THE RANDALL JEWELS

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXVI, Issue 5288, 28 May 1904, Page 12

THE RANDALL JEWELS

CHAPTER I. A cold March wind shook the trees around Aingerlie, bringing down in wet flashes tho rain which had ceased to fall at the gloaming hour. Xt was almost midnight now and tbe sky was clear save for a few drifting wisps of cloud. The moon, sinking westward, lit faintly the roofless walls and staring window gaps of the big rambling mansion., Aingerlie looked a ruin, but it was only if- that stage of destruction which preludes a more glorious existence. Some half a century ago, the Randalls, who had reigned in the old place since Bruce’s day, had parted with it under sore stress of poverty to the brand-new baronet, air Joseph ■ Craig, whose numberless herds and flocks earned his mdlions, on the plains of Australia' and Argentina. In his day the old bouse stood unaltered, and bis only son bad been in no haste to bring it into modern style. Lately, however, a small army of labourers had been dismantling tho ancient and substantial erection and gossip began to wonder if Sir Nigel Craig, who had reached the mature age of 30, to all appearance Heartwhole. was going to bow to fate and take himself a wife, (

Tn the silence nnd crloom the watchman went his first round; he was an old soldier named Grieve, and usually a snappy fox-terrier shared his vigil, but a few nights ago Sprig had sprained a foreleg leaping through a-' window, and his master’s ears were no good substitute for his. He sat down by his tiny stove in a shed to warm himself a enp off coffee, hearing not a light footstep that crept over the grass, seeing not a slight figure slipping from clump to clump of shrubs. The. intruder would 1mv(» 'hf*en undiscovered bed not a startled bird dashed out of its retreat in a laurel and fled squawking across in the dark firs. All alert. Grieve peered to right and left, and saw a dim shadow cross the blank space of an upper window. Tn a moment he was ascendme a ladder wh ; ch rested atrainst a scaffolding. He was quick and stealthy, hut the intruder was quicker. As Grieve dashed into the soundimr space, he only saw a slim form vanish towards the =tairway. And ere he reached the eround, all was siVnt and still; even the blackbird'® auemlona complaint had died away, and Grieve went back to h'S coffee, ask’ng himself if he t«d not b®°n dren^ng. The next night was darker, and Grmve kent all:his wit® wide awake. At midnight a bold, undisguised footstep crunched the gravel, and the old sold er ran out to see no other than Sir Nigel himseh, with a good cigar in his fingers. At the Home Fam where he was staying he had been, giving a-bachelor dinner to a few friends, and, after he had seen them off, the sight of the red eye of his night watchman's stove glowing in the windy dark had suggested to him to stroll over and offer him a smoke. A good master

and a right good fellow was Sir Nigel Craig, with honest eyes that could meet any man’s, and the kindliest smile in the world.

“This is a cold job for you, Grieve,” ho remarked. “1 don't suppose anything queer oyer turns up to relieve the monotouv, eh:”

“Not as a rule, sir, though last night I got a bit of a start; nothing worth reporting. One of tho workmen coming back to hide someone's tools for a joke, I take it. Ifc looked like a lad, so far as I saw it. 5 '

“Ah! tell me all about it," said Sir Nigel, sitting down on the rough bench and drawing out another cigar. Soon he had the old soldier back on the Indian frontier, living his battles over again, and as he listened and puffed the fragrant weed, ho half regretted the inglorious ease of his lot. Suddenly ho silenced tho narrator by a grip on his arm.

“Hush! something crossed just now, over the grass, towards the house.” They watched breathlessly. All seemed still, then a light gleamed faintly iu an | upper casement and was gone. “Tip the ladder, sir,” whispered Grieve, excitedly, “I'll take the stair. Ho won't bilk us to-night. 5 ' The two men reached the room almost simultaneously, and Sir Nigel caught at a slight form just about to hurl itself, with a despairing cry, out of the empty window-frame. Grieve opened the dark lantern ho had snatched up, and saw a slim, boyish figure wrench itself from the baronet's grasp lean against the wall, shaken with despairing sobs. From his hands a small metal box bad fallen to the ground. Sir Nigel picked it up. “What's all this about? What are you do ? ng here?' 5 ho demanded, not ungently. “Who are you? Not one of tho workmen? What's your name?” “Never mind! I won't tell 1 Lob mo go I” Fear was the predominating ©motion now, and tho boy slipped like an eel passed thorn both and disappeared. Sir Nigel thrust tho box into his companion's hands and started in pursuit, in a few moments he returned, breathless. -

“Ho gave me the slip, but unless I am mistaken he turned into Mrs Brydou's lodge. Now I remember she asked mo a week or two ago about some relation she would like to visit her—asked if I had any objection." “He'e one of them no-good city chaps, growled Grieve, ‘flarkincr about after dark like that! I wonder what's in the box, sir. It's terrible weightvT o There were plenty of tools at hand. An they pressed up the lid, neither of the men could ropijess a cry, for the box was packed full of the magnificent jewels—-ropes of pearls, twisted as you might twist a string of beads, ruby necklets and bracelets w’th the gold settings bent and broken -with being crushed in, sparkle of emeralds, glimmer of diamonds! ''There's a fortune there for you, sir, gasped Grieve. 4 ' r Non© that T have any just claim to, I doubt, 1 ' said Sir Nivel fingering the gems in amazement. There was a flat gold locket hung on a slender chain, the most' trifling article there, and as _he lifted it it flew open. There was a painted miniature within—a woman with a low neck and ringlets, such as were worn when the nineteenth century was still young. The face was delicate and. pale, the hair of rich auburn, and Sir Nigel recognised it with a start as a replica of the indignant young countenance he had looked on a moment before. So did Grieve. v . fr Well, this is a queer go!' he ejaculated. “There's more in it than appears on the surface." said his master gravely. <r l think you had better hold your tongue. Grieve, till I investigate. Jam back that piece of wainscotting, and don'tlet the men know anything. I'll do justice, if I can." ■ . x “I don't doubt that. sir.' ef l had an impression that Ihe old race had died out. Tf not. they shall have their own. Neither I nor mine put those jewels there." CHAPTER 11. So, next morning, almost as soon as the picks and hammers of the workmen bad begun to attack tbe sound old walls. !>’t Nigel Craig walked down to the little cre npor covered lodge, where he believed the heart of.the mystery lay bidden. The milk-cart from a neighbouring farm, bound for the little town, stood at the gate and as he drew near he saw a slender, closely-veiled figure emerge from th© porch and climb hastily to_ th© scat. Mrs Brvdon followed, to hand up a shabby little bag: th© driver shook the reins and chirruped to the fat, white pony which rattled off with a vivacity which suggested that th© contents of the shining cans would be solidified on the journey. M!rs Brydon waved her apron wildly, then wiped her eves with it, and turned, snivelling a little meet the pernlexed face of "the laird. ; # . <f Eh, megsty me!—“guid morning, sir. exclaimed, pulling herself togethey. "Good morning. You have a visitor staying with you "A* th© T’v© had ha'e gan© in Peter's cairt. Wull ye step in.-sir ?" S ,; r Nitre] followed her. into the clean little kitchen. Mrs Brvdon set him a chair, and Vvan to clear awny the remains of a solitary breakfast which stood on the table. _ , "A relation of yours, I think you gave me to wnd«T«f*nd ?** { . . ■ "Tf I did God foren'e me for ijwu ! Nae mair kith than that we're a' children o* Adam.’' , , , , “And you have had no on© else here—no voung ladP" “Ne'er n an 6. sir." tc X fear I'm on the wrong truck, then. V The young man panned and looked narrowly at the shrewd snbinx-I'ke face. "X feel rather like a detective,” he added: "I know something to somebody's advantage, as they say in the papers, but unless I can find the somebody, the advantage will he lost. I wonder if you can help m " Advantage?” In her turn she questioned his face oloeely. leaning both hands on the other side of the table. “I ha e ne’er kent ye as an unjust man, nor hard on the puir and unfortunit.” <T hope not, and 1 am non going to begin now. Come, out with it. Mrs Brydon: I see you know perfectly well what I am aiming at. TVho was it was up at the house seeking for hidden treasure last night and,the niVht before* "Juist my puir dear Miss Elsie Katina 11 There 1 X tellt her T wand mak' a clean breast o’t if ye cam’ speirin’; that naehe-’ wand be mair merciful nor considerate than yerseT. If I e bad seen her greetin’, sittin’ on that oroctie wi’ her heid on my icnee, ye wand bury it fathoms deep. eI ”Good heavens, crying! Poor girl! And I shook him—her—oh. confound it all Sir Nigel looked ruefully at his strong fingers. "But why all the mystery and masquerade ” "It’s a lang tale, sir ’ , "So much the bettor; it will give me time to collect my wits. Go on. please." He leant his folded arms on the white sand-scoured table, and Mrs Brydon sat down opposite him and began. She had been but a girl when the estate had cha —wi hands, toe young to feel any wrench over it. but her mother had been nurse at the "big boose,” and bad r.«ver ceased to lament the downfall of* the Randalls. The once heir, who had laff it as a boy. had entered the pr-y, M’sfortnnc had followed bis steps! fie had seen a family of fair e’rls and boys fade and die one by one til] new. prematurely broken down, be lived in fhe genteel poverty of helf.nav in Kdinhurgh. with the sole survivor of his

dron. The poor a n Had clung patheticallv to som© shadow of terWfn*; ’ dignity. His old ’nurw and «ft<»r her doj>th. her daughter Mrs Brydon. *• always received «t Chri9*nij»q t : me some token of remembrance; and not infrequently the good woman had managed to have some of the delicate children to stay with them a few weeks in the summer time. i Among the many stories which had. gathered round the old house was one, some hundred years old at most, regarding a younger son of the house who had made a fortune in India in the golden days of John Company. Tradition said

ho had courted a fair neighbour, who has given him a tiny miniature portrait of herself to be his talisman in tho hast. But long ere ho returned she had wed his brother, tho head of tho bouse. Perhaps time had weakened his passion;‘at least; ho boro no malice, dropped his fortune into tho family .coffers, to be squandered by spendthrifts, and died at a good old age, leaving verbal injunctions that a certain box of gems, with which ho had often dazzled the eyes of his female relatives, wits to bo regarded as an heirloom. But when the family vault had closed over him, no box was to bo found.

Singularly, little effort had been made to find them; perhaps there was an idea that some of his nephews had wheedled them out of his possession, if they hod not gone in some still more reprehensible wayBut as time passed a kind of half-hearted ghost story hod arisen; some vague fear . clung about the Nabob's rooms, though j nothing was ever seen or heard. Was the ! old man mourning his defeated purpose. ! wandering in spirit about the homo ol j his boyhood and old age? I To Colonel Randall, lying helpless, uo--1 occupied and feeble in mind and body, | the story came bock with a strange force, .Over and over again he told it to Elsie, j unconsciously exaggerating tho treasure ‘into an immense fortune. When he read in a newspaper that tho house of AingerJie was to be pulled down he went almost Alien hands would find tho jewels if, according to hie theory, they were hidden in the Nabob's suite. Perhaps some thievish workman would have them; perhaps tho new family, who had ! bought tho house and contents, might make good a claim. Night and day he j fretted and mourned.- till at last in ; desperation Elsie offered to go and try to find them.

“She's a plucky bit thing, and sharp,” said Mrs Brydon. “She brocht some o' her brither's claes wi' her; he's gauo, puir lad, thae three years. She thocht it wnud be safer if she was seen, y© ten. For fowr nichts she slippit up and keoket about; no that she expeckit ony thing, but she had promised to da© the thing richt. East nicht she fand a bit o* tho boardin' soondit hollow, and pot a chisel and pu'od it back. Juist as she took out the box, you and Grieve cam' in on her. It was a sair moment for her, sir!” “Plucky, faithful girl !*’ exclaimed th« baronet, springing up. “Let me have their address. Mrs Brydon, and woTl put it all right yet.” “I dinna ken,” hesitated the good woman. “The colonel pangs crazy at th© vory name o' Craig; yo'd better no gang near them.” “Perhaps it will be in my power to modify his dislike,” smiled Sir • Nigel. “You don't want me to set detectives on their track?” “ 'Deed, it's no' easy standing against, you, sir. It's number twenty West Cranstoun Street, and —— I/wh, he's avra* like a knotiose threid! Weel, wool, he's vory kind, and she's a bonny bit lass, though kind o' ehilpit!” And Mrs Drydon fell into a pleasant reverie until rudely aroused by the kettle boiling ovei on her polished fender. CHAPTER Til"lf only Ronald had lived,” groaned th« colonel, throwing out his bony hands with an impatient gesture. “What could he have done more than I did? Th© luck was against me,” said Elsie Randall wearily. She had home very patiently her father's bitter disappointment at her failure, but her nerves were a little shaken and sh* could not keep back the retort. “A man can always do something. He could have knocked them down right and left, and pone away with his own. Never mind, Elsie.” he added, touched by tho drooping figure between him and tho -firelight which lit the shahbv little parlour,“you did your‘best, and you showed good heart, my girl. Tf'T had been th« man I once was, you would not have needed to have faced any such errand.” “T would do anything to male© you happier, my dearest,” said Elsie, with an almost fierce ring in her voice. She was determined not to-be ashamed, not to regret anything she had nndertaken. The one tiling she was sure she repented of was the half-consent Mrs Brydon had wrung from her to confide in Sir Nigel Craig. Indeed, she had already sent ofi a hasty not© withdrawing that consent; the recollection of his accusing, pitying look mad© her burn to the bone. A tap at tho door, and the landlady's over-breathless voice—“A gentleman tc see you, colonel;’will I show him up?” broke on • her painful ruminations.

"Yes, do,’* said her father; he was s* weary of his limited existence that even a book-canvasser or an insurncae agenl was welcome. Only’■when he saw at first glance that the tall man who entered was not of that class did ho glance at tha card the woman had brought in. Then with a low exclamation he lifted troubled eyes to the young baronet’s pleasant face, "I have the honour of speaking to Colonel Randall ?” he asked. ff May I put into your hands a piece of property about the true ownership of which X hays not a shadow of doubt?" And as he laid the box on the little table by the old soldier's conch, he bowed across it to the poor, blushing Elsie, as unembarrassed as if he had last met her in a drawingroom.

For a few moments the colonel was in a strait betwixt two: for he had vowed undying enmity to the Craigs. But Six Nigel's manner, full of sympathy and re. spect, without a trace of patronage, won the day. They were soon all throe handling the gems pointing out thedr beauties and exclaiming over the wonderful workmanship. Nothing could serve the colonel but that his daughter would try them on. and when Sir Nigel s strong fingers had to be requisitioned to unfasten an obstinate clasp, he contrived to whisner softly, “Am I forgiven?" To which Elsie, with an appealing glance, whispered in reply, "Oh, please, forget all about it!" Somehow Sir Nigel found means to secure his footing with the Randalls. To begin with, he made himself useful in disposing of the treasure trove, taking; it up to London himself. Then came the question of investing the proceeds, which rcouirod much lengthy consideration. He snowed the new plans of Aingerlie. too, and was singularly anxious to have Elsie's approval of one thing and another. One summer evening, hot and heavy in the city, he arrived at West Cranstonn street with a small flat case in his breaat pocket. Having succeeded in getting the colonel absorbed in a copy of the "United Service Magazine," he inveigled Elsie to the window and drew out the case, r T told ,you. Miss Randall, that after T submitted the jewels to the Hatton Gardens man X purchased some of them at his valuation. Ttya Traß one.” H« opened the case and showed the slender chain and fiat round locket which, as he touched a spring, revealed the face so like Elsie's own.

"I mean this to be an heirloom/* he went on. "T intend mv wife to wear it” Elsie started. ‘'But—but would she care to wear another woman's likeness P* she said confusedly.

"Suppose it might be her own? Su> pose it was dear to me. because it gave the clue of the maize which Ted me to the very heart of happiness? Elsie—may He held the two halves of the clasp in his hands. Hlme met his gaze of infinite jovo of longing: her eves suddenly fell, and she b*nt forward a very little. Then her lover clasped the chain behind her slim white neck under the loops coil oi auburn hair, and sealed the betrothal vr tb one kiss.