A WOMAN'S WITCHERY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXII, Issue 9913, 31 August 1895, Page 3 (Supplement)

A WOMAN'S WITCHERY.

BY BERTHA M. CLAY,

/lutbor of "Thrown on the World," "The Woman Betwe«* Them," "A Dream of Love," etc. CHAPTER X'Ll.—(Continued.) Some hours later the parish doctor from another village half a dozen miles away came upon the scene, accompanied by a ba«hful young policeman, with narrow shoulders and big feet. " Dislocated shoulder," the local medico at length announced, "and skull fractured over the right temple, but nothing of a icrious nature, unless brain fever supervene?." Whilo he seb the shoulder, and dressed the wounded head, the policeman searched pesborough's pockets. There was a welltilled puree, a gold watch and chain, and other jewellery, but nothing to show who an what the gentleman was. His attire was not sufficiently clerical to stamp him a clergyman on first sight, but tha doctor hoped that he would soon be able to speak for himself.

" It appears that ho has been assaulted," he observed, " but the motive could hardly have been robbery. I will have him conscious soon, officer, and then you may have a definite report to make to your inspector." But the doctor's words were to& hopeful. When Desborough did open his eyes it was lute in the day, and thoy glowed with the fire of delirium. He raved of things which none could understand, and there was only one name upon his lips, and thab was Winifred.

Then it was the doctor became grave, and looked forward to many days of sickness. The gentleman could not be moved, and he sent for a nurse from his own village. He could use the sick man's money without compunction in procuring him the treat men# and medicine his condition demanded.

The young policeman made his report, together with the doctor's, the result being a sensational item in the paper?, so vaguely worded that few of Desborough's friends would have associated him with the subject of the paragraph, which read as follows : "On Saturday morning two farm labourers came upon the body of a welldressed gentleman in a field on the outskirts of the little vilage of Oakdean, some ten miles from Seven Oaks. At first the man was believed to be dead. There was a terrible wound in his head, from which the blood had flowed until his clothing was saturated. He was removed to a cottage, ami life was found to be hardly extinct. His recovery is considered doubtful. The police can find no clue to his identity, but they ire actively engaged in running down his would-be murderers. It is surmised that the unfortunate man accidentally surprised some poachers, who promptly attacked bits. The police are very reticent." No one gave the item of news more than passing notice, for Desborough had led a secluded life for years, and had not a relative now living in the whole world. For months he had cut himself off from his church, and there were only two persons who really were interested in his unaccountable disappearance. These were the curate of Coombehurst, and his housekeeper at Brixton Hill.

The movements of the curate are known to the reader, and the housekeeper did not think that her master's absence was any cause for worry, and in answer to several telegrams sent to her by Mr. Curtis she wrote the following letter :

" Dear Sir, —I think that you are troubling yourself needless about Mr. Desborough, I h«ve been housekeeper to liiui for six years, and he has often gone away for wtales at a time without us much as a word to anybody, being *ery fond of foreign places which Susan Jane, tlie general servant, will bearout as beini' true. lam sure that the blaster will come luck all right, as sadden like as he went away. "Yours humbly, "Mary Ann Ootciikiss."

Meanwhile, John Desborough was lying almost at the point of death, and it was two weeks before the light of reason shone in his eyes. It was a bright morning, late in August, and a broad bar of sunlighb rested on the patchwork coverlet of the bed. For a little while he gazed at ib in bewilderment, then his eyes wandered round the little room, whose walls were papered with wonderful hues; at the floor with its solitary strip of carpet and the nurse busily sewing at a tiny window tilled with diamond panes. On the mantel-shelf was an old teapot, containing a magnificent bunch of sweet-smelling flowers. Desborough sighed wearily, and the old woman looked up, to find that his eyes were fixed upon her. She dropped her sewing, and stepped to the bedside, saying: "Are you quite comfortable, sir?" and waited eagerly for his reply. "No," said Desborough, quietly, "I am not comfortable. This bed feels as hard as iron, and this weakness is terrible to one who has always been strong. Was I very much hurt? Yes, yes, I remember it all now, and yet—l have no wounds, have I ? No broken limbs " Oh, no, sir," the woman replied, delightedly. "Nob now." "Not now?" repeated Desborough, in surprise. ' What do you mean by that ?" "You have been here two weeks, sir," »he said. "Your head was badly cut, and jour shoulder was dislocated. You have keen through a hard time, and will soon bo better." "Oh!" He was silent a little while after this ejaculation, bub when the nurse made a movement as though she would leave the room, he spoke again. "One minute, please," ho said. "To whom am I indebted for this kind attention ? You need nob fear to speak, as it will be a relief to mo to know just how I am placed." " You were found senseless in the fields," the nurse replied, without any hesitation, "by a labourer named Bill Potts, and this is his cottage. The doctor was sent for from the next village, and he employed me to nurse you." "Thank you," Desborough said, gratefully, "And the doctor says that nobody has inquired about you—none of your friends, because there was nothing in your pockets, or even on your linen, to indicate your name."

"That is so," Desborough commented. "Carelessness upon my part. Nurse, I should like to see the doctor as soon as possible. I must communicate with ray friends. Two weeks have I been here ? How much may have* happened in that time!"

He was growing a little excited, and in obedience to orders, the nurse administered a medicine that sent) him into a deep and peaceful slumber. When the doctor paid his usual daily visit, Desborough's face had losb its unhealthy flush, and he was breathing regularly, and dreaming of Lady Winifred. A smile rested upon his lips when he whispered her name, and his attendant sighed with relief. "He will recover now, nurse," he said, " but it has been a hard fight. I feared that he would come back to life with a darkened brain. His mind must not be exercised for several days, and there is plenty of time to write to these friends of his, for I think very little of thom, or they would have found him out in some way. Let him remain under the influence of the opiate I prescribed, and wo shall achieve a success which falls to the lob of few of Hie big fashionable physicians. There is ample time before ample I"

Ample time ! How little he knew of the doingd of the world about him !

CHAPTER XLII. MR. CURTIS SFKAKS HIS MIND. Lord Brougham returned to Belmorenext flay, conscious of having achieved a triumph, i He found it rather difficult to match the valise, but he was not the man to bo dismayed by trifles, and after perambulating 'cores of London streets, he found what he Wanted in Lambeth Walk, it a second hand •tore which displayed piles of heterogenous *00(is on the pavement before the »hop front. The grimy salesman who paced to and fro to catch the wary and unwary, gave my lord & comprehensive glance, for it was not often 'hat he was favoured by customers whoso fingers shone with diamonds. "The brown Russian, sir? Yes. Three pounds ten. Now, here's a better thing for * gentleman like yourself—" "This will do, thanks." My lord paid the man in gold, and took &way the valise, conscious that ib was nob ; worth a third of the money demanded. 1

Ho looked back afc the salesman and was annoyed to find that the fellow was regarding him with some speculation in his cunning black eyes. D " These Cockney Jews," muttered Brougham, " are as cunning as the evil one himself; bub," pihaw ! 1 will nob give him another thought !" St. Anbyn mot him ab Coombehursb station in no enviable frame of mind, and the eight of the new valise positively made him shudder. " What do you think of it?" demanded Brougham, when the porter had deposited ib in the dog-carb. "It might bo the identical thing itself, but may only complicate matters." Brougham knitted his brows, and glanced questionally at his companion. "I fail to see your meaning," he said. "The other valise is gone ! I spent half the night looking for it. Someone must have seen what we did yesterday, and recovered it after we left."

This was disquieting news, but Brougham would nob be satisfied until he had himself searched for the bag. It was a mystery thab they could not solve, and the movements of the curate were watched with tigerish interest by both. The very next day the countess brought) Mr. Curtis home to dinner, so anxious was she concerning the non-appearance of Mr. Desborough, and the matter was freely discussed at the table.

"lb is very strange," the curate said, "but Desborough was always a bib eccentric. Though I never know him to deliberately break an engagement before. As his housekeeper treats the matter very lightly, I am perhaps foolish to worry myself, bub everything appears to be ab sixes and sevens now."

" What could possibly happen to him?" questioned Lord Brougham. "It appears to me to be the simplest thing imaginable. You know what most young fellows are—particularly unmarried ones. They will have their little enjoyments. It is just likely that Desborough has tossed aside his clerical attire, and is going the pace in Paris with some congenial soul ! He may have met a friend on the way here, whose allurements were more attractive than the prospect of prosing down hero." "My lord, you speak without knowledge of Mr. Desborough," said the curate, with dignity. "He is not the man to desert a friend in distress. Do you wonder that I am uneasy when I remember that someone did travel as far as Tunbridge Wells, who answered to his description ? And then, I felt positive that something had happened to him when I saw the brown leather valise on the platform, the valise which you claim—"

"Yes, and which belongs to me," smiled Brougham. By Jove, St. Aubyn !we shall have Mr. Curtis accusing us of theft next! Now, just to humour him, I insist that he inspects my valise." The countess was beginning to weary of the conversation. There was no doubt in her mind that Desborough had tired of his work at Combehurst, and it was just possible that he had no intention of returning. In that event, she had no further interest in him, and yawned while Mr. Curtis was expressing his pleasure at the invitation. After dinner he accompanied Brougham to his rooms, and the bag was viewed in every light. "lb is exactly the same pattern," the curate said, " and made by the same maker."

"I bought ib at a second-hand store," replied Brougham, " months ago, and have only recently brought it into use I even forgot what name or initials were painted on the side." " I observe that the paint has been scraped off," Mr. Curtis said. "Oh, no: this is nob Desborough's. lam quite sure of that, bub you surprise me very much." He stopped in some confusion, for Brougham was regarding him searchingly, and added :

" I mean I am surprised to find a gentleman in your lordship's position using anything so shabby." " You forget that I have not long held my present position," said Brougham, lightly, but with a very unpleasant sensation at his heart.

The curate elected to walk home, for he wanted to think. He was terribly excited, and the long suppression had been intensely painful. When beyond view of the house, bo raised his hand upward, and cried : "Oh, Heaven! this only confirms my suspicions. But why should they do it? Why should they do it? Poor Desborough was unknown to them until he came here. He had never even met them before; had never even heard of them! I can see no motive—no motive at all 1 I have 110 one to consult with until the rector is better—no one whom I dare approach with such horrible suspicions. How foolish I should appear if Desborough came afterward. I should be called mad ! And I believe that I am mad !"

He went to his lodgings, and having locked the door of his sitting-room, he opened a wardrobe, and dragged into light the valise that Brougham had intended to destroy. "This was John's," he muttered. "I was doubtful before, but I am not doubtful now. The other one was only bought to deceive me. They know that I am suspicious ; but, oh ! why was ib done ? why was it done?"

He paced his room until late into tho night, and the more he thought of the matter the more he became bewildered. If these men had killed John Desborough, or made away with him, was he nob evading his duty in not exposing themin not at once bringing them to justice Ho had deferred doing anything because he had been so busy, so sick at heart, so doubtful ; but now, every vestige of doubt was gone. He knew positively that. Brougham and St. Aubyn had had some hand in the strange, the unaccountable silence of his friend. "I will warn them of my suspicions," he said, at last. " I will call upon them tomorrow, and give them a chance to explain. If they cannot do this to ray satisfaction, then the law must solve the riddle." Ho went to bed, but not to sleep; his mind was too perturbed for rest in any shape. But he did not go to Belraore the next day. To him the step seemed a most awful one. He did not know how he could face their lordships and accuse them of committing murder. Ho still hoped that news would come of John Desborough. In some way he was conscious that Lord Brougham watched him. He met him many times in the most unexpected places, and there was a peculiar look on his face that made tho feeble-minded Mr. Curtis feel very uncomfortable. So another Friday came, two weeks since Desborough's utter effacement, and he was surprised by a visit from Lady Winifred's companion. Of late she bad been very useful to him, with her mistress' consent ; indeed, ib would have been impossible for the poor and aged of tho parishioners to receive their usual visits, but for the help of tho benevolent.

" You frill excuse me for coming to your apartments," Mrs. Haredale said, " bub I wish to speak with you upon an urgent matter. So far, I have hoped that nothing was really wrong with Mr. Desborough; but now I am anxious beyond description. To me his safety is everything. You do not understandyou will soon ! I did not suspect murderl did not suspect foul play until I paw the valise thrown into the holly patch—until you confided in me. Am I to have the sweets of revenge snatched from under my very eyes? Bo you know that my lady is to marry Lord Brougham in ten days? Do you know that St. Aubyn is plotting to insnare your rector's daughter ? "I did not know this!" groaned the curate. "I have been so busy, so worried. What am I to do ? What have I in common with revenge? Nothing! I do not understand you. I only want) justice; I only want to find my friend." " Then why do you nob begin the search ? Lay the whole thing before some private detective. Tell him that you have nothing but suspicion to work upon ; that he must movo cautiously, and be ready to pounce upon his prey even at tho altar rail.' She laughed fiercely. "And I will be there also 1" Mr. Curtis was bewildered by her hysterical fury. He could nob understand it, and he promised to obey her. He promised to write to Scotland Yard that very day, if his duties would nob permit him to go to London. . " Be careful to move with caution—with absolute secrecy," she warned him. " And do not mention me at all in the affair. I shall be on hand when wanted." She went away, and tho curate reflected upon what she had said. It was his duty ! to protect Miss Dorothy, if whab my lady's ' sompanion had told him were true. He

remembered thab Dorobhy had been seen with the countess very often lately, and he also remembered that people had spoken of a hasty wedding between Lord Brougham and Lady Winifred. "I will give them a chance to explain," ho decided. "lb is only fair to them. If they cannot do bo, then £ will invoke the aid of the law."

Ho put on his hab, and started away, his face deathly whit and his limbs trembling under him.

" I am only doing my duty," he told himself, bob he had never found his duty so difficult to perform before. The doctor hailed him from over the way, but he did nob hear, and the medical man had to cross the street.

"Good news, Curtis!" he said; "the rector has turned the corner ab last, bub he will be unable to be bothered with business of any kind for a couple of months. I never had a patient go near death before ; so near, and then to be snatched back to life. Good Heaven, man !" he added, "I hope that you are not going to be ill!" Mr. Curtis smiled feebly. " No, doctor; lam all overworked and worried, you know." " Well, let what I have said cheer you up a little." He passed on, and the curate continued his way. He was very glad to learn that Mr. Sutherland was better ; he told himself that it was a great relief. Then he forgot all about it, and his mind was centred upon the subject in hand. lb was a long walk to Belmore Hall, but he arrived at the gates much too soon, and hail to pause a little while to rehearse what he had to say. He stood under the shadow of one of the hugo columns thab supported the iron gates, until ho noticed the lodgekeeper was watching him curiously. "Good - morning, Wilson," lie said, lamely. "Any of your people gone oub yet?" "No, sir," Wilson replied. "Ab least, Lord Brougham's been out, but he is back again. They are too busy aboub the wedding to think of anything else, though ib is going to bo a quiet affair." "The wedding? Oh, yes." " And I shouldn't wonder if there an'b another one soon, by the way Miss Sutherland's going on with the countess' nephew, Lord St. Aubyn. If I may be so bold, sir, I suppose you've come to settle about the ceremony ?" " Yes," said the curate, wildly. That's ib, my man ; that's it, exactly." There was no faltering now, and he strode swiftly toward the house, his hands clinched, his face flushed. He was ushered into a reception-room, and paced the floor excitedly until the countess appeared. Oh, Mr. Curtis," she exclaimed, "how you have startled me! The poor, dear rector—"

" Is improving, my lady ; in fact, is now pronounced to be oub of danger. I have not called to soe you, my lady, but desire most particularly to have an interview with Lord Brougham." " l T ou are in trouble, Mr. Curtis?" observed the countess, wonderingly. "I am, indeed, my lady," the curate responded. " I havo heard nothing of my friend—"

" Oh, what a ridiculous man you are!" laughed her ladyship. "So it is this trouble about Mr. Desborough again ! You could not look more wretched if you had just hoard of his death ! If you will wait here, I will send a servant in quest of his lordship. I believe that he and St. Aubyn are in the stables."

She loft the room, and he paced the floor again until the arrival of Lord Brougham. "Ha! my dear Curtis !" he cried. "How are you ? Wanb to see me, I hear. Why, you are ill !" " No, I am not ill, my lord, unless I am made so by the very unpleasant duty before me."

" Unpleasant duty !" Brougham eyed his little visitor with a momentary flash of fierce contempt, nob unmixed with alarm. "I don't lika unpleasant things, Curtis, particularly just now, for I wish to dream of nothing but wedding peals !" He laughed, constrainedly, and dropped into his seat with his back to the light.

"There," lie continued ; " I am ready to listen to this unpleasant duty of yours, and beg to assure you beforehand that you shall have both my sympathy and my assistance if you desire them."

[To be continued.]