CHAPTER X.

Auckland Star, Volume XXIV, Issue 223, 20 September 1893, Page 6

CHAPTER X.

MR tODJ3 NORTON

When Redcliff sold tho old country seat, •The Rest,' and left Savannah by the itoaraor for New York, he disappeared out S oxistence. He had few acquaintances \i Coorgia, for his life lived by himself and Mr Norton was sore tired and lonely that snly people in their immediate neighbourhood were aware such persona existed.

In New York 'Professor Red cliff' and rose again as' Mr Louis Norton. Tho old man's sudden death had made little stir, and Redcliff had suppressed all information on the Bubiecb, so beyond a brief notice in the Savannah 'Morning Newi,' ib passed unheeded. Melville Norton was at dinner wh-en his uncle and guardian was announced. 'Show him in here,1 ho said to the

servant. .. .„ , Perhaps it would have been more dutnui for Melville to leave the tablo and meet his elderly relative, but Melville was not accustomed to putting himself out of the wa.v to please others. He was master in his own house, and tie merely rose when hia uncle entered the room. ~ ■Have yon dined sir? were his nrst words,

'Thank you. I have not.' Molvillo absolutely started when he caught sight of the new-comer's face. Ho thought it was tho most villainous he had ever looked upon. He had pictured a venerablo gentleman Somewhat after the stamp of his late father, but here stood a man of some fifty odd years. Coarse, nd hair covered his head, and he wore a full beard of the same colour, that seemed to start from undor his eyes and cover his whole face, but those eyes could not ba concealed, and once eeen they could not be forgotten. His uncle saw the impression he had produced on the young man before they had been five minutes in each otherV company. ' I was sorry that I was not summoned in time to see my late brother alive,' he said, as he finished his ponp. ' Hia death was ao sudden 1 did not see him until after ib took place.' 1 Ah ! Very sad. Have you any idea of your father's business ?' ' None whatever. I have studied all my life. ' Then you do nob intend to follow it?' I No. lam not a business man.' I 1 suppose my brother left considerable of a fortune ?' said Mr Norton, aa the latter helped him to wine. 1 My solicitor informed me it was a little over four millions.' ' Indeed ! I did not) think he waa so wealthy; but, in fact, I know but littlo nbout him.' 'In some respects my father was a strange mati. His will is one evidence of the facb.' 'Indeed?' ', 'Yes. Hia fortune ia left to me unreservedly, and in the event of my death goes to establish a home for the orphan boy a of the State of New York.' ' But not to the exclusion of your heirs, if you havo any ?' ' Oh, no ; that is only in caao I should die single, which I am not likoly J;o do, as I Bin engaged to the sweotesb girl in existence.' ' With your father's knowledge?1 'Certainly, and full approval.' ' Wall, ib is hoped that the orphnn boy?, however deserving, may not inherit your fathora fortune. Was this singular will an old one or recent?'

'Recent). His solicitor drew it up two rjavs before his death.'

A close observer would have detected an expression of disappointment flitting over tho small portion of Mr Norton's countenance that) could be seen.

' I am greatly pleased, Melville, that my late brother should have thought of me at the1 last. We waro separated so early in life, and our lives have necessarily been apart.' After they roae from tho table Melville conducted his uncla into the library. Ib was a handsome apartment fitted up' in dark oak. Between the bookshelves there hung pome portraits, 1 Ah, there is my brother !' exclaimed Mr Norton, walking tip to the picture of a silvery-haired gentloman, with chin, ea^er face, and bright dark eyes. ' A splendid likenesp. 1 think I see him before mo with hia brilliant black eyes,' Melville regarded tho speaker curiously. ' That is my grandunclo Louis, the one you are named for. It is stramgo you have forgotten that portrait.' 1 Ah, ao it is ! Now I see. lam so unfortunately near sighted,' replied tho gentleman, in rather a confused manner. 'That is my father's portrait,' said Melville, indicating the picture of a stout gentleman, with round, chubby face, and rathor a plethoric complexion. ' Ah, ao it is ! He had grown very stout, then, before his death T 'Tremendously stout; bub I am surprised that you spoke of brilliant dark eyes. My father's eyes were very small, and, n° yon Eec, light blue.' Mr Norton did not follow up this argument, but he watched Melville very closely, nnc! ho saw that the young man had taken a dislike to him. When they parted for the night Melville sat down and reflected moro deeply than ho had over dono in hia life. Tho incident about the portrait had aroused a suspicion in hia mind. Whr.t if thi« m»n was an impostor? Next day Molvillo went out immediately after an early breakfast, before bis uncle had risen, and taking a car rodo to the house of his own and his father's solicitor, Mr Gregory.

That gentlaraan waa ab breakfast, bub hastened hia moal when Melvillo';? card was presented to him, and came' bustling into the reception-room. ' Oood-inornin£, my dear boy ; glod to ce9 you. Have you breakfasted ?' 1 Yefl, sir. Mr Gregory, I want to conBult you, a;iJ I came early to catch you before you loft home.' Melvillo then told the g'.c! gentleman of ihe arrival of bis uncle and what a very unpleasant impression bo had made upon him. lie also related tho incident of his mistake about the portrait. Mr Gregory looked thoughtful, but did not uticourage Melville's suspicions. Til b? very particular to fin.i out that all hio pnpors aro ri.ihfc, Melville,' ho said. 'As for the portrait and tho eyes, that iroos for nothing. Tho man hasn'ti seen your father for a lifetime, and may have forgotten the colour of his- eyes. I could not tell you tho colour of my brothers' and Pictors eyes.' Alolvillo begged Mr Groeoty to bo very particular, and toft him, fooling rathor disappointed that the lawyer had nob at once pronounced the man an impostor. He returned home to the lar;»e, oldfashioned mansion in Fifth avenue where Wr Norton had lived and died. It was nob

far up town, being jusb above Tenth street.

Mr Norton had just risen, the servant informed him, and was at breakfast. Melvillo joined him there, wondering if he pre.-^-t'.-:! a more attractive appearance by tfay.^ht, und concluded that ho did not.

The repulsive face,- buried in the tawny tangle of hair and bsard, was just as disagreeable by the ligrhb of tho morning sun as by gas-light. 'Been taking a constitutional ?' he asked in an airy manner. , ' No ; I have been to see my lawyer, Mr Gregory,' replied Melville, coldly. He was disgusted with bhe coarse manner this man displayed at meals. Ho had observed ib the night before, and he saw it more plainly now. ' Been to see your lawyer ?' inquirod his uncle, and the young man fancied his voice betrayed alarm. ' Yes; Mr Gregory is my friend as well as my solicitor,' said Melvillo, thinking ho had done wrong to betray the fact of his visit to the lawyer.

1 Indeed, that i 3 pleasant; perhaps there is a Miss Gregory. Maybe she is the young lady I heard spoken of so enthusiastically last night,' said the uncle, with his mouth full of scrambled eggs, in a would-be playful manner.

' If you refer to my intended wife, she is Miss McLoad, daughter of Professor McLoad, formerly of Harvard College,' replied Melville, in his most icy manner, and after that the conversation languished. Mr Louis Norton's papers proved to bo all that they should be, greatly to Melvillo's disappointment). Soon after his uncle was regularly installed as hia guardian, Mr Gregory was senb to Europe on business connected with a title and estate one of his clients had inherited. Thus Melville was loft to the tender mercies of tho man ho so cordially detested—the vile, unscrupulous impostor and murderer—Redclilf. He had made uso of his mesmeric powers over Melville to have him pronounced inpane. He did not place him in an asylum, for fear his trick would be discovered, bub kopfr him almost a prisoner in his own house1. It was only tho fact of Melville's fathor having made such a strange disposition of his monay in case of his sou's death, that saved the young man's life. Otherwise the man who murdered his undo would not havo hesitated to take tho life of the nephew. As ib was he lot him live, if such an existence could be called living. Ho had interrupted tbo wedding, and . broughb Melville home in a, carriage in a | state of stupefaction, which ho rondered j insensibility when .he gob rid of tho doctors,' his dupes. The young man tey on tho sofa in tho library like a log, while the professor rocruited himself after h.is labour by drinking freely from a decanter of wine on tho table before him.

Ho rolled the rich liquid around in his ugly mouth, and soliloquiaod : 'It ia time for me now to laok after Philotua. Sho's had a wholepomo eearo by this time with the old ono. I'm glad of it; she thought she could do wifc.lioub mo, and I let her try. Sho's clover, though, dnced clever, and handsome. Thoro ain't her match in New York city this day. Grand wedding. Wonder why they holo! it in that moldy old St. Mark's. By the way, 1 heard some one say that tho (ioneral w»s ono of tho old members of that) church. Well, I can't see her now till aftor tho honcvyvnnon trip, and I'll let her wait a little and get n, good doso of the old ono. She mrest be got rid of, though—she's troublesomo.. I'll soo to that next.'