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John had a great deal of gold on him, in a belt round his waist, and Luke supposes that it got known. John was attacked as they were sleeping by night in the open air, beaten, and shot. It was the shot that killed him." "Poor fellow!" exclaimed Lionel, his eyes fixed on vacancy, mentally beholding John Massingbird. "And they robbed him!" "They had robbed him of all.
To India, to the wilds of Africa anywhere, far, far away. Never would he remain to be an eye-sore to Sibylla or Frederick Massingbird inhabiting the land that they inhabited, breathing the air that sustained life in them. Sibylla might rely on one thing that when Frederick Massingbird did appear beyond doubt or dispute, that very hour he said adieu to Sibylla.
And John Massingbird used to have plenty." "I don't know who amongst us is without them, Jan. Unless upon my word, old fellow, I mean it! unless it is you." Jan opened his great eyes with a wondering stare. It never occurred to humble-minded Jan that there was anything in him approaching to goodness. He supposed Lionel had spoken in joke. "What's that?" cried he.
Jan betook himself to Verner's Pride to carry the news, and found Mr. Massingbird astride on a pillar of the terrace steps, smoking away with gusto. The day was warm and sunshiny as the previous one had been. "What, is it you?" cried he, when Jan came in sight. "You are up here betimes. Anybody dying, this way?" "Not this morning," replied Jan.
I thought it was some poaching fellow hiding there, and went up to dislodge him. Didn't I wish myself up in the skies? It was the face of Fred Massingbird." "The face of your fancy," slightingly returned Jan. "I swear it was, then! There! There's no mistaking him. The hedgehog on his cheek looked larger and blacker than ever."
"No, thank you," replied John Massingbird. "They'd not like my pipe. Tell Sibylla I hope she'll get over it. I'll come again by and by, and hear how she is." Lionel went indoors and passed upstairs with a heavy footstep. Lucy started from her place, but not before he had seen her in it. "Why do you sit there, Lucy?"
He never had any to lose. John joined in the laugh. "Lionel, old boy, do you know I always liked you, with all your refinement; and it's a quality that never found great favour with me. I liked you better than I liked poor Fred; and that's the truth." Lionel made no reply, and John Massingbird smoked for a few minutes in silence. Presently he began again.
"Jan came here to tell me news that quite justified his sending for me, wherever I might be, or however occupied, Sibylla. He has succeeded in solving to-night the mystery which has hung over us; he has discovered who it is that we have been taking for Frederick Massingbird." "It is not Frederick Massingbird," cried Sibylla, speaking sharply. "Captain Cannonby says that it cannot be."
Thought after thought crowded upon him. If it was really Frederick Massingbird in life, how was it that he had not made his appearance before? Where had he been all this while? Considerably more than two years had elapsed since the supposed death.
"Almost as big as his head," a "fortune in itself," ran some of the phrases in his letters; and his intention was to go down himself to Melbourne and "realise the thousands" for it. His letter to Frederick was especially full of this; and he strongly recommended his brother to come out and pick up nuggets on his own score. Frederick Massingbird appeared very much inclined to take the hint.
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