THE GRIMLEIGH MYSTERY.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 9824, 25 July 1900, Page 6

THE GRIMLEIGH MYSTERY.

OH APT IS It X. Johnson mat to nu furtlnir attempt to two, H<> wtiti Uto iilUoh Uikeii aback to pjjtmtu V«fc inoolifUiically ho rcpoiitod tiio wonU of Minn A'hoU, .%» if tho moro Nearly to oonvoy llioir uhhuiihk to bin mind,' " You \nw\ my dobtH. J ,, or what reanm> mtty 1 unit V • HcH-juuK*! 1 lovoyou f ♦How did you know that J. owed nionoy ?" enquired th« Ntininler, ignoringthe confoHKioii, which, in truth, eonfueod him boyoml muoßUfo. Miss Arnor.t nniilod. ' Your indebted ness is everybody's socrol,' who replied, quietly. ' Your sorvutit found hoiiio accounts which you carelessly loft lying about, and, as eorvants will, sho talked about them freely. I could not but hear something of this gossip. In fact, 1 heard you were in difficulties. I wondered how best I could help you. I decided that the first thing to do was to obtain a list of your liabilities—without your knowledge, of course.' ' Why so ? Had you spoken openly to me— —'

4 You would not have accepted, my help. Oh ! believe me, I know your proud nature. Not even your devotional life has had any effect upon that. At least you would have wanted to know my reason for wishing to help you, and that I could not have given you at that time, for you stood well with the world then. I can tell it to you now—in one word. Love ! My love for you !' ' The love of one Christian for another, I hope.' •No, it is not.' Miss Arnott struck her breast theatrically. Her whole attitude now was reminiscent of her profession. 'It is the love of a woman for a man—the passion which, once in her lifetime, is born in the breast of every mortal woman—aye, and of every man. It is no artificial creation of Christianity,'

' You speak wickedly, 5 said the minister, agitated and shocked. ' I speak humanly—as a woman whose life's.happiness is at stake. Do not misunderstand me, Mr Johnson. I joined your denomination knowing full well that it was for the salvation of my immortal soul. I was called to grace, and I left my life of amusement and worldly vanities. But the old leaven is here — here,' and she struck her breast again. ' For ten years have I labored to erase the evil of my past life. But I have labored in vain. When I saw you I —l loved you. Even my faith seemed as nothing then beside the hope of becoming your wife ; your wife—your wife ; let me say it. You came between me and my Creator, try as I would to banish you from my thoughts. In vain, in vain, all in vain were my prayers. Nature was, nature is, too strong for me. I love you. I love you—let all else go !' . ' Miss Arnott, I really cannot listen to this, 5 said Johnson. Her absolute abandonment scandalised and pained him. He rose to go. ' Sit down,' she said imperiously. •We must understand each other. First, then, let us discuss your position, and see how best you can escape the danger which threatens you. I may be able to help you.' ' I don'o think so.' Johnson shook his head despondently. Nevertheless he resumed his seat.

' We shall ace. A woman's wit can oftentimes achieve more than a man's logic. That order for women to be silent was a mistake on the part of St. Paul. Nine men out of ten owe what is best in their lives to the advice of their mothers. Tell me how matters stand.'

' Believe me, I am glad to make you my confidante, Miss Arnott. God knows I need a friend.'

' I am your friend—more than your friend. Have I not proved at least my desire for your welfare ? Trivial perhaps of itself, my action in paying your bills shows that. It was I who placed the receipts on your study table.' Johnson looked up quickly. ' Then it was you who took away the bills ?' ' It was I,' rejpined Miss Arnott, composedly ; ' what else could Ido ? It was necessary that I should have a list of your creditors. So I watched at your window to see where you left your accounts. I came through the fence.'

' Then it was your footsteps I heard ?' 'It was, Mr Johnson. I saw you looking at the pearls and your accounts. I feared lest in that great -stress you might be tempted to sell the treasure. I determined to have those bills. On hearing my step you came out and left them on the table.'

• Yes ; I did, But I could not see you.' 'Of course not. The moment 1 saw you move I stepped back into my own grounds. You replaced the pearls in the bag. When you looked round I was behind the fence watching you. Then when I saw you go out and into the street, I seized my opportunity. I ran in quickly and took the bills. I copied the names and addresses of your creditors with the amounts owing to each, and a day or so later I returned the accounts duriDg your absence. Then I went to London and paid every one of them. Your creditors one and all promised me absolute silence. Then I watched my opportunity ana placed the receipts on your desk.' He looked gloomily at the woman. She seemed to attach but little importance to what she had done. There was nothing theatrical about her now. She told it quite simply. He kept looking at htr. ' You havedoneme a kindness,' ht said, ' and I thank you for it. But by doing it you have unconsciously added to the difficulties of my position. It is known that my debts have been paid. I am suspected of having stolen Bithiah's pearls in order to pay them. How am 1 to repudiate this f ' Easily enough. I can tell the congregation of Bethgamul what I have told you.' ' That may exonerate me in pirt, Miss Arnott. B*t I shall he seveiely censured by tlu congregation for having accepted monetary aid from a woman.' .

'There are two answers to that,'replied Miss Arnott, quietly. 'In the first place, I aided you without j our knowledge. In the secomi, you have only to tell the congregation that I am your promised wife, and no one of them can say a word.' Johnson became agitated. ' I cannot say that you are my promised wife,' he said. ' 1 cannot lie (.o them.'

4 Why need it be a lie ? Can you not marry me f

' But—l do not love j ou.' ' You must learn to love me. Such a passion us mine surely deserves some return. You would not be the most ungrateful of men. Have I uot done my best to serve you ?' ' I did not ask you to.' •You and I alone*know that, Mr Johnson. No one else does. If I choose to confess'the truth to the congregation you will he exonerated.; if I say youaccepetd my help wittingly and willingly, there is nothing lor you to do to amend your position but saying that I am to marry you.' ' Miss Arnott, you place me in a most difficult position.' 'Be just. I also show you .the way OUt Of it.' Si£3w»&ii- u-

'A way I cannot—l dare not take ' Haia the minister desperatety. ' Then the woman's passion got the better of her. Sho rose furious. ' Yet you dam to slight, , no — yoa reject my bvo winch liau Raved you from disgrace? Uh, 1 know woll that you loved Bethiah -that wretched omiUiire. But she is .lead. And lam gllul that Bhe ig dea(J lor now there can bo no hope for your m.MI passion. You must forget her You niuHt marry me. You shall marry trie. J

. I will not,' saul Johnson, rising in ua turn, ami speaking every word dietinctly. 'You overstep the bounds of modesty, M.Si Arnott. I do not and b^int:r^har ed pale and sank ' Then is all my wickedness in vain » ' she moaned. " 'VVhat do you mean?' asked the eta,Okhythe * cc - li - < You Know well what I mean. I hare fought that women for you, and she has beaten me. One« she was out of the way, 1 bought I could win you for myself. It seems I was wrong. Yet what can you do without me? Your good name is gone; you are suspected of murdering the girl of robbing her, and of piyine your debts w,th the wages of your 'eh? Do you thitk the congregation will keen out of the fold. You win be diegraoed and penniless. Where will you £* What will you do-without i name' without money, I am rich j you. But you refuse my help. 3 'God will help me.' said Johnson moving towards the door, ' for lam i£ nocent.

'Will God help me? ' cried Mica Arnott, wildly. « H e knows that lam r P ° a nT Ce h • G °' g °- Leave «c to reap the harresD of my folly. I have loved you too well, and this-this is my reward. Leave me, I say Go !' She looked bo furious, yet so imperious in her wrath-the wrath of a woman scorned-that the minister left the room without a word In her present stateTf mind it were idle to argue with her, and Jeep in thought, Johnson returned to his

• I must release myself from this snare,' he murmured to himself, • and that can V n it y w>, G P r ayin ß back this ™™yInnJ " e T am V° g6t five hun^d pounds ? lam hampered on all sides. If Ido not bribe this Shackel, ho will accuse me of selling poor Tera's pearls. Already I am suspected of her murder. Everyone is working against me. It is best perhaps to follow Brand's suggestion and fly. Here I may be arrested at any moment. J The more he thought, the more perplexed he became. At length he seized his hat, and went out in the hope that fresh air and rapid motion would clear his brain. Knowing how unpopular he was he kept away from the town and climbed the hill by the lonely path. Here in his meditation he jostled against a man coming the opposite way. The stranger was tall slender, and aa dark as Tera had been But those keen eyes and the hawk-like nose could belong only to a Romany. Having seen him before, Johnson had no difficulty in recognising the

' Pharaoh Lee,' said the minister, stopping in his surprise. ' I did know you were hete !' J ' I am with my people on the common yonder, replied Pharaoh, gloomily 'We came back the other day, and ou no very pleasact errand, either.' w'i I ** m L SOrry t0 hear that > Pharaoh. What is the matter V 'A woman is the matter, as usual. D'ye remember Zara Lovell ?' ' Yes. She was to marry you. Are you now husband and wife ?' Pharaoh's br«.w grew black, and he muttered a gip.y oath. « Weil never be husband and wife in this life, whatever we may be in the next,' he said, bitterly. Zaia fell in love with one of your Gent»le mashers here, and has gone back to him.

' Who is he V « T ' l l 7 Wi -f h l- kn ? W '' cried Lee » fiercely; 'Id knife him.' J

Hush, hush,' rebuked Johnson, shivering at the thought of another murder You must not speak like that. Have you any idea as to whom the man is v> Yea, it s either a man called Siade, or another, Mayne by name. They were always hanging round oar camp when we were he:e last and Zara was with them oftener than I liked '

oi ?°:u Phar , aoh > y° u must be wrong, felade the policeman, has been married for quite a year, and although Mr Mayne is still a bachelor it is probable that he will make Miss Carwell his wife. So you see it can be neither of thess ' ' Who can swear to that ?' retorted Lee. 'You Gorgies make nothing of ■ deceiving our womenfolk. We are not of your race, and your laws are not for Uβ. If Zara is not married to one of the two Gentiles I speak of, they koow who she is married to. They can tell me if they choose and I shall force them to speak out,' added the gipsy, nerce i v . When I know the truth I'll—-—" rash? 6 ' I implore y ° U ' t0 do nothiB S

' 1 shall meod my honor in my own way. It is an oath. 5 y

With this dramatic declaration on his lips, Lee swung -ofl down the hill to escape further reproof and entreaty Anxious-miuded and hopeless of aid, the minister resumed his upward way and shortly reached the brow of the hill where Hhe cornlands stretched towards Foldew.. Unconsciously his feet had led fc- 1 ? 10 c Very P ath al °ng which Bithiah. must have passed to her mysterious death.

Aβ he walked along he caught sight of a burly hguro bending down in the field As he approached he recognised Jeremiah Slade. Knowing neither the man's ambitions nor the interest he took in the case, Jonnson wondered what he wa« doing so near the place where the body had been found. His curiosity being excited he crossed the ridgy furrows and walked up to the policeman 'What are you looking for, Sl'ade " Jeremiah straightened himself, and a light came into his dull blue eye 'I ain't lookin' no«, said he, cunningly. as 1 ye found something already-eome-tlnng as is wor-h the lindin', too ' ' What is it ?'

'You seem mighty anxious to know, sir, was the coustable'a reply, with a suspicious glance, J

'.Naturally 1 wish to know anything bearing upon the fate of poor Bithiah ' " •Ah, granted Slade, 'there's more than you sir ac" wants information of that kind. But why are you so pertieler, may 1 ask, if it ain't no offence^' 'For two reason.,' rejoined Johnson quietly. One is, that I wish the assassin ot my poor ward to be secured and punished. Ihe other is that I desire to clear my own character from the suspicion which has fallen upon it.' ' You mean, sir, as folks suspect you oi the murder.'

' I do, but I need hardly say that I am innocent.

' VVeii, ■ said the policeman, reflectively, • of course, sir, you're bound to say that to save your own neck. J thought aa you..do it yourself one jimei, for tiitre ain't no .denyin' as the evidence is against, you. liut what I've f,;unU now 'tis altertdnie a bit.' -

' Really. Then yoa are good enough to exonerate me in your own mind. You don't believe me guilty,' said Johnson, ironically. 4 Not as the principal, anyway. It's come to me as the poor girl was strangled by a woman. ' A womau ! How do you know that ?' ' 'Cos I found thi« on the very spot where the girl's body lay, 5 and Slade opened his hand. In the palm lay a gold earring, which Johnson recognised as Miss Arnott's. [to be continued.]