MURDER WILL OUT.

Evening Star, Volume 11221, Issue 11221, 21 April 1900, Page 2

MURDER WILL OUT.

[ATLißijghts'Roserved.]

"By Edgar Pickering. (Author of ‘ A Stout English Bowman,’ etc.) SYNOPSIS OP INSTALMENTS I. to 111. Dr Mortimer and bis friend Sylvester Courtney are interrupted in a confidential talk by The advent of a patient hurt in the street. . Before he leaves the house his host learns thafe 'hLs patient has lost a pocket book t6 iwhich he attaches a high value, and tho reader perceives that Dr Mortimer is much angered on learning tho stranger’s name. '"The doctor is about to take up a lucrative foreign appointment, for he is engaged to be married, whilst his practice is worth little and jas expectations from a rich uncle seelttTfkeiy To bo disappointed by the advent of an “Australian cousin. Messrs Scripp ajid Morder, tho eminent lawyers, are in difficulties, and-their client, eccentric Squire Gifford, is the unconscious means of bringing about a crisis in the firm’s affairs. At Marlhurst thoSclbys meet the Squire and the latter’s Australian nephew, who makes himself specially agreeable to Madge. Dr Mortimer, called to Marlhurst by a letter from his uncle, meets his fiancee in company with Dorman (the Squire’s nephew), whom, later, ho warns not to continue his intimacy with the Selbys. , Squire Gifford tells Mortimer that he is not satisfied with Dorman, and makes-a generous proposal. CHAPTER VII. A DAY IN TIIK CITY. There was an unusual stir in Old Broad street, E.C., one morning, for that busy part of the City had been collecting its throng from a much earlier hour than upon ordinary days. Prom East and West, North and South, men and women had come, and as the trains from the suburbs and country deposited 'their passenger’s at the different stations in town the crowd in the thoroughfare increased. It was evident to the habitues of Old Broad street that something out of the normal course of events was the attraction, and serious-minded men of affairs looked more serious than ever as they forced their way to their offices. Men were whispering, too, and in some strange manner the undertones seemed to gather into words and sentences, that passed hither and thither amongst the crowd, and hung in the very air of the gloomy morning. So dense became the throng, especially before tbc unopened doors of the “ Great Central Bank.” that the drivers of eabs and omnibuses had to drive slowly, using expressions of disgust, not gently; and up in one bee-hive office window little Simpkins, whose passion was photography, had planted his “kodak” and was Inking snapshots of the teeming mass o: humanity, amid which a white hat was I ■•■■■ '■’liruous.

Tie wearer of the white Lit was Mr Selby, ' received a letter that morning from ■iv Jarvis Dorman advising him that the Central Bank” was in difficulties, ’l l hj - had'leanu from Air Scripp, in one o! I;:many visits to Southampton street, i"i ! Mr Selby read the letter in mild wonder. It confused him, and the contents immediately became intermingled with the invention in. the most extraordinary fashion. “ T think,” he said, at the breakfast table, in quite his usual tones, " that I’ll run up to London this morning, my dears.” “You know how the bustle always upsets yon,” replied Airs Selby, over her glasses, warninglv.

“But I thinly I’ll go,” he answered. " I’here’s a little investment that I really ought to see about, and I must call at the hank. I’ve got six thousand in shares in it, you know, and I keep my account there. Yes. 1 think I shall go.”' Madge looked at him inquiringly. “ Has it anything to do with the letter you had this morning?" she asked. “ Well, yes,” replied Mr Selby deliberately,' as if it were of no particular' consequence. “It has something to do with the' letter. It’s quite right, though—the hank, I meanhut perhaps I had better withdraw my account. I’ve three hundred there odd, I believe,” ' ''

“ Is there anything wrong with the bank?” ‘“Not at all,”'answered’her fatter,'airily.' “ Oh. there’s nothing that you might call wrong. Only rumors, my dear, only rumors. I’m sofry to miss a "day from the invention, because when one is on : the verge——”

“ will return this evening,” inters nipted Mrs Selby. “ The air Is getting cold at nights, and as likely as hot it will bring on your winter cough.” “ I’ll buy some lozenges in town, tnv dear,” lie replied : “' and I really think I ought to start at once. There's a train at ten.” '

“ But it is only just nine,” laughed Madge. “And you can walk to the station in seven minutes.”

“To be sure, to be sure ; I never thought of that,” and he seemed pleased at the discovery. At half-post nine helelft the house, coming hack to it five minutes later for his luit, upon being informed by a neighbor that ho had forgotten it. “So I have,” hj ; exclaimed. “ I suppose I was thinking of something else. I hope I’m not getting alwent-minded.”

Upon on arriving at Cannon street, Mr Selby walked leisurely in the direction of the bank, debating as fo the pleasantest method he could adopt iu drawing his balance. That it would be thought strange his doing so was certain, and going along he invented quite a plausible story to tell°tht ca.-hicr. Then there were his shares that paid fifteen per cent. ; he would consult his broker about them. When he had reached this stage in las meditations he found himself suddenly engulphcd in a surging crowd, fistung the doors of the bank in the distance, at intervals, from behind people’s backs and under men’s arms. He'had always walked demurely through that portal, anil to see a throng struggling and fighting to gain admittance almost overwhelmed nim with astonishment.

“What an extraordinary number of people, ’ he said to a wild-looking man, whose elbow was in Mr Selby’s ribs. “I never saw anything like it.” “ They’ve got my money in there!” cried the 'wild person, shaking his fist at the distant bank. “ Fifty pound, and I’ve a bill to meet to-morrow. There’s a run on the bank, and if I don’t get my money out I’m at ruined man.” And then the seething crowd drove them apart, and Mr Selby be” came jammed between a weeping woman and a cursing man, a hundred feet off the bank doors. Simpkins, from his window, made rare fimof the white hat, as it bobbed and dived in the storm.

Mid-day, and the weary cashiers had paid out gold and notes since the bank opened, as though the supply of cash were inexhaustible, and in the bank parlor sat the manager and directors, us they had been seated for hours. If it had been safe to have ventured into the street, the directors would have quitted the-sinking ship long ago, but now it was not to be thought of. So they waited on in silence for one o’clock, when the decision of the great financial firm, as to whether aid to the bank should be given or not, wonldhe brought them. The messenger was to come in by the private entrance, direct into the manager’s room, and his ad-vent-meant either the bank’s rescue or ruin. Wme and food were on-the table, but none of these anxious pallid men hod touched them, for the ceaseless sound of an angry torrent was in their ears. The silence within tne bank parlor warned deadly in contrast with that dull roar outside, mid tick by tick the clock over the mantelpiece wore on to one o'clock, remorselessly. The gold mines uu^ v « .jCftßlitcxs’ counter were almost n:prkegj cgt£„ the lodger clerks at their desks [sat for f he end. ■Nearer and nearer to the doors came the white. was only one window left to he crushed past, and Mr Selby, Laggard and faint, gasped the hot air. There was no space for his falling, or he must have done so. but his brain had ceased to work coherently half an hour ago, end he was conscions only of the window, which seemed to ,fascinate him. Ho connected it with his account, and so long as the broad sheet of glass was clear his money was safe. Now and tlicn ho begged somebody to give him a chance of life, but the request was not hendcvl, ,‘4ud yet he lived on, rather surprised at himself. Te>9 lainuiee past one. There had been a lifers soaSle ai the door of tho, private entrance to the bank, and a. Herculean messenger had bored his wav' through the crowd. He had gone into the Hank parlor, too,’ arid a rumor was wafting among tteledgcr-clbrks'

as to of bis Mr Selby ,was within touch of the doors-at last, and hvo minutesmoro of that life andi death struggle would land him to the counter,. But he kept his gaze on the window ; if the pane remained dear for five minutes-longer—four minutes now—his money would 1 be rescued 5 then he felt himself being thrust backward -—they Were clearing the people from before the .counter, and the cashiers had- disappeared. ■ “ What does it mean?” he cried. ■ ■ That! 1 The 'announcement was blurring the window at last, and the “Great Central Bank” had suspended payment. CHAPTER VIII. ' Six months had elapsed since Mr Selby had been brought back to Marlhurst by a sympathising friend, and put to bed, where he remained a fortnight,' tended by Dr Mortimer with a'care and skill that alone could have _ saved his life. When he recovered sufficiently to be brought downstairs, Mr Selby’s first inquiry'was relative to his invention, and from that moment he never referred to the object of his visit to London. That he had lost a largo sum of money, and that there would lie difficulties in making both ends meet in the future, did not concern him in the least, and his natural cheerfulness seemed rather to have increased. To Madge the misfortune brought a great many anxious thoughts, for it was quite plain to her that the daily expenses would have to be considerably curtailed, Her mother, accustomed to receive a generous cheque once a month, quietly resigned herself to the altered circumstances, and outwardly life at Westdown House went on tranquilly, in spite of Mr Selby’s reduced fortune and gradual weakening of mind.

Mortimer’s project of buying a practice had been postponed by Mr Selby’s illness, and the time had passed rapidly away since his recall to the Manor, where he remained in duty bound to his patient, and the Squire was quite content to have it so. Mr Dorman, after enduring the dulncss of Whyteleas for some weeks, had taken chambers in London, visiting the Squire, however, with great dutifulness at intervals, and nothing, except Mr Selby’s illness, had occurred to mark the passage of time. It was winter now, bleak and dreary, and the Manor presented a foriornness that would have driven a visitor away from it, had not the fetters of love kept him there. For day by day Dick’s love had grown stronger and Madge’s more devout, as she watched her father coming back to health and strength under her lover’s hands.

In London Mr Dorman occupied himself in various ways, receiving regular payments of money from his agent in Sydney, and for the purposes of employing these amounts, which were large, he consulted Mr Scripp. He sold the sheep farm, the proceeds of the sale being paid into a London bank, upon which Mr Dorman drew some cheques for considerable amounts, for which he had no apparent use. He did not speculate, nor were his personal expenses great enough to warrant several thousands of pounds being needed, but these at various periods were paid him. And in the office of Messrs Scripp and Morder nothing had disturbed the even tenor of business.

“ You haven't been put into the dock yet, Morder,” observed Air Scripp, who indulged in rough badinage when in good humor, “and you're a sensible man to have taken ray advice to pull together. Where would you have been now, if you hadn’t?” Air Morder was gloomy. “There’s worse than being put into the dock, as you are pleased to express it.” he replied. “I don’t suppose you can enter into my feelings, Air Scripp.” “I don’t know that I want to,”,.retorted his partner., “Feelings wouldn’t have put Pattison’s affairs straight, and you wouldn’t be sitting in that chair at this minute if yon hadn’t acted with me.' Don’t talk about feelings,” and Air Alorder refrained accordingly. In the clerk’s office Jean Kedar; pursued his duties methodically, and studied the money.market. Stocks and shares interested him now, and his. speculations, must have been singularly. Inckvi for the, placid little man was on the high road to that fortune which it was his settled object to, gain. He made no change in his garb, nor varied his frugal manner of living, neither.did,he make any acquaintances. Air Dorman, going into the partner’s private room, would nod; to him in his friendly way, and Jean’s wistful look would follow him as he parsed ; but beyond this nothing showed that he and Air Dorman knew each other. It was phly after office hours,.and in unfrequented places, that they had' any : conversation together, and at these times Air Dorman was apt to show temper and Jean a placid determination that nothing could ruffle. , •’ ' , It may have been Jean’s close attention to business that prevented , him from gaining a knowledge of London, or.his way about it. His lodgings were a short distance from Southampton street,, and he could walk to and fro between the points accurately, but whenever he wandered from the beaten track he lost himself. He would be hours recovering his way home when this happened, and although accustomed to large cities, London streets seemed to confuse him. There were certain landmarks which saved him from being totally lost, but these were not always in view. When this was the case he would go helplessly along at a gentle trot, looking for them, and it was upon one of these occasions that he and Sylvester Courtney chanced to encounter each other.

For some considerable time Jean Kedar had developed a great interest in the windows of certain shops, pawnbrokers and dealers in second-hand chattels more especially attracting his notice, and in a secluded street that had but few wayfarers through it there attracted his notice one of those mysterious emporiums where old furniture, antique jewellery, misty paintings, and dust were mingled to be never disturbed, or wanted, or even inquired about by anyone. Along the window went a ledge inside, on which was displayed such a heterogeneous collection of useless things ns only such a shop could have shewn, for there were sets and pieces of false teeth, the wearers of which had long since passed the need of them, battered spo'ons and forks, and a horn snuff box, together with various other articles that had rested there for month after month, until mould and tarnish had given them quite a respectable antiquity. Sylvester Courtney, lounging through the quiet street one afternoon, glanced at the window casually, and was passing on when something caused him to stop. For, amid the lumber on the shelf, lay a pocket book, with two initials and a crest on the cover, and he bent down examining it attentively, whilst at the same moment he was conscious of someone who had placed himself at his side and was doing the same thing. The newcomer was Scvipp and Morder’s clerk, and Sylvester drew back, his intention being to inquire the price of tho book, and he waited until Jean, who had entered the shop, should come out. Then he saw a hand stretch from hehind the faded curtain that guarded this treasury of useless things and close over the book.

“What does that fellow want with it?” thought Sylvester. “ That’s the very book, I’ll swear, that Jarvis Dorman lost the night he was brought to Mortimer’s surgery. It must have dropped from his pocket in the scuffle. They’re not his initials, certainly, but the thing tallies with his description, and that it’s of the utmost importance to him there’s no question. There's a mvsterv attached to the affair that I should very much like to clear up. I wonder why he and this clerk are on such intimate terms?” and then his rapid meditations were interrupted by the exit of Jean Kedar, who hastened away, beaming with satisfaction, while Sylvester followed him.

For some time the pursuit continued, Jean going up and down streets and alleys looking for a landmark, until he came to a sudden standstill, gazing about him in a confused manner Sylvester was not twenty yards behind, and Jean recognised the gentleman who had spoken to Mr Dorman that clay in the restaurant.

Pardon. M’s’r,” he said, advancing to Sylvester and using the French title unwittingly, “But I am a lost man. I never recollect my way, and it will be of the greatest kindness if you will direct me to Southampton street.”

“ Yon are a good mile from there,’’ replied Sylvester, “ and as I am going that way we will walk together.” MVr was too good, but it would be a mercy. London was p! all cities the most, intricate. Jf M’s’r pleased, they .would walk toother. Thus Jean Kcdar.

, This they did, and.on. the way to Southampton street .Sylvester made various endeavors to lure Jean into, a conversation about Australia, the little clerk evading them with

cpnsumnkfte Ucfe. Terc6iving-.this; his guide attempted to gain some information relative to Jean’s employers; doing it* in a casual, chatty manner that was quite diplomatic, but again he was foiled. Jean would talk about the weather, and the chance of there being rain before morning, but of nothing more important. Sylvester asked him if he were fond of collecting out-of-the-way things, and Jean said “No” with such a natural surprise that the topic died away, and when a landmark hove in sight the little clerk, thanking his preserver, ns he termed Sylvester, for his great goodness, trotted off. “ If there’s a superlatively cunning man in the world, there he goes,” mused Sylvester. “ There’s a mystery about him and Mr Dorman that wants clearing up, and as I’ve time and inclination I’ll do it, for Dick’s sake. I don’t know exactly in what way Dick is being affected —he’s dead set on being made Squire Gifford’s heir, and uncommonly sanguine. Is the Squire influenced by Dorman? Now, let me get the facts of the !ase into line. Dick and Dorman’s chances we’ll call equal. Scripp and Morder and their clerk hand and glove with Dorman. Dorman’s distress at losing his pocket book and the clerk’s delight at finding it, supposing it to be Dorman’s. Dick living in what- 1 hope isn’t a ‘ fool’s paradise.’ I wish he didn't place such reliance in having the estate. He’s the sort to take defeat badly.” It was a few weeks after Jean Kedar’s encounter with Sylvester that Squire Gifford came to London, with the purpose of giving Scripp and Morder instructions for makimr his will, and for an hour or longer he and Mr Scripp were close closeted. When the details of his last testament had been duly set down the Squire’s brown face relaxed its tension.

“ I’m glad th’ writin’s done, Scripp,” he said, getting up from his chair, “ because you an’ me might get our call to go any minute. I’m a healthier man than you, though, by a goodish bit; country air isn’t like this stuff you breathe up ill Luntuin an’ call air, but I might go sudden. You’d like that, I reckon.”

“My dear Squire!” exclaimed Air Scripp. “You're doing, me an injustice by saying that.” * °

Squire, with his usual grin when pleased. "An’ you’d like my, estate left huddlemuddle for you to put straight. But I won’t gi’ ye th’ chance. No, no, Scripn. I’m goin’ to leave my property straightfor’ard, an’ tied up. Fast bind*, fast find, that’ my motter. Them mortgages now, that I told ’ec about back in th’ summer. Time’s up, an’ I want to know if th’ money's been paid home?” Mr Scripp went to a tin box, and took out some papers, which he placed before the Squire, “if you’ll go through these,” he said, pointing to them, “you will see that everything has been settled. Here is the receipt from the bank for fifteen thousand pounds that are lying there to your order. And allow me to suggest that it be put out to better interest than the one and a-half per cent, that it's earning now.” “ Flj think over it,” replied the Squire. “ Let it bide for a week or two where ’tis. You vet on makin’ th’ will, an' when ’tis fair writ send a copy o't down to th’ Manor.” This was promised, and the Squire took his departure, remarking that Mr Scripp was not looking so well as usual, an observation that aroused such resentment in the lawyer's breast that he shook Ijis fist after his departing client. Then Mr Morder came into the room.

“Gifford’s been here,” snarled Air,Scripp. “He’s decided upon making his will at last. He’s an insulting old man, and appears to take delight in annoying people.”? “Who inherits?”

“ These arc, the instructions,” replied the senior partner. “It’s very lucky for you and me, Alorder, that things aren’t woiie, ’ and Air Scripp chuckled. “We shall have Air Dorman here presently, and for -Heave!.'sake don’t let him have an inkling that his uncle’s been in the office.’,’

Later in the day Air Dorman called, and was leaving, when Ke’dar attracted his attention, and he signed for the little clerk to follow him.

“ What’s in the wind?” he asked sharply. ■ “ Squire Gifford has been giving instructions about his will,” said Jean. “ I thought you.ought to know.” . “ And Scripp never told me of this exclaimed Dorman. “I wonder what that was for. I’m not to know the Squire’s intentions, it seems. This looks bad.”

““- copy has to bo taken down to the Squire’s house,” continued Jean. “I overheard him saying this.” “You’ll have to take it,” answered Dorman quickly. “ Tell Scripp that you wish to.” “Yes. I will do that,”

“ I am going down to the Alan or to-night,” went on the other. “ When will the papers be ready?” .

“ The day after to-morrow.”

“ Come by the 6.30 train, then, to Alarlnurst,” said Dorman, “ and I will meet von at. the Alanor lodge. We shan’t be interrupted there, and I’ll checkmate Scrinp’s game of trying to keep me in ignorance of the Squire’s intentions. If I ask him to let me see the instructions he will refuse, and I can’t afford to quarrel with him—yet. You quite understand?”

“It will be an expensive journey,” remarked Jean, casting a look up piously. “ Which, being interpreted, means that you want some more money out of me,” said Dorman. “Very well, show me the copy of Squire Gifford’s will, and I’ll give you Jive pounds.” Jean gave an expressive nod, and Dorman a-alked away, pondering deeply. What was to be the outcome of his journey to England? he asked himself. Was it worth undertaking? Yes! a thousand times yes, for it had brought love and such fierce hone to him that they overshadowed every other consideration. His passion for Madge Selby was like a consuming fire within him, and to win her was his settled purpose, let what might stand in the path. His journey down Into Kent that afternoon was to see her, even if it were only for a moment. Mortimer was away from Marlhnrst, for the two men had passed each other in the Strand that morning, and Dorman resolved upon seizing the opportunity thus afforded him of urging his suit. He was upon the most jntimate terms with her parents, and used this intimacy adroitly, for none knew better than he how to adopt an attitude of humble homage and respectful sympathy, and these virtuous traits he presented when in the presence of the woman he worshipped. He was a persona grata at Westdown House, moreover, making himself useful in a dozen little, unobtrusive ways, to Mr and Mrs Selby, who both agreed that he was one of the worthiest men in the world. Upon arriving at Marlhurst he walked rapidly in the direction of Mr Selby’s house, from whence he would go to the Manor later on. IHe had written to apprise the Squire of his coming, and there was much to be done in this opportunity that Mortimer’s absence gave him. Of the will that the Squire had at last decided upon making he thought of scarcely at all at that moment” for even the prospect of being one day owner of Whyteleas sank into insignificance in comparison with his love for Madge Selby. He recalled the gratified looks that had rewarded him when ho had taken flowers and fruit to her father, and the pleasant ring in her voice when she thanked him. Madge was out when Mr Dorman called at the house, and after inquiring the direction in which she had gone, he continued bis walk that way. Fortune was smiling on him at last, for what better opportunity could lie have of declaring his passion than this, and ho quickened his step. The road he was traversing led to the Manor, and he had reached midway to this when he saw Madge advancing. 'She had been on a visit of charity to some cottages that lay a little beyond the lodge, and was returning home when Dorman met her, his hand outstretched. There was the ordinary greeting, for hq must act with caution, and he turned to walk at her side, flicking the pebbles with his cane, thoughtfully. “ I had a purpose in coming down to Marlhurst this 'afternoon, Miss Selby,” he said, breaking the silence. “ Does it interest you to think what that purpose was?” “ Was it because the Squire is alone? Dick—Dr Mortimer went to London yesterday.”

“Does any purpose of mine give you a moment’s concern!” he replied, not answering her question at first. “-Yes, I know the Squire is alone, but that did nob bring me here. Other men than he lead solitary lives, men who would give all they possess could their lives be cheered by the companionship of those they love. Perhaps you can’t realise

whiit it means'to he absolutely alone in the world, as I am. Miss Selby?” “ I think I can. It must be rather miserable.” “That’s a poor word to express it; I : didn t mind being alone once ; ■ a man gets: used to solitude out in the Bush, but that’s' it different kind of loneliness from what one’ experiences when ” and he ceased speaking abruptly. ,f Miss Selby,” he began again, his voice suddenly changing its timbre, “ until I saw you I didn’t know what love was. I scoffed at it, and thought myself proof against its power, but I was mistaken, forgive mo if I speak what’s in my .heart to' say—what I’ve come hero to tell you. I love you; nay, don’t start from me as if I’d said, something, strange—the strange thing would bo my knowing you and not loving 1 the very ground you tread upon.” “I cannot listen to this, Mr Dorman”: replied Madge, whose heart was beating: N’ fm' all that she kept her composure “Nor are you entitled to any explanation for my asking you to leave me.' If you are a gentleman you will let me pass,” for he had ban-ed the way by stepping in front of her. I ask no explanation,” he exclaimed fiercely. “ Yet I will not let you pass until you hear me out. I kuow that Dr Mortimer professes to love you, but that does not hinder me from loving you also. I have loved you from the first moment of our meet-’ mg, and I ask you to be my wife.” Let me pass!” cried Madge, but he paid no heed to her, as he spoke on. And then Madge gave a cry of delight, for Dick Mortimer was walking hastily up the road, and faceTo 1 facT ed Sharply ’ the t,vo men coming ( To he continued.)