“Think so; pretty far gone, anyway. But Murray—if he finds Kiliat———”
“Steve, you hop down to the hall and rope in a few fellows. Don’t spread an alarm. Where was he going, Ormond?”
“Kiliat is up at Scannell’s to-night. Roddy was taking a short cut through the bush———”
“Come and get into some of my duds while I rake out a couple of shooters. Father Denis, you’ll take somebody up to Art. He is—where, Ormond? Oh, in Ormond’s hut. Father Denis.”
In Murray’s room Ormond spoke with some hesitation:
“It’s tough work for you, Murray, old fellow.”
Murray was loading his revolvers with quick firm movements.
“That little chap faced what he feared more than death to save me. And I’ve got to bring him to the gallows, perhaps. Pipi’s at the bottom of it in some way, Ormond. Roddy has never been the same since that foolery.”
“You’ve got over it.”
Murray buckled his belt, and wheeled to the head of the stairs.
“He may be paying instead of me,” he said, very low. “I don’t know. Come on, Ormond.”
Where a crowd foregathered in the dark street Murray took command, leading out to the river track and the heavy bush on the hills.
