. . THE . . WELFLEET MYSTERY.

Hawera & Normanby Star, Volume XLII, Issue 7372, 25 January 1902, Page 1 (Supplement)

. . THE . . WELFLEET MYSTERY.

By MRS GEORGIE SHELDON. Author of " Geoffrey's " Victory," "Dorothy Arnold's Escape," "Brownie's Triumph," "That Dowdy," "The

Forsaken Bride," etc., etc.

CHAPTER XXVII —Continued.

"Grand old cathedral," her companion pursued. "Must have been built years ago; and they tell me that the crypt is remarkable for its ancient tombs and epitaphs. I'm very fond of studying such things, and I am going to make a tour of investigation down there pretty soon."

He saw her grow pale as snow as be made this statement.

"I've heard tiiat the place is haunted." .she *aid. hoping this assertion mi^hi discourage him from his in- ■\'•.->! nations. "By \.liatV" Mr Dodge asked.

'"By ghosts,. of course."

"Well, I have never seen a ghost. Can't say that they don't exist, though I've no faith in them. However, 1 am going to explore those underground traps, ghosts or no ghosts. Ever been down there?" '

Now she started, and a look of horror came into her eyes.

"No, no! Oh, I could never go down there!" she said. Then, as if fearing she had betrayed too much feeling, she added: "The abode of the dead is always very sad to me, and I have no curiosity about such places."

"Haven't you?" Simon Dodge asked, with his eyes half closed, but fixed upon her with such a piercing look that they seemed like two points of flame. "Well, I have; and I seem to be unusually curious about this one. I imagine that those vaults could tell some strange stories if they could speak; don't you?"

Again a shudder of horror agitated her, while she grew so Heathly white that he thought she was going to faint.

But she vurned from him, making no reply, and looked steadily out of the window; nor did she seem inclined to converse any more during the remainder of their journey.

They reached London about four in the afternoon. Simon Dodge assisted his companion to alight with as much gallantry as if he had been forty years younger.

"By the way," he said, carelessly, while doing so, "if you have been in Welfleet before, perhaps you have met some of my acquaintances — the Minor Canpn, maybe-?" .

"No, sir; I have jiot the honour of knowing him," his companion answered.

"No! Then perhaps you know Mr Knight, the choir-master?" She gave him a quick, startled look. "Yes," she said, coldly; "I have met Mr Knight."

Simon Dodge bowed, as if he were raying to himself, "I thought so"; then he asked:

"Shall I call a cab for you, miss . '

"Thanks, no; I will not trouble you any further, sir," she returned, with a dignity that abashed him, in spite of his assurance; and, turning abruptly from him, she walked away with the air of a queen.

He stood looking after her until she left the station.

"Ahem! smart girl," he ejaculated; "self-contained, non-committal."

Walking on a short distance, he saw her get into a cab, and, immediately taking out his notebook, he wrote down the- number of it; then, striking into a brisk pace, he went b^s own way.

After a while he turned into Tottenham How, where he entered the shop of a locksmith.

"Can you make a key for me from aya v wax impression between this and seven o'clock to-morrow morning?" he said.

"Yes, sir," the locksmith answered, after thinking a moment.

Mr Dodge produced a piece of yellow wax, upon which there was a clear, firm impression, and handed it to him.

He took it and examined it critically, then looked up at his customer with a curious glance; after which he went to a drawer, took out something from within, and seemed to be comparing it with what Simon Dodge had given him. "Well, is anything the matter?" Mr Dodge asked.

"No, sir; but it strikes me as being rather a singular coincidence that I made a key exactly like the impression which you have given' me last winter."

"Ah!" returned Mr Dodge, with a slight start, "that is strange! And did you make that one from a wax impression also?"

"Yes; and another one — a smaller one, too. The .impression which you have given me is of such peculiar shape that I have recognised it at once. It is very seldom that I am arked to make two keys alike in this way, unless the same person gives the order for both."

"Would you object to my looking at the impressions you have there?" Mr Dodge asked. "Not at all, sir," was the reply; and the smith brought them and laid them upon the counter before

He bent to examine them. One was indeed the exact counterpart of the one he had brought, the other was smaller, and of entirely different shape.

Both were taken in white wax, which, however, had become discoloured with dirt and dust; and, as he turned them over, he saw adhering to them some bits of cotton, like the fibre of a candle wick.

"It is very singular," he remarked, reflectively; "but this one, pointing to the larger impression, "is exactly like the one I have, given to you. However," he added, with an assumption of indifference, "it does not signify so I have my key by seven to-morrow."

"You shall have it, sir," replied the smith.

"That's the talk," Mr Dodge remarked, with evident satisfaction; and then he fell to talking, in a general way, about the endless variety of keys and locks there were in the world, until the smith began to get enthusiastic over his trade, when Mr Dodge suddenly remembered a pressing engagement, excused himself and took a hasty leave. But he took care to carry away both of the impressions which the man had shown him. He had tucked them snugly into his pocket while they were engaged in their interesting discussion.

He immediately retraced his steps to the railway station, where he remained sauntering about until he found the cabman whose number he had taken an hour before.

"My man," he said, accosting him, "I want you to take me to the same street and number to which you to.ok that young lady dressed in black silk a while ago. We came up to London together, but I had to go another way for a while, and now I find that I cannot recall her address."

"All right, sir; it was No. 54 St. Aubyn Terrace. I'll have you there in no time," the man returned, opening the door of his vehicle and waiting for him .to enter.

With a chuckle of satisfaction Simon Dodge got into the cab, and was whirled away to St. Aubyn Terrace.

But as they turned into the street and were about passing a drug store, he pulled the strap and told the. man he wished to make a purchase there, and would find his own way to "No. 54."

He paid and dismissed him, and then, waiting until he was out of sight, he turned and walked in an opposite direction.

He returned to the neighbourhood again after dark, however, picked up a policeman on a corner not -far from No. 54, and, after a somewhat lengthy interview, repaired to the inn where he was to spend the night. After he had been shown to his own room he took out his notebook and wrote therein, upon a clean page:

"Miss Sylvia Houghton, No. 54 St. Aubyn Terrace, London."

Then he drew * from one of his pockets' a small package done up in brown paper.

Unfolding this, he spread upon the table before him a soiled and ragged handkerchief. It was the one he had exhumed from the leaves of the crypt door of the cathedral that morning.

In ©ile corner he found those initials before referred to, and, putting his fingers upon them; his eyes began to glow with a triumphant expression.

"S.H. — 'Sylvia Houghton — singular coincidence, very," he muttered, .significantly. "Singular coincidence number two; pretty well for one day!"

CHAPTEK XXVIII. HOW CAMJ2 IT THERE?

Lifting his left hand, and spreading his fingers apart, he began to count upon them:

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Simon, my boy, you'll have to grow more digits, or else at this rate begin to count treble and quadruple pretty soon," he said, in a voice replete with satisfaction, while a shrewd expression looked out j"rom beneath those bristling red brows of his. The' next morning Simon Dodge re-

turned to Welfleet on the nine o'clock train.

He seemed in excellent spirits upon his arrival. He spent the day very quietly, but went out after' tea for a quiet stroll about the town ana to get his accustomed drink of beer at the "Tiger."

Upon his return he stopped at a fruit and flower stand an.l purchased a fine bunch of pansies, which he presented with his most gallant bow to his landlady when she answered his ring at the door.

"Oh," exclaimed the delighted widow, blushing like a red, red rose, "how exquisite! and how very kind of you, sir, to ..hink of me! I dote on pansies."

"Do you?" queried Simon, with a twinkle in his mild blue eyes; 'then pansies you shall have every day while the season lasts "

"Now really! I'm afraid you're too good, sir," responded the delighted widow, while she cast a languishing look of gratitude out of her brown eyes at him.

"I do not believe, madam, that a consciousness of that fact will serve to disturb my slumbers in the least to-night," he said, with a sceptical laugh, adding: "I find that a journey to London at mv time of life is considerably wearisome; besides, 1 iddn't find as good a bed there as your kindness has provided for me. 1 think I will try what a long night will -do for me to-night, and I hope I shall be in better condition tomorrow. How very fortunate, my dear Mrs Davis, that you are so quiet here. ' I am never disturbed."

"It isn't every one who is so easily suited as you are, sir; I'm sure- it's nothing but a pleasure to wait upon you," returned the widow, with another loving glance.

"You are very good to say so, madam; but I think I will bid you good night, - jw," said Mr Dodge, beginning to retreat, as if he feared the arrows of Cupid were getting too many for him.

Good night, sir, and a most refreshing sleep to you," responded the widow, looking fondly after Ms retreating form.

She hastened to put her flowers in water as soon- as he was gone, and all the evening- afterward, while about her household duties, she went softly round on tiptoe lest she should make a, sound to disturb the slumbers of the "dear man" upstairs.

But her lodger, instead of going to his room, had quietly slid out at the fro.nt door, and was scudding in a roundabout way toward the cathedral close.

Upon reaching it, ne sped across the open space with, remarkable alertness for one of his years and habitual dignity, and secreted himself among the masses of ivy which climbed those venerable walls, just near the entrance to the crypt, where he remained in absolute silence for upward of half an hour.

Everything was still about iihe place; the dignitaries of the church were all in their respective homes, and being at some distance from the business portion of the town, there were but few passers-by, and so onlj- peace and order prevailed in that vicinity.

Just as the great clock in the tower above him hammered out the hour of ten, Simon Dodge stole forth from his place of concealment, crept cautiously down the steps to the crypt door, where he took a key f roni his pocket and • inserted it hi the lock.

It fitted nicely, but the lock seemed to have grown rusty, and it grated harshly in turning. But after the first echo had died away there was nothing to be heard save the rattling of the ivy leaves on the wall as they were stirred by a gentle wind. He carefully pushed the door open, and, slipping quietly ■within the great black chasm which yrrned before him, he shut the do Dr behind him, locked it securely and was alone in that abode of the ancient uead.

The darkness, dampness, the oppressive silence and underground smell struck a momentary chill to his heart.

"Ah, Simon!" he said, giving himself a rough shake, "this isn't quite so comfortable as the little widow's cosy rooms and spotless bed ; but never mind, if we are only fortunate enough to encounter a real ghost or two we won't complain."

With this he drew forth from his capacious pocket a small dark lantern, which he proceeded to light.

This accomplished, he passed down the long passage, turning neither to the right nor to the left, until he came to the steps ■— hich led up to the chancel, and where it appeared to terminate.

Here he paused to reconnoitre, and noticed that other passages appeared to branch off from the main one.

"'it's a long job, Simon; it's rather a a imposing job, Simon," he soliloqirsred, with a long-drawn sigh at the rather gloomy prospect before him, "but it must be done."

He took a bit of chalk from his pocket, and, as he turned into one of the smaller passages on his left, he made a distinct cross upon the di-

viding wall.

"That'll save time and mistakes. We will set up a signboard wherever we go, Simon, and one, too, that can be easily obliterated, so as to tell tales of us," he mused, as he went along.

In and out, out and in he went, plodding on with his dim light, peering- into dusky corners, exploring for several hours, and with a patience which seemed 'marvellous, that wonderful labyrinth.

He paused before tomb after tomb, sometimes to read their quaint inscriptions, sometimes as if discouraged in his quest after something which it seemed impossible to find. He, peered between the bars of rusty, mouldy gratings, as if seeking for the ghosts of which he had spoken upon lus entrance there; but still nothing peculiar or unusual attracted his attention.

A I length he came to the Montferris tomb, ■where Mr. Clipper had laboured that night, in company with Johii Knight, so long ago, and he lingered' long before it. It seemed to pessess a strange fascination for him; he tapped it here and there with the massive key which had given him access to the place; he examined with a critical eye the recent work that had been done there.

"No," he muttered at length, "there is nothing out of the way here: this is some of Clipper's own work. - No one but an experienced mason could have set those stones in that shape. We shall have to look further yet for our 'ghost.' "

Hour after hour tolled out from the great clock above him, and yet Simon Dodge wandered on; a dogged look in his blue eyes, resolute lines about his mouth, until the stroke of •three warned him that it would soon be daylight, and that it would not be wise for him to run any risk of being seen to emerge from that place.

He made one last chalk mark to indicate where he had left off, then retraced his footsteps, taking great care to erase all former marks, that nothing might remain to betray his visit to the place. Then, with a sigh of regret over his night's fruitless work, he passed down the main passage, let himself out of the crypt door, and hastened back to his lodging, where, throwing himself upon his bed dressed as he was, he slept far into the morning — a circumstance so unusual as to cause simple, unsuspicious Mrs. Davis to remark that the "poor dear man must have been wearied' out with his trip to London."

Three successive nights found the indefatigable Mr. Dodge pursuing his "archaeological" »*and ghostly explorations in the old crypt under the cathedral, until he had been over all the ground on -the left of the main passage.

He took one 1 night for recuperating his somewhat drooping energies, and then was ready to begin again.

"It's rather a thankless task," he muttered, on the next evening, when he repaired to the place to renew his investigations, "but we never cry 'quit* until the thing is done, you knew, Simon."

He began on the right of the chancel steps this' time, working down towards the entrance to the crypt.

Ho found it arranged much as on the other side, and had been through quite a number of the passages, ■when, on turning into one, he lifted Lis lantern to make the usual chalk mark, when he gave" a sudden start, and uttered an exclamation of astonishment, while his face brightened; for there before him, on the grey, mouldy walls was a sign very like his own — a chalk mark in the form of a cross, and pne which had evidently been very hurriedly made.

"Ha! "what have we here?" he cried, with eager interest.

Throwing his light upon the ground he saw traces of footsteps in the dust, as if the passage had been travelled by several persons not very long ago.

Following these, and observing them closely, he at last discovered that they were the marks of the feet of two persons only, one having a large, clumsy foot, the other being more trim and gentlemanly.

At last he came to a sp"ot where they ceased; but here the dust looked as if it had been swept away,, or perhaps some heavy weight had been dragged over it.

A little further on he stopped short, with a cry of fright, his ruddy face growing startlingly pale, while the perspiration started from every pore; for just behind, scarce a handbreadth between- him and it, there yawned a great, black, apparently bottomless chasm..

Simon Dodge was a strong man, in perfect health. He had never had a fit of sickness, .and he would have laughed to scorn the idea of a fainting turn had anyone suggested it to him.

But for a few minutes after coming to this spot into which he had

so nearly precipitated himself, he could neither see nor hear, and staggered back against the wall for support like a man intoxicated.

But these signs of weakness soon passed and he was .himself once more, his face now full of excitement and resolution, his eyes fixed with a look of eagerness and cunning upon that black opening before him.

Carefully, after a while, he approached the edge of the pit, and, holding his lantern over, looked into it. It was about six feet across, and so deep and dark that he could not see the bottom.

Throwing himself upon his face "he crept close, and, "dropping 1 his light as far down as he could reach, he strove to penetrate those mysterious depths.

It was some time before he could distinguish anything, the gloom was so dense. But his eyes becoming more accustomed to it, he saw that the pit or well, for it seemed more like a well than anything else, was perhaps twenty feet deep, stoned to the top, while its bottom was covered with a mound of whitish-looking substance, the nature of which he could not determine.

For a long time he remained in that position, studying the strange place; it seemed almost as if he was counting the very stones with which it was lined, so keenly did his eyes search everything connected with it.

• Finally he drew his light up slowly, carefully scanning every inch •of space.

Suddenly he became motionless, his eyes riveted upon a point near thesurface, where a ragged rock protruded beyond the rest.

Very cautiously he reached down his disengaged hand, and when he drew it up again there was something in it.

Raising himself to a sitting posture, he brought his light to bear upon his trophy, while he examined if very attentively.

It proved to be a pic.cc of dark woollen cloth, perhaps three inches in length, and one in width. It was thick, fine and heavy, and mottled with tiny spots of red.

The hands of Simon Dodge shook as if he had been suddenly struck with ague, while his eyes grew almost wild in their expression.

"Simon, you have found your ghost!" he finally said, in an unnatural tone; then, as other thoughts came crowding upon him, he added, in a voice which had something of exultation i,, it:

"And your fortune is made. But we will go home now, and have a rest, for our nerves are a trifle unstrung, though to-morrow night we will go a little deeper in our investigations. Ugh! but I fear it will be an ugly job a.fter all," he concluded, with a backward glance at the pit from, whose edge he had just withdrawn.

Once more in his room he was soon in a profound slumber, while he also slept through much of the following day.

When night came again he repaired to the crypt as usual; but bearing this time a shovel and a strong, new rope ladder. '

Reaching the spot where his investigations were to be continued, he fastened one end of his ladder to a strong iron ring, which was attached to a tomb near by, and threw the other over into the pit. Then casting the shovel after it, he hung his lantern upon his arm and cautiously began his descent.

Down, down he went, the air growing close and cold, and damp, until he finally, found himself at the bottom, when, casting his light down, he saw that he ■was standing upon a bed of lime.

With quick, energetic movements, he began turning over the mass upon which he was standing, casting it up in a pile upon one side.

For fifteen minutes he worked without ceasing, and then rested on his shovel, a look of blank despair settling upon his face.

"I was so sure," he said, between his shut teeth; "I -could have sworn that I was upon the right track at last; but a more completely duped man never trod the earth. There is nothing here but rubbish, and this miserable lime, -which old Clipper has doubtless been ordered to throw in to keep the place pure. I've only had my labour in vain."

Picking" up his lantern and shovel, he was about to reascend the ladder, when something 1 caught his eye just at the foot of it — something which seemed to gleam and glisten like the point of a flame. He -put his light close down to it, then, stooping, picked it up.

It was a ring 1 , tarnished and blackened by the action of the lime upon it, but with a single diamond of pur-i est water set in a crest upon it.

(To be Continued.)