THE PLOT THAT FAILED.

Auckland Star, Volume XLVII, Issue 155, 30 June 1916, Page 8

THE PLOT THAT FAILED.

By EDGAR PICKERING, Author of "The Secret Marriage," "A Winning Hazard," etc. CHAPTER XIII. GERALD MAKES UP HIS MIND. Elsa bad returned home, her mission to Norton-Royal forgotten until Mrs. Armitagc reminded her of it. She was upbraiding herself that she had not explained to Gerald at once, but she would do so when he came to the cottage; and she remembered his look when he had spoken to her. Of Amyas Severne she refused to tnink—he was less than nothing to her, and it seemed incredible that he could i have imagined she would have listened to him for a moment. Gerald would give him an answer, and Bhc tried to imagine what had happened after her lover and Severne were left alone. Then a sudden anxious longing to see Gerald gave a sharp turn to her mind—a fear for him of some sort—that he might do something to be regretted in a calm moment, and she w.ent to the garden gate, gazing in the direction from which he ought to be coming. She waa framing her words of greeting—words that would disarm his anger. Luckily her father had recovered without the aid of a restorative, but Mrs. Armitagc felt it her duty to chide her for forgetting it. "I cannot imagine why you have not brought yie medicine, my dear," she said. "What could you have been doing to forget it?" "1 was hindered, and will go the first thing in the morning," replied Elsa. "I won't take the nasty stuff." ex claimed her father from the couch, on which his wife insisted on his remaining. "I've had brandy and do not require any physic. J am perfectly well." "You only think so, Joseph," replied Mrs. Armitagc mildly. "And must keep from the least excitement." Elsa had escaped to tlie gate after this, standing there looking down the dark road, with that growing dread in her breast, but she turned at last, trying to calm those foolish fears as she knew them lo be. An hour went by, and Bhe was at the gate once more. Why did Gerald not come? What had prevented him ? The sound of a galloping horse was heard coming towards the cottage, and she peered into the darkness, trying to see the horseman. He was flying past the gate, and bad called out something in a high voice that brought a curious sensation as she heard it—a feeling that dulled her brain for an instant, as the horse dashed past the garden, to be lost to sight the next moment. The quiet night was still again after being disturbed thus, and lilsa had laughed. She must have burst into tears otherwise, yet weeping would not have wrung her heart as that wild unnatural laugh had done. "I was mistaken—it's too horrible to be true!" and as if the power to move had left her, she remained, trying to pierce the blackness into which tbe horseman had disappeared, until her mother's voice aroused her. Half-an-hour went by, and an unusual stir broke on the air. The sound of people hurrying post the closed shutters of the sitting room window, and Mrs. Armitagc paused in the act of lighting her candle for going to bed. Elsa was seated at the tabic, trying to read, but the effort was in vain. "Folks are abroad late," prattled her mother. "I've never heard anyone about at this hour before. 1 wonder what the reason is." Murder was the reason, if Mrs. Amitage's question had been.answered, and Squire Oliver's old groom had gone at a headlong pace to carry the news to Norton-Royal. Folks might well be abroad for such a reason, and the superintendent of police with two constables were on their way to the Grange as Mrs. Armitagc lingered in going upstairs, listening to their footsteps paesing Myrtle Cottage. The first shock of the tragedy was gone, and Gerald had restored something like order amongst tbe terrified neighbouring domestics at the Grange. He and a neighbouring doctor were awaiting the arrival of the police, and what remained of Squire Oliver lay on a couch in the low ceiled dining-room. He bad been dead an hour before Gerald's entering the house—at least that was tho surmise of the other medical man, and Gerald agreed with it. There was nothing to be done, and the inaction was telling on him. i "Mr. Severne is away, I understand," said his companion, a dry, emotionless man. "He ought to be Bent for. I'm not acquainted with him. He's the Squire's nephew, ie he not?" j "Yes. He's heir into the bargain," I was the reply. "Mr; Oliver took strange fancies. I always thought you were tho man, Leigh." Gerald shrugged his shoulders and [cast an involuntary glance towards the couch. He had been in a way stunned by the awful thing that had happened, and was only slowly regaining the pawcr of thinking coherently. Ocad! The Squire had been suddenly struck down by death. In such a horribly unexpected manner, too. Murdered! and an inarticulate rage against his unknown murderer rose, overpowering for a few moments the honest grief Gerald felt. The superintendent was in the room, and tlie facts connected with the crime were gathered. Apparently it was simple—the open window told the tale. The assassin had come suddenly on his victim, and escaped after inflicting the death wound. A case of attempted burglary evidently, asserted the superintendent, and nobody disputed it. "Can you tell mc where Mr. Severne is to be found?" he asked Gerald. "Ho must be communicated with at once." "I know nothing of Mr. Severne'e movements," was the reply. "I presume he will hear of the Squire's murder soon enough." The recollection of his encounter with Severne had returned suddenly, and almost as a surprise. Their quarrel seemed to be so trivial and unimportant in the face of this awful tragedy, as to be not worth remembering. Presently—when he was calmer, lie-would see Elsa, went his thoughts. A carriage was coming up the drive, stopping abruptly at the hall door, and Amyae Severne, dishevelled and haggard, had entered the dining-room where, the three men were seated, and the superintendent gave him a keen look. The newcomer lad scowled at Gerald for, an instant, but took no further notice of him, and poured out a half tumbler from tho brandy bottle on the table. J "I was in the hotel at Norton," he said huskily, aB he put down the glass, "when I heard what (had happened. I got them to drive mc up at once." He was speaking in a loud voice, and the superintendent raised his iSand, pointing to the shrouded figure at the] «uul_«i. the room.

'TTes, I'm aware I'm excited," exclaimed Severne angrily. "Who wouldn't be under the circumstances? I left the Squire in good health and spirits and now—great heavens! The man who ha 3 done this deserves to be execrated by everyone with any feeling," and he glared viciously at Gerald. "We're all agreed about that, Mr. Severne," answered the superintendent sternly. v lt will be more to the purpose to discover Mr. Oliver's murderer." "I don't think that ought to be very difficult," replied Severne, as he dropped heavily to a chair. "Has anyone thought of wiring to Mr. Ferryman?" No one had thought of it, and the telegraph office at Norton-Royal did not open till six in the morning moreover, but by eleven o'clock next day Mr. Ferryman reached Overdene Grange. The inquest was to be held in the afternoon, and he and Severne strolled into the grounds soon after his arrival. Gerald meanwhile liad kept his own room; the one that he had used fronl his schooldays, and which would never see him again when he quitted the Grange. He had decided on bidding Elsa farewell —it would be for ever, and his heart hardened as he thought of the reason— ho would show no harshness nor resent ment, although bis faith and hope were shattered, and when his last visit to Myrtle Cottage had been paid a newlife was to open to him. Mr. Ferryman was exceedingly solemn and professional as he paced under the trees chatting to Severne, yet if a close observer had watched his features and heard his tone, a strain as of relief might have been detected, while he discussed Squire Oliver's fate. "Very shocking indeed," he remarked. "We shall have everybody talking about it directly and venturing their own theories about the crime, when it's as plain as can be that it's a case of attempted housebreaking. Poor Smyrk Is so upset that he positively refused to come down with mc. and perhaps that was as well. This will make a great difference to you. my dear sir." "Have you seen that ruffian, Gerald Leigh?" demanded Severne savagely. "No. I know no reason why I should. But why do you call him that?"