FICTION.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1189, 14 December 1894, Page 8

FICTION.

“ THE WHITE VIRGIN,"

GEORGE MANVILLE EENN. —♦ [Aim Rights Reserved.] (Continued.) CHAPTER XXXIII. DIVIDED. Jessop started aside in abject fear, and made a rush to escape by passing l his brother in the narrow path, but, with a cry of rage, Clive struck at him. The blow was ineffective to a certain extent, but was sufficient to make Jessop stumble and fall forward heavily. Before, however, Clive could seize him, he had scrambled up and ran along that shelf-like path as if for his life, while, as Clive started in pursuit, mad almost with despair and rage, a low piteous sobbing cry arrested him, and ho turned back into the dark tunnel with his temples throbbing, his eyes feeling as if on fire, and a strange mad desire to kill thrilling every nerve.

* Clive, Clive ! what have I done ?’ came out of the darkness"; and quick as lightning his arms went out, and he caught the speaker savagely by the shoulders, his hand closing violently upon the soft yielding muscles, and then falling helplessly to his sides, as if that touch had discharged every particle of force with which be was throbbing. ‘Clive, ’ she cried; ‘I thought—your message^ —oh, speak to me,’ * Silence!’ he cried, in a low harsh voice, whioh made her tremble. But the next moment, wild with excitement, and as they stood there in the darkness, face to face, but invisible one to the other, she stepped towards him, and caught his arm in turn. ‘Clive, dear,’ she cried wildly. ‘Oh, for God’s sake speak to me. You don’t think ’

* Think!’ he cried, with a furious mocking laugh. ‘Yes, I think all women are alike—a curse to the man who is idiot enough to belieye? -•- She drew- a long sobbing breath as she shrank from him now, the words of explanation which had. leaped to her lips checked on the instant by the shame and indignation with which she was filled; and the next moment she was like stone in her despair. > ‘ I am sorry that I came back so soon,’ he said, in a bitter, sneering tone ; ‘ but I have some respect for the poor old Major even now. Gome back.’

She did not speak;, but he could hear her breath coming in a . short quick catching way. . . _ * You hear me ?’ he said, hastily. * Come back to your father now 5 but don’t speak to me, or the mad feeling may come back. I cannot answer for myself.’ * Take me home,’ she said, in tones that he did not recognise as hers, and once more the furious rage within him flashed up like fire, as in his wild jealous indignation he cried— '• ■;

'And him of all men. Quick! Back to the cottage first/ . ’ He caught her "wrist now so fiercely that the pain was almost unbearable, but she did not shrink. The suffering seemed to clear her brain, and in a flash she saw a horror that made her tremble.

* Clive,? she cried, excitedly} ‘what are you going to do ?’ He laughed bitterly. I ‘Perhaps what you think/ he said. * Likely enough. What should the man do to one who, robs him twice. Why not ? There is not room for two such brothers upon earth/ r .t 7 She panted to speak, but no words came for a time, as with her wrist prisoned with a grasp of iron, she let him lead her back toward the cottage, half a mile away—out now from the rock cuttiner, to where the stars , shone' ; down upon them with their calm, peaceful glimmer, as if there were no such thing as human passion upon earth.;

At last she spoke. j . ‘Clive, you will not hear me/ she pleaded now, ds her womanly indignation was swept away by the great horror she saw looming up before her. ‘ No/ he said, ‘ I will not hear you. I know enough. Are you trembling for your - lover’s life ?’

‘Oh !’ she ejaculated, and she made ah effort to snatch away her wrist; but the ring around it grew tighter as they walked on now in silence, till in her dread, as the icy perspiration gathered upon her forehead, she stopped short and faced him. *1 would not speak/, she said, in a low hurried voice. ‘ You should go on thinking me everything that was false and bad. I would not say a word to show how you are misjudging me/ " He laughed scornfully. ‘But I will not have you go in your mad anger and ignorance to commit some act for which you would repent to your dying day/ ‘Only a short time of suffering, perhaps, he said, mockingly. ‘Oh, Clive! you of all men to misjudge me so/ she moaned. ‘ Let me tell you all/ ‘■Bah'/ he ejaculated, as he fiercely swung her round and continued his walk, half dragging her beside him as if she were a prisoner. r'" v ‘You do not know, dear —there : I call you ‘‘ dear,” ’ she whispered, in her sweet soft caressing voice. ‘ You are hurting me terribly with your cruel grasp, but it is nothing to the agony you make me suffer by believing I could .be so deceitful and base.’

He laughed mockingly again, and she drew in breath with a low sigh, as a wave of hot indignation mastered her once more, and closed her lips. But love prevailed again. She stopped, and tried to fling herself upon his breast, dinging wildly to him with the arm that was free. * No, no: Clive, my own love, my hero,

I Would rather that you killed me than believed all this.’

He repulsed her with tk cry of disgust, and again there Was the low sighing sound of her breath, but she went on again—‘l forgive you, dear,’ she said hurriedly. ‘You are my own; I am yours. I gave myself heart and soul to you, Clive, and you shall hear me.’ He tried to drag her onward along the path, but she would not stir, and nothing but the most cruel violence would have moved her then, as she went on hurriedly—- ‘ Something tries to make mo say “ Go on in your disbelief, for you are cruel, and do not deserve my love!” but I must, I will speak. Kill me then if you will not believe. It would be so easy. There,’ she cried; and she took a step before him right to the edge of the path where the precipice went perpendicularly down to the rough stones among which the river gurgled a hundred feet below. He made a snatch to drag her back, but sht resisted him and stood firm.

‘ I was sitting at home —alone,’ she said, hurriedly, ‘ when the man brought your message.’ ‘ My message !’ he cried, with a mocking laugh. ‘ Yes; your telegram with its few words which sent joy to my weary heart as I waited for news of him I loved.’

‘My telegram!’ ho said, with the same low harsh laugh. ‘There, back home to your father, woman. I believed, but lam awake now, and can be fooled no more.’ . She struggled with herself again, and panted on hurriedly—- ‘ You must, you shall believe me, dear. I forgive you all this because I know it is your great love for me, and you think I have deceived you. Yes ; I know what you must feel, dear, and so I beat down all my cruel anger, and humble myself like this in my pity for you and despair. I read your dear words.’

‘My words! I sent no telegram. I came down hurrying to be once more at the side of the woman who, in my folly, I believed to be a saint. I come and I find her clasped in the arms of my greatest enemy—my own brother—and you talk to me like this.’ She uttered a low piteous wail, and the struggle within her was intense. ‘Yes, it is true; you sent me that message—“ Coming down by the three-six train to Blinkdale. Meet me along the high path.’” ‘ It is false !’ he cried, hastily. ‘ No, no,’ she cried, as her hand went to the bosom of her dress, and she snatched out a crumpled-up piece of paper. ‘ Take it and read.’

He made a fierce clutch at the paper she held out in the darkness, half to take it, half to strike it from her hand, as only part, of some miserable deceit, and the latter act was successful, for it fell down the side of the precipice—down toward the river surging on below. She muttered a wild cry, and then went on hurriedly—‘lt was late —my father had gone out, but I would not disappoint you, Clive; and I came on shivering as I found it would soon be dark; but I knew that your strong arms would soon be round me to protect me, and I hurried on, till there in the darkest part I felt that you were waiting for me, and—that is all.’ Her hurried passionate words ceased, and she ended her explanation with those three feeble, lame, to him inconclusive, words. Then yielding herself to his pressure, she walked on by his side, broken, exhausted by her emotion, dumb now, as she waited for him to speak. She waited in vain till the river-side was reached, and from lower down in the darkness there came a cheery whistle as the Major was returning from the long walk into which he had been drawn by his ill success. Clive Reed’s nerves twitched, but he turned rapidly through the garden with Dinah half fainting, and ready to cling to one of the supports of the porch, as he at last set her free.

‘What—Clive —dearest/ she whispered faintly— ‘ tell me—what are you going to do?’

He bent down with his lips close to her ear, and whispered sharply ‘ Kill him, or he shall me/ Then, with a hurried step he sprang up through the higher part of the garden, in and out among the shrubs and bushes, and climbed on to the very top and then struck out over the mountain slopes. Dinah listened till the rustling sounds he made died away, and then, hot and trembling, she went up slowly to her room, and sat down with her face buried in her hands; but there was no relief—the source of her tears was dry. Clive took a short cut across the rugged moorland and twice over he narrowly escaped death. The first time he was pulled up short by coming violently in the darkness against the rough unmortared wall built up round an ancient shaft on the mine land; and as he checked himself by grasping the loose stones, one of them fell over and went down and down, striking once against the side, and sending a chill through him as a reverberating roar came up, followed -at a short interval by a dull, echoing splash, after which he could hear tho water hiss and suck against the sides, sending up strange whisperings, which sounded, to his disturbed imagination, like demoniacal confidences about Dinah Grurdon and his brother.

He hurried away, as another stone was dislodged, and the sullen plunge came to his ear when he was yards distant, tearing along in the most reckless way, to trip at last over a stone and fall headlong down one of the deep gully-like ravines with which the mountain land was scored.

He caught at a rough projection, against which he struck, and held on while a little avalanche of stones continued falling; then, half stunned and trembling from the shock, crept back again, to proceed more cautiously along the edge of the gully, making for the path once more, fully aware now of the fact that it was utter madness

to attempt to cross that region iii the darkness!]

‘ Not yet,’ he muttered, with a savage laugh; * I must square accounts with brother Jessop first? Then he laughed as he wiped away the blood which had trickled down like perspiration from a cut in the forehead, and which came like a blessing in disguise, relieving, as it bled freely, the tension upon his over-’charged brain; for if ever man was on the border-line which stretches between sanity and utter madness, Olive Reed was'then.

‘Of course? he said, ‘ I am a fool—a pitiful, child-like fool—-ever to imagine that a light-hearted girl would Care for such a dreamy student as I—a lhah Whose whole conversation is about mines and shares and money. I had my lesson with Janet, who tolerated mo as long as she could for her father’s sake; but I would not take it, and went on in my folly once more. Jessop again ! Of course, the goodlooking, well-dressed; plaiisibl© scoundrel. They always said he was a ladies’ man, and the more infidelities proved against such a one, the more attractive he becomes, I suppose? ‘ Bah ! ’ he ejaculated savagely, ‘ what is it to me ? It shall not be for that, but for the money'. If I want an idol, it shall be gold, and he is trying to rob me of it.’ He struggled on, stumbling in the darkness over stones and tufts of heather, till he reached a rift, which led, 'sloping, to the pathway close by the tunnel-like notch, and, as he let himself down on to the firm, level way, he ran through the dark part with his hands holding his head as if to keop it from bursting with the agonising memories of what he had witnessed that night—a scene photographed upon his brain by that sharp flash of light before all wa3 black darkness—a darkness which now enshrouded his soul.

‘But I must be cool and strong? he muttered, as he subsided into a walk once more, and went steadily on toward the entrance to the mine gap, with a confused idea in his head that he would hunt down his brother, bring him to bay, and then — Yes - and then ? His brain carried him no farther.- Something was to happen then to one of them; and he only muttered an insane, mocking laugh, and either could hot or woidd not try to plunge into the future.

CHAPTER XXXIV. ANOTHER STROKE.

‘Where’s your mistress, Hester?’ said th* Major, as he entered the cottage and handed the old servant the creel. * What —has Mr Reed come ? ’

‘ No, sir? said the old woman, shaking her head, as she opened the basket, and looked at the three-brace of handsome trout lying in a bed of freshly-plucked heather. ‘ Poor girl! she has been wandering about in the garden and in the path this hour past, and only came in when it was quite dark. I heard her go into her bedroom and lock the door, and I could hear her sobbing as if her heart would break.’

‘ lut—tut —tut! ’ ejaculated the Major, as ho glanced at his watch. ‘ Humph, too late for him to get here this evening? * Shall I cook the trout, sir ? ’ asked Hester.

‘ Cook them ? Yes, two, woman, of course. I’m starving. I’ve been miles and miles to get them. I want some supper as soon as you can. Dear, dear! ’ he said, softly, as the servant went out, ‘ what a nuisance this love is ! I will be glad when they’re married.’ ‘ No, I shall not? he said to himself, after a pause. ‘ Poor child! She was reckoning so on seeing him to-night.’ He took a turn up and down his little room, and then sought for and filled his pipe. ‘ Finest lot of trout I’ve caught for months. I should have liked the boy to be here. Poor little lassie ! ’ he sighed, ‘ how she loves him. Well, he’s a fine fellow, and worthy of her.’

He struck the match, raised it to his pipe, and threw it down again, placed his newly-filled pipe on the chimney-piece, and went softly into the passage and upstairs to the door of Dinah’s room, where he tapped, and again before his child answered. ‘ Coming down, my darling ? Supper will be ready directly.’ ‘ Don’t ask me, dear/ she said. ‘lam so unwell to-night/ * Her voice is quite changed/ thought the Major. ‘ Sho must have been crying bitterly/ Then, aloud : ‘ But, Dinah, my dear-, don’t, pray don’t tako on like this. Come, come, be a dear, strong-minded little woman. Business has stopped him. Ho’ll be hero to-morrow, I daresay. Coxne, I say. I shall be so lonely without your dear face at the table/ The door was opened softly, a little white hand stole out through tho narrow crack, and played about his face for a few minutes caressingly before it was withdrawn.

«I cannot —indeed I cannot come out,’ she whispered tenderly ; and the hand stole out again and its back was laid against his lips, for him to kiss it tenderly. ‘ Indeed I am unwell and must lie down again. My head is unbearable.’

. ‘Very well, my dear/ said the Major sadly. ‘ But Dinah, my little one, don’t —try not to give way like this. Silly girl/ he continued, as he kissed the little white cold hand he held, and laughed. ‘ I’ve a good mind to tell him what a love-sick little goose it is.’ The Major did not hear the piteous, broken-hearted sob which followed his words, for the door was closed, but went down and ate his supper alone ; nor did he know of the sleepless night his child passed as she went over the events of the evening again and again till her head grew confused, her brain wild, and as she. sank upon her knees with uplifted hands it was in a rebellious spirit, to ask what had she done that the love time of her young life should bo turned to one of misery and despair. Dinah’s pale drawn face and the dark rings about her eyes when she appeared at breakfast the next morning raised a feeling

I akin to resentmeiit in the Major’s heart; j but he said nothing 1 , only kissed her tenderly, and making 1 an effort to rouse her from her state of despondency, chatted pleasantly about his fishing adventures on the previous evening, and the cunning displayed by trout at that time of the year. ‘ I declare, my dear, that I was ready to give up over and over again. Their eyes are as sharp as a needle, and it was not until it was almost dark that I could get them to look at a fly, and then it was only at the very smallest gnat I could put on. Gome, 1 he cried, as he tapped the plate Upon which lie had placed one of the broiled trotit, ‘ doh’t let my poor Ash spoil. They’rd good foi* hoifvoUs headache, puss, And Master Clive has missed a treat.’ It was hard work to preserve her composure and gratify the old man by eatihg a little, but Dinah tried, and succeeded, saying to herself the while —‘he will come soon and ask mb to forgive him for all his cruel thoughts and words, and I ought to hold back and refuse, but I cannot. For, poor love, what he must have suffered. I should have been as mad and cruel had I seen him holding another to his heart. I eould not beat it—l should die;’ fihe brightened up a little then, as the Major chatted on, but she did not hear a word, for she was fighting a feeling of resentment against her betrothed and beating it down, her eyes losing their dull filmy look as she thought of that meeting to come when he would be asking her to forgive him, and she told him that she had never had a thought of love that was not his, never could have one that was not loyal and true to the man who had first increased the beating of her pulses. Then, all at once, she gave a violent start, and dropped the cup she held into its saucer.

Why, what is the matter now, darling ?’ cried the Major, as he saw her eyes half close and her pale face flush to the very temples. She made a quick gesture toward the open window. ‘ Well, what does that mean ? ’ cried the Major. ‘You are as nervous as an old I woman. There is nothing there. By* George, there is. What ears you have! How j has he managed it P Here, quick ! Bing • and tell Hester to bring a cup and saucer, and to broil another trout. He’ll be as hungry as a hunter after his morning’s J walk.’ t 1

For steps were perfectly audible now coming along the stony path; but Dinah did not spring from her chair to hurry out and meet their visitor, but sank back, with the flush dying out once more, leaving her face almost ghastly, as her heart told her that Clive was not coming to ask her forgiveness. It was not his quick impatient step 3 and the endorsement of her thoughts came directly from just outside the window, through which the Major had hurriedly stepped. ‘Morning, Mr Bobson,’ he cried. ‘I thought it was Mr Beed. Good heavens, man, what’s wrong ?’ * I hardly know, sir,’ said the young man hastily. * Two of our men coming bo work this morning found him in a cleft, bruised and bleeding from a cut on the head.’ ‘ A fall P 1 cried the Major. * No, sir. Been set upon and half murdered, I’m afraid. Ah, Miss Gurdon ! I’m very sorry, I didn’t know you were there.’

For Dinah had just made her appearance at the window, having heard every word.

CHAPTER XXXY. WITH THEIR OWN PETARD. f G-o on/ cried the Major, excitedly; ' she must hear it now. Hold up, my child, only an accident—a slip: trying- to make some short cut in the dark. Now, then/ he continued with military promptitude, 'when did they find him ? ’ Dinah listened with her head held forward, lips white and trembling, and her nostrils dilated, hearing her father’s words, and all the time picturing, in imagination, a desperate encounter between two brothers on the dark hillside. Then the one misjudging, bitter, and mad about her, struck down, to lie through the night, half dead, with upbraidings against her upon his lips. It was just like a, flash: she saw the whole scene while the young clerk went on in answer to the Major. 'Just off the path, sir.’ * And what have you done ?’ ‘ Had him carried directly to my rooms a,t the office, sir.’ ‘ Where his brother is seeing to him ?’ _ * No, sir; Mr Jessop Reed has gone off in haste to London on business. Left a letter for Mr Sturgess. He’s bad too, sir. Half delirious with his bad shoulder, which has broken out again.’ ' . <TTutut —tut —tut!’ ejaculated the Major. ' Well ? You did something more ?’ ‘ Yes, sir, sent off directly to Blink dale for the doctor, bathed and bound up Mr Reed’s head, and then came on to you.’ ‘ Good!’ cried the Major, sharply, clapping the young man on the shoulder, and drawing him into the room. ' Sit down and swallow a cup of coffee, my lad. You ve had no breakfast. Dinah, my child, be a woman. 'Wee’ll go over at once. No. You and Hester make a bed for him in my study. I’ll have him carried here. He cannot stay at that noisy mine.’ < Yes —yes/ said Dinah, in a whisper, as with trembling hands she hurriedly placed the coffee before the messenger. ' Hester will get that ready, father. I must come too.’

‘No, no, my child! —well, yes, you may be of use. Be cjuick, then. In a minute we must be off. Then, as Dinah ran up to her room, he went to the study and returned hastily, placing something in his breast. ' Old soldiers know a little about surgery, 1 Mr Robson/ he said. ‘lt will bo a couple of hours before the doctor can get to the mine.’ ‘ Three, sir.’ ‘ Perhaps, and I may be of use.’ ‘I thought you would come, sir/ said

1 Bobson, as he Hurriedly appeMsed iiiS hunger. ‘ There’s something wrong; i66,’ at the mine, so one of the principal men says, but I didn’t stop to hear what it was, for I was coming on here.’ * Curse the mine!’ cried the Major; ‘ let’s think of poor Mr Beed. Ah, that’s right, my dear,’ he cried, sharply, as Dinah came into the room, looking very white, but firm and determined. ‘Beady, Mr Bobson ?’

‘ Quite, sir,’ said the messenger, starting up.

‘Tell, Hester, my dearP’ ‘ Dinah nodded. She Gould not speak, and the nest minute they were down by the i'iVer, and theft ascetlaed the mountain jfath; Walking quickly along the harrow shelf; with thrill after thrill passing through Dinah; as she went by the spot Where Clive had struck the paper she had Offered him from her hand; and this was Supplemented fcy a suffocating feeling of despair as they reached the cool, dark, shady cutting, tunnelled out in the precipitious cliff. Here she glanced wildly at the spot where she had flown, as she believed; to her lover’s arms; and rested in thdrti for a mofiient; tnurmuriilg tel dbliglit that he had come.

There was a heavy dull pulsation in her brain, as she passed on with her father out into the sunshine once again, deafening her to the words he spoke from time to time, while the mountain side seemed to swim around before her and the purple heather to rise and fall in waves till the gap was reached. That pathway to the mine chasm with all its host of terrible recollections brought her back to the present with a shock, and she walked down it clinging tightly to her father’s arm,.

She shivered and felt cold now as she gazed wildly before her. It was wonderfully changed, but the salient points were the same, and she hardly noted the many buildings which had sprung up, but gazed excitedly round, expecting moment by moment that her eyes would light upon the fierce, mocking face of Sturgess; while, by a strange confusion of ideas, the beating of her heart seemed to form itself into the heavy steps of the man from whom she fled panting with horror, coming in rapid pursuit. She started nervously again and again, as the figure of some sturdy workman passed before them, coming or going from different portions of the busy hive, where a steam engine was panting heavily, or a huge pump toiled on tossing out the water from the depths of the mine to run gurgling along by the side of the path - they followed. At last the new-looking offices were reached, and a group of workmen drew away to let them pass, while Dinah gazed round nervously, clinging more tightly now to her father’s arm, feeling sure that in another moment or two she must face the man she feared.

A spasm shot through her, as Bobson exclaimed sharply— : ‘How is he?’ ' . ’ And she strained her ears for the answer from a man in the doorway. ‘ Just the same, sir. He hasn’t moved.’ The next question turned her giddy. . ‘ Where is Sturgess—in his room ?’ ‘ No, sir. He got up when they told him, and went down the mine.’ ‘ Bah! he wasn’t fit to stir. This way, sir.’ Bobson led them into his room; and there Dinah sank upon her knees beside a mattress, upon which, pale and stern, with his head enveloped in a broad bandage, lay Clive Beed, his eyes half-closed, and his lips moving as he went on muttering incoherently; while as Dinah bent down over him she heard her name faintly whispered. For a moment she believed that it was in recognition of her presence, and her heart gave one great leap of joy. But it sank down directly into a slow feeble beat as she grasped only too truly that the speaker was delirious, and thei-e was a look in his face which sent a terrible foreboding to her heart.

‘ Let him not die, oh God, without knowing that I was his very own/ she moaned to herself, as an intense longing came over her to clasp him tightly to her heart. Then she gave way, and rose with a low sigh, as her father said sternly—- ‘ Let me come, my child. Minutes are precious. At all costs we will get him away from here.’ What followed was like a dream, but she heard the Major’s sharp military voice as he gave decisive orders. She saw him remove the bandage and replace it with another well saturated with water, and then as she stood back she saw four sturdy, willing men stoop down at her father’s order, each take a corner of the thin narco ;r mattress upon which Clive lay, and keeping step, bear him out of the place and along the path toward the entrance of the gap. Then she was conscious that she was walking behind in the little procession with the Major grasping her arm and carrying a large bottle of water. - ‘lt is the best way/ he said, * and he will see the doctor all the sooner, for he must pass us on his way from Blinkdale.’ The little procession went steadily on, Robson leaving them now, and Dinah’s breath came more freely as they reached the mouth of the gap, and turned round on to the path without Sturgess having been seen. In this fashion they made their way steadily on to the cottage, the Major call- - ing a halt, so that he could saturate the bandage, from time to time. But the little ambulance party had hardly passed out of sight of the mine entrance when, in answer to the signal, the engine gear began to work, the wire rope ran over the wheel as it revolved rapidly, till with a sudden clang the ascending cage reached the platform and Sturgess stepped out, with his arm and shoulder roughly bound up, and with a wild look in his eyes as they burned feverishly above his hollow pallid cheeks. The captain of one of the underground gangs stepped out after him, and laying a hand upon his arm, said quietly—

* You take my advice, Mr Sturgess ; that place is turning ugly. You go and lie down again, and let the doctor see it when he comes/

* You hold your tongue for a fool/ said Sturgess, savagely; and then he made a lurch, as if he had turned giddy, but he recovered himself directly. ‘ Here, some of you : where's Mr Jessop Reed ? ’ -‘I told you/ said Robson, who came up just then. ‘He has gone to town/ ‘lt’s a lie! ’ said Sturgess: ‘He wouldn’t have gone without telling me.’ ‘ Then he told it himself on paper/ said Robson, coolly. * I read you what he said/ ; * And it’s a lie, and so is what Smithers says, like a fool/ ‘Ah, you told me there was something wrong below just as I was off this morning/ said Robson, eagerly. ‘ Nobody hurt, Smithers ? ’

‘ Nobody hurt ? ’ said the man, with a coarse laugh; ‘well, I suppose overybody concerned. It’s a general burst-up, Mr Robson/

‘A lie! All a lie! ’ said Sturgess, stretching out his hands and groping, as if to save himself from falling. ‘All a big flam/

■/ ‘ls it? You’ll seel’ muttered the captain. ‘Avlie, I say!’ growled Sturgess, half delirious, as lie looked round from one to the other, pressing his hand to his heated shoulder all the while. ‘A lie, I say, to frighten the people into selling their shares ; and they did, the fools! Bah! The White Virgin’s the richest mine in England, and I’ll break the neck of any one who says it ain’t! ’ * No, you won’t break anybody’s neck/ said the man, gravely, ‘ unless it’s your own, Mr Sturgess; and, unless you take care, you’re going to be very badly. It’s all true, Mr Sturgess. I thought that lode couldn’t go on yielding like it did/ ‘ln heaven’s name, man, what do you mean ? ’ cried Robson.

‘ Only this, sir : we’ve come upon a blind lead.’ ‘What?’

‘ The lode has stopped dead in the rock, and we can’t find any moro trace of it—nothing but the stone, and I don’t believe there’ll be another scrap of ore ever found/ A blind lead ! ’ cried Robson, astounded. ‘ Yes, sir, that’s it; and if Mr Clive Reed holds any shares still, it’s a cruel bit of news for him. As for the other chaps—well, they can take their chance.—Ah, I thought so! * For Sturgess had reeled and nearly fell, to be lowered down by the man, breathing stertorously, evidently insensible to all that passed around.

The news was true. The rumour Wrigley and Jessop Reed had set afloat for their own nefarious ends had proved prophetic. Hoist with their own petard, they had yet to learn that they were ruined men. (To be continued.)