“It’s a lie,” muttered the fellow, with a downcast look.

“You know that you murdered both, while sleeping.  Coward that you are, you feared to meet the miner awake.”

“It’s a lie.’” returned the fellow, with a glance towards the inspector that would have annihilated him if it had been possible; “I met them when awake, and—­”

He ceased suddenly, and continued to walk forward at a rapid rate.

The inspector glanced at us in a meaning manner, as though desirous that we should remember all that was said.

“Your brother pal, who was with you at the time, and who is now working out a sentence on the roads, tells me that you crept up to the miner and wife, and struck the former first; and that after the deed was completed, you refused to share the gold dust.”

“That’s another lie!” cried the fellow, stamping his foot with passion; “I gave him his share for silencing the woman, while I dealt with the man.  He knows it, and he also knows that he spent the dust in three days at Melbourne, where we were in disguise, and stopped at old mother Holey’s.”

A gratified expression beamed upon the inspector’s face, and I doubt if he remembered the pain with which he was afflicted, for the murder that he had thus suddenly brought to light was one that had puzzled him for a long time, and a reward of two hundred pounds was due to whoever revealed the mystery.  He had indulged in a little fiction to make Bill confess the crime, and he had succeeded beyond his utmost expectations.

For a long time after Bill had revealed his knowledge of one of the most brutal murders that ever occurred in Australia, our prisoner refused to talk, although Mr. Brown provoked him to reveal other matters that he was anxious of knowing.

The bushranger appeared to recollect that in a moment of passion he had disclosed more than he should have done, and therefore refused to converse; but at length Mr. Brown led him to talk of the days when he was a prisoner at the hulks, and when the inspector was an overseer or turnkey at the same institution.

“How many years have passed, Bill, since you crossed the water?” inquired the inspector; meaning, in a polite way, to find out the exact time he had been transported.

“It’s over six, I think; let me see; it’s two years next month since I left my quarters at the hulks and started in search of fortune, and at times a hard one it has been,” returned the prisoner.

“I’ve no doubt of it.  Had you but remained faithful and obedient, your time would have nearly expired, now, I think,” continued the inspector, in a friendly tone; but I could see that he was only leading the bushranger along for the purpose of extracting information.

“Yes,” replied the fellow, bitterly, “my time would have arrived, and I would have been discharged from the accursed hulks, but not by human hands.  Death would have claimed me long before this; and death would have been preferable to the life that I led.”