THE WELFLEET MYSTERY.

Hawera & Normanby Star, Volume XLII, Issue 7395, 22 February 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 XXXV. "NEVER SPEAK TO ME AGAIN." "What do you mean, sir," Josephine Walton demanded, in a proud, authoritative tone, stepping forward with the air of an outraged empress. "I'm sorry, miss," Peters said; "but you see I've been on the look-: out for something of this kind for a good while. You know there's a good round sum offered for evidence that will convict Herbert Knight's murderer, and I knew that there must be something somewhere that would 'spot' some one — there always is — and so I've been working this thing 'up for months." "But these things do not prove anything," Josephine affirmed, excitedly. '"We have had that desk in ! our family for years, and neither my brother nor I ever knew until this hour that there was a false bottom to it." "Didn't you, mow?" queried the officer, sceptically; "well, that is queer, for I don't need to tell you miss that them things there never could have got into it without hands." "True; but my father or some one else must have put them there long before the desk came into our possession." "What was your father's name, if you please, miss?" "Nelson Walton." "N. W.," said Peters, dwelling on the initials. "Well, miss, that 'ere handkerchief could never Have belonged to him, then; just take a look at those letters in the corner of it, if you please — nor that sleevebutton either; they must have both belonged to the same person, and it is a little queer that anything marked with those initials should be found here." Josephine did not need to look to confirm her worst fears, for she had already recognised that sleeve-but-ton. Herbert Knight had worn it at Lady Dilborough's reception, and she remembered, only too well, just what he had worn and how he had looked. But she bent over and looked at it as the man held it out to her, and also at the handkerchief, and with a sinking heart read those letters — "H.K." "Guy — oh! what does it mean?" she cried. "Surely you did not know anything about this secret compartment!" "No, I never so much as suspected its existence; but, of course, it is of no use for me to say so, with such crushing evidence to contradict me." "What shall we do?" she' asked, clasping both of her hands about his arm. "I shall have to go with Mr Peters, I suppose." "Where— oh, where?" she cried, with a sob. '"Tot— prison; I know of no other place." "Never, Guy! Something must be done; I .cannot let you go, Guy — I cannot bear it!" the beautiful girl cried, clinging closer to him. "Dear, do not make me break down before these rude men," Guy entreated, in a whisper; "the sight of your wild grief nearly kills me." There was a moment of utter silence; then Josephine suddenly lifted her head and stood proudly erect again, though she still clutched his arm like a vice. "I , will not," she said, in a, low, firm tone; "but what shall . I do? Where shall I go? I cannot stay here alone." ( "Go to Theo; I know she will gladly welcome you, even if this dreadful expose destroys her faith in me," Guy returned, and his white lips quivered painfully over the words. "She will not lose faith in you," his sister asserted, confidently; "has she not done enough even yet to prove her loyalty? I know that she will still trust you as implicitly as I do." "If it should be so, it would comfort me greatly," he sighed; "but I shall feel more comfortable about you if I know you' are with her and under Mr Gregory's care. He will know what to advise you better than any one else, in case " "Guy!" " Josephine interrupted, ■breathlessly; "you shall not say it — you shall not even think of. it. If you do not keep up your courage and fight for your life, and the defeat of

that Svretch who has made all this trouble, I believe I shall die." "Come, come, miss; you mustn't give up this way," the officer here interposed, with rude kindness, for his heart was really touched; "besides," he added, "it is after eight o'clock, and Aye must be getting away from here. I shall have to take you with me, of course," he concluded, turning to Guy. "I suppose so," he returned, quietly. "But what shall Ido with you?" he added, to Josephine. "I cannot think of leaving j r ou here alone for even one night, and you cannot go to Theo until to-morrow." "There is no other way but for me to remain here, as I see," she answered, with a stony look. Guy thought a moment; then he said: "You can go to Mr Gregory's He has left the* house in charge of the servants, and tnat will be far better than to stay here alone. Would you object," he continued, addressing the olr'.cer, "to my sending for a cab and then conducting my sister to a place of safety for the night?" "Not at all, sir. Any service I can render the young lauy 1 will oheer- ' fully do," Peters answered. With such a look as he had never seen on any face before, Josephine turned and left the room. Going to ncr own chamber, she gathered from out oi" the confusion there a few necessary articles, and in less than ten minutes was ready to leave the place. Jack, the man who had guarded the entrance, was dispatched for a cab, which was soon at hand, the door was • locked and the key given to Josephine, and then they drove away. The officers rode outside, one before with the driver, the other behind thus allowing Uuy and his sister to be by themselves, a privilege for which "they were deeply grateful. Arriving at Mr Gregory's door, Guy enfolded Josephine in an almost convulsive embrace, breathed a low "God bless and keep you, my darling!" then released her, and after waiting until he saw her admitted to the house, he signified his readiness to proceed. And thus, for the second time, lie was conveyed to a prison cell, while Josephine spent the night walking the floor* of Theo's room in a state of wretchedness indescribable. When morning broke, her first act was to telegraph to Mr Gregory what :wd happened to her brother, and whtre she was. A reply was returned to her, saying that he and Theo would return immediately. At as early an hour as possible-she started forth to visit Guy, but a sort of shuddering horror seized her as, while on her way, she heard the morning papers cried with the sickening intelligence that there was no longer any doubt regarding the criminal connection with the Welfleet tragedy, and she inferred that all the circumstances relating to his arrest were published in that morning's papers. She had resolved, however, to be cheerful; she would allow nothing in either her looks or manner to add to her brother's . unhappiness, and she had the satisfaction of seeing Mm brighten considerably before the time of her visit was up. "I shall come every uay." she said, at parting. "¥es, you must, dear," he replied, folding her to him with a~lingering, almost painful embrace; and she Jcnew well enough, from that act, Liip.t he expected no reprieve — that be believed the evidence would be so strong and conclusive against him that sentence of some land would be passed upon bin}. After leaving him, she felt as if she could not go back to the house and stay alone; so she bent her steps toward St. James' Park, where she wandered aimlessly about, until so weary she could not walk any longer, when she sought a secluded spot and sat down to rest. 1 All the ' afternoon long she sat there, thinking, thinking; she was weak and faint, for she had scarcely tasted anything that day; a cup of coffee and a little dry toast at breakfast was all that she had eaten. She filially decided to return, hoping to find that Mr Gregory and Theo had arrived. The shadows were beginning to 1 deepen as she turned into the street where her friends lived. As she mounted the steps of Mr Gregory's house ' she became conscious that some one was just behind her. She turned, and — stood face to face with, John Knight. "What do you want here?" she demanded, all her spirit returning to her at the sight of this man who had so nearly ruined all her prospects in life; and she stood before the door and looked down upon him with supreme contempt. '"I want to know where Theo Lanaer is?" he answered, with an as- | sumption of bravado.

"She is away from home at precsnt," Josephine responded, coldly. "I know it — but where is she?" he persisted. A slight smile curled the girl's lips as she replied: "She went to Mentone with her guardian, two weeks ago." •'Mentone? For how long?" "I believe they intended to remain a month." She knew well enough that they were on their way home even then; btit she did not care if she sent him away on a wild-goose chase after them. In this, however, she was to be disappointed, as his next words indicated. "Well, I suppose I can wait two weeks. But do you make your home here now, Miss Walton?" "i do not know that it need concern Mr. Knight where I make my home," Josephine returned, haughtiiy. - "No! Well, perhaps it does not," he retorted, angered by her words. "It concerns me more to know where that hot-headed brother of yours is." "You probably do know," she said, in a low, intense voice. "Yes," with, a harsh, heartless laugh; "there hasn't much, happened in connection with you two since you came to London but what I am informed of." "Then perhaps you can inform me how those things came in my brother's writing-desk, Mr. Knight?" "Your brother will be required to explain that, Miss Walton," he said, showing his white teeth in a disagreeable smile. "John Knight," Josephine said, speaking* in a strained, husky voice, "I believe that you, and you alone, can explain the Welfleet Mystery. I believe you are capable of almost any deed. Since the disappearance of your nephew, knowing as I did how for years you had been striving to win Miss Lander's allegiance from him. I have been led to believe that you were capable of sacrificing even him in order to accomplish your designs. After the deed was done, and | you le.irnpfl -*o your consternation that she had never loved him, and that they would not have married | even if he had been spared, learning, too, that my brother had conceived an unfortunate affection for her, you concocted the diabolical purpose of directing suspicion against him with the twofold motive of .escaping it yourself and removing him from, your path as a rival." He had stepped lip to a, level with ncr while she hurled these charges at him with such thrilling earnestness. He stood before her- with his arms folded across his breast; his face was ghastly white, and his dark, piercing eyes roved restlessly about, as if he feared someone might be near who could hear them. It was a quiet street, and very little passing through it, even during the daytime, and there was no one near them then. "If you can only make the jury believe what you have just said, 'at the next assize, Miss Walton, you will doubtless save your • brother, and — make it very uncomfortable for me," he retorted, with almost maddening sarcasm. * "Who knows but what It may be done?" she said- with an impressiveness which made him start and regard her closely. "What will it avail you if my brother is convicted? You can gain nothing with Theo now; all hope in that direction must have been destroyed long- ag-o. What do you expect to accomplish by this heartless pursuit of him?" Josephine asked, adopting a more conciliatory tone, "Revenge!" he whispered, hoarsely, again showing his teeth, like an angry dog. "Revenge, if you will know, upon you — upon your, upstart of a br.pther, and \ipori Theo Lander, for having dared to thwart, defy, and humiliate -me as she has done. Shall I explain further, Miss Walton? When , you first came to Welfleet you set yourself to baulk me in my plans regarding Theo. ' You shielded her in every possible way, and baffled me whenever you could do so; you instilled into \ her mind a feeling of resistance and defiance, and I have never forgiven you 1 for it. I have vowed that you snould suffer for your presiimption in meddling with what concerned you in no way. and suffer you shall. T saw at once that you had no personal fear of me — that you were so proud and independent that no matter what I might do to you individually I could never cow or humble you. But I also saw that you idolised your brother — that whatever affected him would also touch you in your tenderest point. He, too, angered me by presuming to aspire to Miss Lander; so with him effectually disposed of, % calculated to achieve a twofold object; but Miss Lander's recent confession and defiance of me makes it threefold. If | you had used your influence for instead of against me, this trouble inighf never have come upon you. j "I perceive," he ' continued, 1 as he marked the peculiar look of concentration and resolution which came in-

to her eyes while he was saying this, "that you imagine you can- repeat this conversation and turn the tables upon me wHen the impending trial comes; but, remember, there has been no witness to what has been said, and my word will count for as much as your own — more, even, since I am supposed to be so heavily bereaved. I could not, however, resist giving you a little something to reflect upon, you have always been so- high-headed with me." Josephine drew herself up and away from him, a look of loathing on her beautiful face. "Go leave me!" she cried; "you are the darkest blot on all this fair earth; and let me assure yon, no matter what may happen to me or mine, I would not exchange places with one so sin-cui'sed as you are for all the wealth, all the honours, all the happiness which the world contains. Go, I tell you and never dare to speak to me again." He was overawed by her imperious dignity, slunk down the steps, and out of her sight, without a word in reply.