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[NOW FIRST PUBLISH ED.J THE AVENGING HAND. 0. I.. SERIES OF THRILLING DETECTIVE STORIES, BY SIR GILBERT E. CAMPBELL, BART. AUTHOR OF THE JJTSTERT OF MANDEYILLE BQUABB," A WAVE OF EBjLIN POWER," &0., &0. lALL RIGHTS RESERVED, I No. XX. SHOT IN THE iJAClt P no means »"p|o- tainly by no means £ 7?^^ celebrated for their beauty. The Grange was situ- ated on a slightly elevated plateau, some three or four miles in circum- ference, and was built in the hideously debased style of architecture which came into vogue with the Fourth George. An ugly square house, with a tasteless Italian facade, the plaster of which had peeled off in many places, show- ing the rough brickwork behind, whilst the ooating of stucco, which at some for- gotten period must have been white, was now disfigured with green patches of damp, and huge unsightly stains of a dullish red colour, as though some gigantio reptile, which had received a death wound, had crept over the walls in vain efforts to find some place of security. Nearly all the windows were boarded up, and the doors which afforded entrance from the outside were cracked and blistered as if paint was a rare commodity, and only procurable by the most lavish expenditure. Bradeley Grange stood in the centre of an enclosure which had once perhaps been called a park, but which was now utterly unworthy of such a name. the ground was covered with coarse rank grass, at which cattle sniffed and snorted dis- dainfully, whilst here and there were shallow pools of water, utterly devoid of fish, but the haunt of innumerable frogs, newts, efts, and other unpleasant-looking amphibious crea- tures. All about the park were stumps of trees, showing that at one time the place had keen thiskly timbered, and had doubtless pre- sented a very different aspect before it had been so completely denuded of its sylvan orna- ments. Some half a mile in rear of the house, however, were several plantations, the homes of.the extensive stock of pheasants which the present owner bred and preserved with such merciless severity. If the exterior of the house and its surroundings was dull and dis- agreeable, the interior was fully in keeping with them. Long, dreary passages, which seemed to lead to nowhere in particular, iu whioh an unseen presence seemed always to linger by the side of anyone pausing, and a faint phantom-like echo to mock the foot- falls which sounded on the uncovered boards. Half-opened doors showed them rows of lofty and extensive rooms with shapeless masses of forniture piled up in the centre and covered with sacks or worn-out(rick cloths. The paper hung in long sheets from the walls, and when the wind whistled through the long corridors and deserted rooms, as it did at frequent intervals, the rotting wall coverings grated and rubbed against each other with a sound which was inexpressible, eerie, mid dispiriting. Altogether the house and park seemed to have been entirely given <5ver to the hand of neglect, and formed a ourious contrast to the home farm and the fruit and vegetable gardens, which it was evident were most carefully tended. Bradeley Grange had not always been like it was at present. At one time the gravel in front of the house had borne many indentations from the feet of the horses of coming and departing friends, the now deserted rooms had echoed to the sounds of music and revelry, whilst the long array of bedchambers on the upper floor had seldom been without the proper allow- ance of guests. This was shortly after the present owner had come into his inheritance, but a few brief years had brought a complete change. Lawrence Bradeley, at twenty-four, full of buoyant hope and gay spirits, was a very different creature from the tyrannical old despot who now held the reins of power at the Grange. He had married into a oounty family, as wealthy and ancient as his own, and when his young wife died in giving birth to a son, the husband's grief was for a time entirely beyond the power of con- trol. At the beginning of his sorrow he took no dislike to the innocent cause of his loss; indeed, he could hardly bear him out of his eight. He shut up the Grange, saw but little company, and was never seen at the meet or at the rural sports patronised by his equals in the county. At nine years of age the lad, Leonard Bradeley, was sent to the rector of the parish, the Rev. Mr. Cham- berlayne, for educational purposes, and there t was that the squire's downward career com- .menced. He became griping and penurious, was a harsh master to both servants and tenants, and appeared to live for no other purpose than making money. The timber was felled and oarted away, every bit of produce was sent up to London, whilst—and this his neigh- bours oould not forgive-his game, though carefully preserved, was sold to a wholesale poulterer who contracted for it. Not that the squire led an entirely solitary life, for at times he would break out into outbursts of dissipation, and, perhaps for a week or more, drink hard in company with some pot-hoase toadies, who formed the court of which he was a little king. These bouts of hard living were, however, followed by months of the severest economy, and it was during one of these that he withdrew his son from the publio school, at which, at Mr. Chamberlayne's suggestion, he had placed him, and bringing him back to the Grange, informed him that his time for idling had gone by, and that he must expect now to work for his living. To Leonard Bradeley the change was a terrible one, and the mean and sordid sur- roundings almost more than he could bear. He was a bright, handsome lad of eighteen years of age when he was torn away from the sooiety of his equals, and doomed to mix either with farm servants or the disreputable crew which at certain times was admitted to his father's table. He had a great taste for reading, but if he now attempted to take a book in his hand, it brought down upon his head a storm of vituperations and insult from his father, with a string of saroastio remarks about fine gentlemen who wanted their bread and butter for nothing. lie loathed and dis- liked the farm-work upon which he was em- ployed, but in time a feeling of despair crept over him as he performed his task with the regularity of a machine. In spite, how- ever, of his taste for literature, he was fond of field sports, a good rider and a sure shot, and as this last acoomplishment was of great service in killing the game for the London market, he was, during the shooting season, to a great extent relieved from the drudgery of farm-work. Five years had passed since Leonard Brade- ley's return from school, and he had grown up into a tall, handsome young man, but with a shadow of inexpressible sadness pervading his features. He had picked up none of the habits or the expressions of those who were his everyday associates, and the gentry of the county, though they had unjustly included the lad in the sentence of ostracism poured upon the father, could not help casting glances of pity upon him as they met him returning wearily from his daily toil, or gun in hand going forth on his errand of butchery to some distant covert. It was a bright, cheerful day towards the close of October, and Leonard was leaning against the doorposts enjoying the genial rays of the sun, when he heard the harsh voice of his father shouting. Leonard, Leonard," from the interior of the house. The young man shrugged his shoulders, and seemed at first disinclined to obey the summons, but obedience had so grown upon him that after an instant's reflection he turned round and walked down the gloomy passage which led to his father's peculiar sanctum. This was a small chamber, cdjoining the servants' offices, and which had formerly been the butler's pantry, as was evident by the shelves and cupboards which the squire found handy for his account books, samples, &c. Half-a-dozen guns were placed in a rack over the mantel-pieoe, a rough kitchen table stood in the centre of the uncarpeted floor, half-a-dozen Windsor chairs were placed here and there, and a barrel of small beer, with a battered pewter measure standing upon it, completed the furniture of this desirable living-room. The one window bad not had its glass cleaned for months, and the air was faint with the reek of stale tobacco. The squire was seated upon the edge of the table, swinging his feet backwards and for- wards there was a deep soowl upon his brow, and the instant his son entered the room he addressed him in his usual coarse and bullying manner. So, Mr. Fiue Gentleman," said he, "I heard With an absolute howl of rage tin Squire sprang at his son." a nice account of you last night; now I want to know whether it's truth or lies; where were you ?" I had finished all the work I had to do," replied his son, and I thought I might take a walk." And where did you go to p" demanded the squire, as the young man paused. I went to Orpminster," answered Leonard. Curse you," roared his father. "Am I to get a corkscrew to drag the words out of you. What were you doing in Orpminster ? Now, now, it wasn't market day. Come, make a clean breast of it, or it will be the worse for you." II I went to the cavalry barracks," answered the young man, boldly," and asked one of the troop sergeant-majors a few questions about enlistment. Anything would be preferable to the dog's life I lead here." For an instant the squire was almost speech- less with rage, but at length his anger found vent. And do you mpan to say you have thought of enlisting, without even condescending to ask me P" stammered he at length. 1 have not only thought of it, but am still going to," replied Leonard. You are always grumbling about the expense I am to you, and, besides, I am over age and can do what I like to earn an honest livelihood." Had this been the only grievance which the squire had against his son, it may be that the young man's bold demeanour might have claimed the day; unfortunately, however, there was something mora in the baokground. And where did you go to after your con- versation with the red-coated butcher ?" demanded he. Leonard gazed steadily at his father, ba t made no reply. I can tell you," roared the squfre, you went to old Cllfcmberlayne, the lying thief who said that I was an unnatural father because I kept you here to work honestly, and did not send you off to college to fool away more money in a month than I spend in a year. That's where you went, isn't it." Still Leonard remained silent, and after a short pause, his father oontinued. "And I'll tell you why you went to the villain's house; it was to dangle after that fine stuck up minx of a daughter of his, Ella Chamberlayne. Do you think I haven't enough to do to keep two paupers, but am going to let you bring another one here. Not 1, my lad your old father is not such a fool as that by a long way." Still net a word from Leonard, though the oolour which rose to his oheeks and forehead showed that the last shaft had penetrated his armour of impenetrability which he had donned for the encounter. "A rare young fool you must be/ sneered the squire, enraged by the young man's! silenoe, to go running after a girl who has flirted with every officer in the barracks, and has only picked up with a boy like you because better men have flung her over." Stop I" exclaimed Leonard, in a voice so utterly passionate that his father hardly recognised it. "Stop I I do not permit any one to speak disrespectfully of Miss Cham- berlayne in my presence." You do not permit," sneered the squire. A mighty fine fellow you have become all of a sudden. What do you intend to do, eh P As you are unhappily my father," re- torted Leonard, "I have no alternative ex- cept to quit your presence, but I tell you I wish to heaven the relationship to cease be- tween us, for then--oh then- Don't let that stand in your way, you swaggering young fire-eater," exclaimed the squire, placing himself so as to prevent his son leaving the room. I am able to take care of myself, and I tell you again, your Ella Chamberlayne is a Before the abusive epithet could cross his lips, Leonard had grasped him by the collar, and sent him whirling across the room until he was brought up by the opposite wall, and then turning round, he boldly faced the infuriated man, his flashing eye and heav- ing chest showing how deeply he resented the insult offered to the woman upon whom he had set his affections. 11 11." W llh an absolute howl of rage the squire sprang at his son ha had a heavy dog-whip in his hand. Scarcely knowing what he did, he lashed the young man sharply across the face, a livid scar rising at once where the stroke had fallen. Before he could realise what had taken place, Leonard seized him with a grip of iron, pinioned him with one hand, and with the other tearing the whip from his hand, tore it to pieces, arid sent the fragments into the soanty fire upon the hearth, then with a look of dignified reproach he left the room, and resumed his old position on the doorstep. He had already done so when Sam Baxter, the keeper, came up, and touching his hat, asked if the squire was going to shoot the home ooverts that day. He is in his room; you had better ask him," returned Leonard, laconically. So unaccustomed was the keeper to receive a curt answer from his young master, that he gazed cpon him with some surprise, and for the first time caught a glimpse of the mark on his face. "My word, Master Leonard," said he. What is the matter with your face, it is all broken like ?" U My father struck me," replied Leonard, coldly, "but it is the last time, he shall nover raise his hand to me again. 1 have a way to stop that, once and for ever." The keeper would have questioned him further, but with a motion of his hand! Leonard desired him to enter the house and leave him alone. For fully a quarter of an hour he was left to his own dreary medita- tions, when he was aroused by a squeaky voice at his elbow, and looking downward saw a ragged looking urchin of about fourteen years of age standing beside him. Ned Tupper was a well-known character about the farm, and usually acted as the squire's aide-de-camp, oonveying messages from one part of the estate to the other. His parents had been farm labourers on the pro- perty. His father was killed by a reaping machine, and when Squire Bradeley found that the widow could not pay her rent, he evicted her on a cold winter's night, and she died of exposure and hunger in the attempt to reach some friends she had on the other side of Orpminster. Whether the squire felt that he was indirectly the cause of her death was never known for o«rt»iafcyv but be took poawssfloTi or the orphan kd, audgave him the run of the kitchen until he was of an age to work, when he was at once sent to bird scaring and other simple labours. The squire was always brutal to him, but the lad, who by many was not supposed to be in his right mini, followed him about with a dog-like fidelity, heedless of the kicks and blows which his presence by his master's side inevitably brought down upon him. Do you want me, Ned ?" demanded Leonard. Yes," returned the boy. Squire says as how he be agoing to shoot the home coverts, as the man up in Lunnun have sent down a big order for pheasants, and you've to look sharp." Very well," answered the young man, list- lestly, but making no attempt to go and pre- pare for the day's work. Very well, Ned, that will do." Better look sharp, Master Leonard," paused the urchin. Squire be in a rare taking he be; look what he give I for not understanding what he wanted right off," and pulling off his battered felt hat, the lad showed that his tangled hair was saturated with blood, which was flowing from a freshly inflioted cut on the top of his head. Banged me over the nut he did with his stick," said the boy. I wonder you stand it, Ned," remarked Leonard, looking compassionately at the tattered figure before him. "I won't, and I am going to make an end of it to-day." Why, Lor' bless your 'art, Master Leonard, everybody says as how the squire be my bene- factor, and that if he did kill mother by a turning her out in the snow, he tuk charge o' me an'1I make a man o' me yet." Leonard gazed for a moment at the tatter- demalion before him, and then with a deep sigh turned away to make preparations for the morning's slaughter, which he could not look upon in the guise of sport. As he did so his father, followed by the keeper, came out of the house. Well, Leonard boy," said the former, attempting to convert his harsh, forbidding physiognomy with a Bmiling face. "Let bygones be bygones. If I did clout you over the face, you gave me a rare hit first. There's more pluck in you, lad, than I had thought. Come, shake hands and be friends. You know I was a bit on the booze the past week, and the oross drop is always the last one that remains." Leonard's face grew livid, and he made no effort to grasp the hand which his father ex- tended towards him. I will never forgive you either the insult to Miss Chamberlayne or the blow," said he, between his clenched teeth. And to-day I will take such measures as will put it out of your power to strike me again, either wiih your tongue or your whip." And with these words he turned into the house to prepare for the expedition agaiust the pheasants. The lad's turned vioious, eh, Sam," re- marked the squire, with a short uneasy laugh. Ah, he'll get over it in a day or two, but I ain't going to have him bringing Parson Chamberlayne's girl to roost here, not if I know it. You wait for his lordship here, and I'll get forward. My old bones ache to-day, so I'll go to the other end and stop fur and feather as it comes out. I'm good enough for that yet. So you and the young master go through the covert along with the beaters, and mind we must have a big haul to-day, for we've a heavy order to make up, Ned. Ned Tupper, you young thief, come and bring my gun. Confound the young varmint, he is never to be found when he's wanted, I'll out his liver out when I catch him," and with these words of good omen for Master Tupper, the squire strode away in the direction of the home preserves. After a short interval Leonard made his appearance properly equipped, and accom- panied Sam Baxter to the spot where the beaters were assembled, and after a few brief words of command the preserve was entered and the butchery began. Squire Bradeley had not uttered a vain boast when he said that he would stop any- thing that came out of the tangled mass of underwood. Standing about ten yards from a deep ditch which ran round the covert, he brought down everything which came within range, and the ground near was soon covered with the victories of his well-trained hand and eye. As the approach of the beaters and the shots in cover came near, he approached close to the edge of the ditch, and turning his back to the copse, kept a keen watoh to the right and left. Just then two cock pheasants came rocketing over his head, and the squire, making a magnificent right and left shot, brought them both to the ground. One, however, was not so hard hit as the other, and began slowly and painfully to flutter away in the direction of a small brook, which ran at right angles to the plantation. The squire, who had now reloaded his gun, noticed this, and, laying his fowling piece upon the edge of the ditch, hastened after the winged bird. lie had hardly gone ten yards, however, than a sound like a double shot was heard, and with a deep groan Squire Bradeley fell for- wards upon his face and lay motionless upon the turf, which soon began to be crimsoned with his blood. There had been warm work in the covert previous to this, and Leonard and Sam Baxter had had no time for conversation. The cries of the beaters, the rattling of their sticks, the whining of the pheasants as they rose, and the report of the breech-loaders, formed a chaos of sounds which would have bewildered any bat an experienced hand. The line of beaters had now nearly reached the end of the covert, and Sam Baxter, taking the opportunity of a momentary lull, edged his way towards the young master, and said: I say, Master Leonard, if I were you I'd make it up with the squire. I never saw him so meek and mild afore. Now that you have shown him that you havo a spark of the devil in you, depend on it, he won't tread you down as he has done." "I will never make it up with him," oried Leonard fiercely, and 1 tell you, Baxter, that to-day will see the end of his tyranny." As he finished this ambiguous sentence a hare started from a hillock of grass, and made its waytowards theena of the covert. Leonard pointed his gun at it. "Stop, for Heaven's sake," cried the keeper. Your father is just the other side of the hedge." The oaution came too late, for the report rang out, but the hare bounded away un- scathed. It was the first shot Leonard Bradeley had missed that day. The little party soon emerged from the plantation, and the first object which met their eyes was the body of the master of Bra- deley Grange, stretched prone upon the ground. Every care was at once bestowed upon him, but it was only too evident that ".And with a deep rj-oan Sql':¡'f Bradeley fell for- ward upon his f.ice." life was extinct, and Sam Baxter, though he said nothing, could not forbear castiug a meaning glance upon his young master. Leonard Bradeley's face, however, was im- passible; he said little, but the orders he gave were clear and ooncise. A neighbour- ing gate was taken off its hinges, a few coats laid on it; and upon this the dead body was placed, and the sad procession took its way back to the Grange. The affair was a very puzzling one; the dead man had been shot in the back of the spine, and death must have been in- stantaneous. From the position of the wound it was impossible that it could have been self- inflicted, besides, his gun was found lying upon the edge of the ditch undischarged. People began to talk and shake their heads farm labourers are prone to gossip, and a climax was put to the affair by Ned Tu pper inno- cently remarking that perhaps after all it was as well the old squire had died, as blaster Leonard had threatened to do for him. When pressed to explain what he meant by this statement, he repeated the words Leonard had made use of more than once, that he would take such steps that day as would paevent his father insulting or striking him again. Sam Baxter, on being interrogated, reluc- tantly corroborated the half-witted lad's statement, but declared that they were only due to the natural irritation felt by the young master on being struck, and that he did not for a moment believe that they had the meaning ascribed to them. The mem- bers of the inquest, however, took another view of the matter, and a verdiot of Wilful murder" was returned against Leonard Bradeley, who was shortly after arrested upon a warrant issued by one of the neighbouring magistrates. When brought up for examina- tion he simply protested his innocence and declared that the words he had made use of had reference to his enlisting, and so remov- ing himself from his father's tyranny, and to prove this he called the troop-sergent-majot1 with whom he had discoursed the subject. As for shooting his father intentionally it was impossible for him to have done so, as from the thickness of the underwood and the branches of the trees it was impossible to see out of the covert. When Baxter called on him to take care it was too late, for his finger bad already pressed the trigger, but the oaution was sufficient to disturb his arm and cause him to miss the hare. The magistrate, who sympathised deeply with the young man, remanded him for a week in the hopes that some evidence might be brought forward which might obviate the necessity of his sending his case for trial. Great sympathy*was manifested for the un- happy prisoner throughout the county, but the only one who took a decisive step was the l.'ev. Mr <^Lo^b»>rlayne. Both that gentle- mau and llt klla ware thorniurh^ convinced of the prisoner's innocence, and the clergyman despatched a letter to a gentle- man who held a high position in the Home De- partment, and who had been a chum of his at- Oxford. The result was that in the course of a couple of days, a slim, quiet little man with an intelligent cut of features came to the rectory, and bad a busy conversation with the Rev. Mr. Chamberlayne. The two visited the scene of the tragedy, and the detective, for such the rector's visitor was, minutely in- spected the ditch, and the hedge surrounding the plantation. When he had completed his work, he addressed the rector in the following words, You said, sir, that the medical offioer deposed that the victim had been shot in the back, with a charge of No. 3 shot. Is not that rather a larger size than is usually used for pheasant shooting ?" Ii It is," replied the Hev.Mr. Chamberlayne, but what has that to do with clearing Leonard ?'' I'd rather you would leave it to me, if you have no objection, sir," returned the detective. When can I see Samuel Baxter, that was the keeper's name, if I remember rightly." Yes," replied the 15cv, Mr. Chamberlayne, "if you want to talk to him privately, as I pre- sume you do, you had better see him at the rectory I can send for him." "If you please, sir," returned the man and after that I leave the place, Orpminster I mean, and perhaps if after to-day you see me you won't take any notice of me, though I don't think you will know me," added the detective with a faint chuckle. The next day, about three in the afternoon, a weary and shirt-sleeved knife-grinder wheeling his prof, ssional barrow before him, appeared in the straggling street of Bradeley village. and after refreshing himself at the local alehouse, the Moon and Seven Stars, declared that he was too dog-tired to do a handsturn of work that day, and so would give himself a holiday until the morrow. After this declaration, he sat himself down on a bench outside the public-house, and lighting his pipe, soon colleoted a crowd of gaping villagers around him by the wonderful riddles he asked, his fluency in relating the gossip of Lendon town, and the quickness with which he parried and related the jokes of the pro- fessed village jester. I'm going to be a 'gentleman for the future," remarked he, after one of his most brilliant sallies, and want a boy to wheel my barrow for me. I don't want too sharp a lad, for he might learn the secrets of the trade too soon. Besides, so many fair ladies take a fancy to me in my travels, that I don't want anyone too fly, you know, but just a simple chap like myself." "Then take half-witted Ned Tupper," re- marked the village Dagonet, who was indig- nant at the success of the stranger, and there'll be two fools in the business. Haw, haw, haw, George had ye there, tinker," cried the rustics. In the first place, gentlemen, I am not a tinker, but a professional sharpener of cutlery, and, in the second place, I should not take George's estimate of intellect, for, being a fool himself, he naturally takes everyone else for one," answered the knife-grinder; but let me see this same Ned Tupper." In a few momenta the ragged figure of the lad was pushed into the ring of spectators, and placed within a couple of f&et of the knife- grinder. A nd so, boy," said the latter magniloquently, "you want to travel and im- prove your mind, do you ? Quite right; but have you quite made up your mind?" Yes," answered the lad, drawing back bis lips and showing his white dog-like teeth, old master what killed mother and purvided for me is shot dead, and young master is agoing to be hanged for it, so there ain't no place for I at the Grange, d ye'ee'" "Quite so, quite so," returned the pro- fessional sharpener of cutlery, as he had grandiosely wttio** iii»<nir, 1: mmn rrwn your general appearance íiJU wr,ldLi suio inc. You ain't such a tremendous fool as our friend George here, but you'll do well enough, and he's a bit too stiff in the joints, and too ugly by a long ohalk to do credit to my establish- ment. Just turn round and let me have a look at your togs, which seem a bit out of repairs." Ned Tupper did as he was ordered, and a faint smile of triumph stole over the knife- grinder's features as be cast one searching glance at the dilapidated costume. "Ah, well," remarked he, with a sigh, they are just good enough for decency and we must not fret too much. Come to me in an hour, boy, and we'll settle matters, and now my worthy friends, good evening. I'm just going up to my room for a little, to manufac- ture a fresh stock of jokes, for 1 have wasted all mine upon George, there." And with this parting shot, the knife-grinder returned into the ale-house, leaving the villagers to congra- tulate Ned Tupper upon his luck in securing so talented a master. I Two days after these events the Rev. Mr. Chamberlayne received a thick letter, and on opening it saw that it's contents consisted of two or three sheets of paper neatly written. Page number one was headed: Report of Mark Alton, detective, in his inquiry into the death of Laurence Bradeley, Ksqnire, of Bradeley Grange, Fenshire. Having been ordered to go down to Fen- shire and inquire into this case, I put, myself in communication with the Rev. Poarce Chamberlayne, rector of Orpminster, and from him received much valuable information. With the reverend gentleman I visited the scene of the accident or murder, whatever it might turn out to be, and made a thorough investigation of it. In the ditch I found a number of empty oartridge cases evidently thrown aside as the deceased had re-loaded, but in addition in a bramble was a dirty piece of corduroy with a common brass breeches button attached to it. I inquired of Mr. Chamberlayne what dress Mr. Btadeley wore on the day of his death, and was informed that he had on a brown velveteen suit and leather garers. I put by the scrap of corduroy, and on my return to the vicarage had a long talk with Samuel Baxter, the keeper. After a few unimportant questions I asked him what shot the squire used, and he answered — The squire would always use No. 3, tho' I used to tell him it was a sin and a shame, for it knocked the birds about so." Then," remarked C, carelessly, I suppose the young man used the same number.' "'No, be didn't,' returned the keeper, sharply. He used No. 5 as a decent respec- table man should, and he did so on that day, for ho came to the plantation with his cart- ridge bag empty. You know he had been having a bit of a breeze with the old squire, and that had put him out. This didn't matter, however, for I had plenty, and gave him a stock of my own, which were all No. 5, for I loaded them p"u "I Thank you, keeper,- says I, T wont trouble you any more,' and off he goes. So it seems the old squire was the only one who used No. 3 shot, and the doctor says it was with that number that he was finished off, therefore someone must have shot him with his own gun. Now, who was that P Well, the next day I came down in the knife-grinder's lay, and hung about Bradeley, playing the giddy goose with thf villagers. Amongst other things I pretended 1 wanted a boy, not that I did, but I hadn't quite made up my mind how to work the case, when to my surprise they pushed a lad into thn rin £ » dressed in tattered clothes of tht: material and colour as the bit of oordu. had picked up in the ditch. I persuaded hi- p katurn kaujuI to .6 ..J-.