THE PLOT THAT FAILED.

Auckland Star, Volume XLVII, Issue 168, 15 July 1916, Page 18

THE PLOT THAT FAILED.

By EDGAR PICKERING, Autlior of "The Secret Marriage," "A Winning Hazard," etc.

CHAPTER XXVII. THE LAST OF MR FERRYMAN. For some time after Elsa had fallen exhausted by the roadside she lay iincoimKioUti, ami an her senses slowly returned, her first recollection was of Gornlil standing outside the window of the inn and the reproachful look on l>is stern face—she would never forget that, and a change in her feelings came — he had never reaUy toyed her, because true love could newr have doubted hers, and her spirit rose in revolt. She was too weary to think collectedly, the hot sun seeming like a lire upon" her face, dulling her mind again, and rhe made :ui attempt to move., but her foot was smart ing from the pain of a deep cut, and she sank down with a feeling ot despair. Then the siffllt of the distant mountains, the wooded rocks and silvery stream became blurred before her iK'hing eyes, and she remembered no more, until a voice caused her to look 1 up with a dim realisation that someone wao speaking to her. A woman who had toiled up the steep path, laden with a heavy basket, had stopped, and was saying something. She had put a pair of etalw&rt arnia round her. and IClsu felt herself IK-injj hdped down the path, coming to a broad, road and seeing a dust cloud approaelung. out of which a motor-car ("merged, but only conscious of nil thin in tliat thill confusion that made her indifferent to everything except Uit! burning thirst torturing her. The ear had Htoppcd. and a man jjot out at a sign from the peasant woman. Another woman was looking in a puzzled way from the car. and demanding in a shrill voice to be told what had happened. There was something unreal in all this—it was like a. vivid dream, but the strangers were speaking in English that aroused a troubling curiosity in Elsa. "Someone ilj. my dear," she heard the man saying, who" had pushed up his goggles, "i'hie good woman found her by the roadside, ehe says."' "Then the bent thing to do is to get the young lady to some place where she'll be looked after," replied the voice from the ear. JOlsa tried to answer, but the elTort brougJit a pang of agony to her brain, and the man gave a dismayed look at her. "A doctor's wanted, or I'm very much mistaken," he replied, "and it'a lucky we're not far oft" Cologne. Make room, my dear," and with this he lifted Bleu into the ear. "A touch of the sun— merely a touch, 1 hope.' . There was the sensation of being whirled through the air, and coining into a big, cool room —of lying down and seeing a black-robed sitjter of mercy moving silently about it, as the day changed U> night again. "How long have I been here?" she naked, ami the sound of her own voice came strangely to her. "Since the morning." answered the gentle nur.se. "You niuet not speak much, but you will be quite well soon." "I'm trying to understand," said Klsa wearily, I can remember now. •Some-one in a motor<iir brought mc here. I had fainted." The sister smiled, so sweetly that Elsa's heart went out to her in gratitude. There was an inclfable calmness and patience in the dark ovee looking into hers, a-nd the restfulness of her manner brought a Bciine of peace and comfort. "Will you tell mc where I am?"' she .isked afier a long pause. "You are in the hospital of the Krenline sisters." replied the sister. "You were brought here by a stranger." Klea lay thinking. The pain in her head had gone, but 11 «re.it lassitude oppre.'rcd her, and thinking wan hard work. She was able to leave her bed next day, and during the night the kindly Sisters shared in their charge of her with a quiet devotion that won her grateful thanks. Unly tlio-e would her nurses receive, .but Hlsa insisted oil giving a donation to the convent. When this had been done, only two pounds remained in her puree, and she was alone in a foreign iand, vet she was too indifferent to be dismayed by thU. .Mrs. Jerm.vn would have given up all hope of seeing her ii«ain. she felt sure, and her first act was to write to her. The letter remained unanswered, and Klsa's inquiries of the landlord of the hotel where Mrs. Jcnnvn had stayed, elicited the reply that she had gone away, and left no address. .She was reading the landlord's reply to her letter, when the Sister came into the room, saying that the gentleman who had brought her to the convent hospital had called, lie appeared at the door unceremoniously as the Sister was speaking, and Efaa looked up, seeing a stout, middle-aged man come into the room; he shook hands with a warmth he had never exhibited to his buxom wife. "There's nothing to thank mc for," he paid after congratulating Elsa on her recovery. "I only did what anybody else would have done under the circumstances. Glad you're better. We've come back to Cologne on our way home. Been motoring quite long enough." He was very curious to know the reason for Elsa having 'been alone that day when he met her and the peasant woman, and she made no secret of her position. '■I ehall hear from my mother directly," Rhe told him, "and most likely go home to her. 1 would rather not,! however, but unless I can get some employment abroad i shall havo to." "Now it's a very curious thing that a friend of mine is in want of somebody to look after her two children." he replied. "My name is Larch. Perhaps you've heard it before. 'Larch's Food for Families.' Tliat's mc, and if you don't mind telling mc your name we'll see what can be done." "My name is Armitage, and I have been companion to a Airs. Jermyn," to-' plied Elsa. "I think ehe would give mc a good reference, only I can't tell you her address at present." "I've heard of her," .answered slr. Larch. "She's a sort of invalid." '■\'es. A sort," and Elsa could not resist smiling in spite of herself. ''I'll ask Mrs. Larch to manage the affair. It's not much in my line, you see, but I'm always willing to help a lame dog over a stile; especially a young , lady. We ought to do the business .between us somehow," he said in his jerky way. Elsa thanked him, and giving a promise to see her again shortly Mr. Larch departed to consult his wife. There •wore difficulties, Mrs. Larch told hire, and for all she knew, Mise Armitagc 1 might be au.adventuress." _ _j

"She's destitute in a foreign land," replied Mr. "and we've got to help her, my dear." There was ;i great deal more said, but the upshot of the affair was Elsa's engagement with Mr. Larch's friend as nurse to her two small children, and the day following she left the convent to take up her now duties. The salary to be paid her was very email, but she would have a home and protection, which made her satisfied with it. There was the feeling of being inde)>endent, and the letter to her mother telling her she had obtained a new post said nothing of the reasons for her leaving Mrs. Jcrmyn. She was resolute in her determination not to return to Urockley. The reniembrance of all she had suffered —the in- ■ justice of Gerald's belief in her faithlessness, and the impossibility of clearing herself rankled in her mind, and although her love for him shone bright and .steadfast, still she steeled herself against it. There had been a temptation to write to Phillip Dundas describing all that had happened, but she resisted it — Herald doubted her, and would mistake her purpose were he to be told the reason for her being alone with Amyas Severne. and her pride prevented her from the attempt to explain it. So Dundas waited in vain for the news he had expected, and was disappointed by not receiving it. Even his belief that (icra!d had been mistaken was beginning to fail, and Elsa's silence puzzled him. Gerald seemed to have lost all interest in the mystery associated with the vanishing of .Julius Ingledew. and was disposed to regard the affair as a myth, when a sudden message from Mr. Crimp caused an unexpected change in the aspect (if the strange business, and an urgent message from Dundas brought (ienild to Fleet Street one morning. ,n »'ou will remember our last conversation. Herald." began IJundas. as he closed tin' (illicc door, "and that we decided to Unci that fellow who calls him-i-elf Amyas Severne. I've had a letter from Crimp. It's dated from Cologne, and is about the most surprising bit. of news I've bad fur a long time. Crimp is carrying out a search for that exclerk. John Smith, who is an important factor in the case, and in the course of his inquiries, he has discovered Ferryman." "Kerrymnn!" and herald repeated the name in astonishment. "Wasn't he believed to have gone to some unknown part of the world after his bankruptcy? sioiitli America you told mc." "Ferryman gave mc the idea that he might go there some day, but there was no believing a word he said," replied Dundas. "1 used to see him occasionally at the club, wliere he let out things now iinil then. 1 needn't go through the (ietaile of Crimp's search, but it has brought him to Cologne. Ferryman it in a hospital there with his back broken, and the doctor.* don't give any hope of his living more than a few days." "He was a bud lot. but I'm sorry for him." answered Gerald, as he finished reading Mr. Crimp's letter which Dundas had given him. "1 suppose he's to he pitied; he was, as you say. a bad lot. A remarkably I had lot," replied Dundas drily. "Anyway, there's no hope of hie recovery. "I wonder how he came to be smashed up in a trap accident." said licralil. "Crimp -say* he was found under the wreck and thought to be. dead." "We shall have to see him before he dies." answered Dundas, "so there's no time to be lost." "I don't know that 6eeing Ferryman will have any practical result." "Ferryman can tell us the truth about Amyae Severne. and if that's not something of vital importance, nothing is." exclaimed Dundas. "A dying man isn't likely to say what is untrue, and every moment is of importance. When can you lie ready to start to Cologne?" "I've nothing to hinder mc from goinj at once. I'm in your hands, Dundas, and if you think any good will come of ;t I've no more to say." Twenty-four hours later Gerald and Dun.as were in Cologne, where Mr. Crimp met them. "1 expected you. Mr. Dundas," Raid the detective. "You and Doctor Leigli are only just in time. Ferryman is as bad as he can be. He's been asking after you, doctor." Gerald did not reply, for his mind was too occupied for even thinking ove: tr.uch about Mr. Ferryman. He was being consumed by a fierce longing to find Elsa—to hear from her lips the truth of the strange circumstances that had separated them—to see her fondly loved face ence more. "We will go to the hospital at once." said Dundag. and in a short time they were admitted into the ward where Ferryman was lying. Hie reception of them was characteristic of the man. and tho beady eyes had their old cunning look as they blinked up lit his visitors. He was noiverleee to raise a hand, but his brain was clear, though his voice had an unnatural tone.

"They say I'm going," ho began, ac Gerald and Dnmtas safe down at the bedside. "I'm eorry, of course. Moetly beoauae T shall not be able- to scoundrel who brought mc to this. "Can you tell mc how your accident liappened?" asked Dundae. "It wdfen't an accident. The affair wae planned. The scoundrel made the horse bolt and it went downhill at a pace nobody could have controlled. Then the smash came —I didn't recollect it though—people who are killed suddenly know nothing about it, I fancy, at least r didn't hear the finish of the affair. Somebody found mc, and that's the whole of the story a 6 far ac the dent, as you call it, is concerned." Then the halting words ceased for a few moments. "I'm glad you've come, Dr Leigh," he went on after the pause. "Vm not one to whine or expect forgiveness —I don't aisk for it. I'm not going to forgive the villain who planned my being killed —I'm going to unmask, him. The 6tory -won't take long in telling." "■Do you know where the man is to be found , ;" asked Gerald. "I know where he will go to ultimately,'' replied Ferryman faintly, and Gerald eigned to a nurse who was passing the bed. His practised eye caw the change impending, and she 'brought a restorative which revived the dying man for a time. "Don't interrupt mc," he eaid, with a feeble attempt to laugh. "That would take up time, and I've very little of it left. That's what they tell mc here, at any rate. What do you think?" "I think that the doctors are quite right." was the reply, and the brown face lying on the snowy pillow made a wry grimace. J lt was all Mr Ferryman ■could do to show his feelings. "I've come to the end of my tether, then. Jt's a pity, because I could have done a great deal for you, doctor. I could have brought evidence that the old eipiire was imposed on—he made another will, but I don't know where it is. I'm speaking the truth —I've never seen the will I'm referring to from the time Mr Oliver had it sent down to him at Overdene Grange." "Ferryman," and Diindas interrupted "Do you know the name of Squire Oliver's murderer?" and there came a dead silence for a moment. "Xo," and the answer came abruptly. "I only guess—l've no proof—that man who calls himself Amyas Severne knows. Why do you aek mc? Isn't it more important to be told the truth about him? You're wasting the minutes—l'm not co clear in my mind as I -was when you. came in—what does it mean?" and a quick, awful fear came into the dark eyes. '"Don't say I'm dying, doctor — don't—don't look at mc like that." Gerald held the glace containing a restorative to the cold lips, but Mr Ferryman repulsed it feebly. "Drink it," eaid Gerald Bternly. "Tt will revive you," and the lying man swallowed a few <lrops. He was panting painfully, and his voice had sunk to a whis per, so that Dundas had to bend down to him. "His name is Juliue Ingledew—l knew that, but 1 dare not expose him. I owed tlie old squire too much—Julius Ingledew took Annas Severne's place—l was a party to the fraud." "Where is the real Amyas Severne?" and Gerald waited for the answer, but none came. The brown eyes had glazed suddenly, and ilr Ferryman had gone to his account.