Bega Pioneers' Museum has countless files on people and places. This one is about a Mystery at Twofold Bay in 1853.
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ON a walk along Twofold Bay a young man has found a box with a body of a woman inside. He has removed a package from her body and it contained a scarf with a brilliant and colourful pattern. He took it to a store and asked that it be used as decoration for a cabbage tree hat.
TAKING the material in his hand the shopman examined the texture, saying as he did so, “This is very beautiful, may I call the head of the department to have a look at it?”
“Certainly,” said I, and a dapper little man with a bald head appeared behind the counter. As he took the puggaree in his hand I could see his little pig-like eyes dilate until they almost projected from his head, his tongue going all the time.
“Beautiful, lovely, exquisite. In Sydney there is nothing like this, and very few in London.” When he had drawn breath, “An heirloom, I presume,” said he.
“Not exactly,” said I. “Will you have it placed on my hat as I have requested?”
“On your hat,” he exclaimed. “My God, do you know the value of this?” And before I could reply, he went on, “Why, this is the most beautiful Cashmere shawl I have ever seen, its value cannot be less than 800 or 1000 guineas, perhaps much more, I cannot value it.”
After this I took a long breath, but his volubility had given me time to recover my self-possession. “Only a whim,” said I with as much nonchalance as I could muster. So, putting my shawl in my pocket, I purchased a shop puggaree and had it placed on my hat. Oh, it was lovely to see the way I was bowed out of that shop. An Indian nabob could not have had more respect shown him.
I was now in a fix. For ten long years valuable property had been in my possession, without my knowledge of its worth. My conscience (strange to say, in these enlightened days, I still have a conscience) would give me no rest. That poor, mutilated body in my dreams was ever before me. I pondered with myself what I should do. I could not give publicity of how I became possessed of the shawl. That the public would not credit how I became possessed of it was telling on my health. At length a thought struck me.
(Continued next week)