FROM THE MILL TO THE MANSION,

Northland Age, Volume 3, Issue 20, 18 December 1906, Page 7

FROM THE MILL TO THE MANSION,

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® OR ® The Moorland Mystery. * / —~h— By HEDLEY RICHARDS, Author of “The Fatal Blue Diamonds," "Time, the Avenger," &c., &c. v ' '■ ' PART 6. INTRODUCTION. Rachel Holdsworth, a weaver, about whose birth there is a mystery, is annoyed by Tom Needham while walking across the moor, outside the town. She has taken with her a walking-stick to protect herself against Dan Fletcher, a rough millhand who has been importunating Rachel to marry him. Whilst Tom Needham endeavours to kiss the girl, Middleton Arkwright and another man named Rail ton creep up behind the two, and Arkwright having picked up the walking-stick which Rachel has dropped, deals Needham a terrible blow upon the head, which kills him on the spot. Rachel is then carried off through the gates of the Stone House, whose mistress Arkwright had married some time previously. She is kept a close prisoner there, and finally, after having been drugged, is taken to a lonely house near London, named Tho Cedars, where Arkwright has been also keeping his wife a prisoner. An inquest is held, and a verdict of wilful murder is brought against Raohel. Meanwhile a certain Lord Glynne, on his deathbed, has confessed that he taarried years before a certain girl named Jessie Holdsworth, and that there was {a child named Rachel of I the marriage, to whom he leaves all his property. Mr. Shallcross, the solicitor, advertises a reward of five hundred pounds to be paid to anyone who shall give information as to the whereabouts of Rachel, and a detective is also engaged to investigate the matter. Tho Rev. John Glynne, who has been looked upon as the heir to the title and estates, shortly after this is mysteriously summoned by a girl named Nancy to a dying man, who is lying in a warehouse by the riverside. CHAPTER XI. CLUES. "Come in, Mary Holdsworth, and sit you down," said Elizabeth Banks one sunny afternoon, as in answer to a knock she opened the door.

The visitor entered and seated herself in the old-fashioned rocking-chair that was pushed towards her. "I came to see your lodger," she said, looking round the kitchen. "Mr. Parry ? Yes ; he's in the parlour. I knew he was expecting you, because he said if he called at your house he'd have tho whole village wondering as to who he was and what ho wanted with you, and he wants to keep dark," said Miss Banks as. she opened a door and putting her head into the room, she said : "Here’s Mary Holdsworth."

Quick as lightning the detective was in the kitchen, a small, loan, dark-haired man, a typical little Welshman, fire and impulse in every movement, though to a certain extent the impulse was restrained. "I've been wanting to see you," he said, as he seated himself on the arm of a chair. "Well, I’m here," she answered, phlegmatically ; and for a moment they took stock of each other. Then he said : "Have you brought that letter ?"

"Yes," and sho produced the anonymous letter that she had received. Parry seemed to forget her existence as he read and reread it. At last ihe spoke. "As far as I can make out these hieroglyphics mean that a man deserves death. By the way, I am certain this boulder of stone and that door in the wall are connected. I have it. The person who sent this letter wants to draw attention to the Stone House. As I read it, the girt is pleading for something. Rachel Holdsworth has been present when the murder was done, and I think holds the guilty man in the hollow of her hand. Now, the Stone House is very near the scene of the tragedy, and I'm going to get an order to search it," said Parry.

"Bless my heart, it belongs to Mrs ‘Arkwright f Not as she ever comes there ; but I'm sure the gentleman as she’s married will be fine and vexed if you go poking into the house," said Elizabeth Banks.

"All the same, I shall go. I suppose he doesn't live there, as his wife dislikes it ?"

"No ; he's mostly in London. They say she's gone abroad for her health. Miss Amy was always a poor, delicate young lady." "Well, I shall search the house. By the way what was your niece wearing ? Because if I fail to find her I might find something that belongs to her," said Parry. "She had on a dark-blue serge dress, and a black and white plaid shawl over her head and shoulders. But there's thousands like 'em ; • it be easy to swear to her •shawl." "Well, I'll see you later, Miss Holdsworth. I shall have to get a ■warrant to search the Stone House, and I'm going to see Mr. Hargreaves he is a magistrate! But you mustn't talk about it," he said looking at .the two women. . Three hours later after some difficulty, as M-. Hargreaves had strongly objected to issue a warrant to search the Stone House, saying the evidence was not sufficient to warjraat it, but being finally overruled fey the detective. Parry opened the bif iron gates that led into the grounds surrounding the Stone House nod walked leisurely up the winding *fr%4|BCStoreil rhododendrons

until a sudden bend brought him in front of the house—a big stone mansion, with a number of straight windows on each side of the massive portico which covered the door. It had a bare, cold look, even on an evening in May ; the lawn, too, that Stretched under the windows at one side of the door looked badty kept. "Not a cheerful place," thought Parry, as he pulled the bell ; and he could hear the peal echo through the house which seemed deserted. Five minutes elapsed, then the door was opened by Mrs. Glue, who in a black dress, and snow-white apron looked the essence of quiet respectability as she regarded the stranger with an air of surprised innocence. Parry took tho warrant out of his pocket and read it aloud to her, and as he proceeded an expression of what appeared to be genuine indignation was visible.

"Well, I never ! Perhaps you'll tell me what you want to search the house for ? Very likely you don’t know it, but it belongs to Mr. and Mrs. Arkwright—Arkwrights’, the mill-owners," she said.

"Yes, I do know it belongs to them, and I also know they are very seldom-here. I've no objection to telling you that my reason for searching this house is because I’ve reason to believe Miss Rachel Holdsworth has been and probably is here now," he said, quietly. A look of contempt, mingled '■With pity came inio her face, as she said: "I suppose you’re a detective, as you’ve got this business in hand, but you’re not up to much if you think she's here. I expect this reward is making you that keen you're not going to leave any stone unturned." "You’re right there, particularly tho Stone House," he said, as he stepped into tho hall.

"You want to see all through, I suppose ?" "Yes, from the attics to the cellars." "All right. Come along;" and she opened the door of the drawingroom. "What are you doing ?" sho asked as he came out, and locked tho door after him, slipping the key into his pocket. "I'm not going to have any jugling. I shall lock each room, then return tho keys before I leave the house." "You’re a smart chap ; but I'd like to know what good you think it would do ray husband and mo to hide that poor girl ?" He looked keenly at her. "You might think she was in danger and help her to escape. If so, you made a mistake, or you may have some reason for wishing her out of the way. In any case you acted foolishly, and now, as I should like to finish my search before dark, wo will go on." Without further parley she led the way from room to room ; and as she unlocked tho door of the sittingroom that had been used by Rachel he exclaimed :

"Why is this room in darkness?" "That’s easilj’ altered," she replied as she lighted the gas, and he saw that the shutters were closed. "This, and the bed room through it were the la4e Mr. Arkwright's favourite rooms, and the shutters are rarely unfastened."

Parry stepped into the adjoining room and saw there was no sign that it had been recently occupied, and he was . turning .to follow tho housekeeper from the room when a gilt button on the floor attracted his attention, and stooping, he picked it up and slipped it into his pocket without the woman seeing. At last he had seen through every room ; even the cellars had been explored. Then as they stood in the hall, Mrs. Glue said, not without a vestige of triumph in her tones : "It’s been a pity you took so much trouble." "Oh, I never flinch from doing my duty, and I thought it led me here. Would it be asking too much if I requested you to let mo out by the door that opens on to the moor ?" "No. I'll do my best to suit you though I fancy Mr. Arkwright will have something to say to Mr. Hargreaves for sanctioning his house being run over by a stranger,” said Mrs. Glue, as she led the way through tho kitchen into the garden, then along the path which Rachel had traversed the night of the tragedj'. Unbarring tho door, she held it open for him to pass through, but just before she closed it he drew the little gilt button from his waistcoat pocket, and holding it towards her, said : "I wonder if Rachel Holdsworth ever had a button like this ?" The shot told. He saw Mrs. Glue's eyes fix on the button, then a look of fear took the place of the satisfied expression her face had worn.

"Ah. il see you recognise it !'• said Parry, slipping the button back into his pocket.

"You’re a fool," she said, sharply; then shut and barred the doorr~

"You've given yourself away, my good woman, and you don't like it," he thought, as he crossed the moor in a slanting direction, as he intended going back to his lodgings and visiting Mary Holdsworth after dark when he would be less noticed.

A little further on he saw an open carriage with a pair of greys coming along the road, and a few minutes later as he waited to cross, he noticed that a handsome girl with a mass of dark golden brown hair, which showed in strong contrast to the deep mourning she wore, was the solitary occupant. But as he was passing on he realized that the carriage had stopped and the girl was beckoning him. Parry went up to the carriage, and she leaned forward, saying in a low voice : . "Are you Mr. Parry, the detective. I am Gertrude Needham, and Mr. Charles Hargreaves described you to me, and told me where you are staying." "The deuce he did ! I wish he’d hold his tongue," thought the detective, as he bowed. "I see you think he ought not to have told me. But I don’t believe that poor girl is guilty, and I think. I can tell you something that will show my.brother had an enemy." "Thank you. Min ffeedham;" and his Tofee w*s as subdued 4* lpra.

"I eras sorting some things in my brother's room the other day, and in moving a blotting book a piece of note-paper fell out. It had evidently been torn from a sheet. I expect the other portion had been destroyed, but this piece had apparently not been noticed. On t it were the words, T have you completely in my power, and nothing less than ten thousand pounds will induce me to hold rny tongue. You have the money and you must pay it.’ ” "That does indeed look as though some person had a motive for wishing him to die," said Parry. "Yes. I have not said anything to my father. I did not want him to know, unless it was necessary, that my poor brother should so far lower himself as to levy blackmail ; but it is right you should know." And placing a scrap of paper in his hand, she said, "Good night," "Good-night, Miss Needham. I thank you for what you have done," and as the carriage drove away, leaving the detective standing bareheaded, he muttered :

"A very noble girl, or I'm much mistaken."

About ten o’clock that night there was a gentle tap on Miss Holdsworth’s door, and it was quickly opened. "Come in. I'd a feeling you’d be wanting to see me, or I should have gone to bed before this. I keep early hours," she said, as tho detective entered ; then she shut and locked the door. "I know you retired early, or I should have waited until it was later. Do you know this ?" he asked, placing the button in her hand. Mary Holdsworth went to the table on which the lamp stood, and looked at the little metal button, then an expression of surprise escaped her. "It was on the dress Rachel wore that night she went out," she said. "Are you sure ? There's nothing so uncommon about it." "Yes, I'm sure. And what's more, there's not another like it in Bromley. You see, I'm a saving person, and when a thing gets old-fashioned, I say, to myself, ‘lt’s had its day, but in another dozen years it’ll be the fashion again,' so I save all my odds and ends. Now, this button was one of a dozen I laid by twenty years ago. They were bought in Manchester where I was holidaying one Whft Monday. About a year ago Rachel was having a new dress, and I brought these buttons out, they were put on the vest, and she’d worn the dress all the day sho disappeared. You see, she wasn’t working."

"Then you could swear to it ?" "Ay, that I could ; and I could take my oath there isn't another like it hereabouts. Where did vou find it ?"

"In one of the rooms of the Stone House. Mrs. Glue, tho housekeeper, declares she knows nothing about her."

"Don't you believe anything Sarah Glue tells you. She's tho daughter of a man who farmed a bit of land the other side of the moor. She was always smart, but given to cheating."

"How did she become housekeeper there ?" asked Parry.

"She’s only caretaker,, and her husband and son keep the place in order ; but how she happened to get the job puzzles me, as she got across with the late Mr. Arkwright terrible. Sho wouldn’t sell a bit of land ho wanted to buy ; and Miss Amy must have known all about it, and that Sarah Glue had said if she could ever serve an Arkwright an illturn sho would do it. But in spite of it all she's at tho Stone House. Still, I don't see how Rachel could have been there. The Glues are not the people to go out of their way to help a poor girl, and I’m certain if they had the least idea where she was they’d claim that five hundred pounds reward, even if it meant her hanging." "Unless some one else was paying them better to hold their tongues. There’s a mystery behind your niece's disappearance; I'm pretty sure it was not voluntarj*. Now, I don’t want .you to mention anything about this button. I've got a clue that your niece must have been at the Stone House," he said ; then, wishing Miss Holdsworth good-night, he left the cottage, and went at a brisk pace towards the moor. The night was dark, but as he had no fear of being molested ha went quickly back to his lodgings, keeping on the soft turf rather than the road. Suddenly ho was startled by hearing a boyksh voice, saying : "Shall I tell the police, an’ get the five hundred. Cracky, would they put me in prison for holding my tongue ? Which is it to be ? Five hundred pounds » Lord, I should be a rioh man !" The first words made Parry stop and listen. Evidently the boy was communing with himself. Then he rushed towards the spot from which the voice had come, and in another moment he fell headlong over a boulder, and, as he stretched out his hands to help himself, he grasped a crop of short, curly hair. "Let go !" and the speaker wriggled frantically ; but Parry, conscious that fortune was favouring him, held on like grim death, till a oouple of blows aimed haphazard, struck him on the chest and the face, followed by another in the eye, and made him relax his hold. In an instant the lad was on his feet, and Parry sprang up darting after him ; but all he could see was a diminutive figure flying before him then a kind of warwhoop, and darkness hid the fugitive from the detective, who went sorrowfully back to his lodgings, conscious that he had lost a chance of solving the jnystery, and had gained a black eye. It had been an eventful time since he had set out to search the Stone House ; much had been crammed into those few hours. Miss Needham had given him a clue; then there was the button, and finally the boy's soliloquy. Who was he? It would go hard With him if he did not discover the imp who had belaboured him so unmercifully. CHAPTER XU* , A FRAUD. Jr*’* "What the deuce is the matter ?" ashed Kfttdlefcm Arkwright, as he fttootf to the haQ at The Oedan and look*! at Mrs. ©arty who appeared

troubled and perplexed. "Why did you telegraph for me ? I can see there’s something wrong. I suppose neither of them have got away ?" Mrs. Carter shoojt her head. "No ; but Lyddy slipped down those three steps between the first and the second landing, and somehow she struck her head violently on the bottom one. I heard a noise, and found her lying unconscious ; so Carter and me lifted her into the bedroom we keep aired for you—it is the handiest—and when she didn’t come round I sent for a doctor ?" "The deuce you did!" he said in an angry tone. "Yes, I did ; and if it should have to come over again, I should do the same. I've always been fond of Lyddy, and she's not going to die for want of a, doctor. All the same I've been careful. I had Dr. Margin. He’s reckoned very clever, but he's as deaf as a post. He takes an eartrumpet with him when he goes to see his patients*; Still, he’s so- skilful that people would rather have him than a man*who hasn’t his defect. I knew he wouldn’t hear anything that I didn’t want him to ; and I had the gate left unlocked, and the dogs fastened up, so that he would not notice anything unusual." "Where does the doctor live ?" "Three miles from here. He’s not at all the sort of man to suspect anything wrong, but there’s another thing I’ve had to do, and that is to send for my cousin Jane. She wrote only the other day to me, saying sho was out of place, and asking if I knew of anything ; so I telegraphed to her to come, and I expect she will be here to-night."

"That is dangerous. Couldn’t you have managed ?’’ v ‘No, I couldn't. If I half starved your prisoners, they'd have made themselves heard, and Lyddy wants almost constant attention. As for Jane she'll hold her tongue if it's made worth her while. I don’t see why she shouldn't stay here altogether. There’s more work now there's two of them than Lyddy and I can manage easily." "Well, we can leave that, though I expect it will be safer to let her remain ; but I’ll see her when sho comes. And now tell me what the doctor said about Lyddy," said Middleton Arkwright.

"It's brain fever. He hinted that she’d had a lot of excitement, and I believe he's right. I'm pretty sure all these affairs of yours have tried her, and I've an idea she’s fretted about Mrs. Arkwright, and the other girl being kept prisoners. She didn't say anything, and was mostly bright and she’d never give you away ; but all the same it's troubled her, and then the blow on the head settled her."

"Of course he thinks she’ll pull through ?" said" Arkwright.

"No ; he said he was very doubtful but he could give a better opinion when he comes to-night. And now J must go. My husband’s with her, but he cannot manage her as well as I can, so he's been doing in tho kitchen till I came clown to let you in," said Mrs. Carter.

"Stay a moment," said Arkwright laying his hand on her arm. "Who did you say Lyddy was ?" "I don't know ; I expect I said she was niy niece. But I don’t know that he could hear, as he did not put his trumpet to his ear until we were in the sickroom ; then he asked for particulars." "Mrs. Carter, when he comes again you must tell him that his patient is Mrs. Arkwright,’-’ he said gripping her arm tighter. "What devilry are you up to ?" she asked, looking him full in the face.

"No devilry, but the doctor says it is doubtful if Lyddy will recover. If she shouldn’t she must be buried as Amy Arkwright. Don't you see, I could then prove the will my wife made soon after we were married, and I should have everything in my power ; and, of course, you would be a rich woman."

"If I agreed to that, I don’t think you would let Lyddy get better," she said, sharply. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I mean as she’d get a sleepingdraught as would sleep her for ever." "Then you're wrong. Lyddy's too useful to be spared, unless I've no choice in the matter. But it seems to me, if she is to die, we might as well make the best of a bad job ; and I'll swear I'll keep clear of the room she is in ; then, if she recovers, the doctor need nover know anything of the little fiction.'s

"All right. I'll tell him she’s your wife ; but once I catch you in that room I'll mdke a clean breast of it and tell the doctor she's no such thing ; but a woman you want to get out of your way. It would be taking the poor girl's character ,away, but I would do it to save her life," said Mrs. Carter, sharply, as she turned and began ascending the stairsase, while Arkwright turned into the din-ing-room, apd as he seated himself in an easy chair, he muttered :

"She shalj never get better—never; but I must-be careful.

Three hours later, after a very plain dinner that Mrs. Carter’s husband had both cooked and served there was a tap at the door, and in answer to Arkwright's "Come in" a tall, angular woman, dressed in black and wearing a neat, white cap, entered. In age she looked about thirtyfive, of the type that never seems to have had any girlhood ; colourless in face and hair, she gave the impression of a woman whose life had been hard from the beginning. "I’m Jane Townsend,"- she said as she stood just inside the door which she shut after her. "Mrs. Carter's cousin, whom she expected ?" he asked, in a questioning tone. "Yes, sir. I came a little while ago, but my cousin thought I’d better have tea, and a little talk with her before I came to you." "She has taken you into her confidence ?" said Arkwright, as he studied her face. "Yes, sir ; she has told me about the two prisoners, and that Lyddy is to be known to the doctor as Mrs. Arkwright,'.' was the quiet reply. Then a little more life came into her tone as she added : "And my cousin says I shall be well paid." ;'Of course, you will; and if lyddy dies—-though, poor girl, I don't want her to—you will reeshw a handsome sum, as she should be buried in my wife's name, and. Mrs. Arkwright's money WoaJd then bt Sfttofc U&, *

■ " ~ '' see you like money,” he said, noticing the look of avarice. “I've had a hard life. Nothing but hard work and little pay, so that to have a few pounds in the Savings Bank would bo a treat,” "If you hold your tongue, and serve me well, you’ll have more than a few poijnds ; but I’ll give you a caution, Jane Townsend, and bear it well in mind. Should you try and play mo false you wouldn’t have a chance. You’ll be watched, and a blow on the head would soon settle you ; but, on the other hand, be faithful, and you’ll be a rich woman before you die." "Thank you, sir ; I know which way my bread is buttered. Ah, the**e is the bell. I expect it’s the doctor. May I go, sir ?" "Yes ; and I’ll see him as he comes downstairs," he replied. Ten minutes later Arkwright heard deliberate footsteps descending the staircase, and at once went into the hall.

"Doctor, I’m sorry to hear my wife is so seriously ill. Just come in here ; I want to have a little talk with you," said Arkwright, as he led the way into the dining-room. "You are Mr. Arkwright ?" said the doctor, placing his ear-trumpet so that the other could speak into it "Yes ; my housekeeper tells me that during my absence my wife had a fall with the result that she is suffering from brain fever. I suppose there is no doubt of her recovery ?" Dr. Martin shook his head. ‘

"There is very great doubt. I should say Mrs. Arkwright had been in an excited state before ?’’ he said, looking at his companion. "You are right. I will tell you, as her medical man, that I have been seriously uneasy about her of late. In fact, I have been afraid her mind would lose its balance. You see she was brought up by an unduly severe father, in the greatest seclusion ; then, on our marriage she would rush into all kinds of gaiety, with the result that she became feverishly restless, and at last, I noticed several things which, as I §aid, made me uneasy, so I took this house and brought her to live here in seclusion. I had hoped great things from it ; but now " and Arkwright shook his head.

"Now, she is in great danger. Such danger, that if 1 were not something of a specialist in this disease, I should ask you to call in another doctor ; but I am going to send her a medicine that will, I hope do her much good. Should sho not be any better in the morning, I think for your own satisfaction it would be well to have another doctor with whom I could consult, as I cannot disguise from you the fact that your wife is very ill." "When shall I send for this medicine ?"

"As soon as passible. It is now nine o’clock, and I should like her to take a draught about eleven ; then I will see her by half-past eight in the morning." "I will send the gardener for the medicine at once," replied the master of the house, as he accompanied the doctor to tho front door. When the doctor had gone he told Carter to saddle a horse, and fetch the medicine at once.

"Would it save the girl ?" he asked himself, as he sat smoking his pipe. No, it could not be. Lyddy must die. He was sorry for the necessity ; but the prospect of becoming master of his wife's money could not be relinquished—it must become a reality. But what if the girl rallied, or even if she lingered till morning ? The latter meant that another doctor would be brought to The Cedars. It could never be. Yet he dare not tamper with the medicine." As he was thinking thus, there was a tap on the door ; then Jane Townsend entered. "If you please, sir, Mrs. Carter wishes to know if you’ll sleep in the room next your own—the one Mr. Railton uses when he's here, as Lyddy is in yours." Tho mention of Railton’s room caused Arkwright to remember a fact that he realized might be useful to him. "Yes, I’ll sleep there. By the way, have you seen the captives ?" he said with a sneering smile. "Yes. sir. They seemed surprised to see a stranger so I told them that Lyddy had gone for a bit of a holiday, and I'd come to take her place." "What did they say ?" he asked. "One of them threatened, tho other pleaded ; but I told them I was just a machine sent to wait on them, without eyes or ears." ‘ f l hope you'll justify tho character you give yourself. I suppose Lyddy is worse. I hope she won’t say anything to give the show away,." "No, sir, she just moans and cries, and she looked every bit a lady. I’d put her on a beautiful night-dress, that belongs to Mrs. wrkwright, and sir, it’s lucky for you her hair is pretty near the colour of your wife's so that if the doctor is questioned, it will be all right." "So it will. Jane, you are a genius."

"Thank you, sir;'i a nd the woman departed.

"Three quarters of an hour later George Carter returned with the medicine, and a minute or two afterwards Arkwright went upstairs, and, having locked his bedroom door, he took off his shoes and opening a cupboard door in a recess, he entered it, touched a brass nail,' and turning it twice the nail came out in his hand, leaving an aperture the size of a shilling. Putting his eye to this, Arkwright saw the girl on the bed, tossing restlessly from side to side, and Mrs. Carter stood at the foot, talking to Jane. She held the bottle containing the draught in her hand, and taking off the wrapper, she said: "It looks just like water, yet he said it was a very powerful medicine, and he believed would give her a chance. If it didn’t take effect there’d be no hope. But before I give it her I’ll fetch that beef-tea up." "Shall I stay with Lyddy till you get back?" asked Jane. "No. She’s quieter now, and you had better go to bed, as you'll have to be astir early in the morning. I wouldn't have left her if Mr., Arkwright hadn't gone to bed," she said lowering her voice. "Why not ?" asked the other woman. "Because it'll suit him if she dies, and I know he wouldn't stand at a trifle. But he won't know I've left her, so tttferfty be no danger of bis

meddling with the medicine," said Mrs. Carter. "You don't think much of him," replied Jane ; and the two women left the room, Mrs. Carter closing the door gently. Arkwright waited a moment. Then he touched a knob, and slid a panel back, leaving sufficient opening for him to squeeze through. Then passing into the > other room and going to the table, he caught up the bottle and darted to his own room. It was the work of a moment to throw the contents of the bottle aw*ay, then to fill it with water and return to the sick chamber, where he placed the medicine bottle in its former position, and going back to his own room he again touched the spring, and the panel was in position. "By .Jove, it's lucky for me that the rooms are panelled ! Mrs. Carter must never learn the secret, 'i he thought, as he undressed.

Early next morning Arkwright was disturbed by a loud knocking at the door of his room, and throwing on a dressing gown, he asked what was the matter. "If you please, sir, Lyddy's dead," said the voice of Jane Townsend. "I'll be with you in a minute," he replied ; and as he dressed hastily, he thought with satisfaction that ho would now be able to lay claim to his wife’s money. A few days, and Lyddy would be buried under the name of Amy Arkwright, then all would i>e his. On the landing he met Mrs. Carter coming out of the room, and he saw she had been crying. She stopped on seeing him, and said : "It seems to me you've got the devil’s own luck. All the same this is an ill-fated house. The woman who came to clean it told me that death and ill-luck always followed those who had anything to do with it, so don’t be too sure that you’ll escape scot free." "I don't believe in luck, and I'm sorry Lyddy's gone. Didn't tho medicine have any effoct ?" "No, she got wilder, and the pain was awful. I was glad when the end came, which it did about half an hour ago. There's one thing, I'm glad you hadn't a chance to meddle with the medicine, or but for that, and that I know, you’d have slept her out of the world, if you'd had a hand in sending her ; but those two things clear you, Mr. Arkwright, or I'd have done with you," she said as she went downstairs; and he followed in a leisurely manner, going into tho dining-room where he smoked a pipe, until Jane brought his breakfast, then when she removed the things he told her to tell Mrs. Carter that he wished to see her.

A few minutes elapsed, then the latter appeared, and as she entered the room Arkwright took out his watch.

"The doctor will be hero in half an hour. I suppose you are willing that Lyddy should be buried in my wife’s name ?"

"Yes. If I refused it wouldn’t bring the poor girl back, and I may as well have the money. What's to be my share ? George says it must be a big sum." "I'll give you a thousand pounds." "A thousand pounds, and you step into an enormous fortune ! No, sir; you’ll have enough to make it five thousand, and it's little enough. Then you'll have Jane to pay. I told her you'd give her a hundred pounds down, and fifty pounds a year," said the housekeeper. "All right. And I suppose you'll tell the doctor how the poor girl died. You can say it was sudden, and that I was not in the room. Ah there's the boll, I’ll go into the drawing room. Send him to me when he has seen her," said Arkwright, quitting the room and going quickly across the hall. Ten minutes later Jane opened tho door, and Dr. Martin entered. "My dear sir, you have my heartfelt sympathy," he said, crossing the darkened room and laying his hand on Arkwright’s shouldor as tho latter sat with his head bowed in his hands "It has been terribly sudden, doctor," he answered in a husky voice. "Terribly. But the whole College of Physicians could not have saved her if the medicine had no effect." "It's an awful blow. I feel quite prostrate. I shall wire for a friend to see to things. You will kindly give him the certificate of death," replied Arkwright. "Certainly." And taking out his note-book, the doctor inquired Mrs. Arkwright's Christian name and age. Two days later a quiet funeral left The Cedars, and the name on the coffin was that of Amy Arkwright, aged twenty-three years. To be Continued.