THE FERROL MYSTERY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXII, Issue 19197, 10 December 1925, Page 18

THE FERROL MYSTERY.

CHAPTER IX.—(Continued.)

Clifford sat and smoked his cigarette moodily and in a distressed frame of mind. In spite of his father's many failings, the boy had always held—and still retained—a feeling of intense gratitude toward him for the part he had played in his own life. To this was added a great pity for his undoubted moral weakness, and these two qualities of mercy combined came very near to producing an affection that was far more real thaa fancied. That this had become so was largely due to the fact that, in spite of his coarse and brutal nature, James Wilson had always felt and shown far more sympathy toward him than lies in the primitive regard which a parent usually bestows upon its offspring. Somewhere, deep down in his sluggish heait, and behind his drink-sodden brain, James ■Wilson realised the good points in the lad's character, and they stirred him to an affectionate pride and admiration which he would have been the last to admit. This was probably the only quality that redeemed his character from being utterly destitute of all decent feeling. "What have you been doing with yourself to-night?" he asked as he replaced his empty glass upon the table. His voice sounded quite reasonable now. Like most heavy drinkers, it took a great deal to make him drunk, and very little to mako him sober again. . ."I took Rosie to the pictures and then we had some supper before I saw her home." , , ,i ■ James Wilson sucked the stump of his cigar for a few moments in silence before he spoke again. . , " Are you going to marry the girl, Cliff "Yes, I am going to marry her," was the answer, given without any h es rt*" on ' ."So it is all settled, my lad, is it. ."It is quite settled—so far as it goes "But it don't go very far, does it. This was spoken with a leer which intended tcr be friendly. "What do you mean, dad . «Well, you cannot exactly fix up a "home for yourself and the lass—and tor an unlimited number of kiddies up your present wages of two pounds, °"'i 3 shall not always get that salary, dad. I will do better in time, and I have • been promised a rise soon. . , " Then there is that two quid a week that I get for you, to reckon in as well, his father said, with a cunning look on his face. " That ought to help you a bit Cliff looked the surprise he felt, lor this was ; the first time his parent had made such'a suggestion. " That money belongs to you, dad, not to me," he replied, "I do not mean to touch it when it comes to settling up a home for Eosie and me. You get that idea into your head, please. " And why would yon not touch itT Mr Wilson asked, bridling up at once, and bringing his fist down heavily upon the table. t " You have earned it in the past, ''no it will belong to you in the future, if it is continued." . " You have become mighty independent all of a sudden," his father sneered. Then he leaned back in his chair, and chuckled deep in his throat, as though he had 4iieught of a good joke that was worth Hp eating. - . " Well, maybe the money is mine, and maybe it is not," he said, with a grave nod toward his son. " Maybe there is one man who can help you to get the lass as your wife—and that man is your old dad. You can twist that into your fags and smoke it, my lad." He chuckled again, more loudly thi3 time. " Old Jirn Wilson is not ; such a fool as he looks, and he knows a few things that are worth a blinking sight more than your two pounds ten shillings a week in wages. Give us your hand, lad, and buck up. I know I am a drunken wastrel, hut I am all 'trumps this time, and the tricks are in my hand—and yours." CHAPTER X, The curtains were drawn, and the fire blazed brightly in the grate of a large and well-furnished room. John Ferrol sat at his writing-desk, with a shaded electric lamp upon the shelf above him. As usual, there were many papers and files in front of him, mixed with much disorder among bank books, account books, press cuttings from foreign papers, and packets of receipted bills. The narrow green slip of a cheque book peeped unwittingly out from under a thick blotting pad, and the inkstand supported a formidable array of pens and coloured pencils. He had just sealed and stamped an important looking envelope, when the door in front of him opened and Mrs. Tracey entered the room. '■' This good lady had altered but little in appearance since the days when she had acted as house-keeper to' his late brother at ' Ebpr House. But she was better dressed now, to suit the importance of her position. Her comely figure had, perhaps, increased a little in its generous proportions, and she wore a very becoming lace cap upon her pretty grey hair, with > cherry-coloured bow that would have invited general attention had anybody been present who was sufficiently susceptible to take notice of such trifles. Sfie carried a square and not over-clean envelope upon a silver tray, which she handed to her master.

" The man is waiting at the back door, sir,"; she said, with much display of unconcern, as though she did not know perfectly well that the man she referred to was Mr. James Wilson, of Friars Lane. John Ferrol took the envelope, opened it, and read it through more than once, before he gave her the order she awaited. " You can show him in here, but also let him clearly know that I am busy, and 1 can only see him for a few minutes." " Yes, sir,"

(It may be mentioned that Mrs. Tracey had never addressed the late Mark Ferrol by ariy courtesy title as she did his brother. But then her former master was not an Australian millionaire, and the wages he paid her were exactly one-third cf those she now received).

As soon as the door closed behind her, the Squire of Meadowhaugh—as he was now called—roso from his chair, and took rip his position in front of the fire. Before ■ he did so, he twisted up the envelope and its contents into a small ball, and tossed it among the flames. Ilis brother had done much the same thing with a certain letter on tho night he was murdered. The door opened again, and Wilson was shown into the room. Upon this occasion, he appeared to bo quite sober, but there ■ was an unpleasant swagger in his gait .which conveyed exactly tho opposite impression to what he intended. Ho came forward slowly, till he was within a few Jfeet of his host, where he suddenly came to an abrupt halt, twisting his hat between. his hands. The expression upon John Ferrol's face was not a friendly one. It was evident that ho resented tbtis intrusion upon his privacy at such a time, and he was not a man to hide his feelings. lie took out his watch, and glanced at it during the awkward pause that fell between them. " What do you want?" he asked, and there was no suggestion of welcome or even interest in his voice. " I can spare you ten minutes, and that is all, so you must say what you wjmt io lelJ iue as luicklv as aossible.'* Sir. James Wilson shifted his position uncomfortably from one foot to the other, and coughed. There was no trace of neryousness in his voice as ho replied: " I think you know who I am," he said, nnd tha tone of the words implied a statement rather than a fact. " Perfectly well. Now get on with tour business." " Did you get that letter I wrote to /ou laat week ? " M " Yes. It reached me quite safely. ■*' And I have received no answer. "You have received no answer." V Well, that is what I have como for poW." " In that case, there is no use -wasting your time and mine, 51 Ferrol replied with on indifferent, shrug of his shoulders.

r- BY 0, GUISE MITFORD. ■. i T -

T (COPYRIGHT.)

" Had there been any answer to your letter, 1 would have sent it. As there was not, it remained unanswered. " Then am I to understand you refuse to accept the offer I made?" Wilson asked hoarsely, and with a sudden lurch forward. "It will he the last one I shall make." , , " I absolutely refuse to accept it —or even consider it." , . , , , James Wilson spat into his hands, and rubbed the palms of them together. " You will consider it," he said in a loud voice, and then he repeated the words with a blasphemous oath, " You will consider it." , , . Ferrol was not a man gifted with much patience, and it may bo recorded to his credit that ho preserved his self-control so long upon this occasion. He once more took out his watch, and glanrcd at it. " You have just four minutes to finish your interview, my man. After that, you either leave this house of your own free will—or with the assistance of mine. Which is it to be ? " Mr. James Wilson gave a short and husky laugh. Ihen he coolly seated himself at the writing-desk beside him, and, with a very grimy hand, selected a pen from the tray " Four minutes is quite long enough for my job," he said. "Here, where is a sheet of paper ? I will write what I came to tell you, and perhaps you will drop that bluff of yours." Before* Ferrol had time to reach tho man's side, Wilson had quickly scribbled a few words upon tho paper in front of him. Then ho leaned back in his chair, and snarled like a hungry animal. When Ferrol stooped over him, he not only saw what ho had written, but ho looked straight down the barrel of a revolver. There was a tense silence in the room for some moments. Tho only sound came in a hissing noise from between Ferrol's closed teeth. , , Wilson rose, carefully uncocked the uglv weapon in his hand, and then faced his host. , ~ " You see what I have written there I

" Yes." "Will you now accept my offer? " TT.a two men were glaring at each other, like crouching animals prepared to spring for a death grip. , ■

" I will give you rny answer in one month's time from this date/' Ferrol said, recovering his composure with an effort. He ponted to the door as he rang the bell. " Now, leave this house." Mr. Wilson gave another short laugh ns he strode across the room. When he reached the door he paused and looked back. "That answer is good enough for me,' he said. " I think we understand each other now." CHAPTER XI. Clifford Wilson made it a rule always to take his mid-day meal at home. He did 60, not because he liked it, but because his father—when sufficiently sober —took considerable care and pains to get it ready for him. It has already been mentioned that the man had an affection for the boy, which was only apparent in little acts of this kind, and were unknown to the outside world in which he lived. His son knew all about them, and his appreciation did much to cement the good feeling that existed —though without much outward expression—between them. Only a couple of days had passed since the lad had seen his sweetheart home to Roker's Farm, but he had made an appointment to meet her this morning, and to give her lunch during the mid-day hour when the Co-operative Stores were closed. I His father had expressed his intention of being away from home during the day, and Cliff was delighted to snatch this unexpected pleasure in the midst of the dull monotony of his work. He found Rosie waiting for him in the sunlit street, as he passed through the shop doors, and the happy smile upon her face was eloquent proof of how she shared in his delight. These unexpected meetings during the week were so rare that they were all the more appreciated. " Where shall we go, little girlie?" he asked, as he slipped his hand under her arm. " Let us go round and have some cakes and pastry," she replied. *' Right you are, Rosie. I always feel as if I could live on nothing but toffee- and sugar biscuits when lam with you. Here we are." They found a sunny table beside the window, which was fragrant with a large bunch of early wallflowers in a hideous blue china vase. It looked very beautiful to them, and the girl pressed her face softly against the warm petals, drawing in long breaths of their sweet perfume. "Are they not lovely?" she asked. " Not half as lovely as you are, lassie," he replied gallantly. Then he added more seriously—" Yes, they are champion." It was a very simple, but a very happy, meal, the enjoyment of which was enhanced by the sly production of a couple of hard boiled eggs from the -innermost depths of Rosie's string bag. Scones and butter, combined with the enjoyment of the young couple, made it a banquet which might have been envied by the most fashionable patrons of the leading London hotels and restaurants. When they had finished it, Cliff took a cigarette from his case and the girl lighted it for him. " Now for a bit of a talk," ho said, as he settled himself comfortably in his chair. " I have got something to tell you, Rosie." She looked up from the paper serviette which she was idly folding in her hands. " What is it, Cliff?" Something nice?" " I do not know if it is anything worth mentioning, but I thought I would like to tell you." She clasped her strong brown hands in front of her, and leaned forward, with an expectant look upon her face. "What is it, Cliff?" she repeated. "] am sure it must be something interesting." " I am not so suro about that," lie said. "It depends upon whether you can make anything out of it or not. It fairly puzzles me." " Hurry up, lad, and tell me what it is." Cliff took a notebook out from his inner pocket* and extracted from it an envelope which he laid upon the table between them. She took it up and examined it curiously. You remember the other night, when I. saw you home ?" he asked. " Yes. 1 never forget any hour "that I spend with you." Wo talked about the money my father is getting, and which I could not explain." Yes, dear. I remember that." "When I got home that night he was asleep in his chair and drunk as usual. I found that envelope upon the floor, just under the fender. It did not belong to me, so it must have belonged to him. Now, do you think it can givo us any clue to what I want to find out?" 'Jhe girl was still looking, at it. Was it empty when you found it?" It was empty, as you see it now." And you say ho was pretty flush of money that day?" He is always flush of money now." It may be a clue, though a very Slight one,' she said thoughtfully. "This may lie one of the envelopes in which the money reaches him." Clifford nodded a pleased smile. " That is just what I thought, but how can we trace it ? 'lhere is not a word of writing on it." The girj pursed her red lips for a few moments in silence. She had pretty features, am? there was a very practical little warn working behind them. " Will you lot mo have it for a few days?" she asked presently. "1 will give it back to you on Saturday." Certainly. It is no good to mo, and if you can make anything out of it, you can keep it by all means. (To be continued daily.)