"Then," said Glenarvan, whose face was pale with anger, "Ayrton has brought us here to rob and assassinate us?"
"And, since leaving the Wimerra, his band has followed and watched us, waiting for a favorable opportunity?"
"But this wretch is not, then, a sailor of the Britannia? He has stolen his name and contract?"
All eyes were turned towards MacNabb, who must have considered this matter.
"These," replied he, in his calm voice, "are the proofs that can be derived from this obscure state of affairs. In my opinion this man's real name is Ayrton. Ben Joyce is his fighting title. It is certain that he knows Harry Grant, and has been quartermaster on board the Britannia. These facts, proved already by the precise details given by Ayrton, are still further corroborated by the conversation of the convicts that I have related. Let us not, therefore, be led astray by vain conjectures, but only be certain that Ayrton is Ben Joyce, a sailor of the Britannia, now chief of a band of convicts."
The major's explanation was accepted as conclusive.
"Now," replied Glenarvan, "will you tell me how and why Harry Grant's quartermaster is in Australia?"
"How, I do not know," said MacNabb; "and the police declare they know no more than I on the subject. Why, it is also impossible for me to say. Here is a mystery that the future will explain."
"The police do not even know the identity of Ayrton and Ben Joyce," said Captain Mangles.
"You are right, John," replied the major; "and such information would be likely to facilitate their search."
"This unfortunate, then," remarked Lady Helena, "intruded into O'Moore's farm with a criminal intention?"
"There is no doubt of it," continued MacNabb. "He was meditating some hostile attack upon the Irishman, when a better opportunity was offered. Chance threw us in his way. He heard Glenarvan's story of the shipwreck, and, like a bold man, he promptly decided to take part in the expedition. At the Wimerra he communicated with one of his friends, the farrier of Black Point, and thus left distinguishable traces of our course. His band followed us. A poisonous plant enabled him to gradually kill our oxen and horses. Then, at the proper moment, he entangled us in the marshes of the Snowy, and surrendered us to the convicts he commanded."