CHAPTER XII—INSPIRATION.

Otago Witness, Issue 2490, 4 December 1901, Page 64

CHAPTER XII— INSPIRATION.

If any one had asked Brownie for what immediate reason she had taken those shares, she would have been puzzled to return a satisfactory answer.

Realising the difficulty of proving the negative proposition that Clement had not forged his father's name, it only remained to show positively that the crime had been committed by Mr Litton — that is to say, by some one acting at Mr Litton's instigation. Brownie believed that the proceeds of that forgery had, amongst other things, furnished the means to purchase the presents alleged to have come from North America. Mrs Northcott, who had much money to invest, had received the niost valuable gift ; Maud, possessing less, had received less ; whilst Brownie herself, from whom little could have been expected, had been presented with stone.

But not jonly with a stone ; for affixed to its jagged side was a small blue and white label, such as a collector might use to number his specimens.

Anxious to learn all that was possible concerning Mr Litton, Brownie began Lo •perceive that she had been unwise to allow herself to appear in the least degree antagonistic towards him. However distasteful ifc might be to worm herself into his favour with the idea of betraying him, this seemed the most promising policy to pursue, and its first practical result was the investment of her small capital in the gold mine. Mr Litton, for his part, was too well versed in the reading of the human mind to be surprised at Brownie's conduct. Of course the prospect of gain was enticing fo her, as it was to thousands of wiser persons. He had seen so many shrewd men of business give the lie to their former records upon the mere chance of gaining much for little at no expenditure of brain or body, that Brownie was classed with a crowd of other imbeciles.

Upon drawing up his blind the next morning, Mr Litton saw that the long speli of fine weather was broken. It had lasted long enough- to enable the farmers to carry their hay, and now the timaly change would serve, to fill the ears of corn before the sun came forth once more to ripen them for the sickle.

Helping himself to a mackintosh of Clemenfs, which still hung in the hall, Mr Littor set forth to the bank for the purpose of cashing Brownie's cheque. "Too soon to say I'm off to London again," he muttered, as he came forth from Sir Edward Spearing' s office ; thea, drawing

his cape carefully lound hi in, lie took a somewhat unfrequented road nhicfc led lo Eastwood. He had not gone many yards when be sow some one coming towards him at a

cwinging pace ; some one whom he only

too easily recognised. But theie happened l) be no turning between himself and the advancing foe ; &o, putting a bold face to the inevitable, he averted hi«* eyes and continued his way. But Clement did not intend him to continue his way without interruption. "Let me pass, confound you!" exclaimed Mr Litton as the other stopped dead ni front of him. "You scoundrel !" cried Clement, glaring at him through the small waterfall which ran from the peak of his cloth cap. "You know I can't defend myself," said Mr Litton, putting his lame arm "obtrusively forwaid, "or you wouldn't dare " "Wouldn't dare!" shouted Clement, who r.ow had him by the throat. "You knovv

better than that. I would not stay my hand from killing a mad dog because ne was wounded ; why should I spare a dangerous animal like you?"'

It Avas all very well to reason in this m-mner ; but the man was too badly handicapped for Clement to work his sweet will upon him with an easy conscience. With a heavy shove he sent Mr Litton sprawling on the ground a few yards away. He regained his feet, and the two stood confronting one another, heedless of the sounds of approaching wheels.

"Good morning, Clement !"

It was Mrs Oliver, seated on the box seat of her husband's high dog-carl, and lookin<r charming, even in her waterproof.

"A delightful day, is it not?"' she continued, as. the groom jumpsd down to ihe horse's head. "My truant husband has sent a telegram for some things, and here I am, like a dutiful wife, taking them to the station'myself. If you like to jump up, Clement. I will drop you at your rooms."

"When you came up," he said, "I was just thinking of "

"Of going home out of the storm. The wisest thing you could do. You don"t introduce me, so I shall act for myself. Mr Litton, I have knowii you by sight for a long time. Your broken arm lends you distinction, you know. If Clement won't come with me, perhaps you will?"'

He needed no second bidding ; and, before Clement could realise the position, Mr^ Oliver had thrown him a laughing good-bye, and driven off on the bei-< of terms with AJr Litton, congratulating herself upon her success in parting two men who were so plainly bent upon mischief.

Thinks to the training to which Brownie had b&en subjected by her uncle, •she waj very methodical in the keeping of her accounts, differing in this respect both from Clement and Maud, although they had been brought up under the same auspices. On the afternoon of the 3rd August, Brownie sat in her own room with an open accountbook before her, a few cancelled cheques, some scraps of paper, covered with sums m simple addition and subtraction, her banker's pass-book, and a bottle of eau-de-cologne. Perplexity was on her face as she examined the back of the cheque which she had paid to Mr Litton — perhaps the largehfc she h? y d even drawn. Opening her desk, she brought forth the receipt which she had seen him sign, together with a soiled envelope that he had leceived during ihe earlier days "of his incapacity, and the writer of which still occasionally wrote to him. Placing these three specimens of handwriting close together, she bent over them for a critical examination ; then, tilting back her. chair and passing her fingers through her unruly hair in a very boyish fashion, she continued to stare abstractedly out of the window.

Suddenly the chair stood firmly on its four legs again. Light had come to Brownie. "Eureka, eureka !" she might have cried, for, indeed, she believed — rightly or wrongly — tHat she had found that which she bad been so long seeking.

Before rejoining Maud and Mrs Northcott, she wrote a letter to Clement — in dofiance of her aunt's command — asking him to meet her outside Mrs Clow's door on the following Thursday. Never was an invitation received more gladly, coming as it did after several weeks of utter dreariness. It was true that Mrs Oliver had succeeded in charming him again into a good humour, with the result, that Captain Oliver's note-book contained another of Clement's little bills ; but life, as a whole, seemed flat, 1 stale and unprofitable, and many a time had he regretted Brownie's request that he -would remain at Middleton.

Spldoin had lie seen Brownie look so happy, never so beautiful. Whether her black dress lent her a charm, or whether the dress itself was the debtor; whether the neat straw hat set off her face, or her sweet face set off the hat, Clement could not tell. As she cams quickly to meet him, with her short, impulsive steps, with outstretched hands and flushed face, it was all he could do to hinder himself from falling at her feet and at once declaring himself her slave.

'Clement," ,she said, "I could not resist asking you to come, as soon as I had the least bit of good news for you. Really, really. I do believe this trouble will not lasts much longer. Do be brave and hopeful j art a little while " "And then, Brownie?" "Then — oh — then — then you will be able to come home again, and everything will be jus*, as it was before uncle's death." 'It can never be the same,'' he said gloomily. "Yes, yes, it can, Clement. I am sure I am on the right track at last. I can see no-w — so clearly; the only difficulty is to prove it to the rest — to Henry Grayson, and all of them." "Do you actually -mean to tell me that you know who forged the cheque, Brownie? — ihat you know who actually wrote my father's name?" |'Yes," she said, "I believe- I do know." 'For Heaven's sake, tell me, then. I won't lose a second. I will expose the £air of tfceHL Did bs teli JL2» tfel^

met me the other day, and that I came m iihin an ace of knocking the life out of him?"

"Yes — at least, I heard from auntie. 1 you act like that you will spoil eveiy "thine."'

"You have not told me, Brownie. If you arc so certain, tell me the scoundrel's name ; I will very &0011 make his acquaintpr.ee."

"I cannot tell yon yet," she answered. "You must take my word for it. I hold a clue ; but I have no proof — nothing which would convince Henry Grayson. If I let you into the secret, I know what you would do: if my suspicion once became known, it would be met by ridicule, and never come to anything. But I tell you that I know ; I have made my first advance ; and truly — truly. Clement, theie need be no fear for the rest.'

"Upon my word, it is too bad,'' Clemeni replied. "I thought that you knew for certain. A suspicion ! What is the worth of a suspicion?"

"But, Clement, indeed it is more than a suspicion. It is a certainty; or. at least, it will be. Not if I were to tell you now, though ; if I did that, the whole thing would end in nothing. I must have calmer counsel .llian yours "' "Anderson'b, of course," he exclaimed. "Oh," .she said hastily, "I have not told you about Uncle Walter's gold mine. Look at those clouds, Clement ; aren't tLey beautiful? Your troubles will pass away just so. Let us sit down here a little while."' They had taken the path across the field*, and were near to the lane again. Clement had not the least objection to prolong the interview. "What do you mean by this gold mine?" he asked, holding her in his arms for one delicious moment, as he lifted her to the top bar of the stile. (To be continued.)