"VENGEANCE IS MINE."

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIV, Issue 13490, 17 May 1907, Page 3

"VENGEANCE IS MINE."

■■ ■■♦ t ■ '■ "'-. c ' !i CHAPTER I. The squire of Broxholme was standing at .j the library window, watching the .flying g i clouds, and listening to the booming of f | the wind. The dark December day was i fast drawing to a close, and on the western | rim of the world the dying sun had left ] a mass of sporadic fires, like.-splashes of ( human blood. Stormy the elements outside, c and stormy the heart of the squire. < Of a sudden the expiring sun-fires were ; blotted out by an avalanche of black cloud, s i and with savage bands, the old man jerked; the curtains across the window. j "A poacher's night to-night," he said grimly, " but my trap 13 well laid, so let j them " come. No ' mercy shall the ; rascals j get from me!" , * He wheeled a great • easy chair nearer to ' the glowing sea-coal fire, and dropped within its enfolding arms. He lay back and closed his eves, his brow knitted into. acute j lines. His face was an index, to many (changeful emotions, and at last the stern, £ I hawklike features relaxed, and he mut- , j tered: \\ ••Hugh! -Hugh! My lad, I was too , harsh—too cruel." The mouth tightened ] again. "But you stole money— money; * stole it! You, the last of the Broxholmes,. ] a thief!" '"■••'■''■ ; ' ' " '- '.'•..-.. - Two hours passed,, and there was a timid, ■, knock at the door. The squire's lonely din- ( ner was waiting, and the butler hesitated, j "Dinner,* dinner!" his master exclaimed j sourly. "But I must eat to live. Do you ; hear, the wind, Burton—do you- hear the: train? It will bo a., wild night. I could not , ihavejiwished,for a -wilder for the success of |, my plans. If I could hang one of tho rascals—" ' : " ; ■ -'■ i The old butler trembled. . > "There would have to be murder, sir," \ he whispered. : " ' .■ " ' '• . "Murder! At sunset the sky looked like blood.. A keeper more or less does not matter, _ if wo can bring the leader of the, : gang within reach of the hangman. How j I long has ho laughed in my face, and defied J me,jß#*tcn?.; A clever rouguo is Joe Yarnlold-^ prince of poachers!" .The fierce • eyes blazed, and tho shadow he cast on j the wall became a grotesque bird of prey. ■ " Yes,. I will eat my dinner, Burton, and await developments! No lights the glow of the fire is the companionship I love best: that, and my coming vengeance." _ | He quitted the room, the laughter in : his throat a mere cackle. . . , An'hour passed, and he came back again. , The wind was booming in the wide chim-;i ney,' shrieking among the gables, wailing in the trees. The squire sank into his easy- - chair, and looked into the heart of the glowing' fire. He saw many faces there, and they all mocked at him. He had neverdone a kindly action in his life. Gold '. gold was his "god, and woe to man or woman who stood between him and gold! j . "Pshaw!" ' ' " : '" ■ ' He plunged the heavy poker into the fire, . and the accusing faces were gone; then a great fear fell upon him, and his heart seemed to stand still. A cold dew broke |out upon his face; his nerves were pulseless. He felt some presence in the room; ' he heard its palpitating breath. "Joe Yarnold," ho thought. ."Curse the rogue! I wonder—" His right hand reached for a drawer wherein was hidden a re- , volver, and a cry for help rose to his ' trembling lips. The very next instant he was ashamed of his cowardice, and turned to face the * intruder. . ' . He saw a tall man enveloped in an ulster ; j a ' bulldog cap with huge ear-flaps almost concealed his face, and in the glittering j eyes there was a gleam of something like amusement. "The tables are turned,. father," ', he said, with -i a,. sneer. '' How many ' times have I trembled before your brutality? I remember when the sound of your voice would make me shako with terror." "Hugh!" , - "Yes, father,"it is I—fresh from the wilds of Australia, .after years of—or—adventure 1 :: The: ; sheep has returned to the fold." He tossed his cap upon the table, and seated himself in a convenient chair. "The'fiheep!" the squire. "The wolf .perhaps." • ■> •■- ' * % " well, that depends upon circumstances, ' was the cool rejoinder. "The wolf will be of jyour own maiLing" ' '"" .'h ; -" Insolence!. ; How dare, you—a thief-* • jojur i way into: my house?" ■;■■'.! .4 " Oh,' easily enough. You see, father, 1 know the run of the place, since, it is my , home also. I was born"!;here; "arid • lived .here if6r a number of years, 1 if your memory isn't at fault, and I shall lord it here some day, I hop**, I came through the French window—a diamond removed a: circle of glass, and to reach the" fastening was a, trifling matter. Now, I want you 'to let bygones be bygones; I am hungry, cold, and tired. * The squire turned his livid face toward the fire again, and clutched at the arms of his, chair to still his shaking hands. His . bloodless litis twitched spasmodically.. • ''WHere'is the money— money of . .which you • robbed; me? - - If? you 'have brought it back . s Hugh interrupted him with a savage, ! scornful' laugh. j ' "Don't joke with me, father; I am a : starving > man.' 'While you -'• are "Saving, and ' hoarding, and hiding the filthy god you worship, lam * a vagabond outcast—l, your - only son. I am here with a purpose— determined and deadly as fate. You shall : either take me back, or pay me to go away.' : I don't want to 6teal again, but I know where your money is hidden." :| "War!" • ** <■, I "I am not afraid of tho ghosta, of my '. ancestors," sneered Hugh meaningly; _ i': The squire suddenly became galvanised ,into life. The fury, in his eyes was demon-. Uaoal. A torrent of words seethed from his jlips. ■''■' ~'' ■ -..•";; ' _~..,, ; " Not a penny from me, you thief—you, '■ gaolbird! Go, or; I will shoot you as re-| • morselossly as I would a dog or a poacher." j Ho snached at the table drawer, but be-; fore his fingers could' ; close firmly upon the! revolver it was whipped away by,the swiften ; hand of his son. .. '~:"■•'* -"■'! ■'.'',, ! •" Again the tables are -turned!- Now, old ;man — . Ah, curse it!" , ■ • ,' i The pistol snapped wickedly, and the ! squire of Broxholme threw up his hands\ and fell prone to the floor, the life-blood oozing from his side. For the .space of one minute Hugh stared at 'his father, horrified, then he coolly searched the room for money or valuables. "Little hero," he muttered. "Th© vault:the vault!" ' .."',"' '':"''". X:S'"';':■• He listened. Was that a knocSc on the door? He slipped through the French window, just as the butler entered th© room;"'he-heard the man's startled cry, and saw him raise the squire's head to his; knee. "Oh, my master—my poor old master!"- " It's all over, Burton," groaned the dying man. "Joe Yarnold —Joe Yarnold—" i His jaw relaxed. He never spoke again. ) . CHAPTER .II.; v'. " This is a terrible home-coming for me, Burton. Tell me all about it." "And you have hoard nothing, Mr. Hugh?'-' "Not a word. I was out in th© Klon-—gold-digging. We get few papers ; there. And you know that dad was at'loggerheads with me, so I never wrote homo. I was working hard, trying to save mosey, 60 that I could face him again as an honourable man. When J- had enough I cameto find him dead!" ;He hid his face in his hands. '"When did it happen, Burton?" "Just three months since, r Mr. Hugh. He was shot in this very room, by the king of th© poachers— scamp named Yarnold. The squire was determined to run them down, arid ,the poacher captain murdered him."'"'""'.,' ' ' _. ._ Hugh Broxholme shivered. "' ""- "Horrible! horrible! And what became of Yarnold? Did he confess th© crime?" v "Not he. The squire, accused him with his dying breath. • He was caught in tho park the same night, arid'was'tilled in a fight with the keepers." ..-. . ; ; • Hugh breathed freely, and an unholy light burned in his ©yes. He paced the floor. "Then I am squire of- Broxholme now, Burton?" "Yes, Mr. Hugh." "And master; of all its broad seres and princely revenue. No more niggaidliness. Th© house shall be thrown- open to the neighbours, and the good old times revived ! k My father .must have accumulated a lot of money. Burton?" The old butler's face becamo anguished. ■"What on earth ails you, Burton?" Hugh exclaimed. /. "You shall: not be deposed, unless you would like to resign, and in that event your future shall be a bed of roses." : " It's hard to tell you, ' sir—very hard, sobbed the butler. -~ . ~ - Hugh regarded the man with curious intonfcness; then he gripped > him by the shoulder, an oath upon; his lips. „','-.,..■, "I understand— entail only is mino? The unnatural old dotard!".. Hush! hush ! The will was made in anger, and he hadn't time to alter it. The money has gone to charities. Oh, Mr. Hugh—the master left me a hundred pounds a year. You can have that—it is only right that you should." ■ •

Tlib young squire did not heed him. '•."•''He talked over: to the window, and stared at :h*> flying clouds. The trees were trembling n the grip of the wild March wind. "I'm a" bit upset, naturally," be said, it last. His voice, was "hoarse. "It isn't "or tho sako of the money, Burtonl've jot; plenty of my own, but tho feeling Mat'my father died—perhaps hating me because of one youthful indiscretion. And everybody knows it, of course, and everybody will" believe me to be a cruel wretch." Ho drummed with hi 3 fingers on the win-dow-pane. " I suppose that I must live it down. '■' The place is in a shocking state 1 of repair, and I can't raise a penny upon I tho entail. Never , mind, Burton; I'm not - a poor man exactly, and I don't think that . [ am really a bad one." " No, sir." The butler's voice quavered. " " If I can do anything, Mr. Hugh—" ' "You can forget that I have uttered an 1 unSlial word, and ; I am going into the;! family vault to pray by the side of my ; father and mother. •:■•; If there is a spirit j world I know that my mother will intercede for me." ' -' The butler shuddered. "Ob, yes, Mr. Hugh." ,- ■ 1 "Then bring me the keys, and say no- ' thins; to a living soul." •'. 1 When th« man was gone he laughed's savagely. . ■ ' ■ "There is gold, and plenty of it, hidden," jl he muttered. "And I know where.! Truei] to his miserly nature, my dear father kept the bulk of his cash within reach, so that!' he could caress it and gloat upon it— Ah, H thank you, Burton. ,1 shall be back to din-1 ] ner." : ■ ~ ' ' A few minutes later he quitted the house, . and bent his 6tops toward the private burialground of the Broxholmes. *;; It was situated J' in a hollow surrounded by tall pines, and;! the pine 3 were encircled by a row of pointed j! steel bars. The eery mausoleum had no terrors for Hugh Broxholme. The coffins only contained the dry bones of his ancestors, and in one of these same coffins were gold and jewels. His father had not scrupled to turn out the remains of the original occupant! Who would think of ' looking into & coffin for treasures .. .-, Hugh opened the steel gate, and. locked it after him; then he passed through the oaiken doorway of the mausoleum, and the great door swung to with a giant gasp. He saw the coffins, tier upon tier, in the flare of a match, and the match was applied to the wick of a wax candle. He had brought half-a-dozen of such candles, and proceeded to'set them on end in varioms parts of the vault. From the pockets of his overcoat he produced a hamm»r and a scrow-driver, and coolly prepared for work. His face was pale, but hands and heart wore steady-i Ho , was absolutely', devoid of fear, and while sounding the coffins made jocular speeches to the bones within. "Ah," he said, at last, "this is the one ! il thought so! It was once the habitation of! an uncle whom my father despised— rest his wicked sou! but now it is weighted: with, something better than musty bones.; Curse the rats ! How their eves gleam l| It was lucky the old man didn't hay© time' to take this away from me as well! By ; George, the odour of this close hole makes j me faint; I must hurry through with the! business. I only want to be satisfied— i Ho pried off the lid, and in so. doing' slipped, and his head struck the wall, while) tho coffin came tumbling down. One of his! legs was pinned to .the concreted floor, and i he know that it was broken, biffc ho was half-buried in a shower of gold 1 His agony J was not unmixed with joy, and his cries | for help became demoniacal laughter. And' so the hours passed, and no help came. The candles burned low and expired, and a madman fought with hands and teeth a- million demons whioh had assumed the shape of ratsand then there was eternal silence for Hugh Broxholme. NEW SERIAL STORY. In to-morrow's issue we commence publication, of an interesting and entertaining serial, "Sirocco," by Kenneth ' Brown, of which we have just secured, the right of first publication; ' The author has a bright, witty style, which must make his work attractive to a wide circle of readers, and he has filled" his 'hovel from the first chapter to the last with adventure and romance, which maintain the interest to the close. Those who read the opening chapters will not fail to follow to their close the adventures of the daring young American hero who figures prominently in the' novel. i '