ever touched. But there's nothing to be gained by stayin'
'ere. Let's get back to the dog-cart. What's that?"

The distant barking of a dog, a shout or two, the clattering of a
horse's hoofs in a road hard by. Then sticks began to snap, there was a
rustle as of a heavy body in the brushwood. The man with the sack rose
to his feet and swore furiously.

"Come along," he cried. "No time to lose. They've found it out, and the
dogs are in full cry. Bring the bag."

The other stretched out his hand for the bag, but Allison was there
before him. His blood was up and tingling now.


"No, you don't," he said curtly. "Here, you fellows, I've got 'em."

Just for a moment it was touch and go with Allison. The odds were
heavy, but he did not hesitate. He wrenched at the bag and threw it
over his shoulder. He stood up in all the pride of his five feet eleven
of wire and whipcord before the astonished gaze of the burglars.
Surely one man by himself could never have dared to face them like
this. And all the time the tramp of feet overhead was getting louder.
With a snarl and an oath the leader turned and fled, followed by his
companion. They did not appear to need anybody to show them the way.

"Lucky I was here," Allison muttered. "Glad they left the lantern, too.
I shall sleep comfortably in a bed after all."

With the aid of the lantern Allison replaced his scattered garments in
the bag. He did not wait to see what was underneath them. All he wanted
now was to get away from the quarry and find quarters for the night.
It was an easy matter to reach high ground now that he had the lantern
in his hand, though Allison could see the peril of the attempt without
such fortuitous assistance. He could see the lights gleaming in the
house beyond the trees now, and knew that he was safe. He was rather
pleased than otherwise with his adventure.

Suddenly round a twist in the lane he blundered into an excited group
of men, accompanied by many dogs. The chattering of voices and the
clamor of the dogs almost deafened him. Then rude hands were laid upon
him, and he found himself being dragged in the direction of the house.
A fat butler-looking person stood behind with a revolver.

"My good people," Allison expostulated. "Easy, easy! The men you are
looking for are far away by this time."

"You tell that to Sir Walter," the man with the revolver sneered.
"Perhaps you'll get him to believe you. Bring him along, lads."

Allison submitted philosophically to the inevitable. On the whole he
was disposed to be amused. He found himself presently in a brilliantly
lighted hall, surrounded by men and women in evening dress. First and
foremost was a pompous little man with a red face and arbitrary manners.

"I presume you are Sir Walter Ramsden," Allison said. "Your people seem
to have mistaken me for a burglar. To begin with, perhaps I had better
explain how I came to be here."

Sir Walter listened with visible impatience. His keen, hard face
expressed incredulity. He had not made his money in the City by taking
the word of every plausible scamp who came along, and he said so.
Allison felt the hot blood mounting to his face. He would have liked to
assault the smug police officer standing behind Sir Walter.

"I assure you I have given my proper name and description," he said.

"Possibly, sir; possibly," Sir Walter said stiffly. "Of course, I shall
be quite ready to make a handsome apology if needs be, but I should be
better pleased to see you turn out the contents of your kit-bag."

Allison fairly started. He had no desire to spend the night in the
village lock-up, though the restoration of his good name was only a
matter time. And it was useless for him now to finish his story. Nobody
could possibly believe him. Moreover, he was conscious of the sorry
figure he must be making in the eyes of Sir Walter's guests. He caught
sight of his bruised face and inflamed eye in a mirror opposite. He
might really have been the burglar taken red-handed. As yet he had said
nothing of his fall into the quarry.

"Really, sir, you are asking a great deal," he protested. Once that
fatal bag was turned out his exit from the house would be speedy
and humiliating. "You will never forgive yourself when you discover

"I should never forgive myself if I lose the opportunity of getting my
plate and jewels back," Sir Walter said pointedly. "You may be telling
the truth, and, on the other hand, you may not. And you don't look like
the kind of guest who generally stays in houses like this."

Allison was fain to admit the justice of the speech. Had the
circumstances been reversed, he would probably have taken a similar
view. He looked about him, in the faint hope of seeing somebody he
knew there, for Sir Walter possessed a large circle of Colonial
acquaintances. Then Allison's heart leapt joyfully as a girl in white,
a pretty girl with a pleasant smile, came eagerly into the hall.

"Miss Egerton," he cried. "This is most fortunate. Surely you remember
me and your visit to Parramatta a year ago? Gerald Allison, you know. I
have a letter to your----"

"Why, of course," the girl cried. "But what have you been doing to
yourself? So you are the burglar I have just been hearing about. Sir
Walter, this is ridiculous. You really don't mean to say that you are
going to ask Mr. Allison to turn out his bag."

Sir Walter weakened palpably. And Miss Egerton's father was a valuable
client of his, to say nothing of her being an heiress in her own right.

"Of course, if you know the gentleman," he muttered. "Mr. Allison's
father is a gentleman that I have the highest respect for. Clear all
those people out there, Symonds; let them go on with the search. And
take Mr. Allison to a bedroom where he can wash and change. And keep
an eye on him, Symonds"--he added sotto voce--"for I am by no means
satisfied even yet."

Half an hour later and Allison was seated in a cosy corner of the hall
talking gravely to Miss Egerton. He did not tell her yet that he had
come to England almost expressly to see her. Doubtless that information
would be afforded all in good time. But it was easy to see that
Allison's fair companion had something heavy on her mind.

"I believe you are still doubtful about me," he said. "Come do you
really think that I have turned burglar? You are shielding me out of
consideration for my family. You think I know where the swag is?"

"I am certain of it," Miss Egerton replied. "I--I did not interfere
till I was obliged. But when you started so guiltily----"

"My dear Miss Egerton, I had to. Consider my position. Take my
unfortunate personal appearance only as evidence against me. And you
tell me that it is almost a crime in England to drop into the houses of
one's acquaintances in this way. Suppose my kit-bag had been forcibly
taken from me and searched. What do you suppose that Sir Walter would
have found there, eh?"

Miss Egerton said nothing, but her eyes spoke.

"Precisely. The jewels and plate would have been found there; in fact
they are there at the present moment. Without an ally in the house
nobody would have dreamt of accepting my story. I should have bluffed
it out, for I had no fancy for the village lock-up even for a night.
But by great good fortune you were here, and you saved me. And now if
you will let me tell you the whole story I will try and convince you
that I am still an honest man and worthy of your--er,--friendship. And
we were very friendly a year ago, weren't we, Mabel. And it was like

"How could I have been so foolish!" the girl said presently, blushing
and smiling as Allison came to the end of his story. "And now that
everything is explained in so satisfactory a manner, let us go and
repeat the story to Sir Walter, who is fussing and fuming in the

Sir Walter's severe expression gradually faded away. He rubbed his
hands with delight as he presently glanced at his recovered treasures.
He was beaming with amiability now; he smote Allison on the back.

"All the same," he chuckled. "I was quite right in my suspicions, now,
wasn't I? My dear boy, how can I thank you for your pluck and cool
common sense?"

"And how can you forgive me for my silly suspicions?" Miss Egerton
asked Allison a little later on when they were alone together again.
"Don't you think I am altogether too horrid?"

But that wasn't the word that Allison used. It had quite a different


This site is full of FREE ebooks - Project Gutenberg Australia