...The... Mystery of No. 13.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXI, Issue 289, 5 December 1900, Page 6

...The... Mystery of No. 13.

SYNOPSIS OP PREVIOUS CHAPTEP.S.

CHAPTERS I. and ll.—Barry Ross, who I lives In the same house as the St. Georgvs, is found shot at the foot of the coucE of Mrs St. George, who has been sleeping downstairs. Jack St. George, thir.king that his wife is guilty of the murder, takes on himself the suspicion and gives the detective, when he arrives, a circumstantial account of how he has committed the crime. CHAPTER lll.—Mrs St. George, who is deaf, and did not hear the pistol-shot, certain that her husband Is the guilty party, tries, though ineffectually, to convince the detective that she committed the crinie. CHAPTER IV.—Rose, the maid, before the preliminary enquiry, gives evidence that seems to strengthen Jack St. George's confession. The wife, by the salfc ot sapphires, which as a heirloom she was supposed not to part with, gets sufficient money to retain Mr Latreille, a capaole solicitor, and Mr Lemaire, the eleveres-. advocate of the day, for her husband s defence. CHAPTER V.—Mrs St. George, almost broken ddwn by the strain, sends to the country for her little son, who is <£ept away from London by doctor's orders.

CHAPTER "VI. •'Below, my boy, I'll weep for thee; Too soon alake, thou weep for me; Thy griefs are growing to a sum, God grant thee patience when tney come." • "Where my rocking'-'orse?" said Daffy, when on his arrival his mother and he had hugged and kissed each other almost out of breath and paused a while before they began it all over agTra'gedy had stalked through the house and swept the master of at and his friend away; but the child, finding his mother and his rocking-horse all safe, was content. , She took his little, eager hand and went downstairs with him to the room that was indifferently called the housekeeper's and the day nursery, and where Daffy's toys flourished m great disorder and abundance, and sat down, in the dingy room, while the four-year-old boy rode his horse boldly and fast, his golden curls flying, as with voice and whip he encouraged his steed to increased effort. I \s she looked at his chubby limbs the roses on his cheeks and the clearness: of his blue eyes she thought how | selfish she was for her own pleasure to bring him to this house where he never thrived, and where, indeed, she ; was never able to keep him for very 1O Town life did not suit Daffy, and the greater part of his time was spent in the country with his nurse, Dolly. If Elizabeth had loved Jack less she wou]d" have passed mostly her exist- j ■^nee there, too; but she had never placed the child before his father, and so had to endure the misery of being nearly always without the company o± one or the 'other. The real satisf ac-< j tio.n in her life lay,in Jacks holidays.; When "all three went away together she was happy, with that intensity which only a fc pf tenure of happiness call bring. . "Mother," said Daffy, pausing m his "management of his steed to look at her anxiously, "has 'oo been ill? "No, my sweetheart," £ihe said, bravely, "but London does not suit mother very well." "Come down in the counf y," said Daffy, nodding, "lots o' cows and pigs, and such dear little chickens! | Dolly's promised to take care or them. Why didn't Dolly come too? he added, anxiously, "can't get long j without Dolly!" -„! "She is taking care of the cottage, said Elizabeth, "won't motheir do for your nurse, lovey?" . i "O, yes!" shouted Daffy, scrambling, down to kiss her fondly; "where my little white mouse?" he added suddenly, as if struck by a thougrht. "Upstairs," said the mothor, all safe." ~.,.„ "And 3'ou- haven't 'tarred him; said Daffy, anxiously. ■ "No, dear one. I have seen tuat ne was fed ev^ry day." ■ And so. she had. Through All that had happened her child's one town pet had never been forgotten;' and not for a single day had his glass crock been left unfilled with bread and mill*. "Good mummy," said the boy, as be climbed into her arms and drew her head dovfn to his. . . She elesed her eyes that he might not see the. tears that came into them. With his cheek pressed against hers she was in heaven and would have liked to rest thus for ever. ""Daddy'coming 'ome- early?" said Daffy, squeezing his velvet. embrace still closer round her neck. "Not to-day, lovey," she said, her brief spell of joy over. "Daddy is-* a-way just now." • "Why you not gone too?" said Daffy, silting up and looking earnestly at Ms mbther. .■ \ : . . \• " "He lias gone on—on business, Daffy." : • : ! "0!" said.Daffy, only hali satisfied, but anxious, as usual, not to appeal ignorant. After pandering awhile ha said: "Barry gone away too?" "Yes," said Elizabeth, putting- her hand to her throat as if something choked her. "He promised me a new rocking 'orse," sai<J Daffy, with, grave displeasure. "Jest like a Shellun' pony, with a hair?/ skin and a real tail. Does 'oo sink- h^'s forgotten it?" ' She boY/ed her head on his neck to hide her eyes. She could not answei him.. ' "PVajis he'll come 'ome before I go away," said Daffy, cheerfully; "'ope so; BaiTy and me used to 'aye velly 'igh jiriks; that's what he used to cal! 'em, I'used to call it fun." She had forgotten how good Barry

By HELEN B. MATHERS,

had used to be to her boy. ... How they had played and romped together. Mow one night on going up to the nursery she had found Daffy with his golden head on his friend's shoulder saying his prayers, and Barry listening reverently. Something struck against the stony rock of her heart then, and pity gushed out, pity for the man to whom she had been so merciless, whom she had condemned unheard, knowing the powerlessness of the mute lips to open and clear him of the charge with which he had been dishonoured. Soon the little busy feet were stumping upstairs again, this time to the drawing-room, where, in a hidden corner known only to himself, Daffy had left an "ingin" that was inestimably dear to his faithful heart. Elizabeth could not stop him with any degree of reason, so she followed him over the threshold of the darkened room; yes, even through the folding doors and right up to the recess, where Daffy fished out his battered treasure and hailed it with rejoicing. But coming away he missed something and paused. "Where is your bed?" he said. "Does you 'member, mummy, when us seeped down 'ere one night, cos you said you couldn't seep upstairs? How us did enjoy ourselves!" And he hugged himself up together at the memory of it. "Dolly says," he added, shaking nia dear little fair head, "you oughtn't to seep down 'ere by your lone self. Naughty man might get in and hurt you, wiz no Daffy 'ere to take care o you." , "Come and see the white mouse,' she said, and led his dancing steps down stairs to the dining-room. ' The "Pink 'un" was glad to see his young piaster, and did not bite him with his tiny teeth, as he usually did Elizabeth when she explored his box with her forefinger. For a while she sat and watched the little animal's frolicking round Daffy's small perfOE—popping in and out o. his frills, and playing at hide and seek in his curie—having by no means that horror of mice shared by most people, and-simply loving all animals, great and small. ' Then came his dinner —for ne had arrived early—and then he went to sleep, and Elizabeth watched by him, his dimpled hand held fast in hers. He would be almost entirely in her care now, for she had thought it best for his nurse to remain in the country, and Rose had more than enough to do already, now that she was maid and parlouf-maid combined. Despair had lately made Elizabeth his prey, but the cloud was lifted now, as she looked upon the dear little companion all her own, whose happiness he entirely made, and who must in future make hers. In her misery she had hardly dared to think of this one priceless treasure remaining to her, and now she humbly thanked God for it, and vowed that the touch of this little hand should Hold her back from falling into such hopeless abysses again. j When Dgffy awoke he expressed himself ready to go out for a walk, and when dressed called upon Rose to fetch his mother's hat. j "Not to-day, lovey," she said, "mother's tired. Kose will go with i you." Daffy hung his head, bitterly disappointed. But all his little life he had thought of his mother before himself, and now he did not urge his own claim, but, with a loving air of pro. tection, led-her to a sofa, where he made' her lie down, and having stuffed every pillow in the room under her hfad, and carefully covered her feex with a large antimacassar, and softly . kissed the tip of her nose, he went away on tiptoe with Kose, keeping- up an appearance of cheerfulness to the last, Elizabeth lay listening to the little hushed steps as they went out of the door, and in fancy she passed With them up the street. Would every one who me.t him look coldly on the child for his mother's and father's sake. Was that little golden h«ad to be bowed with shame already, for a sin that was not his? But if such glances fell, Daffy did not know it. He had not gone far when <W stopped, puckering up his ncse and brows. "Got a pain in my shoe," he said, "take it out for me!" Rose looked softly round. Only ardiuary dawdlers and passers-by were to be seen at the corner of a street that- led at right angles to the house at the back of No. 13. "We will go to the shoemaker and have it taken out," she said, as he trotted along, rwell satisfied, beside her, down a small piece of street, across some mews,: and into a narrow alley, where the few shops and tenements ivere poor and mean. Once •' more.' she glanced swiftly round, then stopped at the door of a 20lbler's shop, and without waiting [or an answer, went in. An old man, sitting at his bench, ooked up at the smart Frenchwoman, md gruffly asked her her business. A young one, who worked with his back turned to them, did not even lift his lead. ' . . „ "This little boy's shoe pinches him. jaid Rose, "will you see if you can nake it more comfortable?" ■ Daffy's mother wished to keep him i child as long as possible, so he still wore petticoats—white, fresh, worked petticoats, that looked out of place in the broken chair, upon which the jobbler sat him before kneeling down to remove his tiny shoe. ' Rose stood looking carelessly about her, her glance presently falling on the dark, unkempt head and profile of the-man who worked doggedly on, not even taking the trouble to notice the smart/bit of French prettiness, exquisitely neat and dainty, behind him. "It's dorn now," said Daffy, with a sigh of relief, as, after certain punchings and hammerings, the now easy/shoe was fitted on, and he followed Rose contentedly enough to the door, to which she> had insensibly drawn the cobbler.

"Your assistant looks very ill," she said, as she paid the sixpence demanded, "what ails him?" "How do I know?" he said irritably, "he was the best workman 1 ever had till this murder round the corner, and when they came prying here about skylights and what not— though no oue has used that attic tliese ten years—he seemed to get the affair on his nerves, and he has been, drinking and. playing the fool ever since. But he is French —as you see, aud foreigners are a ruin lot', with which ungallant speech he disappeared back into the shop.

(To be continued daily.)