TALES & SKETCHES.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 746, 18 June 1886, Page 6

TALES & SKETCHES.

[NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.]

THE TREASURE OF THORBURNS-

BY FREDERICK BOYLE. Author of *On the Border Land,’ ‘ A Good Hater,’ ‘ Camp Notes,’ &c. [The Right of Translation is Reserved.] CHAPTER IX. The Treasure. ‘Mendel's’ is the great bank of Shuttleton; a house so well established that the Joint-stock Companies have not yet injured it. The head of the firm at this time, called ‘ Jim ’ by that irreverent population, was recognised, of course, by the county families ; could he have been persuaded to join the Church his position would have become regular forthwith. For, besides his acknowledged claim, Mr Mendel kept the harriers, and gave handsome entertainments. But this gentleman, rather simple in other matters, had one crank. He belonged to the Brotherhood of which Mr FaDshawe wa3 a member. The rough craftsmen and struggling , employees of Shuttleton liked this persistence. * Old Jim ’ was still one of themselves, so long as he attended the ugly, mean, little chapel though his carriage had a crest, and his horses were thoroughbred. Arthur Mendel, however, had been trained in the modern school, which was so little satisfactory to his father’s partner, that he insisted the yonng man should take no active part in the business. This resolution was conclusive proof, had any been needed, of Mr Brown s shrewdness and insight. For there was no harm in Arthur Mendel. He had not a single bad quality apparent, whilst showing the rudiments of several virtues; rather a muff, not very much of one, but inclined that way, the fast youths of the neighborhood thought him. His father made a liberal allowance, and he spent it freely in little ‘ games ’ of various sort, but never had he overstepped the bounds of decorum. Mr Mendel did not exact much of hig gon ; not even his at'endance at chapel. Though he allowed himself to be reckoned among the Brethren, Arthur seldom appeared in their midst. Of late years, however, he had grown less patient, and the idea of a trip to South Africa was not unconnected with the proceedings of the Elders. Shuttleton felt a good deal of interest when it was announced that old Jim’s heir son was returning after adventures mysterious as awful. There was some talk of triumphal arches, but common-sense rather than enthusiasm was the prevailing characteristic of the borough, and it dropped unperceived. The Brethren, however, made up their minds to receive the traveller in state, and Hubert was appointed to represent Mrs Fanshawe. Her family and Mr Mendel’s were the only persons of standing who belonged to the small connection. This lady dwelt in a large, cheap, old house, flat and square, away from the haunts of business, though in the town. I have little to say about her, for there ii little to tell. What character she had in a secular point of view seemed to have been knocked out by the wreck of her fortune. Hubert and Kate had returned home by this, with an ingenious explanation ready to account for the transfer of their visit from Little Thorburns to Scarborough, and it was backed by a diplomatic note from Mr Esking. The old lady accepted it, as she accepted other things, not satisfied, but uncomplaining. These worthy elders had always regarded young Fanshawe with strong disapproval, and by the commission above-mentioned he was delivered into their hands. They knew much more of his proceedings than his mother did, and in the meetings summoned to decide what steps should be taken to welcome Arthur Mendel, theii thunders broke upon Hubert’s head. He was not regular at chapel,, and besides, it would be injudicious to risk offending their secondbest convert. Now was an opportunity of rebuking the backslider, and they adjourned time after time. He stood fire very well, sustained by a lethargic temperament, good humour and utter indifference. Mendel’s return \vas a Dleasing event, and for his own reasons Hubert would have wished to take a leading part in the welcome. He reconciled himself to the annoyance as well as might be. The fact is that Arthur had furnished a pretty regular income to his associates. Though he would not play high he played often, and with bad luck as extraordinary as bis want of skill. Hubert trusted that those halcyon days would return. Mr Esking's loan—which he regarded as a gift—had enabled him to pay almost all his debts. There are few things in life so properly to be termed * comparative ‘ as embarrassments, and the burden which may seem crushing to a young man who has no resource beyond a mother s allowance, would not be grave perhaps to one who enjoys a position and au income. The only creditor yet unsatisfied whose claim might be annoying under certain conditions was Mr Thwaite’s head clerk—Jackson. This good-natured fellow did not gamble himself, but he had a pleasing readiness to lend upon such security as young gentlemen can offer when their parents are solvent and pious, and reasonably affectionate. It is not to be understood that Jackson was a usurer or a bill-discounter. If his transactions were published, he had very little to fear. But in a friendly way, with the good-will of everyone concerned, he got an unusual interest for his spare cash. Tt)is gentleman bad nob been paid, but the ornmision caused no uneasiness. It was understood between them, without the formality of a promise, that the accumulation of various small loans was not to be demanded until * something turned up.’ Hubert, therefore, felt n t the slightest thrill of alarm when he met his creditor on the evening of the 6th, after an impressive seance with the elders.

< You’re bade in time for the great day,’ he said cheerfully. ‘ Arthur Mendel comes home to-morrow. W e’ve just had a telegram. He brings a friend, it seems.’

‘ J can give you further information. The friend is Eldred Thorburn—perhaps your uncle will be pleased to hear that, perhaps not. Are you on corresponding terms with him ?’

‘ With my uncle ? Bless you, we were as thick as thieves !’ * Are you—well, I want ray money, I anshawe, and I should be glad if you could get it from him or somebody.’ ‘ I sav, this is sudden ! \S hat s the meaning of it ? , ~ • ‘ J can’t see that any explanation is needed. You owe me nearly a hundred in notes of hand. I want it hack, or security. That’s all !’ , ‘ No, I can see it isn’t all. The money s riohfc enough, and you were as certain about that fact as I am before you went on your holiday. Are yon going to get married . -I say, don’t. . , TT Jackson hesitated a minute. He was a good fellow and loyal in his way. ‘Look here, Fanshawe,’ he said at length. « Your mother has her income, but you will excuse me if I put it that she’s a desperately wood life - better than mine or yours, I dare say. I can’t reckon much on her. Then there’s your rich uncle. It y 7 ou re as thick as thieves, just get a trifle from him to go on with. I don't want to be hard. Say you give me five pounds a month for the next two yeai-3. There!’ _ «I cannot ask the old boy just now. He save me a handsome present the other day. ‘ Did he ! Then let me have my share, come !’ «I’ve paid it all away, Jackson, on my honor ' Yours is the only debt left. Ask the other fellows that used to bother me. They’ll tell you.’ * That how a good-natured chap suiters. Well, you can afford five pounds a month. I’ll draw up the agreement, and you shall sign it to-morrow.’ . < i> m sure you've heard something ! Come, now, we’ve been friends a long time, old m’an. Tell me honestly.’ ‘ Well, I’ll say there’s a report that you ve quarrelled with Esking, or he with you. « What a monstrous joke ! He gave me a magnificent cheque when I bade him good* bye, and told me outright I’m down for something handsome in his will.’ * Bless me !' said Jackson, and hesitated. He really liked his debtor. ‘ What do you mean ?’ ‘ Why, it’s a fact, as you say, that we’ve been friends a long time, Fanshawe, and we've done a deal of business one way or another. I'll tell you so much, you should have stuck tight to the magnificent cheque for it may be the last you get from old Esking.' , , ~ ~, ‘Great heavens ! 1 say he told me a„ the last moment ! Ho you mean that I m not in his will'! T , _, ‘I mean just what I said. I ve no confidence in your uncle as seeux-ity for my loan. There ! Good night ! If you see your way to pay off that little sum more quickly, I shall be pleased to accommodate you. But five pounds a month I must have.’ , ‘ This isn’t fair ! Is uncle ruined ? ‘ Lord, no ! If he avas, should I tell of a client ? Good night ?’ , Jackson would say no more, but when Hubert came to put his hints together,_ dull though he was, the conclusion formed itself plainly in a few moments. Thwaite had drawn up a new will for Mr Esking ; Jackson had seen it—hence his motive to get in the debt for Hubert Fanshawe took no interest under that deed. The idea of regaining hia uncle’s favor did not occur for one instant. Stupid indeed the man must have been who, knowing Mr Esking, thought to soften him ; and Hubert was not stupid in this way. Besides, he had no opportunity. The blow made him savage, and the pros pect of paying five pounds a month for two years was actually desperate. But spite and malignity were foreign to the mans nature. He could not be unaware that the incautious disclosure of Mr Esking’s plans gave him a certain hold, but beyonddeepeninghissenseof injustice and treachery, the recollection had no effect. Hubert would have given a good deal for five minutes’ quiet talk with his uncle on the subject, ending with a steady, oniet 1 one from the shoulder,An satisfaction of his wrongs ; rage carried him no further. But there was another spirit in his household C 1 The news that Eldred Thorburn accompanied the hero of the hour spread fastthrough the town. Mr EskiDg had been a great manufacturer, and more than that, a great notoriety of the place ; his withdrawal to Little Thorburns did not chill the public interest. When somebody heard about ‘ the Treasure,’ and told the legend of it, with surprising scope of detail, at the tea parties of Shuttleton, it had great success. Popular instinct—so seldom wrong, though popular knowledge, taste, reasoning, and all else popular is rarely right—connected Mr Esking with the story in a moment. And thus it happened that the folks of a busy town fifty miles away, of which his ancestors had never heard, -were familiar with Eldred Thorburn’s name and family history to some degree. Kate was excited, of course. After tellm 0 her mother-in law, all over again, Hubert’s battle with the dogs, and sketching with a lively fancy the aspect of Thorburns m its decay, she went out to call, with the pleasing assurance of exclusive information. When Hubert got back to supper for Mrs Fanshawe kept the early anrl virtuous hours of her youth she had not yet returned. What Kate said, what Mrs This and Mrs That replied, with excursions suggested by the circumstance, furnished conversation ot a sort. The old lady took little share therein, and her son none at all, beyond "iving the replique ; but his wife had stores of talk enough for half a dozen. Her eyes were as sharp as her tongue, however, and she saw that Hubert was pre-occupied. In fact, he had a desparately unpleasant task before him. If five pounds a month must be deducted from his allowance for so long a time, it was absolutely necessary to give Kate an explanation. * Supper ended, Mrs Fanshawe wont to bed, and Hubert withdrew as usual to enjoy a cigar in the street or elsewhere. His mother had points of humane intelligence,

and she recognised that a youDg man must have some freedom ; showing therein the common sense of an elder generation, for Kate did not willingly make the allowance. But this evening Hubert returned after an absence not longer than may reasonably be granted for smoking a cigar, and then she knew something was wrong. In the security of their bedroom he confessed his trouble, with the slight deviation from truth that he referred Jackson s debt to the expenses of a time in w liich Kate might feel a gentle interest—his courtship. But she did not believe a word, and flew into a violent passion, upbraiding him for his habits of drink and play, vowing she would let Mrs Fanshaws know what hours he kept, and so forth. Hubert had not meant to tell in the same day his present difficulty and Mr Esking’s treacherous conduct, but troubled imagination did not suggest any other theme to divert the torrent of abuse ; out it all came, and the manoeuvre was sue cessful. Kate’s sentiment for Mr Esking, and for Hilda also, was no less than hatred, and she turned her wrath on them for the moment. So Hubert was led, acting unconsciously upon the strategic principle of pushing by the line of least resistance, to tell what he believed now was the secret reason of Mr Esking’s ill will —his refusal to aid in stealing the Treasure.

Kate could not believe her ears. She declared it must have been a dream Not till all the circumstances were repeated in I detail, and Hubert recalled his impatience that night when she and Hilda lingered in the Charter Boom—impatience for which he had been vehemently rebuked on going to bed —not till then would she admit the truth of his amazing story. But when convinced she sat up, laughing with fierce content. * Dear uncle shall rue the day he was such an ass as to trust you with a secret ! We have him now 1 It’s all clear as daylight 1 When he heard how you killed the dogs, he thought, “Here’s the man for me—brave, and strong, and a fool.” Then you refused, and to keep you quiet he promised to remember us in his will. I see it 1 How could dear uncle suppose you would find out that he was lying ?’ ‘lt is a strange chance, isn’t it ? If I hadn’t owed Jackson that money he would never have told me about the will.’ ‘ I don’t grudge him five pounds a month now. It's cheap for all he has done. Oh, uncle shall repent his behaviour 1’ ‘ But, my dear, what can you do ? Of course, he has given up the idea, now young Thorburn is coming home ?’ ‘Of course he has done nothing of the kind 1 If I saw the new will I could tell you who is going to help him in your place. But I know 1 It’s young Genest, and he’s down for a thumping legacy—or for a wife 1 Yes, that's it ! I saw how he was in love with Hilda. Leave me alone. Go to sleep, my dear. I’ve got s mething to think about.’ ‘ But be careful, for heaven’s sake, Kate. You may bring an awful scandal on the family, and put me into a most unpleasant position. Uncle has only to deny it, and where are we ?’ ‘ He won’t deny when we prove it. Go to sleep, I tell you 1’ ‘ But, my dear, young Thorburn is coming home. What are you to prove ?’ ‘ He’s coming, but he hasn't come yet. At this very moment, I dare say, your dear uncle and George Genest are at work 1’ Kate was wrong as to time. At that m >ment, Mr Esking sat, beaming with intelligent placidity, in the drawing-room at Bohun Castle. George arrived before the hour of starting and found him dressed in the Charter Boom. ‘ I have fulfilled your condition,’ said Mr Esking, taking his hand. ‘ We may congratulate each other, George, shortly.’ ‘ Hilda consents ?’ * You may learn for yourself, as soon as she comes down, if there is time.’ * I couldn’t to-day 1 It is a horrible bargain—on my side, though not, I hope, on hers. What did she say ?’ ‘ Very little—in fact, nothing, after I had explained my wishes.’ ‘ But what was it ?’ ‘ Wliy, to speak frankly, she said she did not care for you in that way, George —that is, she corrected herself, the idea had not passed through her mind. But if I desired it very much, she had confidence in my affection and my judgment. Most marriages seem to be very unreasonable and very silly. She hopes hers will not be so bad as some, and she thinks it will not. That was all that oassed.’ ‘All?’ * Actually all, upon my honor 1 Then she kissed me, and went to dre3S in good spirits.’ ‘ I have to win her love yet, but, please heaven, I will. I could not speak now, even if there v/ere more encouragement. Let it remain there for a time.’ ‘ You are s tisSed, however ?’ ‘ Quite satisfied. I will pay the price. I would risk ruin in this world and the next for Hilda.’ ‘ And I for knowledge 1 Then we'll start if she’s ready.’ They found her in the breakfast room, looking out of the window. She turned, showing no embarrassment, but coloring slightly as she took George's hand. Her eyes met his with a strange expression—curiosity, and doubt, and frank good-will were its leading motives, perhaps. They set off at once. Mr Esking talked pleasantly, and the others replied at such length as was needful. George recovered his spirits in Hilda’s presence. He was a tnan who could direct his brain to the future, but his soul lived in the present. Before this type of absolute loveliness George remembered only that she had promised to be his. The view of the reward obscured the sacrifice. Sir Phillip Bohun and her ladyship, their sons and daughter and governess, their antique abode and its memorials, would deserve a note had I room for it. They were all astonished at Hilda’s beauty, seen now for the first time under circumstances that displayed it to perfection. Mr Esking was never indifferent to his daughter’s dress, but he made no remarks so long as it was fresh and graceful. Two years before, he had instructed Madame Rosalie to fulfil any

comniision from her, and he took it for granted that her pretty things came from Paris. Few of them appeared in the bill, hut when Hilda let it be understood that she paid cash for common dresses Mr Esking asked no question. He complacently wondered how she found the needful, but kept his wonder to himself. The robes of ceremony, however, Hilda would not undertake, and these were actually supplied from time to time by Madame Rosalie. Miss Bohun was astonished and not pleased to note that her dress was as exquisite as her face and figure. It was near eleven o’clock when they drove away, after inspecting the treasures of the Castle. Heavy rain had fallen, but the moon shone brightly now, almost at its full. Unaccustomed "to adventures of this kind, George had not given a thought to the chances of the sky, and this brilliant radiance, recalling painfully the work in hand, filled him with dismay. He almost hoped for a moment that Mr Esking had forgotten also, and would give up his plan ; bet a glance in that smiling, calm, cheerful face dispelled the pleasing hallucination. His spirits died out blankly ; a sickly excitement gripped his heart. On arrival at Little Thorburns, Hilda went to bed at once. George stayed only to hear again, in an impressive whisper, his instructions, and then drove away. He had made himself acquainted with the spot where his dog-cart was to be concealed near the gate of Thorburns, and there—with a mind perpetually recurring to bolt at full gallop —he waited.

It was not long, or he might have followed his idea. Within twenty minutes a figure, white from top to toe, came gliding through the shadows of the avenue. There was no man on earth more disposed by nature or training to disbelieve in ghosts than was young Genest, but conscience and terror are our masters when they get get a hold. He stood paralysed an instant —his flesh bristled ; but before he could turn Mr Esking’s low voice reached him. ‘What’s the meaning of this?’ George asked angrily. ‘ I forgot to tell ycu, Here is your ghostly equipment, son-in law.’ The title produced its effect. Sullenly, but obediently, George took the robes. ‘You see,’ Mr Esking continued, ‘I reckoned with the moon-come under the trees 1 In the first place, it enables us to dispense with a light, and in the second, it transforms us, with the help of a table cloth, judiciously arranged, into supernatural and awful beings, nob to be meddled with, irresponsible and unaccountable. Thus legend is made.' .

His tone was almost joyous in its ease. George felt the influence, but he could not speak. They walked on, beneath the shadow, to the tower archway. * It is here,’ said Mr Esking, who betrayed excitement at last. ‘ And here are the tools. I’ve measured the distances exactly. One hour s work, or perhaps not that—and then 1’ From amidst the ivy he produced a pickaxe, two besoms, a crowbar, and two spades. ‘We may break one,’ he muttered. Through the open doorway ami tne latticed broken windows of the Clock Tower the moonlight streamed, giving a misty, solemn glow to the vaulted room. It was half full of rubbish and discarded implements, hut they stood against the walls, leaving a central area. Mr Esking stood in the very middle, measured the space thoughtfully once more with his eye, and struck his crowbar on the worn pavement, which resounded under the blow. ‘ This is the spot, now 1’ . • He no longer hesitated. 4 Le vin est tire fout le boire 1’ George said to himself, and the old proverb droned in _ his ear with monotonous iteration, keeping time to every movement, in the long hour that followed. , , , . , The cement was hard, but when in ages long gone by, at the date of Edward Thorpavement was laid, the imagination of builders did not go beyond rough flints for material. They were worn smooth upon the surface, but when the first, unbedded half its diameter, had been forced out, the rest was easy. Mr Esking worked like a young man; those night sounds which made George’s heart leap had no effect on him. A space two feet square was uncovered, the pebbles ranged neatly alongside in the order of their extraction for relaying. Then George took a spade, whilst his companion loosened the earth around. They dug twelve inches, eighteen, two feet—and Mr Esking became anxious. ‘ It cannot be much deeper,’ he muttered. ‘ Edward Thorburn was in haste 1 What's that ?’ He seized a bit of some material, not earth, which George threw out. ‘ Old metal 1 Now we are on it 1 Be careful—be careful 1’ ‘ There’s a hollow here—yes, and something like a box 1’ Mr Esking pushed him furiously aside, and fell upon his knees, scooping at the soil. * It is a box, but not wood or metal. Oh, what a fool I was not to think of leather 1 Oh, what a fool 1’ ‘ What do you mean?’ George asked. But the old man labored unheeding. ‘ Tough and firm as the day it was buried,’ he murmured to himself. * In this dry place, protected by a casing, it would last to the Day of Judgment 1 Well, well 1 I have it at last 1’ ‘But you remember your promise? lor twelve months it is not to be opened.’ * You have my word of honor,’ Mr Esking replied irritably. * Now let us get it out — quick !’ That was very difficult, for though the leathern chest was small upon the surface, it was deep and heavy. ‘ Don’t be so rough,’ George remonstrated. ‘ You will break it.’ The other paid no attention, but the material held. Gradually they worked it out, and at length deposited the rude old kist, shapeless with earth and mould, upon the floor. Mr Esking fell upon it— ‘ At last 1 At last 1’ he exclaimed, passing his hands round loving, eagerly. ‘ Don’t make more noise than can be helped,’ George cried. ‘See, you have knocked off great flakes of soil. Let us fill up and get away, in heaven’s name—-

if it isn't blasphemy to speak of heaven here. He would not allow the further search which Mr Esking desired, but threw in the rubbish passionately. There was not enough to make the ground even, and they collected .such broken tools and things as lay to hand, swept the earth on them, spread a layer of cement, and embedded the pebbles neatly. George had not patience for this He wanted to fly the spob. But Mr Esking toiled on methodically, and would not desist ( till his eye was quite content. Then he strewed dry dust above, brushed it with his handkerchief to smooth out the footprints, and surveyed his work. 4 Now, George, we will go. A Red Indian would not suspect that this ground has been disturbed.’ They slung the chest upon their crowbars, and hastily made off, following the narrow, weed grown path that led to the garden door, and through it. The moon was lowly by this time, and they kept beneath the shadow of the wall and shrubs—reached the verandah, crossed it, and gained the Charter Room. Not a word passed until the Treasure had been deposited in one of those capacious chests, and locked securely. ‘ Now it is safe 1 Mr Esking whispered, ‘ and I am the happiest man in England ! To you I owe it, George, and believe me, if I could not pay the debt, my gratitude would be painful. Here is whisky —take a full glas3 and go. Heaven bless you, my boy 1’ * How shall I go ?’ said George, pausing with the bottle in his hand as a thought struck him suddenly. ‘Not by the way we came 1 No, not if my salvation depended on it 1’ ‘ I will go with you.’ 4 No, no 1’ He drank greedily and filled again. * I tell you I dare not 1 Let me out through the front door.’ 4 Well, well 1 Go quietly, though there’s no danger.’ They went out, George almost reeling with the excitement and the strong liquor. Mr Esking unlocked the door stealthily. ‘Good night, my dear, dear boy? Aou will come in the morning ?’ It was morning long ago, but not dawn. George hurried along the road, fragrant with the perfumes of summer night. An intense relief, a horror of remorse and dread, a wild triumph in the thought that Hilda was won, tumultuously mingled in the confusion of his spirits which the drink had stirred. He found the dog cart safe where it had been left. Bayleaves threw up her head, and snorted as he touched her, quivering with impatience. At another time, knowing the mare so well, George would have recognised these symptoms; he recognised them now, indeed, but paid no attention. After leading her out and sooth'ng her, he tried to gain his seat; but the moment her head was free she broke into a sharp trot. This maneeuvre, repeated several times, roused the young man’s passion. He jerked the bit and struck her. After this correction Bayleaves stood like an effigy until he turned—then, his foot upon the step, sprang forward. George fell headlong backwards, and the wheel passed over him. (To be continued )