THE Childerbridge Mystery

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIII, Issue 111, 12 May 1902, Page 6

THE Childerbridge Mystery

By GUY BOOTHBY.

CHAPTER XI.

Between the time of Murbridge's funeral and his arrival at Childerbridge, Jim had plenty of leisure to consider his position, and to make up his mind as to how much he should let Alice know of the other's story. After mature consideration, he decided that he had better tell her everything. Murbridge's confession had been such a painful shock to himself that he could well understand how it would affect her.

It was mid morning when he arriv- I ed at Childerbridge, and Alice had j walked down to the gates to meet; him He alighted from the carnage | on seeing her, and they strolled across, the Park together. ! "I have been so anxious to hear j from you," she said, linking her arm through her brother's. "What have you to tell me? Did you find that wretched man?" "Yes, I found him," he answered, "and he was dying." She paused for a moment before she put the next question. "And did he confess?" "No," said Jim. "I firmly believe I wronged him in suspecting him of > causing our father's death. But I made another discovery, and one, I fear, that will cause you some astonishment and not a little pain. I. learnt from him that his name was not Murbridge, but McCalmont." "McCalmont?" she echoed, as if she did not understand. "But that was our mother's maiden name." "Exactly," said Jim, "and he was her brother." Alice looked at him in horrified surprise. , „• i "Oh, Jim," she answered, '-surely such a thing cannot be possible?" "I am afraid it is only too true, Jim replied. "His 'story was most circumstantial. He was our mother's youngest brother, and was, I am very much afraid, a disgrace to the family." "But if he had been our mothers brother, why did he entertain such a deadly hatred for father?" she asked. "For the simple reason that father had been successful, while he had been the reverse," Jim replied. "I rather fancy the poor old governor had helped him out of one or twojoi his worst scrapes, and, such being the perverse nature of mankind, Murbridge hated him for the very benefits ne had received from him."

They walked some distance in silence. "Poor, wretched man," said Alice at last. "Oh, Jim, you don't know how thankful I am that he was not the author of that terrible crime. And now, before we say-anything further, there's one thing Linn st talk to you about." "What is that?" he inquired. "It is about Helen," she answered. •'I met her in the village this morning. I don't want to frighten you, but, she is looking very ill. She seems to have come to look years older within the last few days. There is a frightened expression on her face that haunts me even now.", "Did she give you any reasons for it?" he inquired anxiously. "She tried to account for it by saying that her grandfather had not been at 3 all well lately, and that she had rather a trying time with him." "Alice," said Jim, after the short pause that ensued, "I have come to the conclusion that old Bursfield is insane. Helen did not tell you, I suppose, that he uttered all sorts of threats against me the other day?" "She said nothing about it," Alice answered. "I am sorry for her. What is best to be done, do you think?"

"It is difficult to say," Jim answered. "One thing is quite Certain. She cannot go on living with him if he continues in this strain. Under Buch circumstances there is a limit even to a woman's fidelity. I must endeavour to see her as soon as possible." "Would it do for me to go and see her, do you think?" asked Alice. "I should then be able to tell you something definite about Mr. Bursfield's condition." Jim shook his head. "No," he said, "such a thing would not be wise. I must think the matter over and see what is best to be done." By the time he reached the house he had arrived at a conclusion. "Do you remember, Alice," he said, "that clever young doctor that we met at the Caltrops on the evening that we dined with them, soon after onr arrival in England? His name was Weston. Mrs. Caltrop declared that before many years were past he ■would be a recognised authority on mental diseases." "I remember him quite well," Alice answered. "He took me in to dinner, and was so interested in Australia. He had a brother in Sydney, I think. What about him?"

"Well, I have made up my mind to telegraph to Mrs. Caltrop for his address, and having got it, to wire and ask him to come down and see Mr. Bursfield. He would be able to tell trie then whether or not it is safe "for Helen to go on living with him. If he says not, then she must leave him at once." *.

"I should think it would be a very good plan, provided always you can 5-et Mr. Bursfield to see him. You will find that the difficulty."

"Not at all," Jim answered. "I have a scheme that I think will answer. At any rate we will try it.". A telegram was accordingly despatched to Mrs. Caltrop, asking- her to forward the address of the doctor in question. This done, Jim sent for Terence.

"Well, Terence," he said, when the latter made his appearance, "any sign of the Black Dwarf during my absence?"

"Never a one, sir," Terence replied. "I kept my eyes and ears' open all night, and waited about after dark, but there's not been so much as a mouse stirring." "I am glad to hear it," Jim remarked, and then gave Terence a brief description of his visit to London, and of what he discovered there. "Then if it wasn't he as did it," said Terence, "who could it have been?" Before he answered Jim looked at the door, as if to make sure that it was closed. "Terence," he said, "I am gradually coming to the conclusion that the Black Dwarf, whoever he may be, was responsible for it." n "I've thought of that myself, Sir, Terence replied. "In the first place he was seen by one of the maid-servants in the gallery on the night that my father was murdered."

"Don't they say, sir, as how another gentleman was murdered in the same way in this house?" "I believe there is some legend to that effect," said Jim, "but how true it is I cannot say. I don't think, however, we need take that circumstance into consideration." "Then what are we to do, sir?" "Watch and wait until we catch him," Jim replied. "When we've done that we shall be satisfied whether he is flesh and blood or not, and, if he is, by what right he dares to enter my house." There was a lengthy pause; then, with a diffidence that was somewhat unusual with him, Terence said: "You'll excuse me, sir, I hope, for saying such a thing, but between you.and me, sir, I cannot help thinking that we was happier at Gundawurra."

Jim heaved a heavy sigh. A longing to be back in the old home, and to be engaged in the pursuits he had been brought up to from a boy, had been with him a great deal of late.

"Yes," he said. "I think we were happier at Gundawurra. I must go back there _>oon, Terence, if only for a whiff of Bush air. I am very much afraid that playing the fine gentleman in England does not suit me."

When the other had left the room Jim lay back in his chair and fell into a "reverie. He closed his eyes and was transported back to the old home where he had been born, and where he had spent his happiest days. How sweet it would be to settle down there some day with Helen as his Wife! He tried hard to realise the day?s work upon the run—the homecoming at night to find Helen at the gate waiting for him. The evening spent on1 the cool verandah, with the moon rising above the river timber. Then he came back in a flash to the very real anxieties of. the present,. An hour later a message came from Mrs Caltrop. It was as follows:—'

"Dr. Weston, Harley-street."

Whereupon lie took another telegraph form and wired to the doctor to the effect that he would be grateful if he could make it convenient to travel down to Childerbridge that afternoon. In order that the latter might understand from whom the message emanated, he added the words, "Met ydu at dinner at Mrs Caltrop's." Luncheon was scarcely finished before a message arrived from the doctor saying that he would endeavour to be at Childerbridge at four o'clock. Accordingly, at half-past three Jim drove to the railway station to await his coming. Punctual to the moment the train steamed into the station, and he looked about among the passengers for the man he wanted. Presently he descried him coming along the platform, a tall good looking man, resembling a soldier more than a Har-tley-street physician. "Mr Standerton, I believe," he said as he approached Jim. "And you are Dr. Weston, of course," the latter answered with a smile. "In the first place," said the doctor, "I will commence, Mr Standerton, by saying that it is absolutely necessary that.l should catch the six o'clock train back to London."

"I will arrange that you do so," Jim replied, and then the doctor surrendered his ticket and they strolled out of the station. "Perhaps I had better tell you my reasons for asking you to come down to-day. Shall we walk a little way along the road? I have no desire to be overheard. I will give you the facts of the case in order that you may go direct to the house of the gentleman I want you to see."

"He is not a member of your own family, then?" the doctor enquired. "No, he is no sort of relation. In fact I had not seen him until a few months ago." They paused beside a gate and faced each other.

"I gather that it is rather an unusual case," the doctor .remarked. "A very unusual one," Jim replied. "The matter stands in this way. I am engaged to a young lady who is the adopted granddaughter of the gentleman in question." The doctor nodded, but said nothing. He listened attentively while Jim told his tale, explained his fears for Helen's safety, and described the threats the old gentleman had made use of concerning himself.

When he had finished Dr. Weston drew some lines on the ground with the point of his umbrella, as if he were working out a difficult calculation."

"This is certainly a singular case, Mr Standerton," he said at last. "You are not connected with this gentleman in any way, and he, not approving of your marriage with his grOnddaughter, has forbidden you his house. The young lady's only reason, I gather, for believing him to be a little weak in his intellect is his treatment of you. I really do not know whether, under the circumstances, I should be justified in seeing him." Jim's heart sank. He had not looked at the matter from this point of view." Observing his disappointment the doctor smiled.

"Nevertheless," he continued, "I will see him, provided you will give me your promise that my report shall be considered a purely confidential one."

"Am I to understand that I am not to acquaint Miss Decie or my sister with your decision?" "Of, course, I will allow you to tell them, and equally, of course, provided it goes no further." "Irf that case I will give you my promise most willingly," said Jim. "And now the question comes as to how I can obtain my interview wiih him."

"I have thought out a plan that should enable you to do that," Jim replied. "I happen to know that for a long time past he has been engaged in writing a history of the neighbourhood, and my house in particular, which at one time was the property of his family." "I see; and the ruins a mile or two back, what are they called?" "Clevedon Castle," Jim answered. "The Castle, I believe, was destroyed by Cromwell."

"That should answer my purpose, now, with your permission, I will drive to his house. Not in your carriage, but in a cab. I shall, see you afterwards, I presume?"

"I will wait for you here, or at my house, whichever you please," said dim.

"Your own house, I think, would be better," the doctor answered. "I will drive there directly I leave Mr —■> by the way, you have not told me his name or given me his address."

Jim furnished him with both, and then the doctor hailed a fly and drove away.

It was nearly half-past five before James was informed by Wilkins that Dr. Weston would be glad to see him. "Where is he," "I have shown him into your study, sir/ Wilkins replied.

Jim immediately proceeded thitheff, to find the doctor sitting before the fire.

"Well, Mr Standerton," he began, "I have seen Mr Bursfield, and have had rather a curious interview with him."

"And what decision nave you come to?"

"Well, I think your supposition is correct. Not to be technical, I might s&i' that he is not really responsible for his actions. While we discussed archaeology, and the history of the neighbourhood, he was rational enough, but when I chanced to touch upon this house, and your connection with it, his whole demeanour changed. If I were in your place I should avoid him as much as possible, for there can be no doubt that he would do you a mischief if he could. As for Miss Decie, I do not think I should advise you to persuade her to leave him, at least not at present. It would in all probability immediately produce unfavourable results, and in so doing might snap the frail link that still connects him with sanity. The influence she exerts over him, where you are not concerned, is undoubted-! ly a beneficial one." ;

"Am I to consider that she is safe with him?"

, "I should say so," the doctor replied. "Of course, if he has many more of these paroxysms of rage it might be necessary for her to leave him. But she must be the best judge of that. Doubtless you can arrange that with her: And now I must be getting back tO the railway station. If I wish to catch my train I have not much time to lose."

"I am exceedingly obliged to you, Doctor Weston," said Jim gratefully. "I cannot say that you have made my mind easier, but you have at least let me know exactly how matters stand with Mr Bursneld."

' i am glad to have been of service," saiu. the doctor.

James handed him an envelope containing his fee, and escorted mm to the door. When he had seen jaini depart, he returned to the drawingroom and communicated his intelligence to hi? sister.

"Poor Helen," said Alice, "it is no wonder that she looks anxious. What will you do now, Jim?"

"I must take the night to think the matter over," he answered. "Since the old man is undoubtedly mad, and not only mad but dangerously so, I cannot bear to contemplate her remaining with him, and yet I have no desire to hasten the crisis."

All the evening Jim brooded ove; the matter, imagining all sorts of dangers for the woman he loved. At last the time came for them to retire to rest. He was in the act of lighting Alice's candle in the hall, wheri the Sound of a step on the gravel path outside attracted his attention.

"Good gracious," cried Jim, "who on earth can it be at this time of the night?"

He hastened to the door. The lights from the Hall shone .on the steps, and showed him Helen Decie standing, bareheaded, before him. For a moment the shock at seeing her there at such an hour, and in such a plight, deprived him of speech. Alice ' was the first to break the silence?" • "Helen," she cried, "what does this mean?" Then Helen stepped into the hall and James closed the door behind her. He had scarcely done so, before she gave a little cry and fell to the floor in a dead faint. Picking her up Jim carried her to the big settee in the centre of the hall.

"My poor girl," he cried, "what has he done to you?" Then, turning to Alice, he asked—"What can have happened?"

•She did not answer him, but sped upstairs to her bedroom, to presently return with a bottle Of smelling salts. Under their restorative influence, consciousness very soon returned, and Helen looked about her in a dazed fashion, as if she could not realise where she was, or what had taken place.

"Do you feel well enough to tell what has happened, dear?" Jim asked, when she had so far recovered as to be able to sit up. "What has brought you here bareheaded at this time of night?"

"My grandfather has turned me out of his house," she answered falteringly. "Turned you out of the house?" cried both Jim and Alice together. Then Alice added: "Surely not? He ought to be turned out himself!"

"You must not be angry with him," Helen returned. "I really don't think he knows what he is doing."

"But this ls an unheard-of proceeding," said Jim angrily. "He must

have taken leave of his senses."

"He accused me of being in league with you to poison him, and bade me come to an instant decision as to whether I would 'give you up or leave

the house." ! ..' • "And you refused to give me up," said James, kissing her hand. "Helen acted nobly," said Alice. "Never mind, dear, you know where your real friends are, don't you?" "But whatever shall I do?" the girl put in. "He bade me leave the house and never come back again."

"We will arrange all that tomorrow," Jim replied. "For tonight, Alice will take care of you. Do not worry, dear heart, all will come right in the end." Then he proceeded to inform her of Dr. Weston's visit, that afternoon, and of the report he had given of the old gentleman's mental condition. "I cannot tell why," she said, "but I had some sort of suspicion that he came for that purpose. Poor grandfather, how sad it is to think of his being like this. Since he does not know what he is doing we should not be angry with him for acting as he did." At this juncture Alice departed to make arrangements for her friend's comfort for the night. "Oh, Jim dear, what do you think will become of me?" Helen asked. "Think for me for I canmot think for myself." "I think I can hazard a very good guess what your fate will be," said Jim. "TVo-morrow morning I shall go up to London to obtain a Special License, and the day after, you shall become my wife." (To be Continued.)