SHORT STORY

Lake County Press, Issue 2167, 2 May 1907, Page 7

SHORT STORY

The Mystery of Mabel Hansford, liV VlOToil POWEK. [COPYRIGHT.] (Continued from last week.) hud an insurmountable dis|T| like to writing letters,' old Mrs Craven *,id. «Ev cn the brief notes she enclosed from time to time, in my letters to you Edgar, were evidently an effort that one could no expect too often ! Yet, you know, she may have wntteu-just as I wrote-and you may have started for home before the letter readied your address.' Edgar saw that it was useless to press the matter further; and during the ren.aider of that night lie made a desperate effort to talk ot other mattcrs-anything, anything but tins .alone He clearly perceived that his cousin Geoffrey was very ill at ease indeed • and even old Mrs Craven, although she acted her part with far and away more skill than her nephew, was driven into a corner and forced to unmask, for a ghastly moment or two, now and then. To Edgar it was a hideous night ; and it was with a sigh of unutterable relief' that he got away to his own room at last. But ho hud not abandoned his resolve to see Prudenco Grey, late though it was ; and, quickly removing his boots, he opened his door and glided along the gallery, with the intention of making his way to the queer old octagonal room which, as he well remembered, Prudence always chose to occupy. His intention had, however, it seemed, been anticipated. He had barely turned the sharp corner of the long corridor, on his way to the head of the front stair, when a door communicating with the back stair was quickly opened, and Prudence herself, candle j'u lianc", and looking very white and agitated, appeared. ' Oh, Master Edgar, thank God I met you! I—l couldn't go to bed. I couldn't swallowbite nor sup until I seen you. Master Edgar, I've only one word to say—Hush! Hush!' And she silenced him with uplifted finger and a dark and stern frown and a nod. ' I only suspects it, Master Edgar; I knows nothing, and I daron't delay here at this hour ; we'll be seen. That old lady's cars and eyes is all over the house at the same moment —in every corner.' 1 Prudenco, speak out, I implore of you. Tell mc what you know, or suspect, of—of my poor wife !' 'Hush, dearie ! Don't breathe her name. I knows nothing—it may be all a dream. I may be mad —crazed —to think it. Master Edgar, ono word I'll say. You remember the hut in the wood—tho woodranger's hut it used to be, in your dear father's time long ago.'_ ' Yes, yes; what of it ? I used to rest and smoke there, I remember, when overtaken by a shower in the wood.' ' Twas struck by lightning the night of the thuudcrstorm, nigh' two months ago. It's all in burnt ruins and ashes and broken timber and scattered stones. Master Edgar, listen to mc!' She stooped suddenly closer to his face ; her eyes dilated ; a livid hue stole over her quivoriug lips, and her voice sank to a shuddering whisper. 'Go to the hut—bring a couple of men with you; stand by while they clear away the rubbish, and sec with your own eyes—what is buried underneath!' Then, while these extraordinary words still rang in Edgar's cars, and ere he had recovered from the shock of horror that overcame him, sufficiently to reply in auj wise, Prudence Grey stepped back hastily through the doorway and vanished from his sight. CHAPTER lII.—A STRANGE DISCOVERY. All through that agitating night Prudence Grey's mysterious and startling words seemed to repeat themselves, over and over again, in Edgar Hansford's ears: 'Go to the hut—bring a couple of men with you—stand by while they clear away the rubbish, and ssc with your own eyes what ds buried underneath.' What could the old woman mean ? Edgar was horribly mystified. The vague suspicion which dimly suggested itself at times from him with horror. No, no ! Anything—anything but that! All night long he paced up and down his bedroom, and while he made a hurried toilet for breakfast on the following morning, he decided en carrying out Prudence Grey's charge, with the least possible delay. Mrs Craven did not put in an appearance at breakfast, and Geoffrey Ransford was plainly ill at case. Now and then, when Edgar was not looking, he glanced furtively at his cousin, then startled and averted his gii/o lustily, when Edgar chanced to detect the siicvH staro. ' I say, Geoffrey,' Edgar said, rising from tho table at last, ' I'm going to the wood. Will you come with mo ?' ' To the wood, Edgar ?' ' Yes. I've a little business to attend to there. I want a couple of the men, too. We'll go round by the stable-yard and call Rogers and Benson. I supnosc they're around somewhere.' ' Oh, certainly. But—but—' Geoffrey hesitated; he was puzzled and vaguely alarmed. 'Don't ask any questions just yet, Geoffrey. I'll explain things as we go along. Well, are you ready ?' They quitted the room together and got thoir hats and sticks in the hall. They went round in silonc-3 to the stablc-vard and found Benson and Rogers busily engaged in making a show of industrious occupation in one of tho empty loose-boxes. Edgar told the men to follow him to the wood, and to bring with them a pick-axc and shovel. Then he turned on his heel and moved away. Geoffrey Ransford looked seared and incredulous. 'Now, Geoffrey, I'll toll you what this means,' Edgar said, as the cousins walked along together toward the wood. 'l'm going to tho wood hut, or rather the remains of it. I'm told it was knocked down in a recent thunder-storm. I want to have the debris cleared away. I have my own reasons lor tins which—which I'll explain when—' He paused. His eyes were averted from his cousin s face all this time, so that he had not as yet observed the ghastly pallcr that was overspreading Geoffrey's shrinking horror-stricken countenance. = ' The truth is, Geoffrey, I'm simply acting —acting blhulty too, on a dark hint I've "ot. It may result in nothing. Well, at all events, it will be an ease to my mind to see it out. Good heavens, man, what is the matter ?' He was now looking full into his cousin's livid face. He stood still and stared at Geoffrey. He was amazed, too astonished indeed to be suspicious just yet. ' Nothing is the matter, Edgar—nothing. I—l'm not feeling well, that is all,' Geoffrey answered, with a ghastly little smile. ' I I think I must go back. I've felt this' coming on for some days. I occasionally get it.' Then, mistaking Edgar's fixed stare of surprise, for the keen gaze of aroused suspicion, a reckless impulse seized Geoffrey, and he dashed his hand across his temples, where a cold moisture was breaking forth in beads of clammy sweat. 'No; I'll not go back. I'll go with you,' he said with a nervous quiver in his voice. ' Come along.' He was now.iii a state of feverish excitement. Edgar was silent: he hardly knew what to say, what to think,

By this time Benson and Rogers hud overtaken thcni, the necessary implements slung ' on their shoulders. Not a word was spoken until they readied the wood—until they stood before the ruins of the hut, a heap of broken and charred timber, bricks, and i mortar, and torn ivy, and scorched thatch. j ' Clear it away, Edgar said, his voice sharp 1 and stern now, for a dreadful suspicion had thrust itself into his mind—a suspicion which his cousin's white face and quivering lips and trembling hands every instant strengthened. The men set to work at once. Pick and shovel were busy, while Edgar stood beside the heap of ruins, and Geoffrey, with hands convulsively clenched, and compressed lips and distended eyes, moved restlessly to and fro. In less than half-an-hour the heap of rubbish was cleared Edgar suddenly uttered a sharp cry and bounded forward. '.My God! What is this?' j He stooped and picked up a glistening i trinket which he had seen amid the gnus and weeds beneath the debris of the hut. It was a jewelled locket, which he well remembered. He himself had given it to his wife; and now, as almost mechanically he opened the locket, he beheld there hi's own photograph in one side and a tiny lock | of his hair in the other. ' Why, this is Mabel's ! How came it here ?' lie turned in bewilderment to his cousin ; but Geoffrey Hansford had staggered against a tree-trunk, ami now, with broken, inarticulate words on his ashen lips, his head fell on his chest, and he dropped senseless to the earth. ' Good God! He kas fainted !' Edgar cried, hastening to lift Geoffrey's unconscious form. ' Whereon earth had we better take him to? The steward's cottage is the nearest house from here.' They carried him across the wood, and just on the outskirts arrived at a gabled cottage. In a few minutes Geoffrey Ransford lay on the steward's bed. Edgar was busily engaged in restoring his cousin to consciousness, while the men were despatched to the Court for the carriage. Slowly, shudderingly, Geoffrey's vitality struggled back. Edgar stooped over the bed, watching the pale lips, the convulsed features. Broken, gasping words soon issued from those quivering lips, and Edgar started suddenly, with a suppressed cry. ' No, no ! Leave it so! It must never be stirred now. . . the secret must not reach his cars. . . I am no murderer . . . it was all chance ... let the body stay there for ever. No one knows of it —no one can betray the truth !' Then, as Edgar fully grasped the awful significance of these words, Geoffrey opened his eyes and fixed them upon his cousin's pallid face. ' Geoffrey, I know your secret,' Edgar said, in a hoarse whispor. ' You have revealed it now. We arc alone together, and I charge you, as you hope for mercy, to tell me the truth.' A shudder passed through the form of the prostrate man, but he knew in his heart that further concealment was now impossible. . The intense feeling of relief that thrilled through him—the consciousness that his vorst apprehensions were, at all events, not fulfilled —seemed to lend new energy to him .nd to gird him up for the confession, In nervous, agitated sentences he told the ghastly truth. ' Mabel pined away after you, Edgar, and your name was never off her lips. She became nervous and hysterical, and at times we feared her mind was impaired. I should have written to you and told you about her, but all my thoughts were otherwise engaged. I was jndcavouring to win for my wife the wealthy heiress, Miss llcrmiono Dcering—a marriage which would have made me independent for life. 'We gave a masquerade ball at the Court —Hcrmionc Dcering was one of the guests—md on this night, a, last, I hoped to carry ivy project successfully through. 'I went to your rooms, Edgar, and put on vlie Cavalier costume which you wore at the private threatricals at Forest Park shortly after your marriage. Just as I was leaving your dressing-room, whom should I meet but Mabel ? | ' She shrieked aloud in the wildest excitement and delight, and rushed to mc, crying out: ' Oh, Edgar! It is you at last!' She had mistaken me for you, and—not to linger over the painful scene—the shock of discovering her mistake turned her brain at last. ' She became frantically excited. What w<is I to do ? The guests were already arriving. Hcrmionc Dcering was in the drawing-room. Should this distressing affair be known, it would, I knew, upset all our arrangements and disperse our guests. Then farewell to my anticipated opportunity of carrying out my project. ' Acting on impulse, and suddenly remembering the wood hut, I carried Mabel to the wood and placed her in the hut. There was no room at the Court so remote from the dancing-room as to insure her cries and moans from reaching the cars of our guests; the wood hut seemed to be the only certain place of secrecy. And it would bo but for a few hours, I reflected; and to me those few hours might mean the certainty of a future of worldly prosperity. ' I locked the door of the hut, leaving her inside. ' That night a terrible thunderstorm burst over, the place—the hut was struck by lightning. When the news reached me, early next morning, while our guests were still at the Court, I was horror-stricken. I went at once to the hut and found only a heap of ruins. ' Then I decided to keep the secret to myself, if I possibly could. I bad already told Auut Kathcrinc, and now she and I planned an 'explanation' of Mabel's disappearance from the Court. The servants were informed that she had gone away with the Marehmonts —just as Aunt Kathorino told you last 1 night. How could the real truth be revealed to you, Edgar—so suddenly, at least ? It could not be ! 'I can guess who put you on the true scent, Edgar. I always feared that Prudence Grey something of the truth. She must have overheard a portion of my conversation at that time with Aunt Kathcrinc. 'Well, Edgar, my schemes came to nothing. Miss Dcring refused mc ; and as the days went by, a dreadful remorse and terror preyed upon mc. I had not. the courage to go to the wood hut ami cleur away the ruins. I fully believed I should find Mabel's body beneath. Judge my relief, then, at the discovery of to-day. 'Edgar, Mabel is still alive/ Jn some way or other —perhaps through the window—she must lmve made her escape that night, in the nick of time. But where is she ? That is the question. Edgar, we must find her ! I shall endeavour to atone for my past conduct in this affair by doing everything in my power now to aid you in your search. As the words fell from his lips, the carriage from the Court was heard below, and Benson presented himself at the door of the bedroom. CHAPTER IV.—AT THE BLUE-BELL INN—RESTORED. Eilgar Ransford restrained his feelings of anguish and bitterness—hard as the task was—and accepted the proffered services of his cousm in the effort to find a clue to the mystery of Mabel's disappearance. Their inquiries were prosecuted as privately as possible, during the days immediately following Geoffrey's confession of his secret; for Edgar shrank from the publicity involved in summoning oflicial aid, trusting to his own and Geoffrey's indefatigable exertions for a speedy discovery of the truth,

For nearly a week their united efforts were unavailing; and then, one morning, just its Edgar had reluctantly decided on placing the matter in the hands of the police, Prudence Grey tapped at her master's door, and entered, with a very grave, anxious face. ' Oh, Master Edgar, such a thing! Who'd ever think it! Reuben Lee, the gipsy hawker, is in the kitchen, and, what do you think, sir? Didn't he sec the mistress a week ago away by Drawlish—in the BlueBell Inn—and she singing there, he says, for a lot of drovers, and she quite silly,' poor thing. I'm sure, from what he says, "it is the mistress. It can be no one else.' Prudence then entered into full details of Reuben Lee's story, and Edgar, too thunderstruck to reply, went down to the kitchen and saw the gipsy for himself. ' Yes, Prudence had not exaggerated. Reuben Leo's own words carried out the old woman's story, sentence for sentence. 'The lady lias been at the Blue Bell for nigh two months, Squire,' the gipsy said, hi brown face and tawny eyes full of combined sympathy and curiosity. 'Joe Shanklin took her in for charity, he told me, when she wandered up to his door, singing, one evening, and could give no account of herself. She draws customers to his inn, he tells me, by Iter splendid voice; and he and his wife and daughters are vevy kind to her.' This was the gist of Reuben Lee's information. Half mi hour later Edgar Ransford and Geoffrey had started from the Court on their thirty mile drive across country to the Blue 801 l Inn. The September afternoon was closing ii, when they drew rein at last opposite the oldworld roadside hostelry. It is a picturesly old inn, with a steep roof and two pointed gables. A venerable walnut-tree stands opposite the door, with a rustic bench around its capacious trunk. There was a cheery glow of firelight in the long, narrow windows, which of homely comfort within doors on this chilly autumn evening. And as Edgar descended from the carriage, the sound of a woman's voice fell upon his ears—a lovely, liquid, bird-like voice, every note of which thrilled his heart with a pang of mingled joy and anguish. He hesitated for one instant, as if to steady his nerves for the ordeal; then quickly entered the open door, following the sound of that loved voice. He passed through a flagged hall and entered a room beyond. Two rustics and a neighbouring Squire's son sat drinking at a table : and there in the bright firelight, her sweet loco fully revealed, as she rocked herself to and fro on a low stool, Mabel herself was seated, as the warbling strains of her glorious voice rose and fell, to the evident delight of the listeners. ' Mabel! Mabel!' She started to her feet at once : the firelight Hashed on Edgar's eager face. Then a wild scream of joy burst from her lips; and a moment later she was clasped to her husband's heart. By the mercy of Providence, Mabel fully recovered from her temporary aberration of mind. It seemed as though the joy of beholding Edgar counter-balanced the former shock and readjusted her reason, unhinged as it was for the previous months. ' Oh, Edgar, I can hardly tell you clearly how I ever reached the Blue Bell Inn,' she said, in answer to her husband's inquiries, a few days later. 'lt is all like a dream to mc, from the time I saw you, as I supposed, on the night of the masked ball here at the Court. I dimly remember making my escape from the wood hut, by forcing myself through the window, during which process I must have torn the locket off my neck. After that I wandered on and on. not knowing or heeding where I went. Thank God I drifted into a safe and friendly haven where good and kind friends harboured mc until you came to claim mc once more !' As the months went by Mabel grew stronger and stronger. Bodily and mentally she seemed to thrive in the sunshine cf her husband's loving care. Geoffrey Ransford and Mrs Craven left tho Court, and Edgar was not very sorry for his relatives' departure. Although he forgave Geoffrey for his past acts—believiug that he had been swayed, first of all, by impulse, and afterwards by a remorseful conscience—Edgar could not forget tho selfish cruelty of the man, which had so nearly condemned his loved and loving wife to a terrible death amid the shattered ruins of the wood hut.

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