ELSEY FARM.

Auckland Star, Volume XIX, Issue 139, 13 June 1888, Page 6

ELSEY FARM.

BY DAVID R. LOCKE

HOW IT WAS LOST AND WON.

CAAPTER XL (continued.)

Mr Cassidy left the house in a curiou £ frame of mind. He had nob dreamed o any such condition being attached ; he had expected to compel her to marry him upon the simple promise of his caring for her family But lie had promised her this great fortune! What did she ask it for? He could nob fathom her purpose. Should he withdraw now 1 He could not. Hie struggle for the possession of the prize had enhanced its value to him a thousand-fold, and hs must have it. 'What do I care?' thought he. lo make her my wife for a single day, is ot more value to me than a thousand iiilsey Farms. I would do it.1 Mary Elsey, the moment he left, sent tor Mr liupltins and gave him full and explicit directions as to the papers she wished executed. . ■;. ■ * I desire,' said she to him, '. that great care shall be exercised in the drawing of these papers, that every possible precautions be taken against openings for evasions, and —' , 'I know the party,' returned the lawyer, ' and appreciate the necessity for care. But fear nothing. I will draw up those papers so that if John Cas.ndy's name is ever on them, John Cassidy himself will never hnd a flaw in them. You must have paid a large price to "-ot back the old farm.' ' A fearful price,' was her reply, as she left the office. . That afternoon she met John Uissicly. at the lawyer's office, and the papers were executed, Cassidy signing them, with competent witnesses. As he held the pen in his hand before ■writing his name, he hesitated. Could there be any trick aboub this ? Would she perform her part of the contract in good faith ? The attaching of his name to that paper put millions out of his control. He looked at her, and gritting his teeth, signed it

' Mr Hopkins, will you see that this deed is placed upon record immediately? I prefer that you should go with it person - 'One month from to-day,' she said to Cassidy, and left the office. Cassidy went out with her, as if he would accomoany her to her home. 4 No/ she said to him fiercely, 'not a step with me. One month, and you will have it in your power to command me. Till then I will be free of you. 1 shall not see you till then. Leave me to myself'till I promise to obey you.' And she walked away, leaving him standing on the sidewalk alone. 'In one month I shall be your legal master,' he muttered in an undertone, ' and you shall suffer lor this insolence.' Cassidy went to his office, for he wanted quiet. He wanted to reflect. He loved money more than any other thing on earth, till he had met Mary Elsey. And the moment he was away from her, the old grasping spirit of avarice took possession ot him, and he half repented himself what he had done. Elsey Farm was worth millions, and yet, .under the influence of a passion for a woman, he had parted with it, and parted with it on a mere verbal promise. Such a promise she might not regard an instant. Would she '! That was what tormented him. He got the farm by fraud ; was not Mary Elsey justified in getting- it back by fraud ? Would she marry him as she had promised ? These thoughts were passing through his mind as he sat with his head bowed upon his desk. A touch upon his shoulder aroused him. He looked up, and there stood by his side the last man in all the world that he wanted to see--John Moss. 'Morning, Cassidy,' was Moss's half-in-solent salutation. ' You here again !' exclaimed Gassidy, angrily. ' 1 supposed I had seen the last of you. Our agreement was, when 1 gave you the last money, that I should see you no more.' ' I have changed my mind, Cassidy. I had to see you once more.' ' For what ?' ' For monej !' ' Money ! What have you done with the last five thousand dollars I gave you ? What did you do with the first live thousand, dollars you have had from me? and you come to me for more. I will not give you another cent.' ' Ten thousand dollars is very little for killing a man, Cassidy.' 'It is five thousand dollars more than I promised you.' ' That doesn't matter. I killed the man for you, and must have more money. I mu3t have more money.' 4 You will not get it from me, John Moss,' said Cassidy, blazing with excitement. 1 You killed Paul Bates. Very good, I did not. You shall not blackmail me. I defy you to show that I had any connection with his death. Do your worst. Not another cent from me.'

' You will not advance me any more money, eh ?' 'Not a cent.'

' Very well, Mr Cassidy, I did nob kill Paul Bates.' 'What?'

' I did not kill Paul Bates. Paul Bates is alive this minute, and in tolerable state of health.'

' What do you mean ?' asked Cassidy, his face pale as death. ' I mean what I say. Paul Bates is not dead. I will confess to you, that it is no fault of mine that he is not dead. When I levelled my rifle at him he was as good as a dead man, bub the instant I pulled the trigger he moved, and that movement saved his life. The ball entered him just two inches aside from where I intended it. He received an ugly wound, but nob enough to kill a vigorous man. The Federals, with whom I have been acting, fell back, and the rebels, whom I subsequently joined, picked him up, and—' ' Where is he now ?'

*In a rebel hospital, recovering from his wound. 1 saw him alive and in good health. I had assumed the Confederate uniform after I shot him, and I naturally took an interest in his fate. He will be out of the hospital in three weeks, and will be exchanged immediately.' .' If what you state is true, I owe you nothing, and have no reason to give you anything. Ifc was to kill Paul Bates that I employed you. If he i& not dead, why should I give you more money f ' Because it is your interest to do so, Mr Cassidy—because you can't .'help yom'self. The fact is, the man who uses unlawful weapons is in danger of being cut with them. I acknowledge that had Paul Bates been actually dead, I should have come to you so long as I supposed I could get a dollar, as the price of keeping the secret. Now that he is not dead, 1 come with even more confidence. In fact, it is, lam certain of getting what I want.' 'If he is not dead,' replied Cassidy, * I have committed no crime. Who would believe your statement, that I employed you to kill him ?' ' All this is well enough,' said Moss, with a most malicious grin; ' but when I found he was alive and beyond my attentions, it occurred to me to investigate and discover why you wanted him out of the way. It didn:t take a man of an inquisitive mind a great while to do it. I learned all that I wanted to know on my last visit here. I discovered that you wsre in love with a

woman who was not in love with you, but who was in love with Paul Bates. I learned of the purchase of Elsey Farm, and the communicative people hereabouts all insist that it was an infamous swindle, which, knowing something of you, I had no dimculty in believing, and, putting- all these together, I had no difficulty in determining what your motives were. It was as plain as a page of print.' ' Well, sir,' returned Cassidy, ' what use do you suppose you can make of your discoveries ?' ~ . Moss shifted his cigar to the other side ot his mouth, and, changing his position so that he could note every feature ot Cassicly s face, answered : 'I can do a great many things with it. Cassidy, I know that you are determined to marry "Mary Elsey at all hazards and at any cost 1 think you are idiotic, but thats nothing to me. I know that she has consen tedio do it within a month, believing that Paul Bates, the man she loves, is dead. Did she not so believe, you never could have got that promise. Now, I might go to Mary Elsey any day before the date fixed for your wedding, and say to her: 'Miss Elsey, you need not marry John Cassidy ; Paul "Bates is alive and will be here, doubtless, in a month or two. Ihen she would throw the deed of Elsey 1< arm at your head and declare the match off. How would that do you '!' Cassidy gritted his teeth and remained silent. . 'Do you propose to give me an advance.' asked Moss, after a moment's delay. : Cassidy had, in the meantime, run the situation over in his mind, lie found he was in the power of this man. It was as he said : it Mary Elsey knew that Paul Bates was living, she would sooner die than consent to marry anyone else ; and that information Moss could give her any minute. There was only one way to stop his mouth —money. '.Do you hesitate?' asked Moss with a sardonic laugh. ' If the little trouble I can make you with the Elsey girl is not sufficient, how would you like me to join hands with Pollard ? I know Jim very well, and I know where he is this very minute. He don't love you very much, docs he ? Do you want me to go to Pollard ?' ' What do you wart? How much ? How much will it take to rid me of you for ever-?' ' For ever is a long word. A man ought to do the work I have done for you himself, then he wouldn't be bothered. lam willing to promise never to see you again, as I did before, but I shall probably break the promise as I did before, as soon as I get rid of the money you are going to give me now. You may probably get me hedged in so as to keep me at bay, but you can't do that now. You ain't h'xed for me just now.' Cassidy realised that every word the scoundrel said was true.

' How much ?' was the only answer to his malicious moralising. ' Five thousand dollars.' was the reply.

Without a word, Cassidy drew a cheque for the amount, which Moss accepted with a chuckle. 'This is as I supposed it would be. How pleasant things are when we understand one another. Good-bye—till I come awain,' he said, as he went out of the door. n' You shall not iind mo unprepared again !' said Cassidy to himself, us he watched the retreating figure. ' I'll be more certain with you than you were with Bates.'

CHAPTER XII.

DETAILS THE FCUTIIER OPERATIONS OF JOHN MOSS.

When John Moss spoke of joining hands with Pollard to injure Cassidy, he did it at random ; for he had no idea of the kind. But after he left Cassidy, the idea gained on him. He had been concerned with Pollard in matters, years before, and had an admiration for him. Pollard had a certain audacity, quickness and resource" that went a long way in a life such as Moss led, and as he was not aware that he had in any way changed, it occurred to him that a partnership with so accomplished a rogue as Pollard had been, would be a good thing. Besides this, he hated Cassidy cordially, and he desired to get at the bottom of hia matters, with a view to further bleedings. He did not hold close to absolute truth, when he said he knew where Pollard was, but he could easily find him. It is a misfortune with men who live outside the law that they are compelled to have confederates, and that such a thing as independent action is impossible. Ho Mr Moss set himself about the work of discovering the whereabouts of Pollard, that he might interview him with reference to Mr Cassidy. It was noc so easily done as he had supposed, for Pollard had made his arrangements with tolerable skill, and his hiding-place was known to but two people in the world. A day or two was wasted in discovering him, and another in getting at him, but he finally accomplished it.

They met in a humble roadside tavern not far from his hiding-place. Pollard was satisfied that no treachery was intended him, and he was willing even to take some chances to learn something definite of the methods of Mr Cassidy from ro experienced a man as John Moss.

Pollard unbosomed himself freely to hi 3 old comrade. He told him how Casisdy has trapped him, how adroitely he had destroyed the evidence against him, and how he had escaped by a hair. Moss, on his part, confided to Pollard the bargain he had made as to the putting out of the way of Surgeon Bates. 'I knew that was your woik,' interrupted Pollard, ' when I heard of the matter.' ' Yes, bub—Paul Bates is not dead.' .' Whab!' 'No more than you or I. I explained that to Cassidy, and made a raise from him by agreeing not to go to Mary Elsey with information until after the wedding.' . ' But you killed him.' 'But I did nob kill him.' I intended to, bub ix lucky burn of his body saved him,' ' And he is alive now ?' ' Naturally, as he isn't dead.' ' What did you come to me for, Moss ?' . 'Nothing in particular, and everything in general. I thoughb that an interview with you might probably lead io something in the way of business, or at least, it might enable me to discover some new way of bleeding Cassidy, a work I love a3 I do nothing else in this world. That is all. I knew that you knew everything about him." ' Can you get word to Paul Bates within a week of the situation of affairs in Brownhelm ?: 'Nothing easier. lam a deserter from both armies, but I know every foot of the country, and can go through the lines of both.' 'John Moss, bring me the acknowledgment from Surgeon Bates, dated not more than ten days from to-day, that he knows what I have before told you concerning John Cassidy and Mary Elsey, and I will give you live thousand dollars, which will make twenty thousand you have made out of a surgeon—ten thousand for killing him, five for killing him, and five for restoring to him what is his. Will you dp it ?' ' How can you pay five thousand dollars ?' 1 Never mind that—you know my word is g OO (j—I never promised anything yet that I did not fulfil. If you can do it, do it, and the money shall be forthcoming. Tell him the whole story—how she heard of his death, how she consented to marry Cassidy on condition of the deeding of the farm. Tell him he must move heaven and earth to be released on parole, and that he must get to me here before the 10th of next month. Tell him I am watching his interests as best I can, hobbled as lam ; bub nothing

earthly must stop his return. Will you engage to do this ¥ 'Doit ? Of course I will. Igo now, and in two weeks I will be back with Paul Bates's acknowledgment and — the live thousand?' 'You shall have it, I pledge you my word. But go at once. If you hurry you can catch a train at Belknap's Station and save five hours. Minutes count now. Good-bye.' ' Good-bye, Pollard ; you shall hear from me.' And the adventurer disappeared. After he had gone, Pollard sat for an hour in deep thought. What should he do ? If Paul returned in time to prevent the marriage, Mary would, of course, give back to Cassidy the farm. He knew her well enough to know that, fraudulent as was his possession, as she had promised to marry him on condition of his deeding to her the farm, she would either marry him or give up the consideration. Would not her promise compel her to marry him, even if she knew her lover was living ? She had a nature capable of that. If she did not marry him, Elsey Farm, with its millions gushing from its bosom, would remain with Cassidy, and if Bates returned and he should not be able to retain and hold him, he would prevent the marriage. He almost regretted sending Moss on the mission, but he was gone and could not be recalled. Besides, it was probable MiBates would in some way hear of the situation and take action without him, in which case the plan which he had formed would miscarry. After all, it was better as it was. Bates would come to him lirst, and he could hold him till his purpose was executed.

He drew v long sigh, and with a face pale as snow ho said to himself: ' There is but one way out of it. Bates must not see her, nor must she know Bates is living, for who must marry Cassidy. And then—' What followed in his mind he did not give words to. Mr iMcw.-s, in the meantime, was as good as his word. He caught the train at the station and was whirled southward ns fast as steam could carry him. When ho had gone to the end of his journey he tarried for a few hours until he had secured a horse, and then, with some alterations in his person, which were enough to transform him into quite another man, he rode away. He had much trouble before him, but lie took it cheerfully, for he was accustomed to it. He was of the petrel class, the liveliest in stormy weather. He rejoiced in trouble, and was only happy when in the hottest of hot water.

He finally struck the line of the rebel pickets, he told the lies and mado the representations that passed him through them all of which he had arranged beforehand, he reached the camp a3 he had designed, and made his way to the hospital in which Surgeon Bates was lying. The meeting was a very singular one. Mr Moss showed the wounded man his credentials from Pollard,. and then deliberately told him, as though it was something to be proud of, that he was the very man who shot him ! And then lie went on and told him the whole story of the adventure, of the situation Mary Elsey was in, of tho fact that she was to marry Cassidy on the 10th of tho next month, unless he could reach Pollard in time to stop the sacrifice; in short, lie toUi the surgeon everything connected with her history, of all of which, isolated as he had been, he knew nothing.

1 The 10th is tho day fixed,' said tho surgeon, pacing the iloor in agony, ' and it is a thousand chances to one if ib were possible for me to reach Pollard in time to have to go through the formality of a rule. My wound is not sufficiently healed yet, nor will it be for two weeks.' He turned to Moss. "' Can you go back as'easily as you came?' ' Certainly, I can. I can go anywhere.' ' Will you take a letter from me to Mary Elsey ?! - ' '-■ ' No. I don't care to visit Brownhelm just now, for reasons entirely suliicient to myself. But I will take one to Jim Pollard, which will do as well, for he is in communication with her.' ' That will answer.' And the surgeon sat down and wrote the letter. He instructed Pollard to write to Mary that he was living ; that she should l'efuse to carry out the bargain ; to rather give up Elsey Farm, and everything else ; that he would be in Brownhelm the moment it was possible for him to travel and he could get a parole, and sealing it, he handed it to Moss, with the exclamation : ' Now go. Ride as if your life depended upon it. Spare neither horse nor money to get this to Pollard in the shortest possible time, for everything depends upon it. Go.'

And Moss went. Bub the letter never reached its destination. He rode gaily through the forest road, depending upon the pass he had for safety, till he reached the rebel lines. He passed the rebels, but he did not pass the bushwhackers. A marauder, who plundered under the rebel Hag when ib was convenient, and the Union flag when it suited him better, or, as was generally the case, under neither, was lying in wait like a tiger, in a clump of bushes by the road. He saw a man in the dress of a civilian riding by on a valuable horse. Now, this bushwhacker would kill a man for as little as would Moss, and he was never known to let a good horse pass him. As Moss was riding by, there was a short, quick report of a rifle, and John Moss plunged forward and fell in the dust of the road. His glazing eyes saw the form of a man over him—he made one convulsive effort, pulled the letter from his breast pocket, as if to implore his murderer to forward it, and died.

The bushwhacker coolly tore up the letter, robbed the corpse of everything of value on it, mounted the horse and rode away.

John Moss lay dead, in the dusty road, with the fragments of the precious letter that was never to be read, scattered about him. Paul Bates was chafing like a caged lion in his prison, waiting the healing of his wound, and his parole, that he might fly to his love. John Cassidy sab in his office morose and savage, conscious of having paid a great price for an uncertainty. Mary Elsey, with a great grief gnawing at her heart, sat in a deep stupor, waiting the day for her sacrifice, and James Pollard, in whose hands the threads that moved them all were held, was quiet in his retreat in the mountains, confident and calm, waiting till the time should come for him to do his final work in the drama. The end was near. (27 > be Continued next Wednesday.)