A MODERN JULIET.

Auckland Star, Volume XL, Issue 271, 13 November 1909, Page 18

A MODERN JULIET.

BY CHARLES GARVICE

Author of "By Devious Ways," "The ' ilarcui:/" -'Lorrie, o r Hollow Gold, 1, ; "She Loved Him." CH \ 1 1 1-; R XXl.—Continued. Chantry Payne feared that he should! no-l i-!-"- r- :.-,j; n;_ r .it. bu:, contrary i to his frar. he slept soundly, and 1 was awakened by J ingley, who] can-:'-' :n with the hot water, j Ch«a:ry r.i-—i himself on his, elb" a- .'.r. I .".'!-:->i at the man vaguely. "'H.i-i-:•.[--: -.z'nz. sir," said Langi-ev. : "It's a iL-io morning." ''Vγ-ry well." said Chantry, with a 1 yawn. "1= the hath ready?"' As r asked the commonplace question, : the evpnti . 1 in* prfft>din<r flashed j a< , n ?- him. and he dropped back on the i pillow ar.i closed his pyes and shuddered, j "Yi-s. fir." replied L.ingley. "It is «juk'' r.a.iy: Mr. Jlarry. who generally ] ha, i; f.r-t. i- not in the Manor, sir. He j has not been home all night." "Ah. no: I remember he told mc he ] ■was poms up to London." said Chantry Paynr. "I hope you had a pleasant evenIng hist night Langley."' "Yes sir. thank you." replied Langley. "J sang thr.— sorurs. and was pneored for each. Will you wear your knickerbocker suit, ir:" Ch-intry l'nyne replied in the affirmative, ami the man. after laying the suit On the bed. left the room. Chantry Payne cot up and had his barb. II- sang while he was having it,] End san; while he was dressing. Anyone i hearing wouM have said: "'There is a! man with a light heart and an easy conscience." But every ,iow and then his voice wavered and broke, and he stopped short ami -t.ireu at the glass with a ; sudden horror of remembrance. He went down to breakfast and made ! s very gx>-i pretence of eating the dainties which Sawyer and v footman brought ' him. an-1 he was buttering a piece of j toast vcfafu. with a hurried knock at the j "I i>=c your pardon. jir.~ he said, re- j speetfuiiy. and with a kind of anxiety j in his iac? and voice, "but I can"t rouse j his lordship. ' Chantry Pajne went on spreading the ' bun t on his toast, tnen he lookei up i ffi7-p "Asleep still, Langiey?" he said. "His lordship never sleeps till this! Sfvir. sir," said Lancley. "He's usually ■ awake long before this. I'm afraid— j sons' how —that something may have hap- j pem-.i to him. His lordship's generally j a light sleeper and hears mc knock at | cnee." "Go up and knock again," said Chan- j try. easily; and he went on eatincr his' breakfast as if there were no cause for i anxiety. Iγ. less than five minutes Lansley was j in the mom again. ""I can't make his lordship hear, sir," I he -aid. "it's most strange — t hantry m* with a shrug of his shoulders, wiped his lips with his servi- j ette in a leisurely fashion, and dropped ' it on the table resignedly. "What nonsense:" he said. "His lord-' ship is asleep. But I'll come up with yon.' , lie followed Lamrley up the stairs. Langley knocked at the door softly and thpn" loudly. "He doesn't hear." h» said. Of the two he appeared much more anxious than Chantry Payne. "He is fast asleep; but you had better go in," said Chantry Payne, with perfect Bell-possession. Langley tried the door. "It is locked, sir," he said. He knocked again, very loudly this time, and there yas no answer. Langley -was trembling n^w. "I don't like it. sir.' , he said. "His lordship's an old man, and he's not been •well lately. Anything Eiight have happened. My la = t master was taken suddenly— v "Nonsense. man!" said Chantry Payne; "but if you are anxious, force th.- door."' Langley looked frightened. "Then stand aside and let mc," said Chantry Payw. "I don't believe there's anything wrong; but—"' tie put. his km-o against the door, close to the lo''k. and burst the door onen. Langley entered, saw nothing for a momerit, in thr- darkness, then went to the window and moved the curtain, looked ov. r his shoulder in the act of doing so, and stnpjrrrinrr back with the curtain still in liis liand. uttered a. cry of terror, his eyes fixed on the motionless form lying on the hoartli-rug. As if he had gi.ii it for the first time, Chantry Payne erhuoJ the cry. It seemed wrung from him a2:iii;st his will. The butler and footman, who had h->: r I the colloquy between the valet and Ch uitry Payne, and who had come into th« hall and wore listening, ran up the stairs and stood in the open door-way, and >a\v rhe figure stretched out on the carpet. ".My God! it's the master!" exclaimed E-any'r. liiey all stood and stared at the motioniess f. rm. petrified with the horror which the iiving feel when they look npcjn one done to death. <. hantry Payne, white as death itself, knelt b-'jide the dead man. "Lie is quite dead.'-' he said. "Go for tiie doctor —the police!"* in a - i instant, as it seemed, the whole of the Manor was ir> a rta'.o of wild exeiieaient, a.s a hiv» might, '"c -which had suddenly been deprived of itc ■jiieen. The men were gesticulating and esthe women screaming. There were e-jni-e amongst them who had been in --Z-: earl's service since their childiiood, and aiio, noz-witiLst-andins his passionate aid aery temper, had become ait-ieh-d to him: and they wailed and eobbod a'.oud it his sudden end. The ■oni'isicn, the din, 'bewildered Cho-3-.rv Payne and those who were in tio r'""'p vrith him. Almost mechanical;-. :V-y .-arried the dead earl into the bedroom. "Lot 3"Liing be moved or Touched," ea. '. ' ~"n"v Payne, gravely. :ii- .= ■■■-: ■.'■■i the oooiess of them all; ■b'-;-. ?.e v\s oa'y natural, he iva» very p.i..> •. r.-i nis voice was unsteady. ; ■ ■• ■:-■.•. d huddie-i together in the c-'rr. i'-r, and presently the doct-or and tho insTWTor of police made their way , ■tfa:~::_r: thvni,. and entered the death-j A '. jc •: and a touch was sufficient for ' ii.- iord-riip is quite dead," , he said, sc.!--- :■,;■.■. "He iia= been dead for some; hour.."" ! 1 ;:e inspector returned to the sitting-! r: >:i! and looked about him keenly, j The .-i.'ta v.ii half dragged from the j ta'.r. , . There a pool of blood partly sunken inio the pile of Turkey carpet; a. sink—a tugged stick—i.iy within a, yard of the spot on which the body had fcoen stretched out. The inspector took it up and looked at it keenly." " I

"Whose etick is this?" he asked; and his sharp eves wandered from one to the other of the awe-stricken crowd. There was no response. *" Whose etiek is this?" he repeated. ; A footman, a recent member of the ifonor household, moistened his lips, and. as if hypotised by the inspector's keen eyes, said, as if he could not help himself: "It's Mr. Harry's. I saw him come in with it." CE AFTER XXII. There had not. been a murder in Thatchbo rough in over eighty years, when a Leigh was found dead in a field at rhe end of the Close. His gun was lying beside him, and it was supposed that he had shot himself by accident; but, trough the jury brought in a verdict in accordance with -this theory, t-he Thatehmoor people shook their heads' and whispen=d together; (for tit was known that a young Wrayforde had been out that morning, also with his gun, and it was argued that a Wrayforde and a Leigh, both armed, could not be within ci-cse quarters without trouble coming of it. So thoroughly imbued with a sens# of the feud between .the two families were tie people, that when the news that the earl had been found murdered spread like lightning over the district. every man looked at his neighbour with the unspoken question: Wiia-'t Leigh haa <ione it? The inspector was a. decent sort of man, and by no means unintelligent; but his experience was limited, and he was quite unprepared to cope with the necessities of such a case as "tins. He v-ery wisely wired to Mr. Yates, the superintendent ax Latchford, and \ates rode over poste haste and took charge of the case. He was an old man, keen and alert, and had had charge of a "murder" in Birmingham, from where he had come; he had. also seen some service in London. As be stood in the still half-darkened room where tae deed had been committed, and listened to the inspector's report and interrogated the serva-nte, he could not but feel that *.he evidence was very strong against Mr. Harry \A rayforde; but he did not jump at once to the conclusion tha-r Harxy was guilty, for he knew how often circumstantial evidence had misled she defectives and sea; then off on what they thought was a strong sctnt while the criminal made tracks in another direction. He placed Inspector South and a constable in charge of the apaxtment in which! the body had been found, lockinar the ■ door of tie adjoining bedroom -where the dead eari lay, so that; no one need have an excuse for going through the sitting-room, and then he rode quietly, and thinking the while, to Thatehborough; for Sir Edward had passed a restless night, and had come down to broakiast very late. Diana rose and kissed him as he entered, and then resumed h?r place at the head of the tabie- Every servant at the Hall had heard the terrible news, ajid -they were discussing it in awed whispeis; but not even the bugler had. been able to summon [ up sulncient courage to carry the tidings j to Sir Edward, and Martha, had forbidden them to tell Diana. At that moment tie woman was wringing her hands in her room and trying to gain composure enough to break the news to her beloved mistress. So zha.b Sir Jidward and Diana eat there in ignorance of the terrible fate which had befallen their hereditary foe. Diana was pale, but she did not play the martyr. She raised her eye 3 to her father with a forced cheerfulness, and she would not notice the tender, pityI ing expression of his glance as it rested on her. He was so full of thought for her that morning, so burdened by the consciousness of her suffering, that he left his letters unregarded, and ii was not until Diana said, "Are you not going to open your letters, father?" that he took them up. The first one happened to be from Mr. Ashby iStetcombe. It was dated from London, where he must evidently have gone immediately after his interview with Sir Edward. The note consisted of only a iew lines, but they made Sir Edward turn pale and knit his brows, for Mr. Ashby Steteombe said that he feared there would be some difficulty in carrying out the arrangement which he had suggested. A market had "gone against" Mr. Ashby, and he was lather embarrassed. ■Sir Edward laid the letter aside and took up the others. Two of t-hem were pressing demands for money, arid as he read them a dull pain, which had hovered about his heart for the last week or two, grew more acute. He wae opening the paper when the butler came in and said, in so low a voice that at "first Sir Edward did not hear him distinctly: "Can Mr. Yates see you, Sir Edward?" The man was pale, but he stood behind his master's chair and with his back to the light, so that Diana did not notice his agitation. Yates was in the habit of reporting anything unusual to Sir Edward and the other local magistrates, and Sir Edward had no reason to apprehend anything serious. "Ask Mr. Yates to come in," he said. The butler went out, but returned almost immediately. "Mr. Yates says, sir, could he see you for a "moment in private, and at once, if it -won't be troubling you too much? He's in the library." Sir Ednrard sighed and got up and I left the Toom. He loft the door open J behind him. and a minute afterward J Diana heard him utter a cry. She j sprang to her feet and was in the library in an instant. Her father was standing by the fireplace, his hande j clutching the edge of the mantelshelf, I hi-s face white, and his eyes, strained with horror, fixed upon Mr. Yates. who stood by the table with a grave countenance. Diana went to her father and • laid her hand upon his arm. what is it, father?" she asked. He was trembling violently, and did J not seem to be conscious of her presence I for a moment: then he said brokenly: I "Go away Diana, leave us! There is ! ba.i. terrible news!" j But Diana did not jro. She saw that J something indeed terrible had happened, , and that her father was suffering, and ! therefore in need of her. She possessed all the Leigh courage, and nothing : would have induced her to leave him ! at that moment. She drew nearer to . him. and said calmly: ■TVTiat is it. Mr. Yates?" Yates looked at Sir Edward uncertainly, and her father moved his hand with a gesture of despair. "Yes. you had better tell her, Yates." he said. "Miss Leigh must know it Former or latpr. and she had better hear it from us. Diana, prepare yourself for dreadful news. Lord WrayfoTde is dead!" Diana started, and she looked from one to the other. ! Dead! And she had only seen him yesterday. He had seemed full of vitality then, had looked and spoken like a man who had many years before him; and he vas dead! She thought!

of Harry, and her eves filled with tears. How he must be suffering! For, though they had quarrelled about her, she knew that the two men were fond of each other. If she could only go to Harry, •see him for, one moment! It is the woman's first thought, first desire, to comfort and console the man she loves. Then she looked at her cfafcher's -white face and back to Yates again. Why was her father so horrified, why had Yates brought the news? "There ife—is something idse," she said in a low voice. "What is it? Please tell mc." Sir Edward stifled a groan. "Lord Wrarforde -was found dead in his room, Diana," he said. "He—he died suddenly!" Suddenly! She prayed that Harry and the old man had become friends; prayed that Harry had told him of their broken engagement, and so won the old man's heart back again. "Oh, I am so sorry!" she eaid; and the commonplace words sounded fearIfully commonplace in her own ears. "What was it —heart disease?" The two men exchanged glances. Yates saw Sir Edward was inea.pa.ble of speaking, and he took upon himself the hard task of breaking the news. '•Worse than that, Mis 3 Leigh, I am sorry to say," he said. '"Lord Wrayforde was—-was killed." '•Killed?" echoed Diana. "I do not understand. Was it an accident?" Yates ehook Ms head. "I'm afraid not, Miss Leigh. I'm afraid there was ioul play. Lord Wrayforde was found lying on the floor—there had been a struggle with someone—■ Xihe/re had been blowfc etoruck. I'm afraid Lord Wrayforde was murdered." Diana was trembling now, but she still kept her hand upon her father's arm, remembering even at that moment that he needed her strength, her support. "Oh, it is terrible—terrible!'"' she said. "Murdered! It is hard to believe. Who could have done it?" Yates's eyes fell before her awed and sorrowful gaze. "We don't know yet, Miss Leigh," he sad in a low voice. "'But -who—who can have done it? There is no one here at Thatchmoor who would do such a dreadful thing; *vhy should they? And in his own house! Have you no idea? Father, you must help Mr." Yates." Sir Edward averted his face, then he turned to her again quickly, with the abruptness of desperation. "Diana, you must know! God help you to bear it, my child. There are suspicions—someone is suspected. Bβ brave, Diana." Her hands closed tightly over M 3, and she looked from one the other with no apprehension of the truth. "Who is it?" she asked. "'A person was known to have seen t-he earl go to his room last night. He was the last person -who saw the earl, so far as we can learn. A stick he wae carrying was found lying near the body; the —the mnrder was done with this stick. The earl and the man who carried the stick were heard quarrelling P Yates broke off. It was almost impossible to go on, with the girl's eyes fixed upon him. "Who was—that person?" she asked. Her father answered the question hoarsely. "Diana, he "was Harry Wirayforde. And Yates has come to mc for a warrant —a warrant to arrest him!" "■Harry Wrayforde!" She repeated the words as if they had no meaning for her. "Harry Wrayforde!" Her face went deathly white, but her eyes moved from one man to the other unquailingly. As the full significance of the statement bore down upon her, her spirit rose to meet it -with a fierce indignation. She could have laughed aloud in scornful repudiation of the idea. Harry —her Harry—commit a murder? Murder the man who had been a father to him, whom she knew he loved? There flashed across her mind a mental presentment of her lover. She knew how tender was the heard that beat within his bosom. He was as strong as a giant, but as gentle as a woman. She. knew that he was the last man in the world to strike a blow—even in anger—unless it were in self-defence. She had not known him long, but love had enabled her to read him as easily as one reads a book. It was simply impossible that he should commit a vulgar murder, beat an old man— whom he loved—to death with a stick, like some tramp or drunken gipsy. Her indignant incredulity found expression at last in words. "It is impossible—it is ridiculous!" she. said. Yates gazed at her with respectful admiration. She looked every inch a. Leigh at that moment, and wonderfully like her father. Sir Edward drew a long breath; her words and the tone in which they were uttered acted like a mental tonic upon him. (To be continued dally.)"