“THE BAN OHU”

Manawatu Times, Volume 61, Issue 211, 7 September 1936, Page 9

“THE BAN OHU”

thing," said Lionel stubbornly. “ Of course, of course, 1 think so too.” Johanna slid from the table and faced the two men gravely- “ I don’t think the answer is going to he so easy as you think, oh, you two wise men from the north-east. The Garda haven’t found anything to go on yet. I’d have been rather surprised if they had ” “ What do you know about it?” queried her father testily. ‘‘lt’s Munroe. I saw r him when they brought him in, and 1 heard what he was muttering to himself —that's apart from anything his wife sa.d to mo afterwards, lie saw something out on tlie common, I am sure. Nobody knows what things may be lurking in such places. People believe in witches and fairies; if you lived here, you’d half believe m them too.” “We’ll go and see Munroe," said Mr Prestwich, “ quietly, 60 as not to disturb him. Mrs Munroe will tell us If ho has said anything further.’ ’ Twilight had changed to dark by this time. Mrs Munroe opencU the door in answer to the gentle knock.

“ Yes, lie's asleep now,” she replied to ttie whispered enquiry. Suddenly there was a crash of breaking glass as a stone came hurtling through the window. The sick man woke wilh a scream of terror as they rushed In, The 'Stone, so violently had it been thrown, had struck the opposite wall and now lay on the floor. Round it was wrapped a bit of st.il crumpled paper. Johanna darted forward and unfolded it, CHAPTER 111. As Johanna seized the paper Lionel rushed lo the splintered window. Outside all was dark. Whoever had thrown the stone had chosen the time well. Lionel threw up the sash and leant out- For a few moments lie heard nothing, then there was a shrill unearthly laugh and the rustling of bushes, lie knew that It was hopeless to follow the unknown assailant. That laugh could tell him nothing, but he knew that within a hundred yards or so, was a clue to, if not a solution of, ttio mystery of the attack on Munroe.

Lionel straightened himself up and drew a long breatn. Quick thought raced through his brain. In that instant he changed. Now at last there was som-uhing definite to do, and ne resowed to do it. An unknown track lay ne»ore him, and he welcomed the adventure, life was no longer a bore to be endured. Little idea he had of what was to come.

He returned lo the others. Johanna and her father were examining the paper. It was crumpled and yellow, like paivhment. On it was a smear of blood; from its appearance lit was evment that it had been used lo wipe a knife or perhaps word. They had eyes only for the dark red stain, otherwise they might have looked ai it more closely. Mrs .Munroe, careless of ought else, was soothing the invalid, who moaned and muttered on the bed. “ What do you think of that?” asked Mr PresTwioh, tapping the paper. "A warning, qf course,” replied Lionel. ” Shouldn’t be surprised if the fellow had wiped the knife with which he stabbed Munroe on it. Just the sort of drama no touch that you might expect from a born actor, and the Irlsh- ■% in Is Hie nest natural actor in the world.” "All this hanky-panky is damnable," stormed Mr Prestwich. “I’ll let them know I won’t stand it I” Incoherent babblings came from the wounded man. Mrs Munro called to them. “I don’t like the looks of him,” she cried. “His eyes—that stone—a terrible shock it gave him, and the doctor said he was to be kept quiet. Oil the villains 1 My poor maul” "Yes, yes, Mrs Munro, we’ll take oare of him. The doctor will soon be here again.” With a nod he motioned the others away. They went silently to the dining-room and then faced one another. None spoke for a few moments. "The thing’s simple, must bo simple if we could only put our lingers on the right spot. Now, Lionel, what have you to say aboul it? ‘Pon my word l almost .feel a. you were to blame, as if you had , d this thing on us with your craw,. 0 ,or some excitement; the way you talked in Dublin this morning—no excitement—oh, not! nothing to shake you up—then that telegram—answer to prayer as it were—now here —Munroe —stone through 'the window—a warning—a laugh—what are you going to do about it?’’ . Mr Prestwich, his nerves obviously all on edge, mopped his face and glared at O’Hara. Johanna could not help laughing. "Now, Dad, don’t be a mutt. Oh, J know it’s nothing to laugh at, but don’t blame poor Lionel for not wanting to snooze his life away. I’m id with anyone who’s after this job of finding the pea under the thimble.’’ “Fudge, girl! I didn't blame him. Can’t you see I'm all hot and bothered. I didn’t mean to be nasty to you, my boy.” “Yes, Dad, hot and bothered, that’s it. Lionel isn’t cross with you, are you, Lionel?” “I can understand quite well whal your father means, Johanna, ft was uncanny, and I’m going to do my best to help.” "Me, too,” said the girl. “Your hand on it, Mr Sherlock O’Hara.”

She held out her firm, brown hand, and Lionel took It. He held a trifle longer than was necessary. Mr Prcstwich, quietly, smiled In approval. He would like to seo the young pair in closer relationship. Johanna freed her hand quickly, and a slight blush came into her fresh young cheeks. “Here’s the Doc,” she exclaimed as the hall-door bell rang. It was Dr. O’Behan, a tall portly man, who could have "gone much farther in his profession had not the soft balm of hts native county held him -to Knockarra. smothering his ambition. He put his head, with its mop of grey hair, in at the door for a moment, and gave the group three quick nods. “Glad to see you, Mr Prestwich—•

(By Desmond Lough)

Instalment 3.

hello, Lionel —cheerio, Johanna. HI trot up to see our patient. He's going on well, I think. Should be on the Baker’s list In a fortnight or three weeks —If there are no complications." Ten minutes later he was downstairs again, and his face was rather grave. “I don’t prelend to like the way he is, ho said bluntly. “Mrs M. told me about that stone throwing business. It gave him a shock when a shock is the worst possible thing he could have. I’m not going to put a tooth’ in it, Mr Prcstwich, I’m afraid his brain may become affected. That knock on the head plus the stab looks serious. It will handicap us in trying to find out about it all, too. There's something that’s worrying him that he won’t, tell us about. I don’t supposo that he’s trying to shield anyone.” “You don’t think poachers, then. . . ?’’ began Mr Prestwich. “I don’t," replied Dr. O’Behan emphatically. “I don’t say that the person who did the Job mayn’t be a poacher. but I don’t, think that getting even with Munroe over some little squabble is the real meaning of this business.” “Why do you say that?” asked Johanna eagerly. “Why do you say that?” asked fohanna eagerly. “I can’t tell you exactly," replied ■he doctor. "I have lived here all my ife, except when I was at college—’m one of them. I'm soaked in the country and the people’s thoughts. We Jaels have a sort of —well—second ,lght or sixth sense. If you knew all ;he legends that I do, things that aaven’t been and can’t be explained in tn ordinary way, you’d not laugh at .hem —or perhaps you would until you same up against something or other .vith a sting in its tail, something you ;ouldn't put a name to. Do you say shat everybody that swears they have leard the fairies or heard a Banshee s a liar?”

"Yes, I know,” said Mr Prestwlch vith some impatience, "but what has ill that to do with Munroc’s very material era He on the head?”

“I don' say it has anything," replied Dr. Behan laughing and shrugging his shoulders. “I know you think ne a dreamer, perhaps I am—but somehow I feel that there is more in .his case than appeai'3 on the surface. don’t defend my theory—no logic—--10 reason—just a feeling. That’s a ioor argument with you, Mr Prestvicli. I don’t blame you." “I believe the doctor is right,” cried rolianna. “If mother were alive I’m sure she would agree with us. She .vas one of the people of the west you enow, Dad.” “Huh!" snorted Mr Prestwich, ‘yes, perhaps. It seems that I’m the ly in the ointment, or the eyewash of omance. Have it your own way.” O’Hara stood a little apart form the ,thers. He, too, was of the west. His rey eyes regarded them thoughtully. “It’s up to me to do my best any.vay,” he said, “and I’ll do it.” “I’m in with you, you know, Lionel,” 'eminded Johanna. “If you’re out if ter the spooks, I want to be in at tho ieatli too.” “When I want help I’ll ask your ulvice, and I am sure it would be xood. I don’t doubt that I 'Shall want t. A woman can often get an idea when a man can’t. I don’t want you so take any risk, though. There was lothing ghostly about that stab, nor she stone through the window either.” “Quito right, quite right, Lionel,” said Mr. Prestwich approvingly. “Jolanna should keep out of it.” “Thanks be to goodness I’m over wenty-one and therefore, beloved lad. i’m my own mistress according •o the lawyers who can do no wrong.” “Well, i must bo going,” said Dr. J’Behan. “I’ll be round in the rnornng to see our patient. Ail we can do is to hope for the best and keep him .s quiet as possible."

“We'll see to that,” said Mr. Prestivlch. “I don’t suppose your pet, spook will want to throw any more stones to-nigiit. A spot before you 50, doctor. Come along.” Left alone the two young people, iooked at one another in silence- Then Johanna was her breezy self again. “Well, young fellow me lad, what about It? Are we working this job fifty-fifty, or what?”

“Certainly we'll work together, Johanna, but I must think things out first-—later on you know.”

“I see," Johanna nodded and gave a short laugh. “All right."

She left the room abruptly. Lionel iiad an uncomfortable feeling' that she was nqltled at his words, and had suddenly developed some scheme of her own. lie was sensible enough not to follow her for lie felt that she had understood that he was going -to play a lone hand in the strange game Well, ho wat. lie wanted to solve the mystery by himself. At supper Mr Prestwich inveighed vaguely against things in general, and growled threats of coming vengeance. Neither Johanna nor Lionel said much- Their relations were a little strained after what Johanna considered to be something of a snub. CHAPTER IV. Before eleven o’clock the house was silent. Then It was that O'Hara stolo silently from a side door. He had up his mind to travel on Munroe's tracks more alert than the steward had been. A new moon was setting and tile thin silver arc, helped by starlight, showed the dim outline of bushes and house. Pointing upwards, a little distance away, the grey finger of the Witch’s Rock showed wan above the dark trees.

Lionel, clear of the house and shrubbery, stood looking at it. Then he went silently towards the left, his nubber-soled shoes making but the faintest noise as he thrashed through the dewy grass. He intended to approach the rock from the side opposite to that on which Munroe had been attacked. Ho had advanced perhaps a couple >f hundred yards, when a sound came 'liering eerily through the silence, omehow when he awoke to the full ■onsciousness of it, it seemed to him hat It had been going on for some ime, how long he could not tell. It was a song, such as lie had never leard before—bird-like in a way ather than human: the singer could