THE BROWN MASK.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVII, Issue 14491, 4 October 1910, Page 3

THE BROWN MASK.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BY PERCY JAMES BREBNEP., Author of "A Royal Ward," "Yayenne, - " Princess Maritza," etc.i etc. CHAPTER XXlX.—(Continued). _ " Has lie been using my fortune, too? ' " No, except those large sums which he lias won from your undo from time to time. Possibly, in ho firm belief that your money woukl some day be his, he may have checked your uncle's recklessness, and he lias never let Sir John know his position. Sir John was usually an unlucky player, in the long run he invariably lost, and there has hardly been a guest at the Abbey who has not enriched himself. This fact set Martin Fairley scheming. lie became Galloping Hermit," the notorious wearer of the brown mask, and plundered travellers with amazing success. It lias been said of him that he never made a mistake, that the plunder he took was always large. His victims, too, were always those who had bad reputations; and, one thing more, Mistress Lanison, his victims have always won largely at. Aylingford Abbey. Where Sir John squandered your fortune, Martin compelled Sir John's guests to disgorge 011 the high road, lie knew when they were worth robbing. -As "Galloping Hermit" he got back a considerable part of your fortune—from the very persons who profited by Sir John's ill use. of it. .For my part. I cannot call that robbery. His plunder he stored at. the Abbey, somewhere near the Nun's Room. You and Crosby escaped from Martin's tower that way. While you have been a prisoner in Dorchester, Martin has been to Aylingford, and, playing upon Sir John's superstition, showed him one way of breaking into the secret chamber and finding where the gold was hidden, and in exchange heard what Lord. Rosmore intended to do with you. You were to be smuggled, back to Aylingford; had Martin not discovered this, he might have failed to find and release you last night. You will find all tho history of his robberies very clearly stated in those papers, but of the history of the past few days there is, of course, nothing. Crosby will bo able to tell you that. Having rescued you, Martin wanted completely to secure your safety, and believing that Rosmore's greed was far greater than his love for you, he conceived a plan which 110 doubt ho carried out and which I hope was successful. Ho had carefully placed in a leather case papers containing his secret, together with the key of his tower, and full instructions of how his hiding-place was entered. This case he intended to drop whore Rosmore could see it. Ho "believed that Rosmore would hurry to Aylingford before ho made any attempt to find you. We are close to Southampton, and safe so far. so Martin's idea of Rosmore may have been a correct, one." "And Martin's money?" asked Barbara. "Your money," Fellowes corrected. "It has been-moved from the Abbey for some little time, and is hidden at the Jolly Farmers. Since you must be out of England for a while Martin thought, you might like to give me instructions concerning it." " Mad Martin." murmured Barbara. "Mad. Yes, in one way, perhaps," said Fellowes. "That way you will not learn from those papers. He was a man, and near him you grew to be a woman. Poor Martin! Ho was mad enough to love you." Barbara put her hand into Crosby's. She remembered what the highwayman had said that morning, she remembered how she had once stood in the dark passage under Aylingford, one hand in Gilbert's. one. in Martin's; two men who loved her and had braved so much for her. And then sho looked at Fellowes, whose face was turned from her. He had said nothing of what li« had done, but she remembered that night in the hall. " Three men: Gilbert- and Martin, ves, arid you. Mr. Fellowes," she said softly, putting her other hand into his. "It. was a triple alliance, and, indeed, never was woman better served." That night Gilbert Crosby and Barbara Lanison left England, and a few weeks later were married in Holland, in which country they found their first home together. When, a little later, England rose in revolt against King James, some of tho negotiations with the Prince of Orange were conducted by Crosby, and he accompanied tho Prince when he landed at Torbay, receiving hater a baronetcy for his sen-ices. He became of some importance at the Court of William and Mary, but his happiest hours were those spent at his manor at Lenfield. There his dreams had fulfilment. Barbara flitted from room to room, as, in his visions, sho had so often seemed to do, and how often he watched her slowly descending tho broad stairs and held out his arms to her. Sometimes a shade of sorrow would rest upon her brow. " I was thinking of Martin," she said, when her husband questioned her. Martin had never come to Lenfield. Gilbert could find nothing about him. Still there were highwaymen on the road, but nowadays no ono was ever stopped by "Galloping Hermit" in his brown mask. "I wonder what became of him," said Barbara; but she never knew.

CHAPTER XXX. ALONG THE NORTH ROAD. On the North Road there is a small inn, rather dilapidated and not attractive to travellers. Its customers are yokels from the neighbouring village, but occasionally a gentleman may be found warming himself at tho open hearth and drinking the best, that the house contains. Such a gentleman invariably rides a good horse, and is the recipient of open-mouthed admiration from the yokels. No gentleman but a highwayman would be there, they believe. Only one man remained in tho bar tonight, a jovial fellow of the farmer typo, a lover of horses by his talk, and he was wont to boast that ho had made the fortune of more than one gentleman of the road by tho animal he had sold him. ' "Shut tho door, landlord. I'll wait a bit, and have another tankard of ale. I'm expecting a visitor." " Who may that be ?" " One you know well enough, but perhaps you haven't seen him for some time." In a few minutes there was a sharp knock at tho door, and? when the landlord opened it, there entered a man wearing a brown mask and carrying a shapeless parcel under his arm. "Galloping Hermit !" exclaimed the landlord, and it was evident / that lie was pleased to see his visitor. " So you got my message," said the highwayman to the farmer. "Aye, but I doubt if I've got a horse to sell that you would ca-ro to ride. What's become o' that mare o' yourn V" " She's in the stables — just put her there. I want you to take her." " Buy her '! Well, I'll look at her, but buying and selling are two different things." " Do you suppose I'd sell her," was the answer." " No ; I want you to take her and keep her, keep her until she dies, and then bury her in tho corner of some quiet field. You're honest, and will do it if you say you will; and here's gold to pay you well for your trouble. She's done her work, and the last few days have finished her. She had to help mo savo a woman in the West Country, and it's broken her." " I'll do it," said the farmer. " And you'll be wanting another horse V" " Not yet. When I do you shall hear from me. Will you take tho mare to-night? If I looked at her again I do not think I could let her go." "Aye, it's like that with horses, we know," said the sympathetic farmer. "I'll take her to-night." The landlord went to the stables with him, and when ho returned found the highwayman standing in deep thought before the fire. "I'm tired, friend. Is there a hole I can sleep in until daylight." "Of course." " I must start at daybreak." " What ! Without a horso i"

" Yes, and without this," ho said, taking off his brown mask, showing the landlord his features for the first time. "To-night ' Galloping Hermit' ceases to exist." Ho kicked the dying embers into a blaze, and dropped the -mask into the fire. " That's the end of it. Show me this sleeping hole of mine," he said, taking up his parcel from tho floor. "What I leave in it you may have. I shall not want them any more." With tho dawn a man came out of tho inn. Ho looked at the sky, and up tho road and dow'fi it. Under his arm he carried a fiddlo and a bow. There fell from his lips a little cadence of notes, soft, low, not a laugh, nor yet a sigh, yet with something of content in it. " For the love of a. woman," he murmured, and then he went along tho road northwards, his liguro slowly lessening in the distanco until it vanished over the brow of tho hill which the morning sunlight had. just touched. [the end.]