"GREYMARSH."

Auckland Star, Volume LVIII, Issue 41, 18 February 1927, Page 16

"GREYMARSH."

By ARTHUR J. REES,

Author of "The Mystery of the Downs," "The Threshold of Fear," etc.

BOOK 11. 1 CHAPTER I. 5 The car purred its way along the I Holt Road, and as we passed the 1 churchyard, I observed, with some sur- 3 prise, a girl standing by a new-made 1 grave. 1 Very young, with a slender graceful : frame, she stood with head drooped and ( hands clasped, looked down at the grave. . I noted the mournful abandon of her attitude; the rigid stillness of her pose. , She was like a symbol of grief in that sad spot; a slim figure of despair. As if her reverie was broken by the noise of the car, she raised her head and glanced towards me as we passed, j Across the Churchyard wall our eyes met. j From the top of the hill I looked back.. She had left the grave, and was s walking slowly towards the churchyard j gate. I seemed to detect misery in , every line of her lagging and listless ] shape, i turned my head away and drove on. The car topped the summit, ] and the scene disappeared from view. "Tragedy, there, Haldhain," said Grey. J "I didn't think you saw her," 1 said. In less than a quarter of nu hour the J car was running smoothly through the ' iron gates of Warham Lodge, my kins- 1 man's comfortable bachelor residence. ' On the threshold stood two figures. I * saw the rosy face of old Halsliam, my J cousin's butler, whom I had known as ' a boy. Behind him was outlined the 1 tall spare figure of Hugh Templeton, ' just as I remembered him, years ago. J Bareheaded, he came down the steps as the car drew up, and greeted us both 1 with a smile. 1 "I hope you had a good journey from c London," he said. "We have toeli look- * ing out for you this hour or more." ' Hugh Templeton is my uncle, and the only living kinsman I possess. I had " received a letter from him about a month before the Greymarsh tragedy, 1 inviting me to visit him at his place. 1 He said he would like to sec me after all ' the years, and he begged me to bring my friend Colwin Grey. He promised 1 us a bachelor's welcome at Warham 1 Lodge, with the prospect of a little sport, fishing and some cub-hunting cer- • tainlv, with perhaps an otter hunt ' thrown in. , I showed the letter to Grey. He said he would be pleased to accompany me, J and suggested a date some weeks ahead. Then, about a fortnight from the date of our visit, came the news of the ' Greymarsh tragedy and the flood. ' It was a few days before the date of our visit that I received a telegram from Templeton, urging me to come, at 1 once and bring with mo Colwin r trey. 1 I did not see anything remarkable in the urgency of the message, nor did I ' foresee any connection between it and the Greymarsh tragedy at the t'me. The telegram did not make any great I difference to our plans, and we were able to set out for Norfolk on the following day. ' After dinner that night, with the coffee, the explanation came. We were seated in the dining room together, in front of a huge log fire. "I suppose you wondered why I cut that wire, Dick?" asked Templeton. • "Perhaps you were lonely and wanted company," I suggested with a smile. He shook his head, bent down, and pulled the ears of an Irish wolf-hound crouched at his feet. Then he looked 1 up again. "No," he said deliberately; "I wanted to see you and Grey about a matter which affects me deeply—about the death of Henry Liskard, in fact." He uttered these words-with an effort. and I glanced at him in extreme surprise. But he was no longer looking in my direction; his eyes were fixed upon Colwin Grey. "You were staying at Greymarsh when it happened," I heard Grey say. Templeton nodded. "Sir Roger Liskard is my oldest friend," he said. "I suppose you read in the papers that the night after the murder he was found seriously injured, at the foot of the tower!" Grey nodded. "He was supposed to have fallen down the staircase, I understand." "Supposed to—yes. But he did not." Grey raised interrogative eyes, but did not speak. For a little while Templeton was silent, then he said: "I found Roger Liskard outside the tower, and some distance away. As he lay there, believing himself to be dying, he whispered some words to me. These things, until now, I have kept to myself." He uttered these -words with extreme weariness, like a man broken with fatigue. Then suddenly he drew himself together, and went on, in a firmer voice. "I must tell some one, or I shall go mad. The burden is too great—too intolerable to be borne. I h:ive the feeling that you may be able to help me, and at least I know that I can trust you both." He stopped abruptly, and there was complete silence in the room. It was -broken by Grey at last "One moment. I am not quite clear about this thing. How did you come to. find Sir Roger Liskard lying outside the tower? It was in the night, I understand. Did he cry out?" "I heard a cry, but not from him," returned Templeton so solemnly. "It came from the campanile—from the studio at the top of the tower." "Where the dead man was?"' Templeton nodded. His face was white, like a man with a sudden qualm. "The cry came from the dead man," he said. In growing uneasiness and wonder I looked at my uncle. He had covered his. face with his hands. The dog at his feet whimpered faintly. Then I heard Grey's voice. "Your best plan. I think, will be to tell us everything that happened to you in Greymarsh from first to last. I should like to know the whole story. You can have every confidence in Haldham and myself." In a clear and penetrating tone my kinsman told us of the coming of the flood at Greymarsh. the discovery of Henry Liskard's body in the campanile, and the talk about the murder the night before. Lintwell's subsequent visit to the tower in an effort of detection was mentioned, but only in a perfunctory way. It was evident that Templeton attached no importance to that. Obviously the events of the second night in which he was concerned, overshadowed everything else in his mind. He told of that strange cry and his visit to the tower with a slightly shaking bead, as though the memory of It set him in a tremble again. It was with reluctance and in a lowered tone, that he brought himself to repeat Roger Liskard's whispered words. And when he had uttered them he fell into

an abrupt and gloomy ~ silencc, as though he half regretted having revealed them at all. "A curious storv!"

Colwin Grey spoke these words, and Templeton turned quickly to him. "Curious!" he echoed sharply, "it is more than that—it has been an enigma of sleepless misery to me. I have stated the facts to you. Can you tell me what they mean?" "The* interpretation to be placed upon Sir Roger Liskard's words?" Templeton nodded. "The precise interpretation," he said. "If you are going to regard them as a confession, I tell you at once that I cannot for a single instant believe Roger Liskard committed this awful deed. I would as soon suspect myself. That is why I have kept silent, although he asked me, for his wife's sake, to bear witness to the truth. But what is the truth?"

Grey ignored the question. "Was Sir Roger much attached to his wife?" he asked.

"He was devoted to her," said Templeton decisively. "She is a very beautiful woman. Sir Roger met lier in the East."

"What kind of a man was Henry Liskard?" asked Grev.

"He was handsome and fascinating, and a talented artist as well. He was a picturesque figure in our Norfolk marshes, but exotic and out of place. He had lived too long abroad." "On what terms were he and his brother's wife?"

Templeton looked at mv friend gravely.

"I was coming to that," lie said. "It was whispered that they were- on very friendly terms. Before Sir Roger returned, there was talk of meetings in the campanile and walks on the marshes— that kind of thing. Mere vulgar gossip! I never believed a word of it, and I am ashamed to repeat it now. Sir Roger and his wife always appeared to me a most devoted couple, in spite of the difference in their years. You may think h uttered the words to shield her. The thought hag occurred to me, but I have put it away. Linda Liskard? Ah, vou do not know her, either! The tlieorv of crime is equally incredible applied" to her."

"I am not applying the theory to her —at present 1 am only trving to fathom through these word's to the meaning in Roger Liskard's mind," Grey replied. "But even if we knew them, I doubt whether it would carry us very far. The mystery goes deeper. What took Roger Liskard to the tower that night, and what happened to him there" "Truly," answered Templeton. "and you have not yet heard all I.have to say. The mystery goes deeper, as you say—how deep I dare not try to guess. Those were not the only words that Roger Liskard spoke to me that night* When I first saw him, and bent over him, he said something else—whispered them in the darkness, with a look of dreadful horror on his face, like a man who had seen some awful sight. "No no, I will not believe it—the dead cannct return." That I heard distinctly, and then he closed his eyes. The other words I told you came afterwards, when he opened his eyes again." Grey listened thoughtfully. "Was it that which filled you with uneasiness, and robbed you of the power to sleep*" he asked. r '

"No," replied Templeton, "that came afterwards. I have still something more to tell. After I found Sir Roger, I went and aroused the butler, and between us we carried him to the house. I thought he was dying, but he still lives—speechless, inert, just as I found him that night. And it seemed to me, the more I thought over it, that he was suffering from some overwhelming shock. The physical injury 1s bad enough. The doctors say his back is injured, but the other thing (of which the doctors know nothing) is worse. Until this moment it has been a secret in my heart. I alone knew of that look of terror on Roger Liskard s set, white face,- when I found him staring up into the sky. I alone knew of that strange cry from the tower —a scream which in the darkness haunts me still."

(To be continued daily.)