The Tale of Timber Town Part 21

"I have no reason to, except that the head of it buys a trinket from me now and then, and makes me 'take it out' by ordering through him."

"Just so. You would like to get even with him?"

"Try me."

"Are you good in a boat, Tresco?"

The goldsmith seemed to think, and his cogitation made him smile.

"Tolerably," he said. "I'm not exactly amphibious, but I'd float, I'd float, I believe," and he looked at his portly figure.

"Are you good with an oar?"

"Pretty moderate," said Tresco, trying to think which end of the boat he would face while pulling.

"And you've got pluck, I hope?"

"I hope," said the goldsmith.

"To be plain with you, Tresco, I've need of the services of such a man as yourself, reliable, silent, staunch, and with just enough of the devil in him to make him face the music."

Benjamin scratched his head, and wondered what was coming.

"You want a hundred pounds," said the merchant.

"A hundred and fifty badly," said the goldsmith.

"We'll call it a hundred," said the merchant. "I've lost considerably over this wreck--you can understand that?"

"I can."

"Well, Varnhagen, who has long been a thorn in my side, and has been threatening to start a line of boats in opposition to me, has decided, I happen to hear, to take immediate advantage of my misfortune. But I'll checkmate him."

"You're the man to do it."

"I hold a contract for delivering mails from sh.o.r.e. By a curious juncture of circ.u.mstances, I have to take out the English mail to-morrow night to the _Takariwa_, and bring an English mail ash.o.r.e from her.

Both these mails are _via_ Sydney, and I happen to know that Varnhagen's letters ordering his boats will be in the outgoing mail, and that he is expecting correspondence referring to the matter by the incoming mail.

He must get neither. Do you understand?--neither."

Tresco remained silent.

"You go on board my boat--it will be dark; n.o.body will recognise you.

Furthermore I shall give you written authority to do the work. You can find your own crew, and I will pay them, through you, what you think fit. But as to the way you effect my purpose, I am to know nothing. You make your own plans, and keep them to yourself. But bring me the correspondence, and you get your money."

"Make it 200. A hundred down and the balance afterwards. This is an important matter. This is no child's play." The subtle and criminal part of Benjamin's mind began to see that the affair would place his landlord and mortgagee in his power, and relieve him for evermore from financial pressure. To his peculiar conscience it was justifiable to overreach his grasping creditor, a right and proper thing to upset the shrewd Varnhagen's plans: a thought of the proposed breach of the law, statutory and moral, did not occur to his mind.

"There may be some bother about the seals of the bags," said the merchant, "but we'll pray it may be rough, and in that case nothing is simpler--one bag at least can get lost, and the rest can have their seals damaged, and so on. You will go out at ten to-morrow night, and you will have pretty well till daylight to do the job. Do you understand?"

Benjamin had begun to reflect.

"Doesn't it mean gaol if I'm caught?"

"Nonsense, man. How can you be caught? It's _I_ who take the risk. _I_ am responsible for the delivery of the mails, and if anything goes wrong it's _I_ will have to suffer. You do your little bit, and I'll see that you get off scot-free. Here's my hand on it."

The merchant held out his flabby hand, and Tresco took it.

"It's a bargain?"

"It's a bargain," said Tresco.

Crookenden reached for his cheque book, and wrote out a cheque for fifty pounds.

"Take this cheque to the bank, and cash it."

Tresco took the bit of signed paper, and looked at it.

"Fifty?" he remarked. "I said a hundred down."

"You shall have the balance when you have done the work."

"And I can do it how I like, where I like, and when I like between nightfall and dawn?"

"Exactly."

"Then I think I can do it so that all the post office clerks in the country couldn't bowl me out."

But the merchant merely nodded in response to this braggadocio--he was already giving his mind to other matters.

Without another word the goldsmith left the office. He walked quickly along the street, regarding neither the garish shops nor the people he pa.s.sed, and entered the doors of the Kangaroo Bank, where the Semitic clerk stood behind the counter.

"How will you take it?"

The words were sweet to Benjamin's ear.

"Tens," he said.

The bank-notes were handed to him, and he went home quickly.

The digger was sitting where Tresco had left him.

"There's your money," said the goldsmith, throwing the notes upon the table.

The digger counted them.

"That's only fifty," he said.

"You shall have the balance in two days, but not an hour sooner,"

replied Tresco. "In the meanwhile, you can git. I'm busy."