"The Merlewood Mystery”

Manawatu Times, Volume LIX, Issue 7459, 9 May 1934, Page 9

"The Merlewood Mystery”

CHAPTER Xll.—(Continued,)

He bated paying calls, and tried to escape tills one. But his aunt was obdurate.

“ I want you to see Oaklands,” she said. “It. Is rather a unique house architecturally. Outside it looks like a mediaeval castle, inside like a Gothic priory. And besides, tjie Holes are our chief friends in the neighbourhood so far.”

Michael would bo glad to see Marjorie again—but nothing else interested him. He would have preferred to think .over 'one or two matters bearing upon the puzzle that obessed him" and, incidentally, Sylvester’s extraordinary ’ proposal. There was small chance, he felt sure, of any fresh light being thrown upon affairs as a result of this visit to Oaklands

In which view Michael was wrong —so strangely does the unexpected happen. The house was a quarterhour’s run from Merlewood, hut as the afternoon was radiantly fine Mrs Sylvester proposed they should drive round the lake berore paying their call.

They crossed Pelter. Bridgo, the river singing on its way beneath, slowest down through Ambleside, flew past Lowwoc/d (with a word from Mrs Sylvester about Starveorow Farm), left old Calgarth behind them with its legend of skulls and the Stars and Stripes in the coat-of-arms above Ihe former banqueting-room fireplace, on to Bovyness. with its venerable church and God's .acre—wherein ' rested the mortal remains of an emancipated slave, whose name suggested Dr. Johnson, and whose epitaph was perhaps a trifle flowery . . . . on past Storrs Hail, set In the, midst of its dawns and gardens (another word about the Lake Poets and their meeting.at the old mansion and the honour paid • there to Sir Walter Scott), and so, beyond Hill of Oaks, to Newby Bridge and over to the western side of Windermere, which is also the more beautiful. Taking the lower road beyond Hawkshead, they skirted Lazy Bay, fringed now with water-reeds and soon to be white with water-lilies, past pine woods whoso mysterious green gloom was pierced with shafts of sunlight, beside stretches of brackon and verdant meadows where sleek, cattle grazed, until, at. last they reached their destination. It was all new to Michael —save for that one short drive from the station —and though not an impressionablo person, the beauty of it affected him more than he would have admitted . . ; For Lakeland proper, though of small extent (roughly, some thirty miles by twenty-five), owns such grand yet gentle, wild yet restful beauty, with its tinted hills and winding vales, tumbling streams and foaming waterfalls, rich pasture-lands and deep woods, as can be found in no other place in the world —which is a strong saying. Miniature it may be., as some scoffers have averred—but possessing all the charm of selection, fine detail, exquisite colouring that could belong to a miniature—which is a picture either good or bad, but never between the 'two. Michael Atherton had come to it tired, dispirited, ready to catch at any straw that would keep him from sinking. So tired that be wanted to find money without work, Which is not good for the soul—so dispirited that the future looked to him utterly, black, and he was on the verge of simply not caring about anything, blit leaving Fate to do its worst. . . Already, however, some magic quality in bis surroundings was at work . . . already he was beginning to see things more sanely and more whole. Yet all he said when at last, having almost completed the green girdle of Windermere, they slowed down at the lodge of Oaklands was a brief. " Jolly run ! ”

They passed through the high gates and entered the drive, quite an imposing 'approach between fine trees and handsome shrubs. A moment more and the take came Into view, bine in the sunshine, with here and there a -white-winged yacht sailing gracefully, without fear of sudden squalls on this perfect afternoon, and far more, picturesque than the fussy motor-launches tearing spray capped with exhilarating speed through the quiet, water. The view was delightful, with mountains not far distant, the water in front, and verdure everywhere.

They drew up before a massive and imposing porch, beyond which the hall door seemed to recede into obscurity. Michael found the mansion to be as Mrs. Sylvester had described -—baronial as to exterior, monastic as to interior; outside it was battlement and turreted. with . mullioncd windows, an ivv-clad lower of ancient appearance (hut no older than the house) at each end of the terrace completing ils mediaeval aspect. Within, [he lofty hall with its central staircase was dignified but badly lit. Miohaei, looking about him as he entered, was duly impressed by its unusual architecture, and would have fell, no surprise had he heard Gregorian music pealing from an unseen organ.

Meanwhile the portly butler was announcing them at the drawing-room door.

In a circular recess formed by one of the turrets flanking the facade of tho house old Lady’Hele sat reading. She had suilleient choice of hooks — three or four lying within reach of her comfortable easy-chair. She looked every inch a dame —with aquiline features, hard, quick-glancing eyes, and a manner that suggested the autocrat. , “ So glad to sec you,” she said to Mrs. Sylvester. “ Your nephew? How do you do?” The words were uttered more like a challenge than a welcome. The dowager indeed prided herself ■ upon the ungraciousness of - her : manner. She was civil and. not .much ;rnore, •Greetings ended, Michael-had . opportunity for observing . Marjorie's grandmother. A difficult person to live with, ho decided. All her judgments appeared to he summary. Very little pleased her—most people were tiresome,' few books were decent. ‘•Have 1 been reading anything "nice'? Stupid ward.” (Mrs. . Syi-

(By Mrs J. C. Arnold)

Instalment 12.

vaster, who had used it, was duly abashed.)' ~ . ■ “ no—bnly avoiding much that is nasty. Nothing much to read nowadays except , works of imagination memoirs and biographies, and travel. As to the others, I simply ring for Peters, and he takes them away for fire-lighting. Economy in fuel, at any rate." Books thus disposed of, Mrs. byivester inquired after a mutual friend whose departing car they, had met in the drive.

. “ Worse than ever—so she says. Blood pressure this time. I told her she was a fool to be In the fashion. But it was useless. She was quite resolved to be up-to-date. So blood pressure it is.” “ But she really is ill Mrs. >-ylvester ventured. “Rubbishl Humbug and hysteria. I told her plainly that modern society .forgives: anything—even immorality—sooner than it pardons hysteria. A woman who gives way to that in these days declares herself to be out of date. She belongs to the period of vapours and burnt feathers. After that she left.” • Michael was glad when Sir Ronald joined, them; a genial elderly gentleman of fine presence.

- “Now this is kind of you, my dear Mrs. Sylvester,” lie said, his portly person seeming to crowd the circular space. Yes—very well, thank you. There is no reason why any one should ever be 111 in this locality no reason' whatever • why everybody should not live to the age of Methuselah. ' The neighbourhood is populated with nonagenarians-. ...” he added, turning to Michael. They had walked to one of the windows, Its outlook sadly narrowed by heavy mullions, the fine view from it greatly restricted in consequence. “ The house is delightfully situated,” Sir Ronald went on his genial manner. “ I was born hofo just 60 years ago. The place Is bound wit A all my happiest associations.” A 1 good sort,’ Michael "decided, and voting for his age. “ one of my recollections has to do with an exciting affair connected with the house you’re staying at. I remember it very clearly—as one does events of one’s childhood when later ones are forgotten. It was the shooting of a man—and his wife, though I’m afraid I wasn’t much Interested in her —wiio found diamonds in South Africa, and oame to Merlewood to live. It was nearly as romantic to me as a pirate tale. I daresay I mixed him up with some adventure —or even perhaps with. Slnbad." “ Well, you would be only 10 —” “What added to the impression it mode upon me was the negress corning here. She was the first I had ever seen, and I remember distinctly how funny I ..thought her black face and hands and her woolly hair for she was a full-blooded African, and, as you know) for you will have a powerful speolmen of her race. •• I've heard about her coming here,’’ Michael said.

“ Yes. My parents were sorry for her, left stranded In a strange country, so they sent for her. We were all going abroad next day, and leaving the . house in the oharge of the butler, Gregory, and his wife, so the black woman came In handy as extra help though that was not the reason she was taken in. Gregory and his wife were to look after her—but it turned out to be the other way about, the pair proving to be drunken and untrustworthy. It was old Tansy a young woman then —who looked after them and the house as well, most faithfully—”

At this point Lady Heie joined In: “ I never liked that negress,” she said rather vindictively. “ She is an Inscrutable old woman with a grin that some people may say shows humour, but that I consider nigger insolence. And ever since the Merlewood murder I've suspected her.” It was said with uncompromising conviction. The dowager, Michael gathered, had her knife in old Tansy. “Suspected her of what, mother?” Sir Ronald asked.

“ Of having something to do with the shooting,” the old lady answered deliberately. • “It was said she had saved Arthur Burden's life in Kimberley, and followed him to England out ol’ dog-life devotion, as those blackamoors do. What more likely than that, she loved the man after a cannibal kind of way, and was jealous of his wife?” Sir Ronald looked disturbed.

“ I confess the idea may be certainly new, but I think it scarcely justified. No such suspicion was entertained at .the time of the tragedy, nor has it ever been suggested since that I know of. Perhaps it would be wiser not to . . . ahem!”

Ho cleared his throat agitatedly. A ■ most indiscreet charge . . Sir Ronald's disapproval was obvious, though refrained from saying more. He would talk the matter over with his mother iti private later on. “I shall still hold my own opinion,” Lady Hole persisted obstinately. “I believe it to.be the only feasible explanation of the tragedy, and nobody having thought of it at the time only proves how blind and stupid they all were—

“Well, we won’t rake it all up again now,” Sir Ronald interrupted, with as much annoyance as filial piety permitted; "let us drop the subject.” “ Not at all,” his mother flashed ■out. “I ask you, Mr Atherton” —she turned to Michael—-"lsn’t my theory a probable one, the point is that the wife was shot too. If her lover committed the crime, as was suggested at the time of the inquiry, why should he kill her as well?” "It was supposed to be an accident. She was trying to shield her husband —” Michael began, a little doubtfully. For this new suggestion involving the negress was unexpected.

"So it was-said. But I have my own opinion of that, woman, with her grin and her. onyx eyes.' It- is. my firm belief that she knows more about the deaths of Arthur Burden and his wife than she'chooses to tell. The manner 'in which' the murderer vanished was, I understand, a nine days’ wonder; the earth might have opened and swallowed him, lie disappeared so completely.

(To be Continued.)