THE Childerbridge Mystery

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIII, Issue 112, 13 May 1902, Page 6

THE Childerbridge Mystery

By GUY BOOTHBY.

CHAPTER XII.

Unexpected as the events of the evening had been, Jim Standerton, as he stood in his bedroom before retiring to rest, could not declare that he altogether regretted the turn they had taken. On the morrow he would go to London, he told himself, and afterwards, armed with the Law's authority, he would make Helen Decie his wife without delay. From that inument old Bursfield might do his worst. Before retiring to his r.oom he had visited Terence, and had received from him a positive assurance that so far all was well. Knowing that he might trust the latter implicitly, he had given him an account oi what had happened that evening. '•The sooner, sir, they put that old o-entleman under lock and key the better it will be for everybody," said Terence.. "Let him just come playm<y his little game round here, and, mark my words, he'll have me on his track like a Nyall blackfellow.'; Half an hour later Jim was in bed and asleep, dreaming that he was back in the bush once more, and tnat he and Terence were chasing wud horses through a mountain range, and that, on the foremost horse, Helen was seated, clinging to its mane, as if for dear life. He was galloping after her as fast as his horse could carry him, when suddenly a hand clutched him by the throat, and tried to lift him out ot the saddle. At that moment he woke to find that this was no dream, but the most horrible reality he had ever known in his life. Bony fingers were clutching tightly at his windpipe. He endeavoured to rise and to seize his assailant, whoever he might be, 1. ■** throw him off. But his efforts were unavailing. Still those terrible, talon-like fingers retained their hold, and try how he would he could not shake them off. Little by little foe felt consciousness leaving him. He was choking. The room was in such total darkness that he was unable to discover whom his antagonist might be. In the last extremity .of his agony he rolled from the bed and lay helpless upon 'the floor, entangled in the clothes. With the fall his assailant lost his grip of his throat. Then something must have startled him, for a moment later the door opened, and he was gone. Disengaging himself as quickly as possible irom the bed clothes, Jim staggered to his feet, half stunned by the, fall and the terrific conflict in which he had so lately been engaged. As soon as he recovered sufficiently he ran to the door, opened it and dashed out into the gallery. No one was to be seen there, but he had not gone many paces before he heard the same clicking noise that had arrested his attention on the first occasion of his seeing the Black Dwarf. Making his way .round the gallery as quickly as possible, he reached the room occupied by Terence. The door stood ajar, and from the noises that proceeded from within, he gathered that his trusty servant was not only in bed, but fast asleep. He crossed to the bed and shook him by the shoulders.

"Get up, Terence," he whispered softly. "Get up at once." "What's the matter?" asked the half awakened man. Then fumbling on the chair beside his bed, he discovered the match box and immediately lit his candle. "Why, it's you, sir, is anything- wrong?" "I should rather think so," Jim replied. "Look at my throat and see if you can detect any marks upon . it."

Terence held up the candle to his master as he was directed, to discover that, on either side of Jim's jthroajt were a number of bruis-s and scratches, and some, of the latter v.:ere bleeding profusely. "Mjj» gracious, sir," said Terence, "it looks as if somebody ha 3 been trying to strangle you." "You've hit. it exactly," Jim replied. '""Good Heayens, Terence. I've been nearly murdered. You've no idea w^at an awful ££ht I've had of it in the dark. The man, whoever lie ■was, finding that he couldn't finish me, bolted, and has gone down some secret passage in the gallery. Get up, Te.encf, we must catch him somehow."

Torence sprang out of bed, and ■while he was dressing Jim hastened back to his own room and also ' donned some clothes. This done, he returned to Terence's bedroom, to discover that worthy in the act of pulling on his coat. "My word, sir," said Terence, "I wish 'X had been behind him when He was trying to settle* you. I'd have given liim one for his precious nob, ghosfr or no ghost." "I expect you would: Now be as quick as you can, for there is not a moment to lose if we want to catch him."

Terence immediately announced himself as ready, and then, taking their candles, they set off round the gallery towards the corridor where Jim felt sure his mysterious assailant had disappeared. Inspection showed him that the door of the stairs at the further end, leading down to the domestic offices, was securely fastened on the other side. Having made sure of this, they tried, as on a previous occasion, the various rooms along the corridor, search-

ing each one most carefully. But no success attended their efforts. "It is quite certain that he is not in any of these rooms," said Jim. "jSTow' what we hare to do, Is to discover the entrance to that secret passage. I shall not rest content until I have found that." They accordingly returned to the corridor, where they set to1 work once more to overhaul the wainscotting. Beginning- at one end they worked to the other; their efforts, however, met with no more success than they had done in the searching of the rooms. Every panel of the wainscotting seemed as hollow as its fellow—each projection as fmnly secured. "And yet I am as certain that it ;i* pome where about here that he disappeared, as I am of anything, snid Jim. At the entrance to the corridor from the gallery were two square pillars elaborately carved with fruit. iJim had explored h3s sicle> Pre!?sln£ and pulling every pear and apple with the usual result. Suddenly Terence touched him on the arm. * "Look here, sir," he whispered, "what's this? It seems to me that this grape moves." Jim turned to him and knelt down beside the bunch of fruit indicated. It certain|y did seem as if the lowest grape''of 'the bunch were loose. It shook under his finger, and yet showed &o sign of coming off. "I believe we've got it at last," he said, pressing upon it as he spoke with all his strength. Yet it did not move. He endeavotired to push it in the direction of the gallery, but still it remained immovable. He tried forcing it from him towards the corridor, when, to his amazement, it left its place and moved half an inch or so away. ■ As it did so, there was a heavy creaking noise, and a portion of the panelling of the corridor some three feet in width and six feet high swung inwards, disclosing a black cavity, which might either have been a well or a staircase. Both men drew back in astonishment, half expecting that Jim's assailant, if he were concealed within, would dash c st upon them. "We've found the place," said Jim. "Now, if I am not mistaken, we shall be able to solve the mystery of the .-famous Childerbridge ghosts. Hold your candle aloft, so that we can see what we are doing, and we'll desceno and discover where it leads to."

"Let me go first, sir," said Terence. "After the fight you had upstairs, you may not be up to the mark, firm dying to have a turn with him. if he's as big as a church."

But Jim would not hear of this, and bade Terence follow him. Hoiaing their lights aloft, $hey descended the. narrow stone steps. These were longer than they expected to find them, and when they reached the bottom Jim knew that they must be some distance beneath the level of the foundations of. the house. They were then standing in a passage, some four feet wide by seven in height. The walls and ceiling were of brick, the floor composed of huge blocks of stone. Everything reeked with damj) while the air was as close and musty as a vault. Being resolved to leave no part of it unexplored, Jim pushed on closely followed by Terence. For economy's sake they blew out one of the candles, not knowing how far. they might have to trsuve'l, or what might happen to them bj the' way. They had not been more than three minutes in the passage before Jim stopped, and turning to his companion, held up his hand.

"What's up?" he asked. A sound as of heavy blows upon stone reached th^m from above.

"I can tell you what it is, sir," said Terence, after a moment's reflection. "It's the horses, and it means that we're under the stables."

"In that case it must run the entire width of the house, and burrow under the courtyard. It means also that the direction is due east. This is growing interesting. Come along." After tlfis discovery they pushed on with increased speed, but the passage showed no signs of coming to an end. The air was close, but now and again draughts poured in upon them to prove that though they could not see them there must be vent holes .somewhere.

"I wouldn't have believed such a place could have existed," said Jim. It seems as if we have come miles. By Jove, what's that?" As he spoke the light of his candle shone upon a dark mass huddled upon the floor. A second later it became apparent that it was the figure of a man.

"Take care, sir," said Terence; "it may be the man we want, and he's as like as not shamming.".

"We'll soon find that out," answered Ji&, and knelt down beside the prostrate figure. While Terence held the candle, Jim rolled the man over until they could see the face. Then he uttered a cry of horror. The man lying before them was none other than Abraham Bursfield.

"Good heavens! This is too terrible!", said Jim, after the long- pause which' followed, during which he had assured himself that he had made no mistake as to the other's identity. "Is he dead, do you' think, Terence?" "Quite dead, air," Terence replied, after he, too, had knelt down and examined him. "If he's the man who tried to kill you, he'll never do any more mischief to anybody again."

But Jim did not answer. A sickening feeling1 of giddiness was taking possession of him. If it were Abraham llursfield who had done his best to murder him-that night, it .was only logical to conclude that he was also the man who- had murdered his father. Doctor Weston had declared him to be a madman that afternoon. lS Tow he had certainly proved himself to be one of the most dangerous type.

. "What's to bt.- done, Terence, what's to be done?" Jim asked, almost piteously. "We could not have made a more terrible discovery."

"There'll have to be an inquest, sir," said Terence. "When it will be found that he

entered my house and endeavoured to murder me. Then it will be remembered how my father died. Two and two will be put together, and the terrible'truth will come out."

"Good God, sir, I see what you mean/ said Terence. "I never thought of that."

"He was mad, Terence, hopelessly mad, and therefore not responsible for his actions. Doubtless he has tried to murder, all the tenants of this house for the reason that he thinks the place should belong to him. Poor Miss Decie!"

"Aye, poor young lady. If she was so fond 01 the'old gentleman, it would break her heart to know what he had been trying to do "

"She must never know," said Jim, who by this time had made up his mind. "I can trust you, Terence?"

"To the death, sir, and I think you know it. I've served you, sir, and I served your father before you, and 1 don't think you ever found me want ing. Tell me what you think o.E do-

ing." "We must get him back tc Ins house, if possible," said Jim, "and let him be found dead there. Xo one but oar two selves will know the truth, and if- we hold our tongues no one will ever hear of it, At any cost to myself 1 cannot let Miss Deeie be made more unhappy than she is."

;'[ don't know but what you are right, sir," Terence answered. "But1 how are we going to get him there?"

"We must go along the passage and see where it leads, to, I fancy we shall find ourselves in the Dower House. This passage must have been made years ago when the two properties" were one. We will leave the body here, and, if I am right in my conjecture, we can come back for it." " •

They accordingly allowed the re- | mains of the unfortunate old man fo j lie where they had found them, on the floor of the passage, and proceeded on their tour of exploration. As it transpired, they had still a considerable distance to go before they reached the end. At last, however, they found themselves at the foot of a flight of stone steps, similar to those by which they had descended at the Manor House. '•Step very quietly," Jim whispered to his companion. "We must on no account rouse the servants." They noiselessly ascended the steps,until they found themselves at the top, and confronted by a door. "Remain here, Terence," Jim whiskered, "while I open it and see where we are." He found the spring, which could be easily discovered on the inside, and when he had pressed it had the satisfaction of seeing the door swing inwards. Shading the candle with his hand he stepped into the room he found before him. You may judge of his surprise at finding himself in Mr. Bursfield's study, the same room in which he had had his last unpleasant interview with the old gentleman. The secret door, he observed, formed part of the panelling on one side of the fireplace, a fragment of carving in the seting of the chimney piece being the means of opening it. The old man's papers and books were littered about the table just as he had left them; an eight-day clock ticked solemnly in the corner, and a little mouse watched Jim from beneath the sofa, as if to discover his errand there at such an hour. Having made sure of his whereaboiits, Jim returned to the passage, closing the door carefully behind him. "We must lose no time," he whispered to Terence. "It is already a quarter to three. Heaven grant that Isaacs, his man servant, does not take it into his head to look in upon the old gentleman during the night. He would then find him gone, and that would make it rather difficult to explain the fact of his being found dead in his chair in' the morning." By this time their first candle had expired, and it became necessary to light that which Terence was carrying. "If we are not very careful we shall be compelled to make our way back in the dark, after we have carried him up here." said Jim. "Thi« candle will scarcely see us through.

"Never mind that, sir, so long as we can get him in there safely," said Terence] "T have got a box of matches in my pocket, and we can easily fumble our way back." They accordingly set off, and in due course reached the place where they had left the old man's body. • "How are we to carry him?" askec< Jim. "Oh. you leave that to me, sir. I can manage it," answered Terence. "If you'll go ahead with the light I'll follow you." So saying he picked the frail body up. as 'if its weight were a matter of no concern to him, and they set oft1 on their return journey to the Dower House. If the distance had appeared a long one before it was doubly so now. At last, however, they reached the steps, climbed them, and a few moments later were standing in the dead man's study once more. In spite of his assertions to the contrary it was plain that his exertions had "taxed Terence's strength to its utmost. Between them they placed the body in the chair before the table, making it lie back as if he had fallen asleep over his work.

This done they left the room as quietly as they had entered it and made their way down the steps once more. From all appearances Jim's prophecy that the return journey would have to be made in darkness was likely to bis fulfilled. Indeed, this isj really what did happen, for they had scarcely reached the place where they had discovered the body before the flame fluttered out and they found themselves in inky darkness. Terence struck a match, but its feeble flicker was of little or no use to them. Fumbling their way along—with a hand stretched out to touch the walls, they continued to progress, until a muttered exclamation from Terence, who was leading, proclaimed the fact that they had reached the steps at the further end. "Bad cess to 'em," said he, "I've barked my shins sq that I shall have good cause to remember them to my dying day." He thereupon lit another match, and by means of this modest illumination they climbed to the door in tn"e' corridor above.

"Heaven be thanked, we're safe home oace more," said Jim, as they stepped from the stairs into the passage. "I trust I may never experience another night like this."

Whispering to Terence to follow him quietly,"he led the way round the gallery and downstairs to the diningroom, where he unlocked the Tantal-

us and poured out a glass of spirits for Terence and another for himself. Both stood in need of some sort of stimulant after all they had been through. "Not a word of this affair must be breathed to any living- being,- Terence," said Jim, as he put his glass down. "Eemember, I trust my secret to you implicitly."

"I give you my word, sir, that no : body shall ever hear it from me," answered Terence, and then the two men solemnly shook hands.

"Now, before we go to becl I'll get you to come to my room, and have a look at my throat," said Jim. "It's uncommonly sore."

This proved to be the case. And small wonder was it, for the finger marks were fast turning- to bruises, while the scratches showed up as fiery red as ever. Jim shuddered again and again as he recalled that awful struggle and compared his escape with his father's cruel fate. "Another moment and in all probability he would have done for me too," he said to himself," and then he added somewhat inconsequently, "poor Helen "

When his wounds had been dressed he despatched Terence to bed; for his own part, however, he knew that sleep was impossible. He did not attempt to seek it, but seating- himself in a comfortable chair proceeded to read with what attention he could bestow upon the occupation until daylight. When the sun rose he dressed himself and went out, wearing a scarf instead of a collar, in order that the wounds he had received might not be apparent to the world. The memory of that hateful passage under the park haunted him like an evil dream. He determined to have it closed at once for good and all. While he remained the owner of Childerbridge no man, woman or child should ever set foot in it again. He was still wondering how he could best carry out the work without exciting suspicion or comment, when he observed an old man crossing the Park towards him. As the other drew nearer Jim became aware that it was old Mr Isaacs, Mr Bursfield's man-servant and general factotum. It was also to be seen that he was agitated by some extraordinary emotion.

"God have mercy upon us, sir," he said, as he came up to Jim, "this has been a terrible night. Is Miss Helen with you?"

"She is," Jim replied, and then endeavouring to speak unconcernedly, he added—"Has Mr Bursfiel.d sent yon to find her?"

"My master will never send for anybody on an errand again," he said. "He has been sent for himself. Mr Bursfield is dead!"

(To be Continued.)