(Copyright.) The MYSTERY OF GLENMOHR.

Northland Age, Volume 3, Issue 39, 14 May 1907, Page 2

(Copyright.) The MYSTERY OF GLENMOHR.

*—l By Eric St C. K Ross. 1 , PART 7, CHAPTER XIX. SPACHDALE POCKLINBTON, ESQUIRE. If the people of Strathmohr wore of a suspicious nature they would have wondered why Mr. Malcolm Mouteith patted so much of his time for two days viewing the Goldwing from the •hum. The little man was in a stats of great excitement, and this emotion brought him, no doubt, from hour to hour to the door of Strathmohr House to inquire after the condition of his cousin Hew. Of the morning of which we have Just spoken, Mrs. Bruce, the housekeeper, was much exercised in h.'r mind, regarding the yacht-owner’s extraordinary manoeuvres, and wher. M iss Agnes appeared, after encountering Hector M'lver, the elderly lady cried : "Eh. miss, but there must be something the matter with Mester I Malcolm Monteith ! He's been here three times this morning, an’ unlsss I’m much mistaken, here he is coming again." "What does he want ?" "He wants aye to ken when Mester Hew will be ready fer seein’ him." "And what do you say ?" "That it w'unna be yet awhile.'' "You are right, nurse. The patient must not yet be disturbed." "An' the patient's no likely to be disturbed while I am in the way," said the formidable matron. "I’m sure of that," returned Miss 'Agnes; and she paused at the loch gate as if she would give Mr. Malcolm Monteith the opportunity of speaking to her. He was approaching the entrance to the grounds when his steps were arrested by the sound of a horn. He stood irresolute for a moment, and then, as if he had observed Miss St. Clair for the first time, and found it difficult to break another engagement, he bowed very gallantly and retreated in the direction of the riverside, or the Strathmohr Arms Hotel. " "It seems to me," remarked Mrs. Bruce sagely, "that there somethin’ wrang aboot thet little man. I wad pa be much surprised to hear his cousin has come into some money an that he’s anxious for an opportunity of breaking this news to him." To this her young mistress made no response, and so she was compelled to retire to look after her most interesting occupations. We shall follow Mr. Malcolm Monteith notwithstanding the eccentri- , city of his movements. r ■*- Turning up the side the rivercalled Bankside—h£’ had the satisfaction of seeijvg the rural postman, with his |emg b-ass coach-horn under h : s entering the door of Black fekihdy M’Kay's general shop—in other words, the post office. Hurrying up to the place, he addressed the man:

"Did you call at Olenmohr ?" "Yes, sir’’—touching his bonnet. "And had any one arrived ?" "Ay, sir. There wass a shentlemans from the Sooth, but he wass fery busy."

"Busy with whom ?" "I dinna ken." "Why did you not ask ?" "Because the lass wass aa in the humour to tell me ; but he maun be a great shentlenmns." "Why do you think so ?" "He wass tressod like ane." "Indeed !" "Oh, yes ; wi' a praw plaidie an’ a sporan that wass able to hold all the monius from here to Stornoway whatefer." "The deuce !" murmured Mr. Monteith to himself. "Can the fellow have been mad enough, alter all, to don the Highland costume ? But for the prize in view, and other conoid.rations, I would never have embarked in this affair." "Was there any one with him?" he inquired, alter a pause. "Ay, there wass that—and a geot man too." "Don’t trifle with me longer !" •ried Mr. Monteith, impatiently. "You delivered my message requesting the visitor to be sent forward here at once, and you have had your reward." "Ay, and I have had my trouble, ■sir over." "Why doe’t you anewer me, then? Who was the man with my visitor?" "I said he wass a goot man, and I wull not be for 'ating my words. It wass Daft Davie, and if he wass not a goot man, I wull not be able to tell you where you wull be meeting anozzer half as pad." I The owner of the Goldwing uttered an exclamation of a reprehensible character, and broke away from the rural postman. The fact was, he suspected the postman of» joking with him, but could not accuse him openly, from the fact that he was a very old man, and characterized by the very gravest demeanour. He was about to go om board the yaeht, and leave a message for the writer of the London letter, when his steps were arrested by a noise of a peculiar nature "up the road " toi wards Dunmohr. Whoops of an unearthly character could only accurately describe th** uproar, but for the fact that within the clamour something like the sounds of the bagpipe could be discerned. Although fearing something like a scene, he was still curious enough to wait to sea what "all the row " meant. Mr. Malco»m Monteith had not long 10 wait- ntviflg entered the humble

to partake of tIM whisky for which the country is famed, when tries from the vicinity of the dser intimated lhat the expected one had arrived jt last. He stepped out and saw one of the most extraordinary exhibitions it had ever been a man’s fortune to behold. Coming down the incline from the Glenmohr valley was the lofty Stanhope dogcart, lent by Colonel St. Clair to himself and cousins while resident at the shooting-box. Harnessed thereto, tandem fashion, were two horses so totally unlike each other as to be a source of amusement in themselves.

In the shafts was a well-fed young Highland cob, of determined appearance, and adorned with long hair. In front of him was an awkward colt of a roving disposition. This latter was piebald and no doubt would turn out an animal of great size. As yet, however, he • seemed all legs, and progress appeared to be a lasting struggle betwooa the two quadrupeds. If the actions of the piebald were eccentric, the fact cannot be wonder<hl at. The driver had no control over him, and as a consequence his long limbs appeared to be crawling all over th 3 roadway. Now dashing to the right, he changed rapidly to the left, and was urged upon his wild career ' by a score or so of young lads, who shouted ia Gaelic in the most hideous manner. Nothing but the Highland stubbornness of the cob prevented this leader from precipitating the occupants into the roadway or over the flanking stSne walls, and in either case death was likely to ensue; for the road was as hard as iron while the meadows on either hand were considerably under its level at some points. The occupants of the dogcart were, however, the chief features of the picture. Driving was a very tall, thin gentleman, in whose illuminated face an expression of extreme eajoyment was somewhat qualified by a look of fear. The principal feature of his face was certainly the nasal organ, which was not only blue but decidedly bloated, in the strictost sense of that much abused word. His small grey eyes were distended to their utmost proportions, and h; held the reins in both hands, wide apart, as if he feared their conjunction would be more rapidly fatal than all other possible circumstances put together. This formidable individual was no doubt deemed a "show " for as he approached the Bankside the cottars came out to gaze upon him with eyes equally distended with his own. And no wonder, for Solomon in all his glory was never clothed as he was that day.

Ha wore the Highland costume but it was of such an order as to be be deemed almost nondescript. The scarlet doublet and blue facings had at one time belonged to the .Royal Black Watch. The kilt was of tht* 79ih, or Cameron tartaa, while the plaid was of such soft Rob Roy check as the dresses of the ladies are made from. The violent movements of the animals had disarranged this costume materially, but under any circumstances it would have been groteacpjty. 'Then it was beyond all .description absurd, for the sporan was hanging aver the right side of the dog-cart, while —most terrible feature of all!—the time-honoured ostrich feathers of the regular army bonnet of the invincible Highland Brigade hung over the 4eft ear of the wearer, like a heavy weight that was gradually but surely pulling the wearer over the back of the vehicle. Altogether, a more disgraceful caricature of "the garb of old Gaul "• was never seen, and any man so attired, entering by accident, a garrison town where a Highland regiment happened to be quartered would have been, first nearly beaten to death and secondly tarred and feathered. Beside this individual sat another person in Highland dress, but his garments were unimpeachable, while his demeanour was of the most decorous nature. This was no other man than Daft Davie, whom we have already seen, and he was playing the bagpipes in perfect serenity as the extraordinary team dashed up to the door of the taverm.

With the assistance of kalf a dozen idlers the landlord succeeded in preventing the piebald from leading round towards the "big house." He and the others wished to spare the colonel such a humiliating sight, and even the cold-blooded Malcolm Monteith was more inclined to be angry than amused at the sight before him the more especially as he knew that the person was no other than Spachdale Esq'., of London. That gentleman threw the reins airily down upon the back of the Highland cob, who, not being used to such an assault, essayed to make a bolt on his own behalf, and quite independently of the splay-futted piebald, who now stood panting and smoking in the care of the stableman As soon as Pocklington reached the ground, he looked graciously round, and said :

"The warmth of this greotiag airs, makes me proud—l mean I am very proud to see you all. My friend, the chieftain, will tell you when he has blown out the sweet-toned instrument which harmonises so well with the mountain and flood as to be perfectly enchanting. I say, that my friend, the chieftain, will tell you wh*n he has blown out *' — At this -instant Daft Davie finished his tune, and after a very brief indulgence of the drones, brought all sounds to ar. end with a sudden puff which amazed Mr. Pocklington not a little. However, he was equal to the orcasion; for, after looking at his companion in a patronizing way, he waved his hand with stuck dignity, saying : "Gentleman, he has blown out, and now we shall have a blow out of the immortAl msuntain-dew 7 , so famous in song, and so enchanting in story* j Come, chieftain. In the words of ths Immortal Robert Burns : " ’Hem's a bottle and an honest friend— What wad ye wish for mair, mon?” .iSmUsm i

battle inside, landlord th*T is my first journey to the Highlands, and my motto has'been since I crossed th- Tweed—‘Confound the expense !' Therefore my good man turn on the tap of your barrel; and if yon can turn us on a few singers as well, we will all join in that matchless carouse—- " Willie brew'd a peck o' mout," "What wass you say?" interrogated the landlord, to whom the flow of Pocklington's language was incomprehensible.

"What wass I say!" repeated the Londoner, thoughtfully. "Don't you understand English?" "Oh, y©ss, I wass spoke the English."

"Oh, indeed ! You wass spoke the English, wass you ? Well, my de a r fellow, permit me to remarks that you spoke it very badly—so badly indeed, that I am afraid I would not recognize it if I heal’d it in the ‘smoke.’ "

Goot, goot ! Smoke wass goot" said the landlord, hurrying out. ‘Good ! I don’t think the smoke •was good. You don’t catch me leaving the smoke again, once I get this job finished—eh, chieftain ? The ‘land of the mountain and flood ' is all very well at the St. James's Hall on the 30th of November, but I must confess there’s too much mountain and too much flood here, while the railway accomodation is a trifle scanty. A dash of the Underground Railway, now, would greatly relieve my feelings. Never mind ! When in Rome do as the Romans do. That has always been my motto. So when you seafaring chaps have had a drink all round, we’ll send for some of the natives and have a rare flare-up, I can tell you." At this juncture the landlord returned with some cigars in a glass, and a small decanter, or Vmutchkin" of whisky. "What’s this ?" asked Pocklington, pointing' to the cigars. "Smoko!" replied the innkeeper, laconically. "Just so. Well, I will have one; but my dear and unsophisticated Scottish friend, when I used the word smoke fi I meant the smoke. Dear old London, the pride of Old England ami the centre of civilization! But what’s the use of talking of civilization to the kind of man who brings a quartern o’ mountain-dew to serve a score of follows like these? Give every mother’s son of thorn a drink and put it down to me." "Wass efery mann to trink ?" . "Every man wass." "And wass you to pay?’-- 4 "I wass." • ‘‘That wass fery gcot.'^ "I don't doubt, it." "Eh!" r ' } "I never t ssoke. But while you are at it you/rnay as well bring a double for the chieftain here. He Stf-'dry, blowing all the time into' that scantily-covered bladder o’ lard."

In a few minutes the landlady and her daughter were busy filling the horns and tin cannikins of the fishermen who stood round the open doorway. The whole scene was so amusing that Mr. Malcolm Monteith had retired into the parlour for the purpose of waiting until the uninvited visitors had gone away, or until the new-comer had inquired for him in some way.

Mr. Pocklington had been drinking pretty heavily on his journey from Dornoch and Fair Kirk to Dunmohi 1 , and now seemed in no mood for business. He appeared particularly pleased with the prospect of a song or two, and before the last glass of the men was filled, he eame forward, in what he. no doubt, thought a very graceful attitude, ready to give a toast.

The picture was a very remarkable one, if not perfectly picturesque. The morning mists had been dispelled by the sun, except round the mountain tops, and opposite the inn the river flashed and sparkled as it flowed rapidly down on its now brief journey to the loch. The inn was a long, low building, with a heavy thatched roof; but the enterprising owner who was also a successful fisherman, had raised the centre to two storeys, and this new part of the building was dignified by a roof of broad, blue flagstones. In front of the house there was a trough, round about and upon the edges of which the fishermen were now seated or lounging. Opposite the doorway the tall, ungainly figure of Mr. Pocklington posed like some insane actor, who had escaped from a London burlesque of a Highland drama. Behind him was the sonsy landlady, and beside her—was her red-cheeked, yellow-haired, blackeyed, "strapping " daughter, clad in a blue serge—or homespun costume, which was certainly not longer than a kilt and displayed lower limbs that were certainly not the - less formidable because they were wellformed and terminated in small feet, encased in strong leather "shoon." Around her bonnie shoulders she had a bright-coloured tartan shawl, which added not a little to national and rustic charms, for’ her dark eyes were dancing with suppressed laughter, and, indeed, her whole demeanour was in direct contrast to that of the rest of the company, who appeared to take life generally much too seriously. To the left of Mr. Pocklington stood Daft Davie—or the chieftain as the former called him—with his bagpipes under his left arm. He stood as motionless as a statue of bronze, with his deeply sunk eyes fixed upon the snow-clad, mist-hood-ed summit of Orrery. At the window appeared the rather mocking face of Mr. Malcolm Monteith, and at a door farther on stood a group of stalwart women, with great red arms bare to the shoulder.

Looking round this assembly with what was intended to be a very superior, good-natured complacency, the aext-of-kin agent from London held his glass high. "Gentlemen," he began. "T have the honour to propose a toast. I would have preferred to have beon greeted on my first visit to the remote regions of Ultima Thule, by soma more of the legitimate natives —the people clad, as I fancy i am appropriately attired, in the costums

bo called native* of the sea, and I should prefer the kilted natives of the land. However, such as you are, I accept your welcome, and shall not forget when I return to the ‘smoke’— in other words, London town, to call at Buckingham Palace, and—should I find our gracious ' Queen there—l shall not fail to convince her Majesty of your unqualified loyalty. In this connection it may not be inappropriate to toast the Queen. Gentlemen, ‘The Queen ! God bless her!"

And he set the example, by drinking oft’ his glass of raw whisky—an act which made him cough and sneeze in a very amusing way. When he recovered himself, he proceeded : "Charge the beakers again, geod, mine host." _

"Wass you spoke?" "I wass that," he cr&d. "Fill ’em up—right up. I don’t think you took to the Queen kindly, and yet I fancied her Majesty was great pops—in other words very popular in Scotland."-

"What wass your meaniag?" asked a giant fiercely.

"Oh, nothing, nothing ! I only said I fancied the Queen was not very popular in Scotland."

"And so her Majesty wass, and I haf served in the 93rd for twentyfour or twenty-one years, and I wull kill and slew anypody what wass say she wull not be, mirover.”

"This little episode—this little proof of loyalty is highly satisfactory," said Pocklington, suavely. "We will now proceed to toast ‘Wo-man-Lively Woman.’ Gentlemen, ‘The Ladies ;’ and in this connection I may quote from the Immortal Bard the Exciseman. In excellent language —for a Scotchman —he wrote :

" ‘Tho’ women’* minds like winter winds, May shift and turn, an’ a’ that, The noblest breast adores them maist— A consequence I draw, that.’

"Gentlemen, I gave you ‘The Ladies ;’ " and as he uttered these words, he raised his glass on high and turned with a patronizing air to the landlord's daughter. He was about to put the glass %q his lips when the people gathered round him saw a terrible change come over him. laughing eyes grew intensely. " serious, and indeed gradually filled with an expression of terror and horror.. His lower jtfw fell; his rubicund countenance grew ghastly pale, if we except the nose; and just as he was about to bring the glass to his lips he dropped it on to the stones below, where it was smashed into a thousand atoms, Then he muttered something like "Captain—found out—ruined—eternally crushed;" and with a howl of fear and anguish, fell upon the dry trough just as Harold M’lver approached from the loch side, smiling, and "tressed very prawly ip his Sabbass clothes;" as the majority of the witnesses said afterwards.;

CHAPTER XX. THE WRONG SIGNATURE. From Mr. Monteith'* position at the window he did not perceive that it appeared to be the. sight of Harold M'lver that affected Mr. Spachdale Pocklington so strangely. Acute business man and man qf the world as he was, his ideas never extended far in connection with the more common motives of life’s occurrences. Intensely selfish, he was too much inclined to studying . other people from his own standpoint and so now at a more important part of his own history than he could by any means surmise he missed facts that would have enabled him to act differently and probably put an entirely different complexion upon the events which followed this period with regard to the live* of the leading persons with whom we have to deal. It occurred to this matter-of-fact, and somewhat abstemious little gentleman, during the progress of Mr. Pocklington’s absurd speeches, that the latter was becoming "beastly drunk."

"Just fancy," he proceeded mentally, "having to do business with a fellow like that ! How do I know that he won't blab the whole affair to the first boon, companion, when it would be all up with my pretty schemes ? I wish I could get clear of the cad altogether; but that is impossible, for he is up to the whole business, and probably knows more—much more—than has yet reached me. No, I must stick to him —make terms with him, and get him back to his beloved ‘smoke ’ without a moment’s unnecessary delay." He had just formed this mental resolution, when the commotion outside drew his attention to the fact that the great man from London had come to grief, and was now lj'ing ignominiously, doubled up, over the horse-trough in front of the house—the ostrich plumes of his Highland bonnet trailing on the ground. "I thought he was beastly drunk," Malcolm went on, mentally, "but I did not expect such a sudden collapse Holloa! There goes that old fisherman's son, or grandson, got up regardless of expense ! There is some mystery/ about that fellow, aad so there is about old Mae. Who does this old fellow remind me of ? Somebody I am intimately acquainted with. Well, I must not trouble now. I must get the Pocklington man conveyed to a bedroom, where I must have him stripped of this odd get-up Who would fancy that a man with any business notions would make such an ass of himself ? But after all, I am not surprised at anything that emanates from a Londoner; for I once heard an eminent novelist say that all the people in the North of Scotland wore kilts, and that the women never wore shoes or stockings under any circumstances. And then the editor of "Punch " backed him up; so if such big cards as these should be so ignorant of the manners and euetoms—er manners and costumes of the little island they lived in—we can't be tee hard ripen this uneducated cad." Acting upon this resolution, he came out of the parlour just as the landlord was expressing his perplexity how to act. ' This man, I b*li«V«, «un« on busi-

hlmself so aboard at drat that I did not care about recognizing him before so many people. Have him removed to a bedroom, and I shall bo responsible for all expenses." This was accomplished with some difficulty; and as soon as Mr. Pocklington was bestowed in bed, the owner of the Goldwing sent a message to him that "Mr. Monteith must see him without delqy, and if he was too indisposed to come down, that the latter would come up at once."

In a second or two Flora M'Leod, the landlord’s daughter came down stairs, saying that "the gentlemans

would see the gentlemans at once." As she delivered the message, Harold M'lver came into the bar with a smile upon his handsome face —a smile that soon drew another and a blush to Flora's comely face. Of course it was not because Mr. Monteith was there that he spoke in Gaelic to the girl. "Well, Bright-Eyes, it seems that the people gather round the porch of thy father's house this day. Has a poet eome among the people and are their hearts rejoicing within th m?" was the tenor of his greeting.

"Oh! It’s not that son of Donald the honest man; that is not the

right of it," was the girl's reply. "A fool has come out of the South, and is trying to do the things that are clever and the things that are

vain, he has covered himself with the laughter of those that are-of good thoughts and good aims. But the son of the Saxon has a. full pouch, and my father will not send him away empty. And behold, now it appears that this ass who would cover himself with the skin of a lion—yea, of a red lion—has the great things to talk about with the Monteith the little, and Monteith the little has now gone into his sleeping-place." "And that is the next room- to the best place, where now and then thy father and my grandsire have spoken of the secret things. No matter, I shall return in the morning, because I also have the good things to speak to the old- man." r '

"Oh, n<£.” cried the maiden. "Now the is fit for thee, and thou Shalt do well to go there now. My father has gone to see about the beasts in the fields, and I shall tell him all that thou hast said when he returns."

"That is well, and to save thee a journey I shall take with me a vessel flowing over with the morning dew of the mountains of our fathers" and so saying the young damsel handed him a small decanter of whisky and a wine glass he noisily ascended the first steps of the stairs. His step became softer, however, as he advanced; and as he passed the door of Mr. Pocklington’s bedroom he had the satisfaction of noticing that neither of the occupants had observed him. It was no doubt the construction of the Highland inn that he could hear nearly all that passed between Mr. Malcolm Monteith and the London gentleman. He sat looking out of the window as .if perfectly unconscious of the fact that their voices reached his ears.

"I had almost resolved to have nothing to do with you," the yacht owner was saying. "The idea of a business man dressing up like a clown at a fair, and haranging a lot of common fishermen, in an absurd, not to say idiotic manner, was to me thoroughly astounding and disgusting. However, although I never excuse anything like drunkenness, and although Cockneys have proverbially poor heads for drinking, I believed that the fierce whiskies of the North had upset you. To that alone do you owe the attention of this visit."

"The fierce whiskies of the North would be a long time in upsetting me," moaned Mr. Pocklington. "It was a man—a man in the street—or more properly, on the road—who threw me prostrate on the horsetrough." "A man!"-

"Ay, the skipper ef the steamer that brought me from New York not so very long ago." "Then he must be one of my officers on the Goldwing. What was his name?"

"Holdar—Captain Holdar of the screw steamship, Meteor. That is his name; and he's too big a gun, I can tell you, to eomc on board a private yacht." "Then you must be mistaken," returned Malcolm Monteith. "I saw no stranger; and besides, no strangers ever visited this out-of-the-way corner. How was the man attired?" "Pea-jacket and trousers, short sea boots, and a light grey fur cap of the Canadian turban kind."

"What a fool you are," laughed Mr. Monteith. "I was sure the drink was upsetting you. The young fellow, you saw was a poor fisherman’s son in his holiday clothes. Rest yourself at ease, even if you fear this Captain Holden "Holdar."

"This Captain Holdar, for the man you saw was Harold M’lver, and he has passed his life here man and boy, as fisherman." "Are you sure, sir ?" "Certain. I never make a mistake" "In that case, my mind is at rest" moaned the London traveller, in a tone t,hat was far from easy. "What is to be done now?" "You say you left your decent clothes at Glenmohr. I shall send at once for your bags. • You will throw these ridiculous rags to the children to play with. In an hour we shall be ready to ride to Glenmohr in decent attire, when we can quietly settle the matter between us." This arrangement did not escape the attention of Harold M’lver in the Wxt room, and a heavy frown for a moment disfigured his fine face. The next speech, however, brought hi«? usual smile. "I am tired, ashamed of myself," moaned Pocklington, "and totally unfit to transact business. "A few hours of rest between these blankets will put rae all right. Kindly put off ©trr meeting until after dark, and yen'll net forget the postponement." "I fancy I have all the information you possess,” said Malcolm, coldly, "and it might be as well to part here altogether and now."

lington said: ™ "You may do as you please. We negotiate with the other side. Mr. Malcolm Monteith will no doubt be more liberal and I don’t care about coming on a fool's errand." "Mr. Malcolm Monteith !" murmured Harold to himself. "The Londoner evidently thinks he’s talking to Hew. This must be followed up." A brief but interesting conversation followed between Pocklington and his visitor, and then they parted having arranged to meet at Glenmohr at six o'clock. From half-past six to seven o'clock lh 3 two men were closetted together in the back drawing room of the shooting lodge, and neither of them thought of closing, the shutters or pulling down the blinds. A man sat on horseback all that time, just behind the garden wall, and saw them write certain documents which were duly signed and exchanged. The interesting interview closed by Mr. Monteith handing a number of bank notes to his ’ companion, and then they rose to part. The horseman then rode round the grounds on the soft turf to the roadside, where he had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Monteith drive towards Strathmohr in the dogcart. A few minutes later ho alighted at the door of the lodge. Kittle M’Leod admitted him with a smile. Entering the back room softly he found Mr. Pocklington perusing tho document he had received from Mr. Monteith.

Without the slightest ceremony the horseman—Harold M’lver snatched thj paper from the hand of the London gentleman, who turned round, and in a horrified whisper uttered the words : "Captain Holdar!"

"Hush ! Don’t say another word on this subjest or 1 shall lodge you to-night in the nearest gaol. So, Mr. Samuel Parker, alias Spachdale Pocklington, you intrigue again, and are duped ! Let me see;" and he proceeded to read the paper—" ‘I agree to obtain and hand over to you the iu will of JrtrJ late John- Mvtt* tel in, or Jack Scott, in consideration of the sum of five thousand pounds, one hundred pounds of which I receive in exchange for this document, &c., &c., &c.’ A very fine instrument, and it is a pity it can’t be registered at Somerset House, or any other Government office. You should have been sure about the signature, Mr. Parker. I find here that it is ‘Hew M. Monteith.' Well, I know Hew Monteith and he decidedly was not the man who wrote these words. But you needn't murmur, Parker. I'll look after the document and remember, 1 have a long arm, and can find you wherever you go." As he spoke, Mr. Harold M’lver—or Captain Holdar, as Parker, alias Pocklington, called him—quietly put the paper into his pocket-book. Then turning sternly once more to his companion, he said : "If you move another step in this matter without consulting me, or under my instructions, I shall as certainly hang you as I stand here. You know I never threaten lightly. If you do not leave here before nine o'clock, the end of your career will have arrived."

The light-hearted London gentleman of the morning, was now cowering under the young fisherman’s eagle-like glance. A few moments more and the sound of horses hoofs were heard receding in the distance, and the man Harold left behind was saying : "The world is too small to get rid of him. But he had better take care. A worm will turn at last." To be Continued.