AN ENEMY HATH DONE THIS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LI, Issue 15520, 30 January 1914, Page 4

AN ENEMY HATH DONE THIS.

A NOVEL BY JOSEPH HOCE3NQ. Author of " All Men Are Liars," " The Scarlet Woman," etc., etc.

COPYRIGHT. PART IL CHAPTER VI. "That fellow knows something," I sad to myself as I went away. "He coul< "tell me a great deal, but he won't. O course he won't. lam a stranger to him and he's I stopped in the road, arrested by ■ sudden thought. The man I had seen a Paddington was a spy of Prideaux's. ant came to Cornwall to warn Cundy of m; whereabouts. By what means ho ha< tracked me I did not know, but that dii not matter. Imla Jordan was right Prideaux knew of his visits to my house and had acted accordingly. Cundy wa therefore prepared to receive me. I won dored at the time that ho should hav shown so little curiosity. In spite of my failure to obtain an; definite information, I felt that I was get ting nearer the. truth. In one sens everything became more inexplicable tha ever, but in another I thought I began t Bee daylight. So far I had got at all events. Th Btrango being who had employed lml Jordan to guard tho two defenceless women was called Oscar Prideaux, and h was in possession of Mountleven. 1 but little about these Mountlevens as vet but information was, of course, obtainable Anyhow, there appeared to have been tw brothers, Edward and Leonard Mount leven, about whom little seemed to b known. The old man had spoken of Ec ward as dead, while Leonard was seldoi seen. Evidently Leonard was maste there, and he had let tho house to th man Prideaux, the man whom I had see and who bad so strangely impressed me. Who was this man Prideaux, and whs purpose had he in imprisoning two helples women at Trevadlock? I recalled the las words of the elder woman to me a Trev&dlock. She had spoken of herse as a Miss Edgecambe and that she ha married General , but before she coul tell me more I had been struck down b an unseen hand, and a great darkness ha fallen on me But was I not able to suf piv the name? Would she not have sai General Mountleven if she had bee ajlowed to complete the sentence? But all this landed me in deeper my: tery. Why were these women in pn'oned? How did they get in Prideaux' .ver? Well, surely this need not rt main a mystery. I knew men connects with the War Office from whom I coul cot full information. A general in th British Army is not (in obscure individua ami all facts concerning him are dul noted in official documents. Besides, tf history of the Mountleven family must b known in the district. All I had to d was to make inquiries, and everythin \ must bo made known. / These thoughts flashed through my nil / as I stood in the lane, and although I sti failed to understand the riddle I 1 was try ing to solve the way seemed plainer. ■—luiL'/ I walked on rapidly, revolving plan afte plan in my mind. My journey to Corr wall had not been in vain, after all. Pre eently I should find some clue that woul v lead me to discover the whereabouts c Aveiicl and her mother. I pictured mj self going to them, and telling tbem tha I would protect them from future troublf 1 fancied the look of joy and gratitude i 'Avenel's eyes, and then I found my heai beating wildly as I dreamed of a joyot consummation. Suddenly all my fond fancies fled. A I have said, I was walking along a lonel lane, and at this point I was perhaps hal ■way between the Mountleven lodge gati and St. Leven village. I was at least - mile away from .any house. Looking : front of me, I saw a man move from tl hedge-side into the middle of the road at stand still, as if with the intention i speaking to me. A tall strong-lookir man he was, and he carried a heavy stic in his hand. He wore a double-breaste jacket, of pilot cloth and a cap made lil those worn by naval officers. He r minded me of one of the men I had see U; in Paddington Station. Scarcely had 1 appeared than'l heard footsteps behint and, turning, saw another man, the ma 1 had passed when I had visited Mr. Sii ; Cundy. On either side of me was a hedg "several feet high, covered with a thic growth of hazel bushes and brambles, had no weapon but my heavy riding croj and felt apprehensive of danger. At that moment a welcome soun reached me, the sound of wheels. Ev dently someone was driving towards Si Leven. Instantly the man who waa stanc ing in. the road turned and saunt-src away, while the footsteps behind me ceasec Of course this might mean nothing, bu I determined to walk slowly • until th vehicle came up. I had not to wait lons A few minutes later a man in a high gi appeared. J "Excuse me," I said, " can you give m a lift to St. Leven?" "To be sure." was the reply, and in farmer, for such I took him to be, mad room for me by his side. "Did you nee a man about a hundre* yards back?" I asked. "No, I didn't see nobody," was the re plyA minute later we passed the man I ha. first seen. It was now growing dusk, an lie kept his head from mo, but I wan cor firmed in my belief that I h»d seen hii at Paddington. I discovered that the fanner knei nothing about the district He lived nea St. Columb, he said, a town several mile away, and he was anxious to get home Arriving at the Queen's Head at Si Leven, I found that the landlord had se apart the best parlour for my use, and h told me with much satisfaction that a me. v.as being prepared for me that woul make any man s mouth water. I sat down before the cheerful fii which burnt in the grate, and began t consider the events of the last three hour I was not altogether dissatisfied with m progress, and yet I knew that I was sti in the dark. But more than this, I w; surrounded by danger I had no dout but that the men I had seen were t!: minions of the man Prideaux, and tn; they had received their orders concernin me. This fact cut two ways. It prove on the one hand that I was on the trac of discovery. Had not this been so Pr deauix would not have sent these men i watch me. This was all to the good, an my heart beat high with hope as a coi sequence. On the other hand, howeve: they could beset my path with difficultiei and possibly with danger. I reflected th* the brain behind this mystery was of n common order, and I felt that my inej perience and lack of data upon which t work placed me at a great disadvantage I wondered whether I had not acted too islily. I had made no secret of the fat that I had come to see Mr. Leonard Mount leven. and thus I had perhaps placed m cards on the table. Still I did not see how I could hav acted otherwise. I had promised the tw women that I would breathe no word cor corning thorn, and thus I was prohibite from placing the matter in the hands of trained detective; moseover, I did n< see how I had placed any weapons in th hands of tho enemy. . I looked around the little room in whic -y I sat. It was furnished in the fa&hio: common to country inns, while or, th fe| walls were several cheap prints. One c ■ . Queen Victoria hung over the mantelpiece , ' wliile in a little recess close by was i highly-coloured portrait of Prince Albert Mr;. Gladstone and Mr. Disraeli also occu pied prominent positions. But tho tw< imong the number of prints which adornet th© room which particularly struck mi were not of public characters. One repre sented an elderly-looking man of perhaps sixty years of ago, and (lie other of a voting fellow about twenty. Owing to the • Urn;.' family likened between them I ji.dqcd them to be father and son. But more than this, their fares seemed familiar. 1 did not recollect having ever seen them before, and yet I felt as though I recog:iifccd them.

Presently the landlords wife came in to lay the table. She was a buxom-looking woman, about forty, and as far as I could 1 judge, was superior to her husband in 1 point of intelligence. "That's a fine-looking man," I said, pointing to the older man. " Does he live around here?" "That's the late squire, sir." " What, Squire Mountleven ?" "Yes, sir, and that's the picture 0! the (late Mr. Edward. It was took, sir, when I lie was a young man, as you can see. He I •was twenty-one at tie time, and one like I that was given to every tenant on the I estate. I suppose the old squire was awi fully fond of him. But that's thirty ' year agone, before I corned to the parisn." j " And is he dead ?" "What, the old squire? Ho died about six year agone. I never saw him. I suppose he was bedridden for years before he died, and nobody saw him but Mr. Leonard, the nurses, the doctor, and old Mr. Wise." ; "And Mr. EdwardV' I said', "did he ' live at home!" " No, sir. He was away abroad. He was a general in the army. The old squire was in the army too in his young days." " But I think I've heard of another brother— Leonard. He's squire now, isn't lie ?" ! " I suppose so, sir." ! " What do you mean by that I " Well, sir, we don't know anything about it; but we've heard that there was , something funny about the old squire s • will. Anyhow Mr. Edward hardly ever ■ comes to Mountleven; in fact, none" of us have hardly seen him for years. He've let the house to a strange gentleman." " What, to the Mr. Prideaux who s name 1 I've heard?" ! " I don't know anything about it, sir, I and perhaps I oughtn't to have said so ; much." At this point her husband came into the room, and I was unable to gain further information. Indeed, Ido not think the woman knew any more than she had told me, which, although not seemingly important, set me to thinking furiously. "Bv the way," I said to the landlord after 1 had finished ray meal, " where does the nearest, doctor live!" " Boant poorlv. be ee sur?" " Oh, no, but I am curious to know." " Dr. Matthews, sir. He do live at Polyshant." "Has he been in the district long?" "Aw no. He took the place of Dr. Phillpot, who died two years agone. He was a character, was old Dr. Phillpot. He used to ride the best horse in the district. Squire Mountleven wanted to buv a grey mare he had. but he wouldn't sell her. He used to delight in havin' a better hunter than the squire." " Was Dr. Phillpot friendly with Squire Mountleven!" " Friendly, I should think he was. Why, when thou'll was ill, Dr. Phillpot went to see un every day, rain or shine. Why, thou'll man wudden have nobody come nis-t un but Dr. Phillpot and Mr. Wise, the passon. and Sir Charles Tresize. But there tes. thou'll doctor dedn't last more two or three years after his friend had gone." " And Mr. Wise— he still alive?" "Yes, sir, but he's getrin' ould Why, they three was just like brothers, they was. and now only the passon is left."' "And where docs he live?" " You do main the passen? 'Bout a mile 1 long the road toward Keverne. He ed'n much of a passon as you may say, and there ed'n many people who do go to church. Nearly everybody do go to chapel in thaise paarts. Not that I'm a chapel man myself; I'd knaw very well he caant praich, but what ov that? He's the right sort, and is the best judge of a boss in. j the parish. But thou'll man is verv lonely, I spoase. You beant goin' out be ; 'ee then, sur?" "Yes, I think I'll go for a walk," I said; "it looks like a fine night, and there's a moon." . " Iss, so there ee." ' As I wen out I looked into what was called the bar parlour. Perhaps a dozen men were seated around the bench beside the wall, and one of them was telling a story of some sort. I do not think that j either of them saw me they 'were too I intent upon the story that was being told, ; ' but I recognised the face of the storyteller. It was-that of. one of the men I * had seen at Paddington, and again out--1 side the house of Mr. Sim Cundip. ' I I stepped back quickly, and seeing the I landlord close beside me I said, " You've ' I quite a big party in there." • ; . "Yes," he replied proudly, "we'd 'ave • good company here.". : "Who's* the man who's telling the : story?" "■He's a stranger to thai6e paaHs," re--1 plied the landlord, and he hurried away as he spoke. ' I went back into my room again, and fell to thinking. One or the other of these men was following me everywhere. This could not be without purpose. Could it mean that they intended to do me personal injury? But whatever they meant, I would not be debarred from my purpose. Looking around the room I saw a stout stick standing in the corner. On handling at 1 found it very heavy—in fact, quite a formidable weapon. I slipped out of the inn carying the cudgel with me. As far as I could see, no one was about, and I knew by the laughter inside that the villagers were keenly enjoying the stranger's story. I walked rapidly towards the parson's house. A few minutes later I stood at the gates. Judging from appearances, Parson Wise lived in far greater style than was ordinary among country parsons. A wellbuilt lodge nestled among trees and shrubs, and suggested a mansion rather than a quiet parsonage. The drive was •well kept, and everything betokened prosperity. The sky had now become clear, and a nearly full moon illumined everything with its silvery light. I learnt afterwards that' Parson Wise was a man of considerable wealth. He was a younger son of an important family, and as a member of the family had always been rector of the parish from time immemorial, he had been led to take orders. His two elder brothers having died childless he found himself squire as well as parson. He did not resign his charge, however. He moved into Keverne Hall, but still remained rector of St. Leven. A footman met me at the door, and told me that Mr. Wise was at home. A little later I was shown into his presence. (To be continued daily.)