The Goldsmith Comes to Town the Third Time.

The flash digger put his elbows on the table, and leered at Gentle Annie who sat, radiant, at the other side of the board.

“You must have made quite a pile.”

“My dear, it’s never wise to tell a woman all you know or all you’ve got. But I don’t mind telling you this much: I had luck, or I wouldn’t be able to satisfy your little whims.”

He put his hand into his breast pocket, and drew out a plush-covered case.

“You asked for the biggest diamond in Timber Town, and here it is.”

He opened the case, and took out a gold ring, in which was set a stone, fully a carat-and-a-half in weight. Gentle Annie’s eyes glittered almost as brightly as the facets of the diamond.

“Dear little jewels for our dear girls.” The flash digger held up the brilliant between his finger and thumb. “That bit of carbon cost me L30.”

He passed the ring to the girl, who eagerly tried it, first on one finger, then on another.

“Lovely!” she exclaimed: then, as the sudden suspicion struck her, she asked, “You’re sure it’s real?”

“Well, I’ll be.” But he restrained himself. “My dear, if it’s shnein, the bargain’s off.”

Gentle Annie had risen, and was scratching with the stone the glass of a picture-frame which held a gaudy chromo-lithograph.

As she did so, the digger rose, and encircled her waist with his arm.

“Well, are you satisfied?”

“Quite,” she replied, with a laugh. “It bites like a glazier’s diamond.”

“Then give me a kiss.”

The girl made a pretence of trying to get away, but quickly gave in, and turned her lips to the digger’s hawk-like face, and kissed his cheek.

“That’s right,” he said; “that’s as it should be. Mind you: I’m boss here while I stay; I’m the proprietor of the bloomin’ show. All other blokes must stop outside.”

His arm still encircled her waist, and she, regarding him through half-closed, indulgent eyes, leaned her weight against him, when a low cough startled both of them.

The door slowly opened, and upon the threshold stood a dark figure which, advancing towards the light, turned into a man, big, broad, and stern.

“No, no,” said the flash digger, calm, cool, and collected, while the girl tried to assume a posture of aloofness. “You must get out, mister. I’m boss of this show. No one’s allowed here without an invite from me. So, out you go.”

But, to his astonishment, the intruder, without saying a word, quietly took a seat, and began to cut himself a pipeful of tobacco from a black plug which he drew nonchalantly from his pocket.

“Make no mistake,” said the flash digger, striking a dramatic attitude. “I’m not the man to give an order a second time. Out you get, or I’ll drill a hole clean through you.”

“One minute.” The stranger shut the blade of his knife, which he placed deliberately in his pocket. “One minute. Do me the kindness to lower that pistol, and stand where I can see your face more plainly. I’ve no intention of resisting unfortunately I left my shooting-iron behind.”

As the digger did not move, the stranger jerked his head now forward, now back, now to this side, now to that, peering at the man who held his life in his hand.

“Yes, it’s as I thought,” he said. “I’ve had the pleasure of seeing you before, on two or three occasions. There’s no need for you an’ me to quarrel. If we’re not exactly pals, we’re something even closer.”

“You’re wasting valuable time, and risking your life for no reason whatever,” said the digger. “You’d better be quick.”

“Oh, I’m going,” said the intruder. “Set your mind at rest about that. I was only trying to think where I had met you it was in a cave. You and your mates knew enough to come in out of the rain. You had made a nice little haul, a very nice little haul.”

A look of the utmost perplexity came over the face of the flash digger, and this was followed by a look of consternation. His arm had fallen to his side, and he was saying slowly, “Who the deuce are you? How the deuce d’you know where I’ve been?” when the man who sat before him suddenly pulled his hand from under the table and covered his aggressor with a revolver.

“One move,” said Tresco the reader will have recognised that the goldsmith had come to town “one move, Mr. Carnac, and you’re as dead as the murdered men on the hill.”

The tension on Gentle Annie’s nerves, which during this scene had been strung to the highest pitch, had now become too great to be borne silently.

“Don’t, don’t!” she cried. “For God’s sake, for my sake, stop! stop!”

“Don’t be frightened, my dear,” said the goldsmith, without taking his eye off his rival and antagonist. “If there’s to be trouble between this man and me, you can’t make or mar it. Now, mister, kindly drop your revolver on the floor.”

The man did as he was bid, and the heavy falling of iron sounded loud through the otherwise silent room.

“Right turn. Quick march.” Tresco rose slowly, still covering his man. “Open the door for him, my dear!”

“It’s a trap! I’m trapped by the woman,” cried Carnac, glaring awfully at Gentle Annie. “You slut, give me back my ring.”

“Walk straight out, mister,” said the goldsmith, quietly, “and don’t call the lady names, or you’ll repent it. She happens to be my particular friend. And let me tell you before you go, that the one thing that will save you from the hangman’s noose is that you don’t set foot inside this door again. D’you hear?”

“Yes,” said the robber.

“You understand my meaning?”

“Perfectly.”

“Then let him out, Annie.”

The door swung open, Carnac walked slowly into the night, and Tresco and Gentle Annie were alone.

The goldsmith heaved a sigh of relief. “Haaaah! Close thing, very close; but Benjamin was just one too many for him. You see, brains will come out on top. Kindly bolt the door, my dear.”

He picked up Carnac’s revolver, placed it on the table, sat down, wiped his brow, and again gave vent to another sigh of relief.

“My dear, it’s brought on my usual complaint desperate thirst. Phaugh! a low-lived man, and in this house, too! In the house of my little woman, curse him!”

Gentle Annie placed a glass and a bottle before him, and the goldsmith drank.

“What’s that about a ring, my dear? Did I understand he had given you a ring?”

The girl took the precious diamond from her finger, and handed it to Tresco.

“Why, it’s my own work I recognise the setting; I remember the stone. Thirty pounds that ring is worth; thirty pounds, if a penny. Did he steal it, or buy it, I wonder?”

“Bought it, he said.”

“If so, he’s not mean, anyway. I tell you what I’ll do I’ll buy it back from you. It’s not right you should be defiled by wearing such a man’s ring.”

“He shall have it back I’ll give it him.”

“No, my dear. What he has given, he has given. Thirty pounds.”

From his pocket he drew a small linen bag, from which he took eight or ten small nuggets. These he balanced in his palm.

“Seven ounces,” he said, contemplatively. “Say eight, to give you good value. That’s it, my dear.” With a bump he placed the gold on the table. “This ring is now mine. The work is of the best; never did I take more care or pride in my craft than when I set that stone. But it has been in the hands of a vile fellow; it is polluted.”

He rose from his chair, placed the jewel on the hearthstone, and fiercely ground the precious stone beneath his iron-shod heel, and flung the crushed and distorted gold setting into the fire.

“That you should have been so much as touched by such a man, is a thing not to be forgotten quickly.”

He drank the rest of his liquor at a breath.

“I must go, my dear. I must go.”

“What! won’t you stop? I want you to stay a little longer.”

“Nothing would please me better. But that man is one of a gang. If I stop here, he may bring seven other devils worse than himself, and the last end of Benjamin will be worse than the first. I should be waylaid and killed. And that would be unfortunate.”

“Do you suppose they will come here when you have gone?”

“No fear of that, after what I’ve told him. That man will shun this house as if it was his grave. Well, good night.”

He took Gentle Annie’s face between his hands. Then he held her at arms’ length, and gazed steadfastly into her face. And, the next moment, he was gone.

The girl turned the nuggets over and over with a listless finger. “Men, men,” she murmured, “how madly jealous and when there is so little need. As if I care for one a pennyworth more than another.”