The BLACKMAILERS.

Lake County Press, Issue 1064, 14 May 1903, Page 3

The BLACKMAILERS.

( Copyright.)

a Stirring "Romance of England and Hustralia.

By W. Murray Graydon,

Author of 'The Thirlstones of London," "Reaping the Whirlwind," Ac

SUMMARY of Opening CHATTERS. Malcolm Frazer, the owner of a cattle station, is standing at the hi,i. in the wilds of Western Australia, when his mate. Jim Counop, returns from the nearest settlement with letters and papers. From the latter they learn that finds are being raised in Melbourne and Sydney for an expedition to search for Sir J olm Vallenger and his companions, who have been lost while exploring. While they are discussing the question, a stranger, hatless and bootless and in rags staggers up to the hut and appeals for help. He is Charles Travels, one of Sir John's companions. Of the sixteen who formed the expedition, all but Sir John, Travels, and Maurice Yorke, the scientist, have perished.. Sir John, is virig almost unconscious at the rnvcller's hut at. a short distance •oni the home station. He remains uiscience just long enough to en>lc him to sign a will, by which he i\es live hundred a year to his nephew, Osbert Challoner, and the remainder of his estate, real and personal, to his adopted son, Laurrence Douglass Vallenger. Before starting on the expedition, Sir John hail willed his fortune to Challoner, and had cut off Laurence with the proverbial shilling. In the moment of repentance he never dreamt that his adopted son was settled in Australia and known as Larry Douglass. Meanwhile, in England, Sir John's death had been practically assumed, and though legal formalities demanded time. Osbert Challoner, ignorant of the tragic, happenings in the bush, was enjo.v iiitf his uncle's riches on the Norfolk estate of Burlingham Manor. Hut while congratulating himself on his good fortune, he gets a rude shock in the shape of a letter from Sir John's solicitors, narrating I he real circumstances of the famous explorer's death, and also telling of the new will which is to evict Challoner from the estate and breed tragedy, and also much bloodshed and sorrow. In Australia Larry Douglass had not met with success. He had married an adventuress, and rued the day. Selling his station he decides to try his luck in another part of the country, but on the eve of his departure, his wife betrays him to Gentleman Jem, a notorious bushranger, whose gang attack the homestead, and get away with Larry's wealth. The desperadoes, accompanied by the treacherous wife, have hardly left when a posse of police arrive and pursuit is arranged. Gentleman Jem is shot, and so also is Larry's runaway wife. Shortly after Larry hears of his uncle's death and his own good fortune. He sails for England and takes up his inheritance at Burlingham Manor. One of his tennants, a retired Colonel, is engaged in some secret work, and resents all attempts to cultivate j his friendship. His daughter is out j riding one day, when her horse bolts. | I,airy, seeing her danger, rides to the rescue. This and a subsequent, service wins for Larry the friendship of Colonel Lovering, and he visits the hitter's house. Meanwhile j Challoner and his friends Gontran and Margrave are yachting in the vicinity. They are likewise plotting against Larry, who is seen to be on the best of terms with the colonel's ; daughter whom he sees much of and to whom he becomes engaged. On the strength of this the colonel re- ! veals to Larry the secret of the shed. He has constructed a submarine boat. Preparations are in full swing for the wedding when Gontran j seeks an interview with Larry in London. And then the conspiracy is j set rolling, Larry being informed that his erring wife was not killed, as he supposed, but is alive and in v Kngland. Gontran promises to produce her at any time he may appoint A meeting is arranged, and there Gontran produces the woman, whom Larry acknowledges to be his wife. Colonel Lovering and his daughter j witness the meeting between the sup- | posed husband and wife, and the former's rage is great. Larry's feelings can be imagined. He then invokes the aid of Osbert Challoner. The story proceeds .with * CHAPTER XV. , A MISSING CONSPIRATOR. The following morning Osbert Challoner returned to town, the richer by a cheque for two hundred pounds, forced upon him by Larry. In spite of that, his thoughts were not pleasing ones, for he knew that : his present opportunity of earning Larry's permanent gra'titude by proving a true friend, and not a false one, would be worth far more in the future than his share in the expected blackmailing money. But he had no intention whatever of betraying his fellow-conspirators ; and this was less from inclination or lack of honor than from the wholesome fear in which he stood of Gontran Garnet. Larry drove Challoner to the station and saw him off, and on his way back, after a struggle between resolve and indecision, he posted at Burliugliam a letter which he had written to the Colonel giving a full and detailed account of his past life so far as related to his Australian career. "It can do no harm," he concluded, "and to make an explanation—to : disclose the true facts —is a duty I owe to myself. 1 cannot rest under the stinging charges that were leveled at me." What he suffered mentally, may be easier imagined than described. He i drove home, put on a shooting-jack- i et, and spent the day among the i partridges, taking a savage delight in kHling the innocent. birds lie i had rt**shed dinner, and was silting liatlesfily by the riie in the library, ; when a sharp rap on the «iwo/, loi- I

\ lowed instantly by the appearance of ; Colonel Lovering. Larry rose in the utmost surprise, and with difficulty supressed a startled exclamation. The colonel closed the door and j crossed the room.. •'1 told Harper not to announce me," he said in a dull, emotionless tone. "I received your letter, and — and I was very glad to read it. I had begun to feel towards vou as a father does to a son ; in spite of the wrong you have done my daughter" His voice faltered, but he quickly ; recovered himself. "Tell me, on i your honor, is all this true ? " he . added, pointing to Larry's letter, , I which he held in his hand. "On my honor, it is true, every . word." replied Larry. , "Then you are to be pitied more . than blamed. I have come here » it gainst my own inclinations —our rei j lations had better have ceased. But . 1 misjudged you. I spoke words the . other night, in the heat of passion. ; which I regret. Can you overlook . them. Vallenger ? We have both I much to forgive, even if we cannot . forget." . He held out his hand, and Larry ! grasped it, saying, huskily : "If you believe me, sir that is en- . ough. It will help to lighten my ; burden." ■ " My daughter is broken hearted," . continued the colonel, "and 1 have sent her to town with Mrs. Dalton." ; he went on. "Jt will be wiser, Valenger, not to mention her again in . the course of our conversation. You . must admit that." > The utter misery in the face of the ; young man touched the colonel. ! "I trust you will forget her some day," he said. "Time heals all i wounds. And now Vallenger, let us talk of other matters. There is no reason why we should be enemies, i and so I wish to remain your friend. ■ It is not impossible that I may be . able to serve you in that capicity. ; Do you mind telling me the whole of this wretched story ? I ask from no . impertinent motive." . "1 think that I have made the [ facts clear in my letter," Larry i answered, evasively. "So you did, my boy," said the • colonel, resting a hand on Larry's ; shoulder ; "but 1 could read between ; the lines. There is evidently more ! than you care to let me know. You . stated that your wife followed you to England and came straight down here. Had she nothing to do with the affair that detained you in London ? And who was with her the I other night in the South Lodge 7 " Larry hesitated, half resenting these blunt inquiries. Then he exclaimed, impulsively. "You are right, Colonel Lovering. ] There is more—very much more. You i shall hear the entire story, and learn ! what 1 have had to go through." He omitted nothing, but briefly ! and lucidly described all that had ! occurred from the time he was summoned by letter to Garnet's chambers up to Challoner's departure that morning from Burlingham Manor. "What a tale of villain- ! " cried i the colonel, at the conclusion. 'it is one of the worst cases of the sort I have ever known. You could not well do otherwise than you have done. I admit that ; but it is a great pity, nevertheless, that the ! two blackmailing scoundrels cannot j be punished as they deserve. I agree j with you, that the man, Margrave Is probably mixed up in it. Itut the amount you are prepared to j»ay is , far too large. You should have | insisted on Mr Challoner procuring I easier terms." j I "1 did not think of that," replied I Larry, "in my anxiety to hurry the j matter to a settlement and get my wife out of England. Hardesty might have managed better, but I did not care to make a confidant of him." At the colonel's request, Larry went over the whole ground again, and for nearly an hour he was sub- | I jocted to as shrewd and searching a cross-examination as if he had i been in a court of law. The object j of this was at first a puzzle to him j "You are absolutely convinced that j the woman brought to the South ,' Lodge by Garnet was your wife ? " the colonel went on. ! "Absolutely. There cannot be the j slightest shadow of doubt." "And Garnet knew her in London prior to her marriage ? " " I have only his word for that." "How many persons are there now , in Australia who were present on the scene when your wife was wound- I ed ? " "Sergeant Brett and his troopers, replied Larry, "and a number of other men. None of the bushrang- , ers : those who survived were recent- , ly hanged. But there is- one point I j have not made clear to you, and j which is not clear to myself—l do not know whether my wife was found immediately after the fight at . the ridge, or whether the imformation was obtained from the prisoners ' aft or the second tight in the morning, near Garrett's station." The latter, of course," said the j colonel. " Otherwise the story of j her death would not have been so readily accepted. However the affair ! is still enveloped in mystery, which]; I am afraid we cannot fathom. Did | your wife bribe all the men ? " j By .Jove ! she mutt have done ' < so ! " exclaimed Larry. "I never ! thought of that before." " Who was the Melbourne solicitor j who wrote to you ? " 1 " Raper, of Collins-street." < 1 am keenly interested in this ' ' case," said the colonel, it appeals to i me specially, because I was once con- t nected with the secret service in I India, and. with your permission, I ( intend to probe beneath the surface" : i It ran le«.tl to no results," Larry i answered. " What can altm I he fact t that uay wjie ig alive y " j

"It may be worth while to inquire into her antecedents. And i there are other points that require 1 clearing up. if only from the standpoint of ungratified curiosity. Give I nie Onrrett's address, and tell me ! where n letter will !*• likely to rearh Sergeant Brett." The colonel wrote the information in his note-lxjok, and after a cigar he took his lenve. " flood-bye, Vallenger," he said." I'll run over again in a day or two. Though I intend to write to Austr ralia, T can't hold out any encouragement, to you. Hut this is a strange world, and strange things happen in it. Something may turn ' up. Who knows ? " Something w»ut to turn up. and ! that very shortly. A darker shallow i than he could dream of was creefting swiftly upon Larry—a heavier blow : than any he had yet received was J about to fall on him. 1 » * « • • * , i Late in the afternoon of Colonel I Lovering's visit to Burlingham Manor, Osbert Challoner and Gontran Garnet sat in a luxurious cafe that was situated in Regent street, and ' was mainly resorted to by foreigners . " I haven't recovered from the I blow yet, Challoner - . Was there ever I such infernal luck ? Eighteen thousand pounds snatched out of my very hands ! Think of it f And all by the ' merest accident. It was a thunderstorm that drove Colonel Lovering \ I and his daughter to the South Lodge, where they played the spy on us and exposed the very thing that Vallenger would have paid us to keep dark. It was as hard on him as on us, 1 admit, and I don't wonder that he tried to do murder. And now, curse him, he is out of the toils." " But we are sure of the four , thousand pounds," said Challoner. " And what is that ? There are ,' four of us to share it, you know. H won't go far. However, there will be further payments of two thousand a year as long as we keep Mrs. Laurence Douglas alive." The thought consoled him a little. " You surely got something out of Vallenger when you left, on account J of your valuable services, resumed (.'outran. " Come, own up to it." " He gave me a cheque for two hundred pounds," Challoner reluctantly admitted. "I want half of it. I need it at present." " You shall have it. When do you think it will be safe to close with Yallenger's terms ? " " We will better wait a few days ( longer," Gontran replied. He lookI cd at the clock, and then at his ' watch. " Beauty is considerably ] over time," he added. " What can ! have delayed him ? He promised to ; be here by four." At the end of an hour Gontran rose up suddenly and exclaimed. " Beauty's absence is more than strange, 1 am beginning to feel uneasy." " He was in the best of spirits this morning, when he knew we had failed." " Which is in itself a suspicious circumstance." " What ? you don't think " " I intend to act first," Gontran ! broke in. " Come along, Challoner" A live minutes walk brought them to Margrave's lodgings, and the : door was opened by a man who performed the duties of valet to the several gentlemen who occupied chambers in the house. " Mr. Margrave is not in," he replied, in answer to Goutran's question. " He is out of town, sir, and I i was to tell you that he had to go j ; home for a day or two, as his fath- I 1 er hud sent for him." They turned away. " What do you make of it ? " askj ed Challoner. I " Beauty is tricking us," Gontran , replied, with an oath. " He has 1 gone down to Norfolk. It may not ' l>e too late to follow him. I'll take the next train. I must be off now, j I Good-bye. I'll drop you a line to- I I morrow." | And the next instant Challoner j '. was alone, staring after the rapidly | receeding figure of his companion. — +— CHAPTER XVI. A SHOT IN THE NIGHT. \ On Friday afternopn the village j post-master, thoughtfully sent his I son to Burlingham Manor with a ! letter that was marked urgent and I | important. Larry read the contents j which ran as follows : i " Friday morning." " Dear Vallenger,—l wish to have j , a private conversation with you on a subject that is of the utmost im- I ; portance to yourself. I came down , j from town last night, and am stop- \ j ping in the neighborhood, but there j are some reasons why I cannot come \ ! to the Manor, and why our interview must be arranged with the I strictest secrecy. Will you meet me . at eleven o'clock to-night on the I New-road, just beyond the stone , bridge, a mile outside of Acle ? I . know what you think of me that you regard me as a bitter enemy. , This is natural enough, but believe me, self-interest does not prompt my J I request, and that I have only your i j interest at heart. I will be there j sharp to time. Burn this letter as j soon as received, and regard its con- : tents as strictly confidential. And I be certain that you are not followed i when you leave the house. —Yours in | good faith, "Edward Margrave" j Larry did not feel so sure of the > "good faith" as the writer evidently i wished him to be, and instead of burning the letter, he re-read it, and slipped it into the side-pocket of his < shooting-coat. 1 " It's a lonely spot," he reflected, ; "but I'll go, and go prepared for j emergencies." 1 About a third of the distance from • Acle village to the bridge, stands tie 1 "Hcrmatage," an ancient, weather- 1 beaten inn. Here that same Friday evening, Beauty Hargrave sat busy 1 writing. The room was small and < the curtains were closly drawn over the windows. Rods and fishing-tack- ' le wai lying about. But he had not c cast a line that day. He wrote rap- \ idly, and when he had covered half- j a -dozen sheets of he sealed c them up in mi envelope and inscrib- f it, " To whom n may concern." e

" This is a »afe place." he reflected, " Almost too safe, for the letter won't be readily found if adverse circumstances deride that it is to be left here. But there is little fear of that. I am nervous and out of sorts, or I wouldn't get these queer fancies into my head. The man who passed this evening in the twilight, couldn't have been Gontran, though he walked very much like him. If by any chance his suspicions have been aroused, and he has followed me down here, he will be playing the detective in the neighborhood of Burlingham .Manor." \ oi.es and receeding footsteps wore presently heard down stairs, followed by the shooting of a bolt, and all was silent. Having poured some whisky into a glass and tossed it off. Margrave extinguished the lamp, and cautiously lowered himself through the window to the ground. He crept round the inn, crossed the bridge and quickly made his way to the high-road. Here he I turned to the left, and went to meet his fate. About the same hour of that black I moon-less night, Larry rode to the ! lonely spot among the marshes chosen by Hargrave for the fateful meeting. Grazing country was this, and from afar a cow lifted its voice in a quavering bellow, while nearer at hand a half-wild horse galloped like ! a phantom across the sward. Silence fell again, broken only by the clumping hoofs. Then a single sharp cry, followed by a report that snapped j like a whip-lash. j "By Jove, what's that ?'- Larry I muttered aloud, as he checked his horse. But he knew well enough that what he heard was a pistol-shot, I and as he listened with strained { ears he caught, the sound of runl ning and receding footsteps. Thirty j yards brought him to the little stone bridge, and he had crossed it and was a hundred feet beyond when his horse shied suddenly. The cause was apparent. At the edge of the road, to the left, a shapeless mass was vaguely perceptible. Larry swung out of the saddle and approached the spot. Out came his matchbox, and when he had struck a vesta, he recoiled in horror from the sight that the little flame revealed to him ; for there, half on the grass and half on the gravel, lay i Teddy Margrave. He had fallen on I his back, and his eyes, wide open, i were staring upwards. " This is awful ! " Larry gasped. " Margrave, Margrave ! " he cal- < led. There was no reply, not a stir or movement of the limp form. Larry i ; thought of the man he had heard j running away, but he knew the utter futility of pursuit. He thrust his revolver into the side-pocket of his shooting-jacket, and ran to the creek, as he did so pulling his handkerchief from his I light-hand pocket. With it. came Margrave's letter , and fluttering | dowir into a patch of reeds, it lodged there sidewise. Unconscious of his loss, Larry stretched himself on the edge of the bank ; and as he leaned far over, to dip the handkerchief, something dropped with a splash into the water. "There goes my revolver," he exclaimed. He returned and squeezed water over Margrave's forehead with no ef- j feet whatever. On doner examination he discovered a bullet-hole in | the breast, around which the tweed ! coat was scorched and singed. " Dead, poor fellow ! " he said hoarsely. " It's a case of foul nun- | der. W : ho can have done it, and j what was the motive ? " j A rattle of .wheels swelled suddenly on the breathless night. "Hold on ! " cried Larry, "Stop ! The horse slackened speed and the , trap pulled up within ten feet. Two persons leaped out and as they came round to the front, into the glare of the lamps, Larry recognised Inspector Bamfield, of the local police. His companion was a stable boy from one of the village inns. " Hullo ! What's 4 all this " the inspector demanded. "A man shot, and killed," Larry replied, speaking as calmly as he could. The inspector took one of the lamps and examined the body closely, then straightening up, he suddenly turned the light on Larry. "Why, Mr. Vallenger I " he exclaimed, in astonishment. "I didn't see who you were till now. I don't suppose you know this poor fellow?" "Unfortunately I do," Larry admitted. "His name is Margrave, anil I rode down here to-night on purpose to keep an appointment with him. I found the poor fellow as you perceive." He went on, briefly to relate the circumstances, speaking with some agitation, and not altogether coherently for the strong glare of light confused him. The inspector stood behind the lamp, and his face was in such deep shadow that its grave, al- j ert expression could not be seen. " Take my advice, Mr. Vallenger and don't say anything more," he : broke in. And on the instant Larry knew he ' was under suspicion. ' ( To be continued. ) 1 —— ! ■ —'— ~ — i I ■ Sceru2—a Government office. Head I i ;lerk discovered looking out of win- ! j low. ] " Strange," he muttered. " Here j ['ve been watching that bricklayer ' j m the scaffolding over the way for ; < he last couple of hours, and true 1 is I'm alive he hasn't made a sin- ; 1 fie dab with his trowel the whole of i he time. I should just like to know ; s vhat amount of work that lazy- ' t )ones gets paid for at the end of c he week." g The bricklayer, on the other hand, j lad his eyes turned in the direction r ►f the office window. a " It's astonishing," he growled, r ' For two mortal hours I've had my , ye on that muff of a quill-driver, c V'hy he hasn't even once dipped his a en in the ink. I woadar what sort t f mi*vice that, lar.y sprig performs 1. i>r all the screw he po&keU at the c ltd of the month V " , t,