Free Wanted Dead by Kenneth Cook Page A

feeling, but not much. It was all too academic now, and too complicated with absurdities.
    â€œDo you know ’im?” asked the Sergeant.
    â€œNo.” said Riley.
    â€œPity you didn’t get the Hangman,” said the Sergeant. “You’d be a rich man.”
    â€œOh?” said Riley, surprised, “You believe me do you?”
    â€œCourse I do,” said the Sergeant, “Everybody does. Don’t worry about old Mad Mick. He’ll have to send the report down to Sydney and you’ll be out of here in a week.”
    â€œMad Mick?” said Riley, “that’s the sub-inspector is it?”
    â€œYeah. Mad Mick Madden they call him. He’ll be relieved soon. He’s driving us all as mad as he is.But you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve done a good job—for a special that is.”
    The Sergeant pulled the blanket over the corpse’s face.
    â€œWhat about the inquest he’s talking about?”
    â€œOh there’ll be an inquest all right, but the verdict’ll be justifiable homicide. You’ve got nothing at all to worry about.”
    â€œWhat about that girl?” said Riley, “The sub-inspector didn’t say anything about her. Did they talk to her?”
    â€œJaney Cabel? They talked to her all right, but she had six witnesses to swear she was at a dance in the shanty all that night. But don’t worry about that. Everybody knows young Johnny Cabel’s one of the Hangman’s telegrams.”
    The Sergeant seemed disposed to chat, but Riley was finding the atmosphere of the shed oppressive, even more so than that of his cell.
    â€œThat’s not a bad idea,” said the Sergeant as he locked the door on Riley. “Putting bird shot in pistols. I’ll pass that on.”
    It was another two weeks before the order for Riley’s release came up from Sydney, despite the fact that the Coroner’s inquest had, as the Sergeant predicted, brought in a verdict of justifiable homicide.
    â€œYou’ve been more fortunate than you deserve, Riley,” said the sub-inspector, and there was no suggestion of geniality about him now.
    â€œYes, sir,” said Riley, who didn’t agree at all. Rather the reverse in fact.
    â€œI have been instructed to re-equip you and send you out again,” said the sub-inspector, mumbling andspeaking more to the desk in front of him than to Riley.
    â€œYes, sir,” said Riley.
    â€œHowever,” said the sub-inspector, looking up at Riley and speaking more clearly and with more relish: “I have had no instructions as to either your pay or your gear and in the absence of any other advice propose to act according to the regulations.”
    â€œOh,” said Riley, not knowing what acting according to regulations involved but assuming it must be unpleasant.
    â€œYou will therefore have the value of your horses and gear debited against you and the amount taken from your pay. You know how much that is, Riley?”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    â€œNinety-four pounds seventeen shillings, Riley. Ninety-four pounds seventeen shillings.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œHowever the regulations provide that the whole of a trooper’s pay shall not be deducted to defray the expenses of replacing equipment lost or damaged,” said the sub-inspector, speaking from the book as he was occasionally prone to.
    â€œYou will therefore be allowed to retain fifty per cent of your pay each month.”
    At that rate it would take him roughly a year before he received full pay again, Riley calculated rapidly. It was obviously time he left the service. There must be some other way he could make a living in the colony. He couldn’t think of one offhand though. Still, it meant he now had eight pounds, which was something.
    â€œHowever,” continued the sub-inspector, “as you have spent three quarters of your first month in theservice in prison, you will draw