"Proceed, Captain Louis Bachelor," said Roadmaster in a changed tone.

The hand fell to the old man's side. "Who are you?" he faintly
exclaimed. "I know you yet I cannot quite remember."

More and more the voice and manner of the outlaw altered as he replied
with mocking bitterness: "I was Edward Golding, gentleman; I became
Edward Golding, forger; I am Roadmaster, convicted of manslaughter, and
bushranger."

The old man's state was painful to see. "You--you--that, Edward!" he
uttered brokenly.

"All that. Will you arrest me now?"

"I--cannot."

The bushranger threw aside all bravado and irony, and said: "I knew you
could not. Why did I come? Listen--but first, will you shelter me here
to-night?"

The soldier's honourable soul rose up against this thing, but he said
slowly at last: "If it is to save you from peril, yes."

Roadmaster laughed a little and rejoined: "By God, sir, you're a man!
But it isn't likely that I'd accept it of you, is it? You've had it
rough enough, without my putting a rock in your swag that would spoil you
for the rest of the tramp. You see, I've even forgotten how to talk like
a gentleman. And now, sir, I want to show you, for Barbara's sake, my
dirty logbook."