All I know is, that Mr Maule had the key of the hide-house in his bedroom that night, and, being a close friend of her Ladyship's, he was no doubt aware that she didn't relish the notion of Wombo's being had up for theft and murder--I'm not saying who it was let out Wombo.
It's a mystery I don't take upon myself to fathom--I'll leave that to you.' 'There's one easy solution of the mystery that doesn't seem to have occurred to you,' said McKeith.

'The gin Oola could easily have stolen the key--they're cunning as the devil--half-castes--and as treacherous--I know them--I've had my own good reasons for not letting one of them inside the fence of my head-station.' 'That may be--I can only say what I know, and you can form your own opinion.' 'Say what you know then--I'm waiting to hear.

But be quick about it, man, I've no time to waste this morning.' Harris began his tale--how he had watched at the window of his little room, till after midnight, his gun ready, his eyes glued on the padlocked door opposite; how overcome with drowsiness against which he had vainly struggled--'for a man that's been pretty near two days and nights in the saddle may be excused if his eyes begin blinking,' Harris put it.

He had dropped dead asleep--he confessed it--at his post.

Then, how on awakening suddenly, for no apparent reason, all seeming quiet around, he had got up as he was, half dressed and in his boots--had stepped across to the hide-house, had found the padlock intact and, hearing no sound, had concluded the black-boy was inside safe asleep.
How then, with a relieved mind, he had been going back to his stretcher, when the noise of a goat bleating had set him on the look-out from his veranda.