DICK BERESFORD’S WIFE; OR A WOMAN’S MISTAKE.

Evening Star, Issue 14001, 6 March 1909, Page 3

DICK BERESFORD’S WIFE; OR A WOMAN’S MISTAKE.

[All Right j Reserved.]

By Edoab PiCKEItINO, Author of ‘The Monkshury Mystery,’ ‘Trevena’s Engagement,’ ‘An Undiscovered Crime.’ CHAPTER X. Mr, NEW INVENTION, Work was in (nil swing at Winbury, while the men had been for some time busily employed upon the completion of the complicated apparatus necessary for the practical development of the invention bv which the world was to be astonished in due course, as prophesied hv Mr Waters to his •mployer. Ihe new office and workshop were finished and occupied, and th© routine of daily toil wont on uninterruptedly at the Vulcan Works. There was nothing to betray anything unusual in the manner Of the men working under the personal supervision of the new manager. His orders were carefully obeyed, and his plans deverly carried out, greatly to Air Bcresford s satisfaction ; but below the placid surface there was a current rushing swiftly, and if Mr Maters had thought it worth while to watch Seth Doughty ho would have detect©;! a marked change in him. There was no light-hearted, thoughtless talk from the bronzed giant now, but a steady, relentless kind of persistence in the wav he huddled his tools, as though his whole thought and energy were engrossed in the work he did so sturdily. But one afternoon Air WMcjk, coming down from the office overhead, cast a scrutinising look round the workshop, and called the ;oreroan (Seth had been raised to this position) to him. " A ou’ro infernally slow here.” he said sharply, “and are simply wasting Mr K ores ford’s time—time he pays you for. 11! have a change in th:.;, understand.” " Maybe you'll shew us the wav to work,” replied Set-h. quietly. ” You’re'fond of saying people shirk their work, sir.” He spoke with the relish a man exhibits when a fair chance off ere of settling a disrate. " Whilst I'm manager here." said Air Maters. " I won't be treated with anything like insolence. [ tell you this, Seth Doughty, that they wouldn't have you at any price in some of the places I’ve been in. A ouTe too fond of talking.” “I don’t think so.” replied Seth, beginning to lose his temper; “and maybe you wouldn't say that if yon knew what I could talk about if I might, that is ” Waters cast a sharp look at the speaker, and set his teeth together. ” I begin to think we’ve had about enough of you at the Vulcan Works,” he said, softly. “ You may have suited my predecessor, but you don’t suit mo. We can't have two masters here." “ I don’t reckon we’ve got two,” retorted Seth, giving a laugh, and the men who were looking on knew th© meaning of it, for Seth had laughed very much in the aam© way when he thrashed Sam Boswell to a jelly. " I on impudent scoundrel,” cried Waters. “ I understand your meaning, but, by , you shall see that I am master hero when Mr Beresford is away. Leave the place at once, d’ye hear, and don’t come back. You can draw vonr week’s money at the office, and a week in lieu of notice. Now go.” “Ay. I’D go,” replied Seth, giving another little laugh; “ but there's something I want to say to you, you black-hearted cur, ’ and Seth, caught the manager by the arm, whilst for a second the two men looked into each other’s face. For a second, and Mr Waters's cane had cut across the other’s cheek, and then Seth's iron fists were in th© manager’s neck, lifting him as though h© were no more than a child in weight. Another instant and the upraised figure would have been hurled to the ground, but the onlookers had rushed forward, and on© of them caught (he manager from his foe. A broil amongst themselves was not by any means an uncommon occurrence, and there was a general grin as Mr Waters was released. “ You’ll hurt t’ chap,” whispered one of the men in a hoarse whisper, “ and that’s a summonsing job for Seth.” ‘‘Hurt him I” exclaimed Seth, looking down at the manager. “Ay. I’d settle him glad enough, lads. He deserves it. Let him bring me before the magistrates, I m ready to go. Get away, yon cur, or maybe I’ll murder thee,” and pushing the manager aside Seth Doughty strode out of the workshop. Although every evil passion in his heart was aroused, and a look of bitter rage burned in his face, Mr Waters made no attempt to follow his assailant, but giving a fierce scowl at the workmen, who had gone hack to their task, returned to th© office overhead, dropping the heavy trapdoor after him with a bang that resounded through the building, and there was a general laugh when he had disappeared. .Seth meant settling t’ chap,” grinned one of the men. “ Maybe there’s summat betwixt em we don’t know.” “ Now yon coome to say that,” quoth another, “ hast noticed Seth o’ late? He’s been a different chap since the wench disappeared from t’ Manor yonder. Quiet like, Seth's bin.” and so the talk went on amidst the sounds of th© busy work. Going to the office Seth drew his pav, and then, without returning a word to the men who accosted him as he cam© through th© works, he reached the big gates and stood as though considering in which direction he should go for good. “ I’ll go when I’ve seen t’ lawyer. I’ll try and get my mind set at ease, once I’m in Sheffield —there’s no chance of doing that here. Ay. it’s a wonder I didn’t settle the man when he was in ray hands. Folks would say ’twas murder, like enough, and the good old mother would have fretted sadly with the trouble it would have brought. But I reckon it’s the only thing that°’ud set my mind at ease,” and Seth gave a grim laugh. Over the hill and down into the bosky hollows that lay botwen Winbury and Cannelfnrd went the tall lithe figure, until, just as the light began to fade, he came to a stop before the prim little honse wherein Mr Plenderleath had lived ever since he had been a lawyer, and in a few moments was ushered into the office which seemed not half big enough for his massive figure, at which Mr Plenderleath looked with marked interest. Seth Doughty’s speech lacked eloquence and was uncouth in sound, but no orator could have commanded more rapt attention than did the keen old lawyer give to the story which his visitor unfolded. “ lake enough,” said Seth. “ I’d have kep’ my own counsel in t’ matter, hut I’m going away from this part of the country, and I reckon folks ought to bo put on their guard a bit, so I’ve made bold to come to yon with the tale.” I don t think you will leave this part of the country,” replied Mr Plenderleath dryly. “Well, d> see, I’m out of work, and there s them to provide a living for as * do wi’ont me,” answered Seth bluntly. Them as I’d work night and day for, and so I m going into Sheffield.” ioure not going to do anything of the sort, retorted the lawyer. “ You’ll just stop in Winbury. How much did you earn a week?” and Seth told him th© amount. , , ‘, Ve 'T, TM, en '” w , ent on Mr Plenderleath. I'll see that you’re paid that amount every Friday, or a little more, perhaps, until you get back to the works.” “ I 11 lake no man’s money for nothing.” replied Seth doggedly. “Thai would > be a sort of charity-giving, mister and I’d rather earn a living” “You’ll be earing it right enough,” answered Mr Plenderleath; “ay, in a way that can t bo paid enough for in money. There are villainy and plotting afoot, Seth Doughty, and I want yon to help me—to help my friend, Mr Beresford—in unravelling the plot and defeating it. Do yon call that nothing?” and by the time the speech was finished the speaker's voice had risen to almost a scream. Seth nodded his great bead. “T’m ready,” he said, in a quiet tone.

‘‘fell me what you want me to do, and I U do it.”

“ I want you to keep a watch on Mr Waters,” replied Mr Plenderleath. “I w ~ nt y° u }° l' ce P » watch on that new office of his, and, above all, to keep' your lips sealed from speaking to anyone but me of what you know. I’ve been waiting ever since that woman Margaret Wootton disappeared from the Manor, and the moment since Mrs Beresford was taken ill, to find out the reason for these things, and I 11 come over to Winbury to-morrow. Let me see—your mother’s house is at the foot of the bridge!” . * fif'd the place easy enough,” replied Seth mournfully. “Td go wi’ve but I d beater not—Td better not. Fll stop in th village though, and do as you’ve bid me, Mr Plenderleath.”

“ And come to me again as soon as you™ anything to tell,” was th© answer. ‘ I should be sorry if Mr Beresford thinks me a bad ’nn for getting turned oat o’ th’ works,” added Seth. “I’ve been there since I was a lad, yo see.” "Yon leave that to me,” replied Air Plenderleath. “ I’ll wager that before long Air Beresford will be thankful enough that there is a man about the works like vou. Seth Doughty.”

The giant blushed like a girl, and rose to take hk departure. “I’m a bit easier now. he said, ” that the story’s been told mit a poor sort o* chap to keep a secret.” I reckon it won’t be a secret much longer.” ((noth Mr Plenderleath, rubbing his lean hands. “.Mid if we don’t clear tliL ; but there—there—l’m talking a great deal too fast. We’ll wait—wait, Seth Doughty, and maybe you’re thirsty.” Mr Plenderleath was bringing a bottle of wine from a business-like iron safe as he finished his disjointed sentence, and pouring out a glass he handed it to Set*h. Then he filled one for himself and drank it methodically. “Confusion to all villainy,” he said in a solemn voice as he emptied the glass, and there was another eloquent nod from his visitor. Then Seth went out into the gloomy evening and made his way over the hill to Banbury. CHAPTER XT. “Aren't you delighted at being at home?” asked Sylvia as she and Marjorie sat betore the fire in the latters snuggeiy. “ I don t mean by that that you’re not delighted at being at Winbury; you won’t suppose I should be so rude, and, of course, iis jolly having a big house of your own, and that sort of thing. Bat to come back to the place where you’ve grown np, and got to feel, inside you, as I might say; dear, dear, I can t explain like the clever people do in books. You know what I mean you to understand.” “I am indeed very, very thankful to be at Hazlewood,” replied Alarjorie. “And then there’s baby—that never-to-be-too-precious baby—you ought to be kippy, my dear,” went on Sylvia. I’ve I just come from his nursery, and *1 think he’s just the veiy finest boy I’vo seen. He’s very good-looking. tocp-I told Tom that your baby was far handsomer than he. 'loin didn’t mind a bit, bless you—but then he isn’t very handsome, is he?” “ I think Air Hargreaves decidedly goodlooking. ’ answered Alarjorie, “and I am 1 glad you’re going to bo married, Sylvia, and so are yon, I think.” “Now, Alarjorie,” exclaimed her companion seriously; “I beg of you not to 1 mention anything about my being glad to I Tom. I feel that I can only maintain I authority over him by strictness, and if he gets the absurd belief in his head that I am glad we’re going to be married I shan’t have one atom of control over him. You see you don’t quite know what Tom ia —what an impulsive creature he is.” “ He’s very good and kind, Sylvia, and has a good heart,” replied Alarjorie. “Oh, as for that, he’d go to the end of the world to help anybody—he’s impulsive I, tell yon,” was the answer, and then Sylvia laid her hands on Alarjorie; “ and ; I love him just as much as yon love Dick." Alarjorie hont her head’aside, for the tears were trembling in her eyes, and there was the sensation as of an icy hand laid on her heart. “Wliat a lucky thing you’ll he here for th© wedding.” went on Sylvia. “It will be a good deal jollier, you see, because we are going to be married as quietly as possible. There s been a death in Tom’s family—only a very distant grandfather who wasn’t nice at all, so nobody’s really grieved—only bo chose to die at the very moment I believe, when I promised Tom to be married three weeks from that day. I wanted to get off the bargain at once; T know what your quiet weddings are—no jolllness, no particular dresses, no crowds to admire yon. nothing bnt presents, which are at once piy away for safety; and. will you believe me, Alarjorie, Tom wouldn’t hear of it.” “And so you and he are to be married quietly? When?” asked Marjorie, who couldn’t help being interested. “In a fortnight’s time, my dear; only think of it,” replied Sylvia, and at Hazlewood, because Tom says the church is central, as if it mattered what the church was, so long as it was a church. But I am very glad that it will be at Hazlewood, because you were married there,” and there came a little pause, “ Now, what I want to impress upon Tom is ” —went on Sylvia—" that something will happen to prevent us being married on the day that’s decided upon. In fact, I shall be very disappointed if something doesn’t happen, because this quiet wedding isn’t to my liking a bit.” “ But you can postpone it if you please,” said Alarjorie, “ and when you explain ” “ Well, you see,” replied Sylvia, thoughtfully, “Tom is rather a difficult person to explain anything to, and pretends he doesn’t understand, and all that. In fact, I consider him obstinate, although it’s polite to call it being firm-minded. So there it is, ray dear, I’m to have a quiet wedding; just three or four old friends, and then we’re off to Paris. I don’t know what a Quaker marriage is like, but ours will be very much the same sort of affair, I should say. And now I’m going to bring your little boy here.” “Not yet, dear,” replied Marjorie; “he is quite happy with nurse.” “ That reminds me,” said Sylvia. “ Why didn’t you promote Wootton to the nursery?” “ Sylvia,” exclaimed Marjorie, suddenly rousing herself; “ don’t you know that Margaret Wootton has left me. Gone without a word, leaving not a trace of her going.” “ I thought she was fidelity itself,” replied Sylvia; “and I always liked Woollen ; I’m awfully sorry to hear this.” “ There never was a more faithful heart than hers,” exclaimed Marjorie; “ and you mustn’t think that Margaret acted badly. You don’t know what a wretched life hers had been before she came to Hazlewood, and the mystery of her disappearance makes me dread foul play.” “Y'ou’ve tried to find it out, then?” asked Sylvia. “Mr Beresford has done everything in his power to discover her,” replied Marjorie; and then she went on to describe how Alargaret had vanished from Winbury Alanor, and the means which had been employed to solve the mystery, Sylvia listening with a more serious air than her piquante face had worn since Tom Hargreaves won her consent to their union. Whilst they were chatting thus a knock, quite a timid knock, came at the door. “ Don’t disturb yonrself, dear,” said Marjorie, composedly, “I know the knock. It’s Tom, poor frightened man. He always knocks like that when he thinks I’m in the room; and Tom was in the ’Varsity eight a year ago, besides being a member of some horrible club where they fight. Just fancy him being frightened ot a little creature like me. Yes, you may come in,” she cried, with a ring, lug laugh. In obedience to this order, Tom Hargreaves came into the room, looking happier than he had been for many a long day, and after shaking hands with Marjorie, he took a place beside Sylvia. “ I’ve been explaining to Airs Beresford,” began Sylvia, “about our wedding, Tom, and she agrees with me that a qniet one is not to be thought of.” “ Indeed, Mr Hargreaves,” exclaimed Alarjorie, laughingly, in spite of the knawing sorrow at her heart, “I have nothing of the land.” n < ,? er^. a P s w ill not be so quiet after all, said Tom blushing; “ but what if it is? It won’t make me miserable,. Sylvia,

and we’re to start for Paris immediately.” “Isn’t that exactly how a man would talk?” cried Sylvia. “But theivhe isn’t expected to understand. He just puts on his clothes in an every-day sort of way, gives _ a look at the glass to see that his hair is parted straight, and simply goes to church. Now, with a girl it’s very different, and for my own part I expect to be a spectacle. I want to be; but’ with your quiet wedding it isn’t to be thought of. It will be all over in no time, and I shall bj turned into an ordinary sort of wife in an instant. I should he downright miserable if it wasn’t for my presentiment.” “I’ve a presentiment that we’ll have a real jolly time in Paris,” said Tom, giving an admiring look at Sylvia. “Do you know what I intend to do when we get there, Marjorie?” exclaimed Sylvia, twisting round in the chair. “I mean to pay that old lady of yours— Madame Ragout—a visit. I’m going in the character of a British matron to inquire how yon conducted yonrself whilst under her charge.” She spoke in a tone of mock seriousness, and Tom Hargreaves laughed outright at the solemn voice. “ I shall a&k whether you attended fo your lessons,” went on Sylvia; “ fancy a grown-up person having to do lessons, and hear all about you.” “You were not in Paris during the German occupation, Mrs Beresford?” inquired Tom. “By Jove, it must have been a rough time for the French.” “But you saw some of the upset.” said Sylvia. " Oh, do tell us what happened to you, dear? It's so awfully romantic to have been where the fighting was going on. I wieh I had been with yon.” “I saw nothing worth tolling,” replied Marjorie, a deep flush spreading over her face. “ Nothing—and dear, 1 would rather not talk about the time 1 was away from home. It was a very unhappy part of my life.” “ How divinely mysterious you are, Marjorie !” exclaimed Sylvia. ” Now, if it had been I who had gone tluough so much excitement ns you did, I’m positive 1 ghoul i have written a book about it Let me see. I should have called it ‘ The Girl War Correspondent. ’ ” “ I dare say your book would be amusing." said Tom, smiling, “and I believe you could write one. only I should be doubtful about your facts.” “ Oh, Marjorie will give mo some of her experiences, and then with what Madame Ragout can tell me I’ll sot to work and begin writing. How is a book brought out, Tom?” “ Well, you have to find a publisher first,” he answered evasively. “That will be easy enough at any rate.” “ Some writers find it rather difficult, “ replied Tom. “ But I can have it printed on my own account,” went on Sylvia. “Of course I can, and it shall bo bound in the loveliest manner, all gold and velvet, and people will bo asking who the talented author is, and then won't you bo proud of uie, Tom?” “I am proud enough of you already, dear,” he answered. “ But won't you be ten times prouder of your clever wife?” said Sylvia. “ Fancy you being known as Mrs Hargreaves’s husband.” “ I don’t particularly relish being known in that sort of way," he answered. “Mrs so-and-so’s husband is usually a person of no importance, and generally regarded as a nuisance.'’ “ That is simple envy,” returned Sylvia. ‘‘But come, Marjorie, surely you can recall one thrilling experience for the benefit of my book.” “ Nothing that I can tell you, dear,” answered Marjorie in a strained voice. The words were evidently uttered with an effort, to the surprise of both Tom and Sylvia, who could not fail to see that their companion was deeply moved. Luckily at this moment the nurse, carrying baby, entered the room, and Sylvia forgot everything in admiration of the young heir. Mr Beresford’s business in London detained him longer than he had expected, and, greatly as he would have liked, had nob yet been able to visit his wife at Hazelwood. The gigantic business under his control at Win bury could not be neglected. and since his return his time had been closely devoted to the works. One morning, amongst the heap of letters that lay before him, was one which brought a smile to his lips. “So Tom Hargreaves has won Sylvia at last,” he remarked, half aloud. “Well, 1 only hops they will be as happy as Marjorie and 1 have been. Yes, I’il go over to Hazlewood to see Marjorie, and congratulate Tom. 1 hope Marjorie will be able to come back soon. How dull it is without her.” Having finished his solitary breakfast, Dick left the Manor house for the works. He had a lob to talk over with Mr Waters, his manager, in whom he had complete confidence. It was ten o’clock when Mr Beresford reached the big gates of the Vulcan Iron Works, and a full hour before that time Mr Waters had been busy in his jealously--guarded private office. The plans and details of his great invention had long been completed, and in the workshop the machine destined to bring fame and fortune to ite designer was being rapidly brought to a state of perfection. Beyond this, he had in preparation another plan and another design which promised him even a .greater reward—namely, the gratification of his revenge, and the gaining of wealth and power. Waters had worked with the utmost canning, and now it seemed as if success was within his grasp. He saw the road before him to wealth and power. What did it matter to him that that road was stained with blood. A life stood between him and his ambition, but Waters was not a man to shrink even at the risk of shedding blood. “ It’s a risky game,” muttered Waters, as he limped across the floor; “the slightest mistake would ruin all, but At this moment the office door opened, and Dick Beresford entered. (To be continued.)