THE Friarscourt Mystery.

Auckland Star, Volume LVII, Issue 208, 2 September 1926, Page 22

THE Friarscourt Mystery.

BY EDGAR PICKERING.

(Author of "Love's Triumph," "A Winning Hazard," "Righted at Last/ , etc.) CHAPTER VII.— (Continued.) The following day a trifling errand for Mrs. Miniver required Beatrice to go into the village, and she was returning when Ingram overtook her. "Mrs. Miniver was gracious enough to forgive you yesterday," he said in his pleasant way. "Mrs. Miniver was surprised that I didn't walk through the rain and get wet through," .replied,, Beatrice. "She hinted as much at least." "I quite believe that," he laughed. "There is only one person that she has any thought for, and that is herself. You'll think it strange for mc to say this, but, although I am her guest, if is no reason why I shouldn't express my opinion. Will you take my advice?" "It depends, on what it is." "Certainly* it does. If you are dissatisfied, with your present position." "Who could help being dissatisfied, I have failed to please Mrs. Miniver, the children.fear mc, and I love little ones. It's not their fault, though, and I'm very eorry for them." "Then why remain here?" "Because I do not see my way to getting another situation." "Well, my advice is that you tell Mrs. Miniver you are going," he continued. "I happen to know a lady who is in want of a companion. I suppose that is the correct word for someone who would look after her correspondence and accounts and all that sort of thing. She and I are old friends, and she I rather looks to mc. I may tell you that she Is fairly old. I can't promise anything, but if you like I will speak to her about you when I go back to town." "I should only be too thankful to leave Sheriff's Hall," replied Beatrice impulsively. "It is very kind of you to think of mc." "Don't say that," he answered. "The kindness will be oh your part if you undertake to put up with my old friend's peculiarities. It's only fair for mc to tell you that although she is one of the best hearted people in the world, goodness itself, she has the reputation of being somewhat eccentric. Unconventional, at any rate." "I don't think I should mind that," replied Beatrice thoughtfully. "I'm I not happy with Mrs. Miniver, and never could be." "I was right,' then, yesterday." "Don't think it's because of the small salary she gives. I hate to talk about money, but I've done my best since I've been here, and it is all no use." /'An angel wouldn't be able to please Mrs. Miniver," replied Ingram, "and if you've luauc up your mum u> say goodoye to her, tiiere's no caruuy reason way you shouldn't so iar us 1 Know." i.ney walked, on in silence lor a few minutes alter this, ingrain congratulating liunseii on the prouauie success 01 a plan he had, formed almost irom the moment oi his first meeting Beatrice. .To "say that he loved her wouid not nave descnoed his feelings rightiy. He had a maddesfng desire to conquer her proud spirit, to win her as he won other trustlul women, • only to break every vow and promise he had made them. Her beauty had aroused an evil passion, and each word he uttered had ueen thought out with a purpose. With a conscience dead to' remorse or pity, he had allowed nothing to stand in his path, when his profit or pleasure was concerned. [ ... "The idea is worth thinking of," he said at length. "I don't know what Mrs. Miniver pays you but I do know that this old iriend 'of mine would give a very good salary.- A hundred a year at the least. She has plenty of money." "It is not that I care about, and 1 don't complain of Mjm. Miniver on that account, but she treats mc as though I were not worth her consideration and I shall be very thankful to go." "As anyone would be, situated as you are, I shall be in London next week and will write to you if there is need," he said. "So I must ask your name. Mrs. Miniver has never mentioned it in my hearing. "Beatrice Silva." ' Ingram started involuntarily. Captain Sylvester had spoken of his stepdaughter, and that Beatrice and himself should have been so strangely brought together seemed to give him a claim on her. "This is marvellous," he exclaimed, "I had the "pleasure of knowing Captain Sylvester, although it was only a little while. He was a man to be respected and his death was an awful shock to mc." '. -. i , "Hie murder. Call his death by the right name. I would give my own life if it were needed to bring his murderer to justice," said Beatrice. She -spoke -with passionate change from the restraint which had marked her before.' It" was an outburst of her long pent-up emotions, and her flashing eyes returned his.furtive glance, with a newborn light in them.' "1 doubt' if it will ever be found out," he answered, recovering his habitual -coolness> quickly. , ■ "I won't offer you any trite words of condolence, but believe mc that I sympathise with you sincerely." Beatrice scarcely heard him, for her thoughts were too confusing at that instant and Ingram.did not speak again. They separated at the lodge gate and she went towards the servants' entrance,' whilst he continued up the drive to the hall door. A letter addressed to him in a scrawling handwriting lay on the hall table, and a look of furious anger came as he read the contents. "Curse him,"" be muttered between his set teeth. "This blackmailing shall bo put an end to." CHAPTER VIII.' An Unsatisfactory Visit. Dick Mellish stood at the window of his hotel'overlooking Trafalgar Square. He had been living in Paris after leaving Oldhaven until the previous, day, when he had returned to London. He had called upon Mr. Hardisty immediately >4rfter Captain Sylvester's death, but the old lawyer could only tell him where Beatrice was lodging, and on his going there he was told she had gone away without leaving any. address. London had never looked drearier than, it had that morning, and Dick had never felt more downhearted, hut hewas too healthy-minded to become misanthropic. Beatrice would be found some day, he felt certain. '" ■ "It's good to be back," he muttered, "and I'll call on Hardisty again. He may be able to tell mc something more by this time,", and with, this intention he quitted ibs sQPfflu .___., • m ...„, '.

J The hurrying throng, the life and j movement, the ceaseless stream of vehicles, served to distract his thoughts , as he turned into the Strand, and he had gone a little distance when a dimij nutive man, who limped in his walk, I stepped off the pavement to cross the I road. At that instant a motor car j dashed up, and Dick rushed forward • ! only just in time to save him from i j being run over by lifting him back on the pavement. ■ "A close thing for you, my friend," he said in his cool way. "You're not used to London streets evidently." ' The rescued little man wae Andrew ' Fytch, who smiled feebly as he looked up at bis rescuer. 1 "I ought to be," he answered. 'I've ; been used to them all my life, but even I then one may make a mistake. I'm • very much obliged to you, sir. I'm not ■ certain of my foot, you see. I had an • accident some yeare ago. I'm afraid I've sprained it, and if you. don't mind, ■ giving mc your arm for a few minutes • I can get along." "I'll carry you, if you like," said Dick, with the humorous wrinkling '< i about his eyes. "You don't look very heavy. Thai foot of yours is hurting you, I expect." "It will pass off directly, sir," replied Fytch. "It's rather unfortunate, because I'm in .a hurry to get back to the ■ office." ! Dick looked down at him, noticing • that the wan face was white with pain. "You're going to have a drink first. You want it, poor chap. You've had a scare, so come along," he said. "I think if I rest a few minutes I shall be all right," replied Fytch. • "You're very good, but I'm not accus- • tdmed to take anything in business 1 I hours." ■ J "Well, you're going to take some--1 thing now, and the office can wait. j Lean on my arm. We'll go in here. • The last time I was in the place is '■ three months ago. Three solid months, 1 and there's more happened in that 1 time than in a hundred ordinary ; months. To mc, you'll understand." ' He spoke with his old recklessness, and Fytch made no further objection, as 1 i leaning heavily on Dick's strong arm, '■ he limped into the saloon bar, where 1 ihe was deposited on a seat. Dick ordered two whiskys and sodas. '■ "I've nothing to do, nobody to con--1 sider, and it's a Godsend to have some- ■ one to talk to this morning," he said. "You've a wife and youngsters to work ! for, I suppose?" ' ' ' "Oh, dear, no," exclaimed Fytch. "I 1 live quite alone, and couldn't afford to get married. I've never thought of it." , "Where is that office of yours?" inquired Dick. 1 "In Bedford Row, sir. I had been out on business when I met you." "Bedford Row," repeated Dick reflectively. "Perhaps you know the name of a fossilised old lawyer . there —Har- ' distv." 1 "Why, bless mc, sir, I'm Mr. Hardisty's clerk," exclaimed Fytch. ! Dick gave him a frowning look. "You're Mr. Hardisty's clerk, eh," he said after a short pause. "Then you 1 know all about Captain Sylvester's murder, of course?" "It was a terrible . affair," replied ' Fytch. "It's extraordinary it's never 1 been found but. It was most unfortu- ; nate for Miss Silva." "Can you tell mc where Miss, Silva : went after she left London," asked" Dick, 1 whose manner had altered suddenh\ He was very grave now. 1 "The young lady got a situation at a ' place called Sheriff's Hall. It's near ; Worcester. With r Mrs. Miniver, Mr. I Hardisty gave her a reference, he told 1 mc." 1 "Just write all that down," said Dick. . "Put your own name and where you live: ' My name i 3 Mellish, Richard Mellish, i and you'll know my address when I've got one. I'm putting up at Morley'e. ' Heaven only knows where I shall be presently. And I may tell, you this my • friend, that of all tta phenomenal things ! that ever happened, is my saving you ■ from being run over just now." ' Fytch stared at him in astonishment and then wrote Mrs. Miniver's name , and address, adding his own on a card i which he gave him. "Did you know Miss Silva, sir?" he asked. I "Better than anyone in the whole world," replied Dick. "You've done i mc a service, Andrew Fytch, that money can't repay. . And now I'm going." "Perhaps Mr. Hardiety may be able to tell you more, sir." "I haven't time to ask him," answered , Dick. "For there's something I muet do before I sleep again, and very little • time for doing it," and he strode out of the saloon into the pulsing life of the street without another word. A few hours later and Mrs. Miniver was disturbed from her afternoon rest by a servant announcing! the arrival of a per- ] son who wished to see her mistrese. "He said his business was very important, ma'am," said the maid, "Most important was what he said." "What name did he give?" "He said it didn't matter, but if I was pertie'ly anxious to know, his name was Mellish. He's not a real gentleman, I think, ma'am, because he spoke so 'arshly." "Mellish," and Mrs. Miniver repeated the name crossly. "I know nobody of that name. ' Where is he?" ; "In the dining; room, ma'am." •. , . • "And as likely as not stealing some thing.. I .have told you never to Isa've a stranger by themselves, Povey. Tell the man I am not at home." • "He wouldn't believe mc, ma'am. He looks like that." . . . "Well, I suppose I must see him," replied Mrs.' Miniver. "I believe you get more stupid every day, • Povey. - : If you had exercised a little commonsense the man would have gone away," and she got biit of her comfortable armchair. Dick was criticising her portrait, which decorated the dining room .and he turned as she came in, giving him a prolonged stare through her lorgnette.. .■ . , "I am Mrs. Miniver," she said in .a freezing tone. "I understand you wished t? see m'e. What is your business, pray?" Dick was not going to be offended. His visit was too important. to • allow him to get angry, but the thought of Beatrice being under the ordere of a woman such as this galled him. "My business won't detain you long," he answered. "It's about Miss : Silva, and I shall be much obliged if you will send foe her." "Send for her!" repeated Mrs. Miniver. "May I ask if this is some impertinent joke? She has gone." "I don't wonder," retorted Dick. ' "And why do you not wonder, pray?" demanded Mrs. Miniver indignantly. "I'd rather you didn't prees the question," he replied. "You say Miss Silva has gone. Perhaps you will tell mc where she went!" ' * Mrs. Miniver, saw her.opportunity for retaliating and grasped it, smiling bitterly. . .7. "If you insist;on knowing the reason for Miss Silva leaving my house, I will tell you. I doubt if it will be pleasant hearing, however. She had made the acquaintance of one of my gueste -a gentleman. Sfcey; were canitanily. ewn

together. I daresay he thought her attractive, which I never did," and she paused to note the effect of her poisoned speech. "I'll hear you out," said Dick, holding a tight rein on himself. "Need I say what the end of this— friendship—shall we call it—has been? I should imagine you do not require to be told. Anyhow, a short time after my guest left us, Miss Silva gave mc notice. Where she went it is quite impossible for mc to inform you, whatever I may think." . "If this is true what you've hinted -at I'm very much obliged to you, Mrs. Miniver," answered Dick, apparently unmoved for all the tumult raging in his heart. "I don't think you're deceiving mc wilfully, but a woman's tongue can do an infernal lot of mischief." "How dare you speak to mc like that ?" exclaimed Mrs. Miniver furiously. "If you choose to doubt my word, I refer you to Mr. Stephen Ingram, with whom " "Stop," and Dick interrupted her savagely. "You've said enough. More than enough. Where can I put my hand on this Mr. Stephen Ingram?" "I must refuse to discuss the subject further," and Mrs. Miniver went to the fireplace, jerking the old-fashioned bellpull violently, and Dick took up his hat as she sailed out of the room. (To be continued daily.)