THE PLOT THAT FAILED.

Auckland Star, Volume XLVII, Issue 167, 14 July 1916, Page 8

THE PLOT THAT FAILED.

By EDGAR PICKERING, '

'Author of "The Secret Marriage* "A Winning Hazard," etc. CHAPTER XXVI. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING. Severne's disappointment and chagrin was added to by a belief that Elsa'e flight was connected with the'loss of his letter book, and an indefinite disquiet annoyed him. To return to the hotel and Mrs. Jermyn without her was not to be thought "of, and Elsa would have to be found. She had attempted the long walk back, and as he pictured her toiling along the road, a hard laugh came. He would go after her when the carriage arrived, in which they were to have travelled to Cologne, and until then he would search for some trace of her in the neighbourhood of the inn. He was furiously angry at being baulked ill his plan and delayed in his journey, for his intention of going a long way abroad was no new one. There were certain reasons why he should keep away from England, which had decided him, and he had looked forward to sharing his exile with Elea. That pleasant prospect had been rather dimmed, how* ever, but he could not fail in finding her, and after what had happened she would be at his mercy, such as it was. Mrs. Jermyn could scarcely allow n'er to resume her place as companion, and he would be more than revenged for the thrashing Gerald had bestowed on him. The carriage arrived in due time, and by Severno's directions lie wae driven to within a mile of the hotel where Mrs. Jermyn was lamenting her companion's desertion. NVarer than that he did not care to venture, and Elsa could not have got so far, but his pursuit was in vain. His various inquiries of the people whom he encountered gave him no information, and after the prolonged search, he ordered the driver to return to the inn. The afternoon was well advanced when he arrived there, and for we remainder of the day he could do-nothing. He was unsettled and too angry to arrange his future movements as he sat drinking, until his thoughts began to madden him. Trilling events that he had almost forgotten began to assume a threatening aspect, and in a curious way arranged themselves in a sequence that led up to his decision of living abroad permanently. There had been Smyrk's sudden death—that had been something he was glad to hear, but it had become a suspicious event in his imagination. t>myrk had been speaking to Crimp. What had he divulged? Then Ferryman's disappearance had followed, and Ferryman was not a man to be trusted—the clients had found that out, and a grim laugh came as Severne thought of them—Ferryman was an infernally dangerous man into the bargain, although he was harmless now, and probably in South America—he had often referred to Bahia as a place where a man was safe not to be found, and Severne silently cursed him. Then the unexpected happened. Twilight was deepening to dusk, and the hush of another approachmg night lay over the inn, as Severne sat in the solitary room, where Elsa and he had dined the previous evening. He wa3 pic 7 turing r her as she had occupied a seat at the table opposite, and the memory of her lustrous eyes and mobile face brought the torture of Tantalus to hhn. There had been no reason for .her leaving the inn—no reason at least which ho would admit into his thoughts of her, and her gorag meant changing his arrangements. He felt a grievance and a growing uneasiness, although in that out of the way place there was nothing to cause him any anxiety, but the very quietude of it seemed ominous. He lay back on the old-fashioned couch, watching the growing shadows creep about the room, too inert to have a light brought, and the prolonged silence was unbroken until the Bound of footsteps that came abruptly -upon the gravelled path aroused him. They had stopped at the open door, and he heard the landlady s-peaking. The voice that answered came distinctly, and he had started erect, frowning angrily, as he glared at the curtained entrance to the room—waiting for the stranger to enter it; he did so the next moment, and Severne gave a startled ejaculation, for the newcomer was Mr. Ferryman. For an instant in the uncertain light the two men remained looking at each other, and then ferryman burst into an astonished laugh. "Of all the phenomenal things in the world," he exclaimed, "this is the most extraordinary. To think that you and I should have met without the slightest premeditation in this forsaken village. You're the very last man I expected to see. How in the name of wonder did you get here?" "I'm equally surprised at seeing you," replied Severne. "And I might ask the same question. I've been imagining you to be somewhere in South America. I heard what had happened in Lincoln's Inn. You were lucky to get out of the wreck." "Just so," answered Mr. Ferryman, cheerfully. "Poor Smyrk wasn't. He let things tell on him, and they affected his heart. He was a weak man, and unless I'm mistaken he let out something to that infernal detective, Crimp, just before he died. I don't mind telling you, Severne, Smyrk's death hastened my departure. That white-faced clerk got off the same night." "Yes. I have seen Smith. That is how I came to hear about you, and we need not say anything further about him or Smyrk cither, but perhaps you'll explain why you haven't gone to South America. That was your idea, you said." Mr. Ferryman laughed again, causing his blunt-ended moustache to thrust itself forward pugnaciously. It was some weeks old now, and could scarcely have been called an embellishment, but rather a part of his disguise, for he had always been clean-shaven hitherto, and the growth of a moustache had given him an oldish look. Nothing, however, could have completely obscured his identity, in spite of the weird shape and colour of his clothes, which had replaced his former suit of black. "I've said a good many things in my time that I didn't mean," he replied, "but I may go there after all. There's been a deuce of a fuss about mc, and I've had to keep out of sight. We might have held on for another year if Smyrk had not gone off so suddenly, and .1 could have made myself secure. Aβ regards money, I mean. As it is, I've only managed to secure a few hundreds, and that explains why I'm very glad to have found you." "I don't see what season you have for being glad," replied Severne, "We've no more use for each other." "That's what you think. Now I'm of a different opinion. You can't suppose I shall be satisfied with, the money I've been paid. Fm not an avaricious man, and I'm not unreasonable, only -when yon

remember what your chare of the business is and what mine has been, you!! agree that I'm entitled to some further consideration." "You've been very well paid," answered Severne sullenly, "and I tell yon plainly, Ferryman, that I shall not submit to bein~ blackmailed." "That is a very harsh word," replied Mr. Ferryman, not in the least affected by it. An unnecessary word. We won't discuss the matter any further at present, but you ccc my point." "I see that you want money,' , answered Severne, "and have been hunting after mc." "Not hunting," laughed Mr. Ferryman. 'That again is a word I don't like. I heard yo.u were living in Konigswinter, and what more natural then my looking you up. I was running risks, of course, but necessity knows no laws, and after a run of bad luck, I decided on going to Konigswinter. I was on my way there when I was compelled to break my journey at this deserted village, ac you may call it, and I find you here. Can you be surprised that I was delighted?" Severne woe legarding the speaker with a black frown. Even the outlandish costume which Mr. Ferryman assumed was an offence, and hie purpose was only too clear. His volubility did not diepuise his somewhat vindictive glee at discovering Severne, who was smarting under the failure of hie plan to force Elsa into a marriage. To show bad temper or Teeentmcnt would not help him, however, but he decided to get rid of Mr. Ferryman at the first opportunity. "I have left Konigswinter," he said, after considering his reply, "and shall not return." "Then I'm very lucky to have found you," answered Mr. Ferryman. "What are your plans! You'll scarcely care about going to England just now* I should say." "Why not?" "Well, they're stirring up old Oliver's murder again. I thought it had been forgotten, but it appears that Crimp U making himself busy. Sow I may be wrong, and I hope I am, but Smyrk may •have given mc a hint. Not that Smyrk knew, but he might have, gueeeed—be was one of those suspicious men who like to get information, and I can't say I'm very sorry he's dead." "I can't be implicated, anyhow," replied Severne. "Crimp can do what he likes—he's my man, remember, whom I employed to find the Squire's murderer— he may be on his track. It's not mine." "No. You're safe enough, but it! would be unfortunate if Crimp was toldj the reason for the Squire being murdered," and as Mr. Ferryman said thi.i, liis pugnacious moustache was projected again. "That there was another will, and " Severne started to his feet, blurting out an oath that prevented Mr. Ferryman from completing the sentence. "Who would tell him that? You daren't, Ferryman," he hieeed. "We had best understand each other at once." "Of course, I shouldn't breathe a I word," was the placid answer. "Only somebody else might, and that would rather complicate matters. You and I arc not going to quarrel about it, and we'll come to an understanding as you suggest. Not now. What I propose is that we have a bit of dinner, and then jog on to Cologne together." "What do you mean about there being another will?" "Well, there was one," replied Mr. Ferryman. "Old Oliver had executed it, and it left everything to Gerald Leigh. I drew it up, co you may take my word for knowing what it contained. I destroyed that will the ' day after ths Squire's death, and in common gratitude you ought to pay mc for looking after your interests so well," and the beady brown eyc3 twinkled goodhumouredlv. * Severne did not reply. There was a plan forming in his active brain by which he might be able to avoid any further intercourse with Mr Ferryman. It required caution and tact, and above all the neceseity of appearing friendly •with him. That suggestion of going to Cologne together should be thought of. "I'm quite alone here," ho said with an assumed pleasantry, ''and as to any plans I can't say I've any definite ones. What are yours, Ferryman?" "I shall potter about for a month or so, and then get to Canada, perhaps. They say there's a chance for good men there —men with capital, and that's what I don't possess. When I think of the chances I had of making thousands I feel positively mad. Smyrk's death upact all my arrangements, and as 1 told you just now I only managed to secure a few hundreds." * "I'm quite willing to do what I can to help you," answered Severne. "You may have thought of a sum." "Ten thousand pounds wouldn't be too much to ask you for, but I'm not going to. Something under that will satisfy mc." "We'll settle about it when we're in Cologne," and Severne got up to summon the landlady. "Fortunately I've a conveyance—they're not easily come by in this forsaken place, and we'll go there after we've dined." "It will be an uncommonly dark drive," replied Mr Ferryman, who did not relish the thought of it. "I've walked here from a village that has a name which 1 can't pronounce;—walked here like a tramp and enjoyed it." He looked somewhat like a tramp in his dust-laden knickerbockers and rather dilapitated boots, and Severne mentally compared his appearance with the wellgroomed men the remembered. The eun had tanned Mr Ferryman's face a ruddy brown, and he seemed healthier than when he was in his office in Lincoln's Inn, but he had the same stealthy look in the eyes that was one of his marked characteristics. In answer to his inquiries Severne was told that a dinner ehould be provided in half an hour, and until it was served, he and Mr Ferryman chatted confidentially over old times, evading any reference to money or the reason why it should be paid. There was not a word mentioned about John Smith, and when at last they sat down at the table, a stranger would have thought them to be bosom friends. Even after the lapse of a couple of hours' Mr Ferryman had not quite recovered from the surprise of encountering Severne, and he pledged him twice over in hie delight. "It's the reward of a lot of troubles and disappointments," he exclaimed, "and we'll have a good time together. I'm not too old to enjoy 'em either," and he burst into a jovial laugh. This was true Bohemianism to Mr Ferryman, and Severne entered into : the spirit of it. . • "Canada's an infernally cold place," he said, ac he filled his glass. "I'm a chilly subject and prefer warmth." "Canada can wait, I suppose?" answered Severne. "My dear boy, Canada won't ccc mc," replied Mr Ferryman. "Why should I go there when the whole, world is open to mc? I'm in no hurry to go anywhere, in fact, now that I've met you in this totally unexpected faebion. I've nothing to fear.- No one •would recognise mc in tibis costume, and itfe remarkably comfortable, monvrac."

Severne allowed him to ramble on without interrupting. He was thinking out that plan of his, and what a dangerous person Mr Ferryman would prove it he were not pacified. Ten thousand pounds! That was the price hinted at which getting rid of him was to cost, and there was a much cheaper way— a much more satisfactory way, because the plan flitting through. "Severne's mind v.-ould effectually prevent Mr Ferryman troubling him again. The wine was so good and plentifully supplied that Mr. Ferryman's spirits were as merry as a lad's by the time the carriage in which he and Severne were to drive to Cologne came to the door of the inn. "Come now," said the latter, as he returned to the room after paping the ' landlady. "We've a good twelve miles to go, and the time is getting on." Mr. Ferryman rose unsteadily to his feet. "To tell you the truth," he replied, gravely, "I'd rather stay where I am for the night. I've a distinct recollection of the roads about here, and they're risky. Deucedly risky even in the daylight, I should say, and I'd prefer to drive along 'em then. If it is all the sapie to you, old fellow." "Please yourself," answered Severne. "I'll say good-bye if you're not coming. I've no intention of passing the night i here." : Mr. Ferryman wavered in his decision for a moment, and the thought that Severne and himself might not see each , other again caused him to alter his mind, although the drive through the , darkness would be very distasteful, and , the thought of it annoyed him. I But hie determination to keep a hold on his companion, now that chance had ! thrown them together, was too strong ; to be resisted, and, without making any : further objection, he climbed into the ! rickety conveyance. It held two only, and before Mr. Ferryman could protest. Severne had taken his seat and driven i off at a quick pace, for the horse was i fresh and eager. i "There's no need to go at this infernal ! speed," and the words were jerked out • of Mr. Ferryman's mouth, as the car- : riage lurched and bounded along the . stony road. "You'll get to Cologne in ! plenty of time if you'll drive like a ra- . tional human being." "The brute's mouth is like iron," replied Severne, as he glanced down at the . pallid face beside him. seen in the light of the single lamp. "We come to a bit of rising ground presently, and that ■ wiil steady him. You're not scared, I ■j hope." ;| "I don't like this speed," retorted Mr. Ferryman. "We're going at a fearful rate, and if something goes wrong I wouldn't answer for the consequences." They had reached a point in the road by this time some two milea or more from the village, and the rising moon showed the Toad distinctly, that lay downhill until the shadow* o-f a thick clump of trees hid it. Beyond that Mr. Ferryman could distinguish nothing, and Severne, after an ineffectual attempt to I get the horse under control, handed the ! reins to his companion. "The brute has been harnessed badly, I fancy," he said. "Hold him steady whilst I examine it," and before Mr. Ferryman could reply Severne had leaped out.' "Severne!" and he shouted his name in terrified accents, but there was no answer, as the horse sprang madly forward, and, urged by a stinging cut from Severne's whip, began a hcadling gallop down the steep hill. Faster and faster, until Mr. Ferryman and the carriage became a mere blot on the moonlit.road as they dashed onward. Then they disappeared into the black shadows, and the sound of breaking woodwork came faintly through the silence. (To be continued daily.)