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Updated: May 27, 2025
McKeith turned, Harris thought he was going to leap upon him in a fit of blind fury, and started up from his seat by the office table. McKeith's eyes blazed, his taut sinews quivered; his face was now quite pallid, and the hand in which he held the piece of paper was clenched so tight that the veins stood out like thick cords, and the knuckles were perfectly bloodless.
Her thoughts went back to the old-world to the luxurious veneer covering the younger Gavericks' petty economies stealing the notepaper at country-houses for the sake of the address cadging for motors and dinners 'keeping in' with the people likely to be of use; pulling strings in a manner which Bridget knew would have been too utterly galling to Colin McKeith's self-respect.
Lady Bridget gleaned that Maule had placed himself under McKeith's directions. 'What are your immediate movements to be? he asked his host. 'Remember, I am ready to fall in with any plans you may have for making me useful. McKeith did not answer at once. He took his pipe from his mouth, and knocked the ashes out of it against the arm of his chair, while he seemed to be considering the question.
There were stores, public houses, meaner shanties straggling along a dusty road that lost itself in vistas of lank gum trees. The Postmaster hoped that Mr McKeith's lady would not find the hotel too rowdy. It was one of the two-storied buildings, and had a bar giving onto the street, and a veranda round both upper and lower storey.
In fact, Bridget was in the mood for any desperate leap into the Unknown. Such was her unconscious thought as she crunched a spray of verbena in her fingers and inhaled the scent which had always a faintly heady effect upon her imagination. She was leaning on the stone kerb of the balustrade, vague emotions stirring her, when she heard McKeith's step on the gravel.
Lady Bridget, just within the sitting room window, smoked a cigarette, her small form extended in a squatter's chair, listening to, but taking scarcely any part in the conversation. The two outside discussed local topics McKeith's failure to trace the perpetrators of the outrage on his horses.
I've my own business to attend to, and I must be off on it. He got up, and folding Lady Bridget's note, deliberately put it in his breast pocket. Harris stretched forth a restraining hand. 'Boss, I say that's important for my report, you know. McKeith's temper burst out. 'Damn your report.
McKeith's jaw squared, and there showed in his eyes that ugly devil which many a black and white man had seen, but never his wife before. 'Look here, milady there can be only one boss on this station. And now you'll excuse me if I act according to my own discretion. Without another word he walked up the veranda and down the few steps connecting it with the Old Humpey.
'You've got your warrant, I suppose, he asked incidentally. The Police Sergeant looked a little uncomfortable. 'Well, fact is, I wouldn't waste time going back to Breeza Downs head-station for that. Mr McKeith's there and they had a bit of an alarm. Those Unionist skunks tried to fire the shed one night, but no particular damage was done, and they've dispersed.
McKeith made a slight assenting movement of his head, but said nothing. His brows puckered, and he stiffened himself as he listened, strung to the quick, while Harris continued. 'Well I did see that lady, the volcanic gleam from McKeith's eyes stopped him from pronouncing Lady Bridget's name. 'I saw her come out of that room, he jerked his thumb along the veranda.
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