Weekly Mail

( [NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.] THE GREAT mill-street ? MYSTERY. By ADELINE SERGEANT. AuthorIt "Jacobi's -W-fe, roy's IJepen- Dce> "Deveril's Diamond," ''Under ialse Pretences," &c. &c., f CALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] TSYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS.] | 6,FEE^ Mnv^0tiDE: CHAPTERS I AND II.—In Mill- I blind pi-- c'iaPe'> a disreputable locality, a { street ^ie Francis Helmont, and a r ^bard ISyre, are standing on the in t|)6 '"enipty house. Stephen Eyre, a captain ? ^Jorifca,-Va^0D Army, l'as preceded them on the » bad « t>n t'lat Jess, a former lover of Stephen's. ? bil11 got her man back again and she was with f IjQt at No. 20, Mill-slreet." The two had come in | wom^t. fearing that StepheD, in his fury, i soiBp • man w't0 ^ia(^ robbed him of his love grIEvous inj,i, y. Helmont fears that an old ha«| w 's' Geot^e Eastwood, was the one who street r?n2fd Jessie Armstrong:, and lie and the "id T are Wi"lin8 f°r news of the Captain is u j816, Presently a fierce struggle fi»hti overhead and Jessie is seen tijpn n^D a struggling with one or more th« V resen"y as y°'ng Dick rushes into and mountfi the stairs the boJy of win,!1 'mi 8een hanging by his hands from the naow sill. Then someone is seen pushing the winging fingers from the sili and Stephen Eyre ^Us a dull, heavy mass on to the earth beneath. •Poor blind Helmont feels over the warm body of the dying man, and recognises with his fingers that of Stephen Eyre. In the meantime the neigh- bourhood has bebu roused and a search inside the house instituted. The dead body of Dick Eyre is found in a quantity of debris, but no trace of any. one else is discovered. Time passes on and Hel- 1 receives a letter from George Eastwood, who ic Sardinia, and it is apparent that he has been >aw for some time. Shortly after- :ard,¡ Mr. Belmont ieceives a visit from a woman, tj). | "s '"m that her name is Jess Armstrong and t0 "'Ve ,ier8elf UP r°l tlie murder of PA RT I. CHAPTER I.-A FACE FOR A PICTURE. £ °^modit 'where a 'Jlisk tra(ieil1 evei'y i a^Qrdav Ullder the sun was carried on every f e*loolf- even*n £ and thence a narrow, deso- r?r stree^ mean-looking houses ran ^-road Uce almost paiallel with 3Iile r' cossed at intervals by Fare streets or lanes. This thorough-: an eyil repute. The tall,; ^ttts 0f° houses on either side were ihe ^ere lod :no^or^0U9 rogues; several of them *°*ild tt.^jf1 £ -k°uses where no decent person *^er 1I?&^ set foot. The little lanes on aPpe»|na were more poverty-stricken in Vl°e* and00' no^ more cl''mo and °°Uld #s toe police of the neighbourhood P^ih^toJd you, there was scarcely aiiv ess s 111 Which a man's life or property was d And e than in Mill"s reet, Whitcchapel. I°v>n two gentlemen came fearlessly l"~street that evening, in a ouiet, as if they were accustomed ^5'ticiilaace' a.n(^ nobody seemed to take any str^ r n°t'ce of them. Indeed, when once ^6llera]i^er "the market/' as it was; .°ftei ca^'e^ showed some disposition to LSlVe. to theni. he was at onee hnstled u0)(j y bis companions with the remark, jaw. can't yer r Don't yer see it's ^'°Uld Person r'' And when the .stranger pa»'Son "l ,-Qer have inquired what right any S^r?et >i I! °.r not, had to come down Mill- ^et 8 •1+i ^"fle I^ace I'donged to him," he h "'Ouoi a vo'ley °f execrations, bias- expiessive of the tflection borne ^cttfap reet residents for this parson in 1)1()nt of the Reyoeiid Francis i cl bad its rise in a curious way. lie j,e e«hie man? not yet thirty, and when; '^t £ iia3 curate to a hard-working lrllniPair^i e^ergynian his sight was as \Vas as any other of his faculties.. 0lied an ardent worker, an impas- P-ilth Preacher a man of intense and bel" said v° c^- tt'as also very bold— v.11* The C1f las^—denunciation of hai-^ehh114 i1 ae^ces a certain landlord in th he°!v 0<^ having excited hia indig- iiifl^Sht of +u no^ hesitate to say what he njj«tiCe • The landlord was a man of In'5, held 1 ^reet. When Mr. Helmont; atl ,^U ^Pen-air service in Baldwin's L bv orteii did, he was systematically I e Quants of the excellent man I J the Quants of the excellent man, against whom the parson was waging war. Dead cats and other savoury missiles were freely distributed. Not many stones were thrown but one—a sharp flint-struck the curate upon the eye and injured it severely. Inflammation ensued and affected the other eye also, with the result that Mr. Helmont lost the sight of both eyes. Many men would have retired from the scene where he had incurred so great a mis- fortune, on the ground that their labours had met with nothing but ingratitude. Helmont did not see his position in that light at all. He was a large-minded man. He maintained that the feeling of the people towards him was not bad at all, and that it was not to be judged by an isolated act of this kind; also, that the man who threw the stone had not the slightest intention of harming him, and was more repentant for the injury that he bad committed than many another man would have been for murder. And that if he quitted the scene of his labours now all the good that he had ever tried to do would be undone, while if he remained he might hope to do a thousandfold times as much. And in this hope he was not dis- appointed. In their rough way the people of Baldwin's-court and Mill street appre- ciated his trust in them. From the day when I he again appeared amongst them, with a bandage over his eyes, and his sight com- pletely gone, they listened to him respect- j fully, how unpalatable soever might be the message that he had to deliver, and allowed him to go in and out amongst them without molestation indeed, with something approaching deference. And if it had been known who threw the stone that blinded him, that man would have been lynched, although he had only done effectually what other men were doing laxly at the same moment. But they did not know. Francis Helmont knew, and one other person in the court knew; but neither of them was disposed to betray the guilty man, Mr. Helmont had cast off his bandages by this time, for it was nearly two years since the outrage," as the newspapers called it, had been committed and a casual observer could not have told that he was blind. He wore darkened glasses, but his step was as sure, his manner as decided, as ever,. aiid no trace of depression could be noted in voice or face. His friends saw that there were a few grey threads in his hair, which had not been present before the loss of his sight and the few months of retirement and rest which he had then permitted himself; but he was wonderfully cheerful and untiringly energetic, and his blindness, though, probably, a trouble to himself, was never allowed to be a trouble to his friends. He had a lad who acted as his secretary, and he used the services of one or two of his choir boys as guides in his walks; but he had also plenty of friends, who willingly beoame ] bis companions from time to time, and it was with one of these that he was walking now. The two men were very different in appear- ance. Helmont was very tall, spare, but masdtilar, broad-shouldered, deep chested. His hair and beard were black as night, his complexion was sallow, his features were 1 somewhat worn, but full of fire and vivacity. His friend was slighter, shorter, and con- siderably fairer his hair and moustache were chestnut brown, very soft and silky in tex- ture; his eyes were hazel or grey, his features handsome, but delicate. He was some years younger than Ilelmont—not more, perhaps, than two or three and twenty—and there was an indefinable attractiveness in his appearance, marred only by a look of weakness or indeci- sion about the lower part of his face. It was possible, however, that this expression might be altered by force of circumstances, and in that case George Eastwood would be a very handsome man. They halted on the outskirt of the crowd that had gathered in the little square—East- wood to look, Helmont to listen. After a few moments' silence, the curate spoke. "There! he said. ¡¡ Now you see the market I have told you aboutHag Fair, if you like to call it so. Sometimes I get one of the men to let me mount his stall and give them a bit of a talk. I believe they call me the Cheap Jack parson. They have a nick- name for everybody." Shall you speak to-night No, or I would not have brought a stranger with me. You might have got hustled and robbed, and I can't protect you very well now that I cannot see. Well, how does it strike you r" The fun seems to be at its height, said George, gravely. i. There are naphtha lights flaring at ail the stalls, and the faces of the men and the old crones bending over them would form a study for Rembrandt. Not in my iine, cxacilv. The faces are strong enough, but they are ugly. i prefer something more idyllic—something pleasanter. Von say the faces are strong. Is there no charm for you in their individuality :J The mark of sin and passion sometimes makes a face terribly interesting to the observer of human nature." but you mistake me," said the younger man. ••lam not an observer, or a student, or a lover of the dark side of life at all. I want pretty faces, picturesque effects, sunshine, and flowers." Helmont looked disappointed. ôi To me, he said, rather wistfully, wheu I could see, this place on a Saturday night seemed always wonderfully line as a bit of scenic effect. The lights and shadows, the old houses, with their bits of quaint masonry, the varying faces— you notice how the Jew element predominates —seemed to me to form an admirable subject for a picture. You might call it' Rag Fair.' And the faces alone-what a splendid moral study you could get out of them." The young man laughed. I don't want moral studies," he said. "I want beauty- and love." Mr. Helmont seemed to think it advisable to change the subject. "Shall we walk on? Tell me if you see old Mother Flint; she generally sits under- neath the lamp-post, with flowers and apples." I see her. You don't advise me to paint her ? A drunken, leering, bloated faoe, a blowsy figure all out of shape, grey elf-locks, and a bonnet put on crooked— Poor old thing She has been drinking again," said Francis Ilelmont, with infinite pity in his manly tones. Take me to her, George. I am afraid she is falling into bad habits again, and her granddaughter will suffer if that is the case." "I am sorry for the granddaughter," said George, with a little laugh, which sounded unpleasantly flippant in Francis Helmont's ears, and would advise her to keep out of that old woman's way. Ha! by Jove! There's a pretty face flelmont felt a vibration of the young man's arm, as if he would have started off in pur- suit of the pretty face but for the curate's infirmity, and he experienced a moment's annoyance. I "Is it anyone you wish to see more closely P I can go in any direction you choose," he said, after a short pause. "No-at lej,.st-this way," said George, who was making his way with some difficulty through the pushing crowd of silent women and half drunken men by 'whom the two visitors were surrounded. 11 She is beside your apple woman; a girl with large eyes and a rather frightened look—pretty for all that- do you know her ? 11 1 expect you mean old Sarah Flint's grand- daughter, Jess. Is she pretty ?" At a distance," said George, with a little smile. Helmont could not see his face. The young artist's eyebrows were lifted, a half- whistle had been formed and arrested upon his lips; his whole aspect expressed wonder- ment. "By Jove he muttered to himself, so low that franois could not bear; a new type-quite a new type—why, Titian might have painted her She's got hair of Titian's colour' The girl at whom he was looking certainly presented a noticeable appearance at that moment, though it remained to be seen whether her beauty were not in part the result of certain striking but adventitious eftects of colour,, light and shade. She was leaning against the lamp-post and looking down with a sort of careless j^race of attitude at her old grandmother's stock-in-trade. Her clothing was so thin that the graceful lines of her figure were quite visible, and the foot that could be plainly seen through the burst seams of her old boots was prettily shaped, although red and swollen from the cold, Her hands were coarsened, too, by toil, but they were not large, and tho features of her thin face possessed a took of vitusual refinement. The contour of her eheek and chin was, in- deed, too sharp for beaUty,'and her skin seemed to be quite colourless. In itself it was hardly a face that you would have looked at twice except for the beauty of the long- lashed rey eyes and the masses of ruddy hair which waved low upon her forehead and were gathered into a rough knot at the nape of the neck. The gaslight fell full upon this natural adornment, and brought out strange golden lights in the tangled rippling waves. In happier circumstances that marvellous hair! and white skin might have created a sensa- tion iu the artistic or the fashionable world but in Baldwins-court the girl was widely known as "red-haired Jess," or Ii Cai-i ots"- [the inhabitants of that neighbourhood not being possessed of resthetio tastes. The girl had rather a wide month and a strong chin, She was not considered good-looking in Baldwins-court and Mill-street. To the eyes of George Eastwood, who thought he saw her capabilities," she was superb. Wait a minute," he said to his friend in a changed voice I sse subject before me. I'll jot down the attitule on my cuff if I can get ligllt enough. 1 shall oall it A Daugh- ter of the People.' Do you think I could get that girl to sit to me? "Do you mean Jess Armstrong? Why, she is nothing but a shock-headed, pale-faced child, is she ? That is how 1 remember her two years ago. She lias developed sines.1 then," said East- wood decidedly. Come along, Helmont 1 want you to talk to the old woman while I see the girl a little closer." Helmont assented with a smile. He was rather amused by George's sudden enthu- siasm. That he should ever really admire a girl of Jess Armstrong's station and training never entered the clergyman's head. lie allowed himself to be led forward to the old woman's side, and while he spoke to her Eastwood turned his t'yes upon .Jess, who had altered her oil when she saw Mr. Ilelmont advance. She stood erect now. imd looked gently and innocently at the stranger who was eyeing her so intently. "'Ave a bunch of v'lets, si she said Eastwood was not in the bast repel ted. He A bad not expected her to talk like a lady. Her hair shone like red burnished gold in the J lamplight; and that., for the moment, was all he caved about. yes, l'it have a bunch or violets," he said. Do you liv'e near this j.lace p' 1 Jess nodded. With granny, down in Mill- street," she said, picking out the best bunch of violets in her grandmother's basket for the gentleman who looked at her so kindly and spoke in such gentle tones. Do you always come here on Saturday nights ?" Yes, most always." "Then I shall see you again—if I come Jess flushed: a little smile crept to her lips. She looked really pretty with that flush and that smile. I shall come," said Eastwood quickly. And where do you live ?" No. 10. But you'd best not come without the parson. You'll be robbed maybe, if you come without him." I'll be careful," said George, laughing. Looli here; there's something to remember me by, until I come again." He wanted to see her when Helmont was not there to inter- fere. He bad given her a gold coin. Jess's eyes lighted up; she looked at it admiringly, and then she shook her head. It's no use," she said, I can't change it." But I meant you to keep it." She shook her head, and gave him back the coin with so significant a look of warn- ing that he involuntarily glanced round to discover what she meant. No one was tery near him, but at a few yards' distance stood a young, stalwart fellow, who was regarding him with an oddly savage and menacing look. The girl slipped round to the other side of her grandmother's stool, and stood with her face turned away. Eastwood could not get her to turn round again. 11 I suppose that young fellow is her lover," he said to himself, with something like a feel- ing of amusement. She it much too good for him, I am sure." CHAPTER II.—GOLDEN HAIR. Is that girl going to get married East- wood asked carelessly of his friend, as they went home together. I don't know. Why ? I observed a young man eyeing me with a very felonious expression of countenanoe when I spoke to her, I thought that he was, her lover, perhaps." Do you mean," said Mr. Helmont, delibe- tately, H a young fellow with dark eyes and a black moustache? Under-sized, but broad and muscular. Used to wear a fur cap when I knew him, and looked like a gamekeeper astray ?" You've hit it off exactly. The very man." Ah. That is Stephen Eyre. He is rather a queer customer. I would not offend him if I were you." I don't suppose I shall ever see him again," said Eastwood, lightly, and did not pursue the conversation. But he did two unwise things. He dreamed of Jess's pale profile and wealth of red gold hair for a week, and then set off without Helmont on an expedition to Baldwin's Market in search of her. The market was safe enough, but it was unsafel.to visit Mill-street without an escort; and although he knew this fact, Eastwood had no intention of avoid- ing it. He walked twice up and down it in the hope of seeing Jess; and in this he was at last successful. She was carrying a basket of flowers, and offering bunches of violets to the passers hy., Her face lighted up when she saw George Eastwood. I thought you'd never come again," she said simply. He looked at her with a critical eye. She was very pale, but her eyes were bright. Her head was covered by an old black straw hat, with some draggled red and yellow flowers in front. She had a red handkerchief round her neck; a faded blue dress with flounces covered her limbs, and she had donned an old and much-bent crinoline crinolines being then in fashion-of which a piece of steel protruded pitifully from beneath the lowest torn flounce. No, she was not an artistic figure. George decided never realising in the least that all this soiled finery had been put on in his honour, because the girl bad hoped that he would come that night; she was, after all, nothing but a com- mon tawdry dower-girl, snob as one might see at the corner of every London street. What had he been thinking of the other night ? This girl was almost ugly he had made a ridiculous mistake. I don't suppose I shall come again," he said coldly. 1 was here quite by accident." How her face fe'il But George Eastwood was not softened: he simply grew impatient. J will take a bunch of flowers," he said, thinking to restore the smile to her lips, and here is the money—yes, you may take it; why not? It is only half-a-crown." Jess, as her friends called her, hesitated, then took the coin with a shy little smile, and busied herself in picking out for him the best bunch of flowers that her basket con- tained. A gust of wind came down the long narrow street at that moment it dis- placed the tawdry hat on the girl's bent head, and when she dashed at it with her hand she disarranged the rough knot of hair at the back with suoh effect that it suddenly fell over her shoulders in a heavy, untidy, glorious mass of gold. If she had been the most finished coquette in the world, Jess could not have done a thing more likely to attract the man who was looking at her. I' astwood's sensuous worship of colour was just then at its height. Colour, even more than form, entranced him, and Jess's flood of burnished gold hair was irresistible. With a sudden change of tone and manner he drew nearer to her, and took a tress between his fingers. It was soft and fine in texture- pleasant to the touch, with the crisp yielding) elasticity of a child's hair, as yet untouched by unguents of any kind. '• What lovely hair you have, Jess !•" he said softly. The girl looked up, colouring to her brow. They don't think so down our street. They oall me Cari-ots, 'she replied. "They are brutes, then," said George, What!—that exquisite ruddy gold—is a carrot anything like tbat?" He was still! grasping amass of it in his hand. How 1 should like to paint it! he went on. i., I am an artist, Jess; a painter of pictures and I have often tried to find someone with hair like yours, and never succeeded; but your hair is perfect. Will you let me copy it and p:.t it into .1 picture ?" The girl looked frightened and puzzled. "Shuuldihaveto cut it off f she asked timidly. "Cut it off? No, child 1" said Eastwood, laughing. I oniy want you to come to my studio and let y iur lip r hang over your shoulders for an hour or two, while I try to paint it, though I don't believe that it is possible to re-produce those warm, ruddy tints and goldeu gleaids i

F'R Y'8 PURE CONCENTRATED cocoa: From W. H. STANLEY, M.D., Ac. I consider it a very rich delicious Cocoa. It is b-ghlg concentrated, and therefore economical as a family food It is the drink par txcelloict for Children, and givesM tr uble in making." — i Paris Exhibition, 1889, Gold Medal awarded to J. 6. FRY and SONS. i To secure this Article ask for Fry's Pure Concentrated Cocoa. ¡¡EA70 B

I w CUT THE PAPER AT THE TOP AND PLACE THE SECOND INSIDE THE FIRST HALF.

Jess was looking more than doubtful. u f. don't think granny would let me go," she. murmured. } You would earn far more in that way than by selling flowers," said Eastwood, quickly. I would give you-let me see—half-a-crow^ an hour. Would that do ?" t I must ask granny," said the girl. j II Well, where is granny? Let us see her, and ask her at once. Is she here ?" T Jess glanced up and down the street ratlter, helplessly. II The gentleman frightened her a little by his impatient, masterful way/ although his tones were gentle and his eyes,, looked kind. I think she's at her stall with her basket. she said at length. I'll go and ask ber, if you like-if you don't uiiud waiting for me here." ■ II Shall I come with you ?'' The girl shook her head and started in search of her grandmother. She had picked up her hat, but, as George noticed, with a half-smile, she had not re-placed it on her head, and the long hair still flowed down hot. back in all its splendour. Eastwood had not to wait long. The girf came back, olosely followed by the hobbling old grandmother, who, with shaking baudsi bleared eyes, and bloated face, came wheezing and whimpering to express her sense of obliga*: tion to the gentleman" and her conviction of the honour oonferred upon her girl Jess. Jess should go. Oh, yes, Jess should go and have her picture drawn as natural as life, and her fond granny had always thought deal of her. especially since she had grown up' so beautiful, and no doubt the gentleman would make it worth her while and not grudge a poor old body a trifle That will do," said George Eastwood,' drily. I never said that I thought your grand-daughter beautiful. She has hair of » rather unoommon colour, that is all. I wanti to make a study of it and if she will come to my studio to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock I will pay her well for the time she spends with me." flr1 Mrs. Sarah Flint expended her strength wildly in protestations of gratitude, but Ewrt-, wood did not listen to her. He turned to, Jess. "Can you read? he asked, somewhat abruptly. c She nodded in reply. He had taken a leaf out of his note-book and was rapidly writing a few words on it &a he spoke. 2, feBurnham Studios, Burn- ham-road. That is the address. Come at, eleven to-morrow." j "And ího name, air; the name, if you please ? said the old woman eagerly, with her cunning eyes fixed ravenously upon East- wood's face. The young man hesitated for a moment before he replied. Ask for Mr. Eastwood. It would hardly, do," he reflected uncomfortably, to give quite a false name. Helmont would find me out as sure as a gun, and I can explain to him some time why it is so necessary to get that, girl's hair into my picture. But, confound that old woman, I wish she had not come upon the scene just now! His business was over, and he thought it better not to linger in Mill-street too long. He gave some money to Mrs. Flint and reminded the girl once more of the hour at which she was to be at the Burnham Studiosi,' and then took his leave of the pair, not ill satisfied with his evening's work. ':i: He did not know that he had been watched; throughout the inter view with Jess and he grandmother by the young man whom he had described to Francis Helmont. A dark-faced-t sullen-looking fellow, with fierce, deep-soi eyes, had been holding himself resolutely itt the background; he had slunk along tht pavement close to the houses, his face white* his teeth set, his features fixed in an express sion of almost murderous hate. Eastwood did not see him, Jess did not see him, but the grandmother did and it was perhaps owing to this fact that she allowed the gentleman", to slip away so easily without extracting more blackmail before his departure. If Eastwood did not live at his studio. He, was an artist only by fits and starts; he had an income of his own, and had never appliecl himself seriously to any profession. That for which he had the most talent was cerr tainly painting, and his friends, many of whom strongly disapproved of his becoming an artist at all, said amongst themselves some^ times that there was only one thing thafl George would ever do well, and that yet he would not take the trouble to do it. k; He had rooms about ten minutes' walk from his studio, and the rooms were in the. house of one Mrs. Fogg, who hadj^een lady'lj maid to George Eastwood's mother, and wal exceedingly devoted to him. So devoted w she that he succeeded in persuading her ti help him in a plan which formed itself in hit mind as he was goirife homewards from M il$ street. l) It was in pursuance of his arrangement with her that she was at the door of th* studio next morning, when Jess came timidly up the long flight of steps, at the top which hit studio was plaoed. She had eVl", deutly arrayed herself iu her best for tha occasion. Mrs. Fogg's sharp eye remarked that the cotton frock the girl wore was olèant and that her ungloved hands had been care-, fully washed. As to the wonderful bain about which her master had been so enthu? siastic, Mrs, Fogg just glanced at it and dis< missed it with a contemptuous snort. Jus( carrots," she said to herself as she grimly bad#, the stranger enter, I. Ca.rrots, and nothing more." Jess drew back timidly at the sight of: Mrs, Fogg, who scanned her timidly with. suctl unfriendly eyes. The gentleman told me taf. come," she began, when Eastwood came rush. ing out of his studio and relieved her from her embarrassiiient. Ob, come in, come ii, Jess," he ei-ied. 14 This is Mrs. Fogg, my housekeeper—she'lL show you what I want you to put on and allj that sort of thing. Here's a little room that; you can make into a dressing-room; Fogg will see to that,"