THE TENANT OF CROMLECH COTTAGE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIV, Issue 19675, 29 June 1927, Page 18

THE TENANT OF CROMLECH COTTAGE.

BY JOSErH HOCKING

CHAPTER XVlll—(Continued). Gwithian's mind flashed quickly back to his conversation with Doctor Borlase on the previous night. " Show him in," lie said. " He's quito sober, now sir," Cradock informed him. " and appears a very respectable man. 1 suppose Mr. Moss, the Vicar has been ou the point of discharging him several times, but he doesn t do it; I fancy he's afraid." "Afraid? What of? \ "Of hurting people's feelings. 1 am told that this man has been sexton for '<o years, and that although he s irequently drunk, there would be a tiemendous outcrv if he were, what they call, sacked. People wouldn't think they were buried properly unless Franky buried them " A minute later he found himself confronted by an elderly man netween 60 nnd 70 years of age who looked at him appraisinglv. " Ah." he said when he had gazeii at him for some seconds, iss, you re the man." "I am the man? What man. "My name is Francis Flew. I was christened Francis and I've, a right to it, although people will call me l'ranky. But 1 didn't come to talk to you about that. 1 went to the doctor's early this morning but 'ee was gone. Units why I corned to you." He spoke in sharp, jerky sentences, and seemed more than a little excited. His ©yes were wild, too, and Gwithian had his suspicions about his sanity. " Well, sir, what do you think of me?"

" What do I think of you?" " Iss, what do you think of me ? For let me tell you this, I bean't no ordinary man. I be'n sexton of this parish for more than 40 year; I've see'd Vicars come and Vicars go, but they ca'ant do ■without me. Mr. Moss ave threatened to sack me again and again; but 'ee daren't do it. And why daren tee do it ? 'Cause Ibe indispensable. 'Ee can't get another man to take my place. Do you think people would laive anybody else bury 'cm ? Not likely." " That's very interesting," replied Gwithian, catching the humour of the situation. " I suppose they think that *0 one else could bury them properly ? " " Tedn't only that, sir; it's something more important. You are a gentleman and you knaw the old saying: ' Poets are born not made.' The same is true of sextons. Sextons are born, not made, and I am the only born sexton in the parish." "A sort of church fixture, eh ?" laughed Gwithian.

" I don't say that. J. am independent of all churches, for that matter T am not a churchman, I am a chapelman." "Indeed; and yet you're, the sexton?" " That needs a' bit of explaining, sir. I 'ave nothing to say against Mr. Moss or the Parish Church; but what I do ask is this. Whenever was a man converted in the Parish Church? Never one. I 'ave lived at Pendragon all my life and I've said it to the vicar many a time. They «an't convert people there." " And can they at chapel?" " Where should I be if they couldn't ?" asked Frariky solemnly. " I tell 'ee sir, I be longing for a revival to start at the chapel again." *" Why are you longing for a revival ?" " Why,• sir, what would 'appen to me H I was to die at this minute? I should go to 'elL. I do get converted up to the chapel every November as regular as clockwork, and I'd' stand it til! St. Gwithian Feast, and then I'd' fall back. I can't stand the temptation to 'ave a glass too much. If there is one thing I do pray for, it is that I mayn't die •'tween August and November. No, sir, nobody do ever get converted to church, you must go to chapel for that. That's why although I am the village sexton I bean't what you call a sound churchman." " It seems to me," replied Gwithian, you're not a great credit to the chapel if you fall back every year." " That's my affair, sir, not yours," retorted Franky. " And come to that, I didn't mean to talk about these things at all; I've come' for something else. I've come for your good," he added in a .whisper. " That's very kind of you." " 'Zactly, sir. I don't say I don't want a job, I do. Every funeral is worth something to me. All the same I don't .want to bury you." " I'm afraid I don't quite follow you." " And yet I spoase you do call yourself a scholar and a gentleman. That shows that education doesn't do much. Not that I don't believe in education; I do. In a way lam the best educated m&n in the parish. I knaw more about politics than Squire Hendy, I knaw more about theology than the Superintendent Weslevan minister, and I'd' knaw nearly as much about medicine as Dr. Borlase. So that ef anybody do tell you that Franky Flew ed'n an educated man you can tell 'im 'ee's liard." "I see you've a character." "Character! That's what I be. That's ■why the passon ca'ant 'ford to get rid of me." "Well, why have you come to see me ?" " Ah! that's the point," and he looked «t Gwithian scrutinisingly. " You 'ave your own secrets," he said meaningly. "My own secrets! Thousands of 'em. But what of that ?" "Last night!—in the church! You do mind, sir," he whispered. " No, I'm not asking you for nothin', I wouldn't have nothin' ef you was to offer't to me, although as you might say I am not in a converted state now. I failed' back three weeks agone; but I wouldn't 'ave nothin'."

Gwithian looked at {"he man more intently, and saw that although he was a great deal excited, he was in earnest. " I be what you call a learned man," Franky went on. " I've read the Bible through three times, and I do read Reynold's newspaper every Sunday. I know arithmetic up to long division, although I don't like reduction a bit. All the same, I 'ad a token last night." " A token ?" "A token. 1 am a widow man, sir; my wife died seven year agonc. But I dcn't want to talk about she. She's better off where she es, and I better off without 'er. But I 'ad a token. A ■wood-dove came to my window and flapped 'is wings three times after dark. 1 an not a superstitious man, sir, but I knawed it meant somethin'; so I got out of lied and dressed. I knawed somethin' 'ad 'appened; I knawed it was a warnin' for me or for somebody." " Well, what then ?" " You be friends with the doctor, hean't *ee. It's no use denying it, I knaw yoi be." "And if I am?" "Nothing bad, sir; the doctor and me be great friends." " Come now, we're not getting any forrader. Tell me why you came to see me." "I bean't 'fraid of spirits, sir. Hour after hour I've walked our churchyard alone after dark and I've never see'd nothin' worse than myself In my time I've defied the devil, sir. I've gens round a gravestone seven times backward saving the Lord's Prayer backward every time, but I've never raised Hie devil." Gwithian could not help laughing He realised that Franky had not got a reputation for being a character for nothing. "All the same, when that token came I knowed 'twas a call, and T determined %o go to the church." " You say this was last night ?" " Last night." " What time ?" "Nearly twelve o'clock. Well, sir. I •went to the place where 1 do keep the church key and 'twas gone!" Gwithian remembered what flio doctor bad told him and listened attentively. " The key has gone, sir. and then T knawed that one of two things 'ad 'appened. One was that the doctor 'ad took or elrc tlie devil 'ad come for me." should the devil come for you ?" Cause 1 hean't converted. Anyhow the key ad gone. And what do" you think sppened then, sir?" " How can I tc.ll

(COPyiIKJBT.J

" I see'd a light in the church and then I knaw'd that 'twad'n the devil." lou think the devil wouldn't dare to go to church ?" "Catch'n!" cried Franky with emphasis. " All the same I was purty feared and didn't knaw what to do." " Did you go into the church ?" No, sir, I did something else. I went down the churchyard path and looked in at the window at the place where you can see the Communion. You can guess what I see'd." " How can I guess ?" " Come, come now, yon bean't a fool. I see'd you and Doctor Borlase standing close by the screen. What might 'ee 'ave been doing there, sir? Now, I tell 'ee straight, if it ad'n a bin for Doctor Borlase 1 should 'ave gone to the vicar fust thing this morning and told 'uii." " Told him what ?" " Told 'im that I see'd 'ee in the church at midnight. 1 I>e a backslider, that's what 1 be, but I should 'ave told 'nil." "Have you yot your pipe with you?" asked Gwithian. "Pipe, sir? I never go without it. But I ain't got no 'bacca." "Try some of mine," and he offered him his pouch. "That's your sort, sir. Now wo can talk comfortable like." Gwithian waited while Franky lit. his pipe, and watched the look of satisfaction ou 'lis face. "Von be a gen'l'man, that's what you lie." remarked Frr.ukv in tones of satisfaction, "and you be a friend of the doctor. That's why I 'aven't said a word to nobody. Why you and the doctor was there I doan knaw, and I don't ax'ee, although I spoase you 'ad a rnainin'. But I was purty frightened." 'Tls that all you have come to see me about "No, sir, 'tedn," and Franky spoke in. a sepulchral whisper. "I don't know why you went there with the doctor and I don't ax. The doctor is a friend of mine and the doctor had a reason for taking you there, or 'ee wud'dn 'ave gone. That's what I told myself. I watched 'ee as you left the church; I watched 'ee go with the doctor up to 'is 'ouse, and I see'd a light in 'is surgery. And now T 'ave come to the thing I wanted to tell 'ee 'bout. You must be careful!" he whispered in awestruck tones. "Careful? What do you mean?" "I d'main this. D'rectly after you'd gone with the doctor into 'is 'ouse I being a thinking man began to reflect. I began to ask myself what the doctor was doing there, and so I went back to the churchyard again. I don't ax 'ee to tell me nothin', sir; and I don't ax 'ee to give me nothin'. and I ain't goin' to say nothin' to nobody 'bout what I see'd. I bean't going to get the doctor into trouble for nobody; 'ee've been too kind to me for that. But I 'adn't been long in the churchyard afore' I 'eard footsteps. Remember, 'twas after twelve o'clock, and the place seemed as quiet as death. All the same, I 'eard footseps. 'Twad'n you, and 'twad'n the doctor, sir, 'cause you was both in the doctor's 'ouse. Well, what did I do ? I just 'id myself behind one of the buttresses and waited. Then I see'd'n come." "Saw who come?" "A man, an oldish, grey-bearded man; I seed'n in the light of the moon. 'E' opened the churchyard gates and then looked around as though 'ee was afraid to be see'd; then 'ee come'd quietly towards the church. When 'ee coined to the porch 'ee went in, and I 'eard'n trying to open the door; but 'ee couldn'. The doctor 'ad locked it and put away the key. Then 'ee come'd up close to where I was and tried to look into the church. Ee tried to look in at the very window where I was lookin' when I see'd you and the doctor." "Who was it?" asked Gwithian. "Wait a minute, I a'ant finished yet. As I told 'ee, I was behind the buttress and I could see everything although nobody could see me. Not that I could see the man's face, 'cause I couldn't, but I 'eard 'un." "What did vou hear?"

"I 'eard'n say as plainly as I've 'eard you speakin' this morning. 'Dead , men tell no tales,' 'ee said, 'dead men tell no tales.' " "Was that all ?" "Ed'n that enough? 'Ee said it over to 'isself several times. Then after a bit I 'eard 'im say, 'My God! if they only could !' " There coukl be no doubt about it, Franky was terribly in earnest. He spoke in a low hoarse whisper, while in his eyes was a look of terror. For several seconds he remained silent, looking at Gwithian as though unable to proceed further. "And you are sure he did not see you ?" "No. 'ee didn't see me," replied Franky; " 'ee was too busy looking at something else." "What was he looking at?" " 'Ee was looking at the same thing \ that you and the doctor was looking at. But 'ee 'adn't got a lamp same as you 'ad and 'ee wasn't inside the church." "Well, what then?" " 'Ee kept, on looking, for 'ow long I don't knaw, but a long time. Then 'ee turned around and I see'd 'is face. I see'd it plain 'cause the moon was shining; almost as plain as I see your face at this very minute." "Who was it?" "I don't know, sir; : ee was a stranger. 'Twas an old man with nearly white 'air and a kind of fringe erf a white beard round the lower part of 'is face." "And you don't know who it was?" "No, sir. First of all I thought I was the devil; but it wasn't the devil, sir." "And is that all ?" * ' "That's all, sir, except that 'ee waited there for I should think an hour and then j 'ee went away." "Which way?" "I do'an't knaw, sir. I 'eard 'im go out of the churchyard and close the gate behind 'n and I don't know no more." "And why do you tell me all this ?" "I don't ax you to tell ma nothin' sir., You are a friend of the doctor's and the doctor is a friend of mine. I wouldn't do nothing to 'arm the doctor for the world, sir. 'Ee've 'elped me out of too many scrapes, sir. But when I got back to my little 'ouse I thought it all out. I thought to myself that the 'ad a reason for taking you there. What it was I don't know, but if the doctor 'ad a reason for being there that man might 'ave 'ad the same reason. That's why I went to the doctor's 'ouse this mornin'; but 'is servant said ' 'eed gone to Truro, so I came to you. I be a lamed man, sir, but I he terble frightened." "Not too frightened to keep your mouth closed, I hope?" said Gwithian after a long silence. "You d'main talk about it, sir? You do'an't know Doctor Borlase if you think I'd talk—No, not for worlds." "Then why have you come to me?' "To warn you, sir. I 'ad a feeling that you were in danger, sir. It' ever there was murder in a man's eyes thero was murder in that man's eyes last night." Gwithian took a half-a-crown from his pocket. "Anyhow, I am glad to make your acquaintance, , Franky,'' he said, "and here is something to help you to remember me." Franky looked at the half-a-crown with greedy eyes arid put out his hand to snatch it; then ho drew buck. "Don't tempt me, sir,-don't tempt me! It's not that I do'an't want the half-a-crown. I do. But of I had a half-a-crown in my pocket I couldn t kcop myself from goin' to the King's Head, and t|, Ml _ No, sir, do'an't tempt me. do'an't!" Whereupon Franky rushed out of the cottage as though the furies were at his heels. (To bo continued daily.)