WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE?
CHAPTER I.
BY LOUIS TRACY.
WHT THE GIRL IN THE CAR TURNED BACK. A suspicious policeman, reporting certain strango events to his district superintendent, described Robert Mannering as " a man of good appearance who spoko like a gentleman." That was later in the day, however—say, an hour or more after Mannering raised his eyes from close scrutiny ol a small Bcale map to gazo in surprise at a heavy bank of black cloud travelling swiftly over the moor from the south-west. " Wow, wow, and likewise wuff!" said
he aloud, springing upright from a wayside rock. "If that isn't a front-rank thunder-storm I've never seen one, so it's mo for tho beaten track and soino sort of burrow—even a cow-byre." Without a second's delay ho struck into tho long easy strides of ono who know exactly what pace of four miles an hour meant. Tho straight road in front led along nn undulating stretch of moorland. On tho right the heather' clothed the flanks ot one of tho highest hills in Yorkshire. On the left, but at a much greater distance, the crest of another giant seemed to bound the plateau crossed by the road. But appearances are deceptivo in great open spaces. The map had been clear enough on this point. Somewhere on that side, probably a milo away beyond an upward curve in the heather, .1 deep valley held a tiny hamlet, famous for nn ancient church and a remarkable crypt. Mannering, versed irj tho tricks of a wild country, reasoned that tho ground sloped too steeply to permit even a bridlepath to cut straight acros3 tho moor. But there might bo some narrow cleft down which u sure-footed pedestrian could scramble. Herein tho map's contour lines were vaguo. Ho had sat down to study them carefully when a sudden darkness warned him of tho change in tho weather. Ho knew thero was a village three miles ahead. If he got soaked to tho skin it was only common senso that ho should elect for human habitations and a reasonablo prospect of drying his clothes rather than bo caught in a waste of heather, whero tho driving rain would obliterate all landmarks, and ono ran grave risk of falling into ft peat bolo. On tho right front tho ground sloped slightly away from tho road—sure sign that at tho foot of tho hill was a bog. That did not interest him at all; lie must stick to tho road. Ho soon found somo crude evidences of an enclosed pasture. Beyond lay a denso plantation of black firs. Tucked into a hollow beneath tho wood, tho brick chimneys and red-tiled roof of a moorland farm showed up un expectedly. They were so hidden as to bo hardly visible from any other point thftn a very small section of tho highway. "By Jove!" cried Mannering. "What luck!"
110 took to his heels and literally raced tho oncoming storm. Even so, ho noticed two things—a pack of grouse scurrying low over the neighbouring hill, and an astonishingly new white-painted gate at the junction of road and wood. He saved a good fifty yards, however, by jumping a tumbled-down dry wall and taking a diagonal course toward a rickety gate which opened into an enclosure around tho house. The short cut saved him a thorough drenching. Ho sprinted along a moss-grown path bounded by neglected shrubs and overcrowded herbaceous plants elbowed by rank weeds, and literally leaped into a squat outer porch as the first huge raindrops fell. A dazzling flash of lightning heralded an ominously low and near crash of thunder. Then the rain came in a deluge, no mero shower, but a veritable cloudburst. The noise of its pelting on trees, earth and house was deafening. In a few seconds a turbulent yellow stream was foaming past the porch and lipping the raised steps which had been cunningly placed there many a year ago for tho purpose of defeating such unpleasant intrusions.
More lightning, even louder thunder, and a seemingly denser downpour caused a terrifying din. Mannering was inured to the fierce storms of north-east Assam—that breeding-place of elemental conflict —but he had never seen or heard anything much worse than this almost phenomenal display in Yorkshire. Turning his back on the outer racket, he knocked at a stout door, saying to himself with a quiet laugh: " Thank goodness I'm in the 20th century ! The good folk who lived here when this old house was built would surely have imagined that the devil himself had arrived !"
110 knocked sharply enough with his knuckles, and then rapped with a stout oak stick, but there came no sign of lifo from the interior. At last he pressed tho sneck of tho latch. Tho door was locked, nay more, barred so securely that it might as well havo been a more dummy in tho surrounding masonry. " No ono nt home, not even tho dog," commented Mannering, facing the storm onco more.
The porch was fairly roomy, some six feet by four. Small windows at each sido revealed walls a foot thick. Outer entrance and doorway alike wero pointed arches. Stout wooden seats had been fitted on either hand. Facing eastward, it would bo a pleasant nook on a fino morning if tho perennial plants and shrubs bordering tho stono path wero kept in order.
While darting toward his refugo Mannering had noted that paved tracks flanked tho houso to right and left. Tho first entered a dilapidated farmyard, and probably led to the kitchen. The second ended at a wicket gato in a dense yew hedge which followed tho lino of tho building, so ono might assume that a scrap of garden fronted the main rooms with their south aspect Tho wood supplied an admirablo ecreen from tho east winds, and, assuming tho existence of other hedges and trees, anyono occupying that side of tho houso would bo completely shut off from sight or sound of tho external world. Not even from tho crest of tho moor might tho lower windows bo seen.
Making the best of the enforced halt, Mannering loosened a bucklo and allowed a, well-filled rucksack to drop on one of tho benches. He sat 011 tho other, filled and lighted his pipe, and tried to estimate tho progress and possible duration of tho storm. Tho thunder, at any rate, was lolling away to the north, and tho rain had ceased to bo of a tropical violence. Tho stream rushing past tho porch puzzled him until ho discovered that a small channel had actually been provided for it. Probably tho lie of the land between house and bog determined tho course of this necessary outlet for storm water and melting snow. Tho place was inhabited —of that he was certain. Threo deep-set windows, one on tho ground floor and two in the upper storey wero curtained. Tho wicket, liko tho larger gate by the road, had been painted recently. It was odd that tho small gato at tho actual eutranco should bo so out of repair. Still, it served its purpose, and ho realised tliat the others wero recent structures; hence their spick and span appearance. The paving, too, had hcen renewed in parts, and scratches on the original moss-covered stones told of tho passing of hob-nailed boots. It sva3 a pity that the occupants had not devoted a little time and effort to clearing away weeds and trimming tho borders. A few hours' work would have 111 ado tho approach quito attractive. Ho looked at his watch—threo o'clock. Two hours ago he had left a wayside inn in tho valley of the Esk, and begun the steady climb which ended not far
A CAPTIVATING STORY OF MYSTERY AND LOVE.
(CQPTMGRT.)
short of this lonely farm. He estimated ho had walked nearly five miles. During the second part of (he tramp he had not passed a house of any kind, and the nearest village was still three miles away. What an isolated spot this was! Anyono who lived here permanently must ho content to lead the lifo of an anchorito. It was more likely that the farm, as such, had loug since ceased to exist, while tho present tenant, or tenants, might tiso it a3 a summer residence, for which purpose it was admirably situated if sheer privacy and tho wild beauty of tho high moor 3 were alone desired.
The rain diminished to a drizzle, and the skylino to eastward became dimly visible. Five minutes later tho greys and blacks of the August landscape changed magically to a gorgeous b!end of vivid emerald and purple, with patches of scarlet and yellow among the brown of the heather. This glowing panorama might never havo experienced such unpleasant things a3 thundor clouds and scourging rain. Even tho diminishing rivulet began to gnrgle cheerfully, tho twitter of birds came from among tho firs, and a nearby cock crowed a merry greeting to tho sun. So Munnering's guess had been correct. Jf utility fowls are to live in England there must bo human beings to tend them.
" Well, I'm much obliged for yonr hospitality," said he, rising- and nodding to tho stubborn door
Ho shouldered his pack, refilled his pipe and was half-way along tho garden path when some itch of curiosity impelled him to peep, as it were, at tho hitherto invisible sides of the building. Turning back, he found, as ho expected, that tho farmyard was in a state of complete desuetude, save for a wire-netted run behind the empty stables. A number of white Leghorns wnro strutting forth already from a smart and upto-dato fowlhouso.
A strip of cleared land sloped down to the bog, whoso existence ho had assumed, and ho saw now that tho houso and its immediate surroundings stood on a definite ridgo, which skirted tho west side of the plantation, so tho casual torrent had followed the only availablo course, and was emptying itself into tho bog a couplo of hundred yard 3 away. A kitchen door was closed, but a long, low, uncurtained window invited a passing look. A deal table, some chair 3, a dresser with orockcry on tho upper shelves, and somo cooking utensils in open divisions beneath, a pile of logs and a sort of bin filled with coal, bespoke occupancy. Indeed, Mannering was minded to make straight away for the high road, when the mere whim of the moment led his feet past the porch to tho wicket in tho hedge. Here was a genuine surprise. Leaning over the gato he found himself gazing at a well-kept lawn and pretty garden. Two circular flower beds glowed with geraniums, calceolarias and lobelia. Hollyhocks, sunflowers, lupins and marguerite daisies were banked against clusters of laurels and rhododendrons, whilo more delicate shrubs and plants were interspersed with tho hardier growths. A right-angled strip of stout firs and a privet hedge shut off this gay oasis from every wind that blew, thu3 rendering possible the seemingly impossible—a bright plaisanco in tho midst of a bleak moor, nearly a thousand feet above tho level of tho not far distant £ea.
And there were other astonishing features. A pair of double French windows had beon thrust bodily through tho old stone wall of tho house. They, too, were ultra-modern in style and paint. A neat-lattice-work of gnarled wood surrounded them and bore a wealth of climbing roses and wisteria. Even the sills of tho small, unaltered windows of tho rooms above held boxes of blue Dutch tiles filled with mignonette. Somewhat guiltily now, for he felt that he was really trespassing, Mannering glanced around before passing through tho wicket. Tho outer gato was visible clear of the wood, and there wa3 no one in sight, so, yielding to temptation, he determined to steal a glimpse of the interior of this oddly contradictory dwelling. Ho had no unworthy motive. Ho merely fancied that ho might learn something of tho manners and ways of tho houso's owners by tho aspect of what was ovidently a spacious and well-lighted living room.
But he met with a check. Heavy, darkblue blinds were lowered behind each window. Again ho wa3 retreating, when, by idle chance, ho noticed a disturbing thing. Four panes of glass, together with their cross of wooden framo, had been forced outward from tho second window. Shattered wood and splintered glass were elbquent of a fierce strugglo or a strango accident within tho room, and no observant eyo could fail to notice that the material of the blind was neither cut nor scratched, so it had been pulled down after tho window wa3 broken.
Mannering was not a nervous subject. Probably fow men of hi 3 years—thirty-two all told—had been trained in a more rigorous school, for he had gone straight from four years of war in Europe to eight years of hard endeavour in the hill jungles of Assam. But, suddenly and almost unaccountably, despito tho peaceful surrounding! of that sunlit garden, ho sensed a tragedy lurking behind those drawn blinds.
Ho did not hesitate, of course. Instant decision, whether in great events or small, had become a habit to which ho had owed his lifo many times. Removing a largo section of glass ready to fall at a touch, he sought for and found the handlo of the upright iron rod fastening the two sections of the window, which ho opened sufficiently to reach the bottom of the blind. A slight pull, and it shot upward, though ho did not fail to grasp tho check cord in case it overran tho controlling spring. Then ho saw what he feared, yot halfcxpccted, to see—tho dead body of a man stretched in front of a fireplnco in tho centre of tho west wall. On that sido of tho house, in tho extreme angle of tho room, a tall, narrow window gave added light. It had a blind, liko tho others, but an open fanlight, a 'mere slit, as it were, useless for a burglar's purposes, compelled the roller to bo adjusted beneath its hinges, and, at that hour, tho sun's rays were already streaming in. So Mannering had no difficulty whatever in determining that tho man, an elderly man, dressed in a homespun as expensive &13 any broad-cloth, and wearing well-cut shoes and brown silk stockings, had been battered to death most brutally. Ho sprawled awkwardly, faco downward, with his feet near to whero Mannering stood. Blows seemed to havo been rained on him, and a heavy poker had evidently broken tho back of his skull, becauso grey hairs were still adhering to it whero it had been thrown into the hearth. His clothes wero torn, too, go ho must havo fought hard. Chairs wore overturned and smashed. A china vase and clock had been swept off tho mantelpiece; Mannering saw that tho hands of tho clock had stopped at half-past two. Again this passer-by proved himself no weakling. Without ever a thought to tho possible consequences if ho were discovered in what was certainly a compromising situation, ho stepped into tho room, lifted tho dead man's head, ascertained by a glance at the eyes that death was really there, and, by flexing an arm, decided that rigor mortis had not yet sot in. (To be continued daily.)
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New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20306, 13 July 1929, Page 16 (Supplement)
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2,553WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE? New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20306, 13 July 1929, Page 16 (Supplement)
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