Papurau Newydd Cymru
Chwiliwch 15 miliwn o erthyglau papurau newydd Cymru
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Cuddio Rhestr Erthyglau
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CHAPTER XIII.—THE AUTO-DA-FE.
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BY THOMAS COBB, AUTHOR OF "THE HOUSE BY THE COMMON," WEDDERBTJRN'S WILL," "THE WEST- LAKES," ETC., ETC. CHAPTER XIII.—THE AUTO-DA-FE. WANTED a word SB! yow,doctor,"said Ml Arnold Derwent, way- I !i layin» Dr- Viret as '1R Iie came downstairs \V,WwSr\\ llslha ^rom Ann's room the Y i|)||ff following morning. x W! IE "Doyou mind coming g|.pBR yggBBSIBIB fact is, I think I've H'm you haven't ■ ■ —• 1 ■ been long about it," Ejaculated Dr. Viret, following him into the room. "I can say that for myself," Arnold con- tinued, "when once I'm on the job I precious soon knock it off. About this woman Lizzie saw in the village Monday night." "Lizzie is a fool. If that is your clue, I don't think it will help you much." "That's where you're wrong," said Arnold, as Florence quietly joined them. "At least the wench may be a fool, probably is, but that doesn't affect her eyesight. She saw somebody right enongh. You know Fair- ford next doorJ" "No, I don't know him," wa.s the reply. "Nobody knows the man. Perhaps he doesn't want to be known. Sensible "Father knew Mr. Fairford," Florence interposed, looking down at the carpet. "Anyway, lie was in here last night," said Arnold. "It is a fact that the woman was prowling about on Monday night. Now, why not the night of the 4th of March too? And if so, a hundred to one she saw Uncle Roderick." "And yet hold her tongue about it!" ex- claimed Dr. Viret, incredulously. "Extremely unlikely! Women are generally ready enough to talk, Heaven knows." "Oh, you make me tired Of course, if you sit upon every suggestion, it's no use going on. I merely state a theory; if it won't work, give it up and try another; only, at least, let it have a chance. You can't deny there's a good deal that's fishy. I'll swear the woman is connected with Fair- ford—most likely his wife." "What do you mean?" Dr. Viret demanded. "What makes you say that?" "She must live somewhere. Fairford is supposed to have the house next door to himself—rot! Now, why has he never even hinted at her existence, doctor?" "Surely," said Florence, "Mr. Fairford may have excellent reasons for keeping his own counsel, which don't concern us." "Oil, no doubt he has the. best of reasons l" Arnold retorted "She never appears oj ay —Aa regular night bird. Ion can't deny that fit looks fishy, doctor." Dr. Viret hesitated, and looked extremely judical for a few moments. "If there is such a person in existence.' he admitted, "no doubt it does look Strang;. But is there? You have only this silly woman's testimony; and even if that is to be depended upon how do you know that she is connected with Fairford?" "Because he gave himself away so beau- tifully. Unmistakable. Florence saw it too. She began to tell us about Lizzie's fright, and the man was like a ghost. Oh, there's no doubt he knows just all about her." "Well, then, granting all that," said Dr. Viret, "it does not follow that she can tell you anything about Mr. Derwent. If so, of course she would have spoken long before IlûW; and the idea of her being actually connected with the crime is absurd—she would have no earthly., motive." Arnold thrust his hands deep in his trou- sers pockets, and looked up into Dr. Viret's face somewhat pertly. "Have you never heard, of a murder with- out a motive?" he asked. "Oh, Arnold; cried Florence. "You can't think she "Look here, Floy," said Arnold. "I have told you already, I'm only trying to start a working theory. You've heard of homi- cidal mania, doctor, I suppose? imagine If, this woman is a. lunatic." "I should have to imagine she was kept under proper control as well, Mr. Derwent." "She ought to be—granted. It doen't fol- low she is. Suppose she's Fairford's wife— and a luny In order to avoid putting her awav he hides her. She is liable to periodi- cal attacks of mania. You must have come. across hosts of such cases. This particular night—the night of Uncle Roderick's disap- pearance—she runs mad at the wrong time." "Absurd Impossible e xclaimed DJ Viret. "I never heard anything more ridi- culous in all my life, never. Such a woman would leave the body where it lay." He glanced anxiously at Florence's pale face as he ceased speaking. And she, despite the improbability of his theory, could not pre- vent, it from tormenting her. Her poor father and. poor Owen also It might be true, and he ignorant qr it might- be ridi- culously untrue, as Dr. Viret avowed. Arnold's dogmatic, eager manner lent the suggestion a kind of plausibility, and save Inspector Holt's no other theory had been propounded. "No, no, not so fast," said Arnold. "Some of these lunies are devilish cunning, ju she of these lunies are devilish cunning, L she is not wrong in her mind, how do you ac- count for her way of living-for all this confounded mystery ? If she is not mad, what is she?" After Dr. Viret had expressed his dissent with increased force and gone back to his laboratory Arnold still continued the dis- cussion, and though Florence presently left him to seek Ann she was compelled to meet him at meals, when she heard the argu- I ment restated. "You know," he said, after dinner that evening, "I'm working for you quite as much as myself. Come to that, I don't want to injure the woman or your friend Fairford either. They may bath be as innocent as I am, and that's just what I want to find out." "But how, ArnoM? What can you do?" "That's a matter for consideration," he replied. "I'll hav@ a pipe and turn it over in my mind. Osse thing is plain: I can't touch a penny of Uncle Roderick's money till I prove his deatlft. But I shan't stop there, Floy. This old place wouldn't be habitable without you. You haven't forgotten the old times. They were good times. I often thought of them when I was away." "At Teneriffe, Arnold?" "Ah he cried, with a pleasant laugh, "one to you, that You may not believe it, but I often used to think of your dragging me out after primroses in the wood. Remem- toer. that day I bagged the pheasant's eggs, and they broke in my pocket? The truth, about me is just this, Floy: if you stick to me, I can keep straight; but if you don't —w»U, I shall go to the deuce headlong. I'm .just imperfect without jou, aasd with you — "You are perfect, Arnold?" she suggested, with a- smile, albeit a rather sad one. "At all events, I'm as good as most Johnnies," he retorted. "I may not be able to write poetry, like Uncle Roderick. I never believed in that rot. But my bat- ting average was twenty the last season I played, and I can fights-there, I don't want to brag and whatever I am, your word is law, and you can twist me around your little finger, Floy." He had, at least, furnished her with food for reflection. Had she really so much in- fluence over him? and, if so, could it be turned to a useful purpose, to induce him to relinquish his idea. of attempting to probe Owen's secret? For of this she felt certain: nothing could result but disaster, of what nature she dreaded to imagine. Her own curiosity had become extreme, her curiosity to learn whether the woman she believed to live at Forest Prospect was Owen's wife. About the hour when Florence retired to Ann's room for the night, Joe Bodger hap- pened to be standing at the back window of his bedroom admiring: the moon, low down over the tree tops. The house had been in darkness some time, and the night being fine he was wondering whether or not the person in whom he felt so deep an in- terest would set forth. Though he had fol- lowed her on every oceassion but one, when he had seen her quit the house, and was not far off on the occasion of Lizzie's fright, having indeed just succeeded in hiding him- self in time to avoid detection, he had never discovered any purpose in her peregrinations. She went out, usually taking the same direc- tion, and came home again; and, at the pre- sent rate, a year might elapse and Joe none the wiser. He stood at his window, staring at the sinking moon, lamenting his impo- tence, when suddenly he distinguished a patch of flickering light thrown on to the garden bed, which a few moments before looked quite black. What did that. light- signify? Well, it seemed to point to the fact that someone was in the kitchen, ap- parently making up a blazing fire there. How could Joe obtain a view of this apart- I ment he was so familiar with? After a few minutes' reflection, he formed his plans, and, taking one or two useful implements, set forth to carry them out. At the side of the house was a window, that of the scullery, and before it a kind of sunk area. Into this Joe descended, but not only was the window shut, its green cotton blind was drawn down. Otherwise he might have easily commanded a, view of the kitchen, there being a door between it and the scullery, which was seldom closed. But he dared not open the window, lest Owen should hear. Taking a chisel from his pocket, he passed it deftly round the pane, cutting deep into the putty on three sides, and holding it in position with his extended fingers whilst he loosened the fourth. He next removed the pane of glass, laying it carefully upon the edce of the area, and, putting his chisel away, took out a razor. vVhilst- he pressed its keen edge against the blind. he held his breath. The noise of the incision might attract attention; Owen might even be looking his way at the moment the blade penetrated. For that it was Owen in 'ra the kitchen he felt no doubt whatever. The sound of flames reached Joe's ears; what were they intended to destroy? One cut downwards an inch long, two at right angles, and a. flap was formed, which he lost no time in drawing back. His right eye immediately sought the hole.. He could command a full view of one half of the kitchen. Watching the flames, Owen stood, his arms folded, his face lighted bv the fire, wearing an expression of loath- ing and disgust. After disappearing a moment, he re-en- tered Joe's field of vision, carrying a large brown paper parcel, which he flung into the grate, afterwards pressing it down with the tongs. Again he disappeared, this time re- turning with a bottle; uncorking it, lie emptied the contents upon the fire, starting back alertly as the flames burst forth with renewed vigour. Owen's profile stood out. distinct and clear as he sat upon one corner of the plain table, his arms folded, his lips firmly set, until the flames grew smaller and the shadows danced more weirdly on the ceiling and wails, and at last they grew dim, and died out al- together. Then Owen left the kitchen, and Joe quietly opened tlte window and entered it. But though he lighted a. candle and raked over the ashes, he could discover nothing to afford a clue to their origin. It was an hour later when he made his exit, as much at a loss as ever, but not before placing the pane of glass at the bottom of the area, and cautiously setting his foot upon it. Perhaps M Cawdrey would imagine that it had ?«>«*> out at all events, with all he.' watch- ful she would scarcely suspect Joe of h •, dl.
CHAPTER XIV.—ARNOL MAKES;…
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CHAPTER XIV.—ARNOL MAKES; A CALL. "How's old Ann, Floy?" asked Arnold, at breakfast on Saturday morning. "Had a. pretty good night?" "A night of great pain," was the answer. "Every now and then she starts up in agony. Dr. Viret says she will die in one of these paroxysms." "Angina pectoris, that's true enough," he "Y said, sagely. "You ought to have a nurse. The idea of your having this sort of thing night after nicdit!" "There is the expense to be considered," she replied, rather wearily. "You forget that Dr. Viret practically pays for everything. Besides, Ann is not an ordinary servant; I like to do what I can for her." "Oh, all right, if that's the case," he exclaimed, rising abruptly. "By the bj e, Floy, I'm going to make a little call." "Where?" she asked, looking up quickly. "Next door, to be sure." "Oh, Arnold "Why not?" he demanded. "Why shouldn't I return Fairford's visit? Not much harm in looking up a friend of, yours and Uncle Roderick's, is there, Floy? What Ime you got to say against it? You've no reason, I'll swear." "Never mind my reason, Arnold. I am sure you won't go. I don't want you to, go. I ask you to oblige me by staying away." "Look here, Floy," he answered, "there's hardly -anything you can ask me I won't do gladly." "One can generally obtain what one does not want," she returned. "There is nothing else I wish to ask you, but I do very par- ticularly want you to oblige me in this." As she sat gazing eagerly into his face, he brought a chair to her side, and, resting his arms upon the table, leaded across it. "Don't you want to learn the truth about U IWle Roderick 1" he deaaaatbd, "Of course, you know I do You know how anxious I am to learn the truth. But neither Mr. Fairford nor—nor any one at his house can have the slightest glimmering 'g g of an idea of it, Not any more than you yourself have." "I haven't a scrap. How should I have, considering I was not even in England at the time? But she knows; the more I think of it- the more sure I become." "Then," she said, rising, and drawing her- self erect, so that he forgot Owen for the moment to admire her glorious form, "you refuse to oblige me? I ask you to do just this one simple thing. and you say no." "T'd a deuced sight,rather say yes," he] replied; "and it's for vour sake 1 stand firm quite as much as nr" own." -L "That," she retorted, "is perfect nonsense. I don't want you to do anything for my sake." "Well," he urged, "if you really believe the woman is ignorant, where is the b&rm in my calling upon Fairford? Why should you be so precious anxious she shouldn't ue run to earth?" She flushed prettily. "Not for that reason at all," she answered. "But you believe this—this person lives at Forest Prospect." "So do you, Floy." "And if she does, that Mr. Fairford wishes to keep his own counsel concerning her? I hate this notion of prying into another per- ,so "That begs the entire question. I main- tain it is my affair-very much my affair. It's not as though I intended to give myself away. It's true I mean to go, but he will never know why. Just a, friendly look up. you know." "Friendiy!" she exclaimed, contemp- tuously, and, leaving him, went away to L) torment herself by wondering whether, in her secret desire to help Owen, she had not been betrayed too far. Was she so sure that this person had no connection, however inno- cent, with her father's disappearance? Was she prepared to forego a knowledge of the truth sooner than bring further trouble upon Owen? For of one thing she felt no doubt: whatever explanation of the mystery might eventually be forthcoming, it must neces- sarily redound to Owen's credit. Concerning' Arnold she felt a fresh dis- appointment. So this was the extent of her influence over him, which he had vaunted. The day before yesterday he declared she possessed power to make or mar his life; this morning he refused to give up on desire in order to please her. Fortune, favouring the bold, perhaps, dis- covered Owen on his doorstep when the visitor arrived at Forest Prospect about eleven o'clock. "A jolly morning," he exclaimed, in that peculiarly ja.unty, cordial manner of his. "So precious dull at home, I thought I'd give you a look up. I see you're an idle man like myself, so I'll just make myself at home, and walk in." For a moment Owen seemed to hesitate, and Arnold began to expect a rebuff. Then Owen stepped into the hall. "Oh, come in," he said, in a tone which would have repulsed a less thick-skinned man. "Come into the dining-room, if you don't mind. You'll have a drink?" <<m^a-nks. The worst of a house with a woman at the head of it. She never under- stands a Johnny's wants. You can't find it very frolicsome here," he added, helping She is a woman, Derwent,' said Owen, and his fists were nervously clenched." himself from the whisky and the syphon which Owen took from the sideboard. "No, I don't," answered IViti..d, fol- lowing his gist's example, and sitting down. "Aiy oqusin tells me you live alone, too. Owen nocked asseinit. How on. f '< n,, c ('I' kiU time? By killing birds, I suppose? Shoot at e.1 "In April?" asked Owen, with i smile. "I forgot. To tell vou the truth, I think I'm going dotty. My head has only got one idea in it just now. You see, I have all my work cut out. Imagine my posi- tion-a thousand a, year ready to drop into my hands, and yet devil a sou can I touch until I prove my uncle's death. It isn't so much that I am actuated by a desife to punish the murderer "If he was murdered." "Well, what do you think?" "I try to keep an open mind until I see some mere evidence," answered Owen. "That be hanged! cried Arnold, whose bead soon became affected. "You can't help having a, theory." "If I were bound to express an opinion," said Owen, coldly, "I should say Mr. Der- went committed suicide." "Then where on earth is the body?" "If I could answer that question, the truth would have :;sn known long ago. No doubt Mr. Derwent was beside himself with grief. His bed had not been disturbed he Had not lain down that night. He was heard to call his dead wife at eleven o'clock—a sign his mind was unhinged, at all events for the m: in-ent. I don't agree with inspector Holt that he merely went away, simply because I know of many cases where suicides have evidently tried to hide all traces of their acts. God help them t" "Well," answered Arnold, leaning exci- tedly forward, "I'll tell you what I believe. You remember mv cousin's story about the housemaid, and what she saw ?" Arnold waited for an answer,, but none was forthcoming. Owen's face, however, be- came a shade paler, and taking a glass ae filled it from the syphon, and moistened his lips. "You remember that?" Arnold insisted. "Yes, I remember that." The recollection apparently caused him anything but satis- faction. "Very well. Now it's evident this woman prowls about the village at night. "Evident that she was walking m the village one night, perhaps." "Who is she?" Arnold demanded, j'eanin further across the table. "Nobody knows who she is, where she lives. Nobody but this servant of ours ever saw her. Musn't tbtre be some pictty strong reason for V.«ep- ing her dark?" "I should imagine so." Owen moistened his lips a second time. I "Supose sthe's a luny "I beg your pardon?" "A lunatic—out of her mind, off her Head, dotty, you know." I Owen smarted perceptibly. "Suppose she's a luny "Yes, yes; I quite undenstaindi, "I wish to Heaven I did!" Arnold ex- claimed. "Well, then suppose, again, she encountered my uncle that night of the fourth of March 1" Owen rose, and walking to tihe window stood looking out of it. q "My imagination aM; stooog enoiigftt ha said, "Fairford, cried Arnold, rising unpe- tuously, and cio-miing behind him, "I de- clare to God I'll run that woman to earth "She may be as ignorant as the rest of us—as innocent." Owen seemed to be plac- '0 ing great control upon himself, speaking as if the words were wrung from him. "Then," Arnold demanded, "Why doesn't she speak out?" "Being ignorant, how can she?" "She isn't ignorant. Innocent she may be. I'll swear she raw my uncle that aiglrt. W'»- is there so much mystery about her ?" "Surely," Owen returned, "there may be excellent reasons for tliat-rea-sons of the— the woman's own, of no consequence to any one else." "I'll find out," cried Arnold. The two! men were facin geach other now. "The wisest course for her friends is to help me. If they don't, the consequences rest with them. If I drop across her, I'll have the veil off her face "She is a woman, Derwent," said Owen; and his fists were nervously clenched. "A hang for that! if she's a devil, I tackle her." "As you suggest," said Owen, "she may have friends, Mr. Derwent." "I'm not afraid of them, or any man liv- ing," Arnold retorted. "My only wish is to get possession of my own. Well," he added, "I didn't come here to excite myself, only to kill time—just to look you up, you know. Time I was getting back to Flo- rence." As he passed through the hall, he turned deliberately and looked about him. "A nice old staircase," he said. "You can't say you haven't plenty of room that's why you put the partition up, I suppose? Well, good-bye, Fairford. I hope you'll give us a look up again before long; and don't cut away so early next time you come. Ta-ta." Owen Fairford re-entered his dining-room, and walking to the fireplace rested his head in his hands. There was no one to see his face, but had there been a spectator he would have needed a hard heart indeed not to sympathise with its utter misery. Nor did Arnold appear entirely pleased by the interview. "I wish now I had taken your advice and stayed at home, Floy," he said, after lun- cheon. "That's the worst of me: I never see things until it's too late. Not but that I gained something. I had very little doubt before, but now I'll stake my life she lives there—behind that partition upstairs. I'd give something for a quarter of an hour be- hind it. Still, I admit'I made a mistake; I showed my hand, you see." "I—I don't quite understand," Florence answered. "Well, of course, he knows I'm on the watch now. He'll keep her close, whoever she is. He'll have to, if he doesn't want me to see her."
CHAPTER XV.—ASSAULT AND BATTERY.
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CHAPTER XV.—ASSAULT AND BAT- TERY. After dinner that evening Florence left her cousin to his own resources, but at eleven o'clock came down from Ann's room to bid him good-night. "Don't let them turn out the lights," he said. "It's no use my going yet. I may as well make myself comfortable indoors for another hour or more." She clasped her hands nervously as she looked down into his upturned face. "No use going where?" she faltered. "On the watch, to be sure." "Oh, Arnold, she cried, "I hoped you had had enough of this." "Enough I haven't begun. Why, Floy, I told vou I meant to shadow that woman like jleath." "Never mind what vou told me, Arnold. Don't do it: nlease don't do it. Oblige me in this. Mr. Fairford was a friend of father's, he is a friend of mine, and this very morning you called at his house and pretended that he was a friend of yours. Please, Arnold, give in to me in this." "Sorry, Flov, but it can't be done," he answered. "It puzzles me you take such an interest in the chap. You haven't known him three months all -told. You go to bed, and when I've discovered the truth, you'll be thankful I' stood firm for -once in my lifej' She turned away very sadly, and Arnold began to repose upon two chairs. Shortly after midnight, he became eager to be doing something. It was a, cool, fresh night, and he turned up his coat collar as he quitted the house. Then he took his stand under the shadow of the large sycamore tree, and fixed his eyes unon ths two gates of Forest Prospect. But though, with patience" worthy of Joe Bodger, he waited there two weary nours, no sound fell upon his ears save the striking of the distant church clock, echoed by another within the house, the' rustling of the leaves, and the occasional crowing of a rest- less chanticleer, It was eleven the next morning when he came down to brea-kiast. "No luck last night," he said. "Of course, I put the Johnny on his guard. An awful juggins I was!. Well, Floy, we'll see who tires first." Arnold Derwent was not the only person in Bookfield who perplexed his mind about the mysterious woman in black. After going dutifully to church on Sunday evening, ..Lizzie- went to her father's cottage, a clean, white buildiing with a rcof of extremely ornamental thatch, standing at a convenient distance from the churchyard: the field of Mr. Jo d's labours for so many years that, at least as far as the living was con- cerned, he regarded that domain as virtually his own property. "It's my opinion you see a ghost, Liz," said Mrs. Mogford. the only black-haired member of the family. "I've seen 'em my- self, come to that. Take the night before poor Aunt Lotty died." "It wasn't no ghost," declared John, the eldest son; "I never saw a ghost. I fay she'd holloa if I laid hold on her." John followed up the assertion with a loud guffaw, as he drew his huge boots farther beneath his chair. "If it wasn't a ghost," said Mrs. Mog- ford, "I don't see no harm done. A per- son can walk what time she likes and no harm done, if so she is a person; what do you say, father?" "I say the same as you say, Emma." answered Mogford, who from long experience found this a plan which saved trouble and ill-feeling. He was a thick-set, bow-legged, drearv-faced man, with a shock of bright red hnir, ana an invariable smell of earth about the clothes. "We' ll soon find out that 'ere," said James, the younger born. "How's that. Jim?" a,sked Lizzie; "how are you going to find out?" "Watch and see. Liz. Ain't- that reason? If you want to find out what a, thing is. juet look at it, and there v'r.re. You're in it, John?" "I'm there, James." "I don't know but WhR" I'll another, said Mogford, senior; rvssus?" Be* ween a desire to 7or f her rath 0(;" spring the natural protection ,their latie and to preserve her hv.s-ban..n danger, Mrs. Morford wavered out .,t the plot wa.s hatched, and Lizzie, t. "°nce aii about it on. Monday morni day, meeting Owen Fair:o- t Florence storviml. He ',e > have forgotten his emL' he Rookery the other ih ■ iie casual remarks askec "She is dying fa.st, v Dr. Viret doubts whethet ? dlWh the day. I should ce', only he insisted that J. sh for half an hour." nen presently 1 s rested a moment in his rath v she longed yet did not dare t<; o*f the rod in piekie. Isot only ( t on The watch, but the Mogf-ords a ",1, between them, I wweiy Qmm mmt felled to suffer. Ml ■ r. And there was another, still more 1-ant, entirely unsuspected either by or Owen. Joe Bodger, having gained inkling of the Mogford scheme at the x^o' » regarded it as a design to take the out of his own open mouth. But about five o'clock, the clouds which been lowering all day burst furiously Rookfield. Joe rejoiced. If the Mogfo5^ were so ill-advised as to turn out, they w° secure only a ducking for their pains body else was likely to follow their examp Accordingly, he himself turned in at and was lying listening to the rain Pat! a ing on the roof overhead, when, he door opened and closed, and reached his out just in time to see a tall, dark 'li £ 0 leave the gate, to all_appearanoes the in .every respect as usual, except of, or> all he could see, as well as, having.,the hidden by a veil, an umbrella was held 10 down over the head. Ardently as Joe longed to follow', dared not. Besides, the obvious difficJ| that he was not suitably clad at the to brave the storm if the Mogfords "€"e the elements and watched, there would ens a fracas, from which it were discreet- if «°. abseiiied himself. Meantime, three red heads, covered byJ* many black hats, were boA^ed behind churchyard wall, a few yards from the gate. The rain beat piteously down np ■, them, causing Mogford, senior, to had left the hazard to his sons, whom weather, goou or bad, could have kept ir°u the anticipated sport. „ 'Arf arter," ejaculated John, as t'1 church clock struck half-past midnight- "How much, more of it? that's what like to know," grumbled infogforti 'trying to twist himself so that the rain should nO finds its way down his neck. "Hullo r whispered John. "I heard sum mat 1" Putting their heads close together, they listened attentively. Yes, through the noise of the pouring raJfl thev distinguished heavy, regular footsteps approaching slowly. i "Look here." murmured James, ''me father'li bide, while you go to the gate, Jo"B' Then you'll tackle her, a,nd-" .1 "Not me, James. Me and father'li b1" while you go on ahead." "Or maybe father'd be the best," gested James, no longer coveting the leader* l' ship. "Stick together, one and all, I s8^' answered Mogford. A thrill of suppressed excitement was com* mon to the three. "She's coming." whiskered John. Raising their heads above the wall, they all peered over. Twe sets of teeth chattered, and whose tooth were, for the most part, thing of the past, quaked in his shoes. There was the tall figure in black, |afe as Lizzie described it, save that the ff" was hidden by an umbrella. The pounds rain prevented the three watchers from clea1'J distinguishing any details, except the hand hanging bare. As it drew level vVlt' their ambush, the Mogfords stooped « and crept along under the shelter of the "'d towards the lych-gate. Then Mogf°r senior, opened it. -j "We won't stand no nonsense," James, evincing a courteous desire to stfv- behind and shut the gate, but the otlle" waited for him, and three abreast they a4- vanced to meet the tall figure. Stopl)Ll^i right in front of it, they effecu-ally ^)arraS the way. Next moment the umbrella raised, -and, to their utter astonishment confusion, they found themselves face t°. a with Owen Fairford. He was clad id lonp- black mackintosh and, what with darkness of the night, the blinding rain, J- 'their preconceived opinions, it had bee quite easy to mistake his sex. "Well," he exclaimed, "what do you walj1jie You appear to occurtv a good deal of highway." Moo-ford felt that he was in a qultllclaZ- He scarcely knew what,explanation to o» and iifter rubbing his head for -some seccW in confusion, stammered an apology, .ilD •' followed bv his two sons, beat an undig, fied retreat. As he declared- -• you might have knocked him down wit" feather and his wife summed up the trl*' case ."Liz is just crazed," she said. t But the incidents of the night were aoi an end yet. True to his word, Arnold ™ jf went had watched and waited in va-im B he had not mid that visit to Foresi: P:Flo: pect, doubtless, as he continually to hi rence, the woman would have come and delivered herself into his hands ere no But to-night seemed to him propitious. "Vt r Fa.irford would not give him credit for S tS. cient perseverance to brave the eletilefl It was exactly the night to thraw hin? his guard, exactly the night to bring J3 the woman whom his watchfulness had cent.1-' confined within doors. Accordingly, he came out a little half-past twelve, having waited till th. j, moment in order to reduce his ducking to the minimum, and took his sv beneath the sycamore tree. He could not see much through the slaJ^ ing lines of rain; but about one thinking he heard footsteps, he craned P head forward, and perceiving a PersoDy.rf black on the point of entering the gate of. Forest Prospect, ran swiftly a Jug beside the hedge, and himself entered nearer gate, hoping to intercept the Per before the front door could be gained. Within a second of being too late, the nearly closed, and in his" excitement threw himself against it with all his ^oTt)1s It immediately flew wide open, and, to- surprise, he was confronted by Owen's ste white face.. Still Arnold persisted; planting his W& e foot upon the mat, he attempted to good his entry. "Leave my house," said Owen, '° iVs down upon him threateningly. But blood was up, and he was not the man r. turned back by a threat. He stepped ward, and Owen immediately stepped straightened ius richt arm, 'struck the Iruder fairlv between the eves, and sent -1 heio long on the gravel path. "'e.ii upon his elbow, bent at an and. as the door was closing a second ta uttered a. loud cry of pain. r to "Are you hurt?" asked Owen, coming 1 1* rrtl ,-ood Lord! vou have broken my f1 "What on earth did vou mean by > your way into my house?" demanded tW .w placing his huads beneath Arnold's arm" to raise him.. "Don't jaw," was the answer. Grve GO];: a handkerchief—just make a sling- 1 sharp; a little more, and I'm hange" 1- shan't go slick off." (To be continued. Commenced July 1, 1894-
[No title]
Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu
I'm down upon you, said the to the candle. The Teetotaller's Song.—"Drink to Ille ouly wsth thine eyes." It is generally the plainest woman can make the greatest show of jewels. '■ ijlfliV It is when caning golden sentimetns a lady ought tc p'rse her lips. Doctor (at mght bell): Well. Caller: No; ;J' May: If ye-, w: what would do?" -■ .jg Jack: Well, ,jrst u, I'd let to*>. you. .¡.I' "I"d t1 n tJ¡,ë, idlow only fOr P thing I" "What's ti.at: 11 "Well, ,x,:OOt 'ur, ■ wcfite' I'* .four feet sq-,JA ..j. ,J,. ..f • M" — "lIt.