no misgivings.

Downy returned to the Drovers' Arms late in the evening, having
discovered that his supposed clue led only to a half-demented sundowner
living in a hollow log near Cow Flat, and having nothing whatever in
common with the missing man. The search of the troopers had been
fruitless, too, and at this crisis the opinion of McKnight as a pioneer
of Waddy was solicited. McKnight's belief was that Shine was hiding away
somewhere in the old workings of one of the deep mines--the Silver Stream
perhaps--and he recalled the case of a criminal who got into the old
stopes of a mine at Bendigo, and subsisted there for two weeks on the
cribs of the miners, stolen while the latter were at work. The detective
considered this a very probable supposition, and an invasion of the
Silver Stream workings was planned for next morning.

CHAPTER XXII.

SHORTLY after eight o'clock on the night of Dick's journey to Yarraman
the figure of a woman approached the searcher's house and knocked softly
at the front door. There was a light burning within, but the knock
provoked no response. The visitor knocked again with more vigour;
presently a bolt was withdrawn and the door opened a few inches, and
Christina Shine, seeing her visitor, uttered a low cry and staggered back
into the centre of the room, throwing the door wide open. It was Mrs.
Hardy who stood upon the threshold.

'May I come in, my dear?' she asked in a kindly tone.

Christina, standing with one hand pressed to her throat and her burning
eyes fixed intently upon the face of the elder woman, nodded a slow
affirmative. Mrs. Hardy entered, closing the door behind her, and stood
for a moment gazing pitifully at the distracted girl, for Chris had a
wild hunted look, and weariness and anxiety had almost exhausted her. She
faced her visitor with terror, as if anticipating a blow.

'My poor girl,' Mrs. Hardy said gently; 'I suppose you wonder why I have
come?'

Again Chris moved her head in vague acquiescence.

'I have heard how heavily this blow has fallen upon you, and my heart
bled with pity. I felt I might be able to comfort you.

Chris put her back with a weak fluttering hand.

'My dear, I am an old woman; I have seen much trouble and have borne
some, and I know that hearts break most often in loneliness.'

'You know the truth?' asked the girl, through dry lips.

'I know Richard Haddon's story.' 'And you have not come to--to--'

'I have come to offer you all a w