DEAD MAN'S MANOR

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 243, 14 October 1935, Page 17

DEAD MAN'S MANOR

READ THIS MOVING STORY OF A SURPRISING INHERITANCE.

CHAPTER 11. Leybourne Manor itself was a rambling old place—far too big for the needs of one person. Once she thought of letting the place and returning to London before going abroad, because she had always hankered after a limited amount of foreign travel. She mentioned the suggestion to Smithers, the butler. Smithers, wlio had always treated Merrill as a privileged person, and definitely a "cut" above the usual servant, was now correctly deferential. Since it had become known that Merrill had become the owner of the Manor, Smithers, with that imperturbability ot his kind, had confessed to himself that Miss Grenlicld would lie inucli more pleasant to work for than Richard Stokes, whose temperament «it times been such that even so well-trained a factotum as himself had experienced great difficulty in maintaining that unruffled calm which is the hall-mark ot a good butler. Smithers expressed the hope that Miss Grenfield would be persuaded to remain at Leybourne Manor; and in expressing that hope he mentioned that ho was also interpreting the desires of the entire stall' "below stairs." - The emotion in the butler's voice f W as altogether too much for the sensitive Merrill, and there and then she had pledged herself never to part with Leybourne Manor so long as she could afford to maintain it. At the same time the nirl had to confess that tliero was every likelihood of her life at Leybourne being somewhat lonely and uneventful. One could not drop easily into the lap of luxury without occasionally experiencing a desire for the hard seats of rigid necessity. A fortnight went toy, during which time she made several journeys to London for the purpose of signing sundry documents which she could scarcly understand, but which the indispensable Mr. Milvern considered necessary to comply with the Law of Property and Succession. But if Merrill had deluded herself into the belief that life at Leybourne was to be uneventful she had not reckoned with her relatives, concerning some ot whose existence she had scarcely licard. The diversion began one morning when she received a telegram which said: "Arriving 'by the 225 Congrotu ; lations. —Aunt Susan and Uncle Bert. Merrill stared at the message for a Ion" time. It must have been years since she had seen her uncle and aunt on ]y very occasionally since her mother's funeral during the first year she had been at her hotel post in. Lon<loSlie did not know quite what to think. Evidently the paragraphs that had appeared in the newspapers regard in her "ood fortune had had the ellcct of attracting this curious pair to the side of their niece. , "Ah, well," she thought, they 11 be company for a day or two, and instructed Rodgers to take the car down to Leybourne to meet the train. Promptly at 2.30 the ear drove up to ho spacious doorway of the Ma "° r ; * was an expensive car, and the ehaufieui was in neat dark green livery. Aunt Susan and Uncle Bert Jennings were reclining against the sumptuous upholstery at the back of the can while at the front with Rodgers was a weedy, pale-faced youth whom Merrill immediately recognised as Cousin Lrnest. That Merrill was glad to see them there was no doubt at all. Aunt Susan flun<r her arms about the girl and kissed her with unaccustomed heartiness. Uncle Bert was even more hearty. He even slaped her on the back, and then stood «azin nr around him, across the lawn and the "aniens beyond, as though lie could scarcely believe his eyes, while Cousin Ernest stood by diffidently, wondering whether lie ought to follow the parental example and congratulate lii<s cousin in a similar manner. _ "I didn't mention Ernie in the telegram," fusecd Mrs. Jennings, "but I knew you wouldn't mind us bringing him along. He's been talking of nothing else ever' since he saw it in the newspaper, haven't you Ernie? Don't stand there like a stick. Come and shake hands with Cousin Merrill." Ernest came forward hesitantly. "Don't be shy, Ernest," smiled Merrill. "It's a long time since we've seen each other I know. I think the last time was when I boxed you soundly on the cars for stealing my shells on some seaside beach." . "Yes, that's right," broke in Uncle Bert, heartily. "I can see you now Merrill. And I'll bet Ernie jolly well deserved it, too." The laughter that followed Uncle Bert's remark covered up an awkward moment for Ernest Jennings, and he added his congratulations in what Merrill felt was a warm-hearted manner. The progress through the hall to the library was somewhat slow. The Jennings "moved as though they were paying a visit to the State rooms at Hampton Court. Their eyes bulged with wonder at the old oak panelling and the portraits of men and women of bygone anes that hung around the gallery. Bert, more venturesome, rapped on the panelling with his knuckles and cocked his head appreciatively. "Genuine old stuff, this," he confided, in the tone of a seasoned connoisseur. "I'll bet an American millionaire would aive thousands of pounds for this, my girl. And I'll bet those pictures are worth a fortune —old masters, eh?" "I really don't know," smiled Merrill, "I've never bothered to find out. You see I haven't yet quite recovered from the' shock." . "It'd take a lot of shocks like this to upset me," confessed Uncle Bert. "Me, too," agreed his wife. "What do you say, Ernie?" But Ernest didn't know quite what to say. He just nodded his head and smiled. Settled in the library, the 1 Jennings were still suffused with wonderment. Mr. Jennings, a' small, slight little man with thin brown hair and a sharp, pert nose, was slumped comfortably into a deeply upholstered chair gazing around him with manifest admiration. Mrs. Jennings' plump figure was more closely accommodated in a chair of similar design, her florid complexion set in what appeared to be a smile as permanent as the waves in her faded fair hair. Poor Relations. Mr. Ernest Jennings, feeling himself momentarily right out of his social depth even in the presence of Cousin Merrill, stood looking out of the window with his hands plunged into his pockets. "At precisely the right moment Smithers arrived. Merrill smiled and turned to Uncle Bert.

By Graham Yorke,

Author or " The Deputy Avenger," "The Jade Token," etc.

"I'm quite sure you'd like a drink, Uncle Bert," she said. "I always find travelling so thirsty." Uncle Bert sat forward in his chair and rubbed his hands. A drink, indeed! "Now you come to mention it, Merrill, my girl, I am just a weo bit on the dry side. Have you any beer?" he asked, turning to the sphinx-like^Smithers. "Bottled beer? Certainly, sir. And you, madam?" Susan Jennings giggled. "I don't really know, I —" "Come along now, ma. When you're in Ronie, you know. Try a gin and It. And what about you, Ernie?" Ernest turned away from the' window. "I coukl do with an invalid stout, if you have one." "Certainly sir." Uncle Bert watched Smitliers glide from the room. " 'E's the genuine article, too," he applauded. "Family retainer, I suppose ?" "I believe he was with Mr. Stokes for twenty years," said Merrill. "I like Smitliers. He's so efficient in everything,, lie does." "This place must cost you a pretty penny to keep up," put in Aunt Susan. "But you haven't told us all about it yet, my dear." Briefly Merrill told them what had happened. Smitliers served the refreshment and withdrew. "Well, here's to good luck," toasted Uncle Bert, poising a gleaming silver tankard in a lean hand. The toast was drunk, and Merrill felt that life at the Manor could never be quite uneventful as long as Uncle Bert was around. A knock at the door and Smithers entered for the third time. "About the luggage, madam ?" he inquired. "I take it that you will require another room prepared ?" "I'm sure Ernest would like one overlooking the park," smiled Merrill. "Wouldn't you, Ernest?" "Very good, madam," and Smithers effaced himself once more. "That reminds me, Merrill, my dear, we haven't apologised for descending 011 you like this so suddenly, but I'm so glad, you understand, that we'd be staying a while, and I hope you don't really mind Ernie coming, but you see, my dear, father and Ernie haven't been doing very much lately—trade's in such a shocking state down our way, and we thought that —if you don't mind, that is—a change would do us all good. Besides," she went 011, "we knew you'd be lonely—all by yourself in this great place. It's not good for you, you know, is it, father?" "You're young enough to want company," pronounced Uncle Bert sententiously. "And a spot of advice, too," he added. ' Merrill laughed. It was all rather enjoyable, she was thinking. "Stay just as long as you like," she smiled. "Make yourself at home. You see I haven't really decided what to do just yet. I want time to think things over." , "You don't mean to say you're thinking of giving this place up?" asked Aunt Susan, incredulously. "Not a bit of it," put in Uncle Bert, emphatically. "Merrill and I are going to have a talk about things later 011 . . . sort of family council. I've already got some sort of a plan roughed.out." "A plan?" questioned Merrill, puzzled. Uncle Bert nodded. "That's right. You can't bo expected to shoulder all this responsibility yourself, my dear, and your aunt and 1110 were thinking that you'd want us down here to help. That's it, isn't it, Susan ?" - Aunt Susan had not quite approved of tho inartistic way Bert had put the matter to Merrill. "Well, we would be poor relations if wo couldn't give a helping hand where it was most needed," she extemporised. "You understand, dear, don't you?" Merrill thought she did understand, but it wasn't in quite the same way that Aunt Susan had suggested. "But there's nothing really to help with," protested the girl. "Everything's all fixed up. Mr. Milvern's seen to all that." "And who may he be?" demanded Uncle Bert. « "He's a lawyer . . . Mr. Stokes' lawyer from London." "Just what I thought," exclaimed Uncle Bert, draining a silver tankard and placing it on the tray on the table. "Jusr what I thought. You've been signing lots of papers . . . documents and things. Isn't that so?" Merrill nodded. "Yes, of course. It was necessary." "Don't you believe it. I'll bet you don't know what you were signing?" "I certainly did not, but Mr. Milvcrn assured me . . ." "Assured my foot," interrupted Uncle Bert. "I can see I'll probably have to run down to London first thing in the morning and see what damage has been done." "Damage?" questioned the perplexed Merrill. "I don't understand." "That's all right," said Uncle Bert. "You leave things to me." Merrill's face was burning. She was telling herself that she wasn;t having Uncle Bert or anyone else interfering in her affairs. ~ ~ "It's q'uite all right, uncle, said Merrill, quietly. "As I have said, everything is fixed up. There's nothing more to be done. And now," she added, rising from her chair, "I'll slip along and s.ee if your ( rooms are ready." When she had gone Susan Jennings turned to her husband and she was no longer smiling. "You're a fool, Bert," she challenged. "See what you've done? You've nettled her. That's what conies of being too hasty. If you're not careful she'll send us ail packing and then what? Just like her poor mother, she is . . . wilful." Bert Jennings, did not appear in the least crestfallen. "Don't you fret, mother," he told her confidently. "Merrill Grenfield don't get rid of me as easily as that. Here we are and here we stay. What do you say, Ernie?" But Ernie had buried himself in a newspaper. He was bored. (To be continued daily.)