THE JEW'S HOUSE.

Otago Witness, Volume 06, Issue 2899, 6 October 1909, Page 77

THE JEW'S HOUSE.

By Fergtjs Hume.

CHAPTER VDX— A BRIEFLESS BARRISTER.

With the consent and authority of the proprietor of the Midnight Sun Wain arranged with bis editor to remain for another week at Bruntlea, and meanwhile wrote one or two articles on the surrounding district to show that he was not , idle. But his real work — and it was work to a Bohemian of Wain's tendencies — lay in calling on all the old spinsters and widows and gossiping wives of the neigh T bourhood; into whose very select circles he had procured entrance through the friend of his mother, mentioned before. Without stating that he had visited BenEzra, he hinted that "be believed" the Jew -would sell the Hall to Sir Reginald Dove or to anyone- else if extricated from the mess he was in. The next person suited the information, as a fact, without the believing, and in two or three days — long before th< end of tins week, in fact — everyone know tnat Ben-Ezra wished to parr with the great house. Everyone quite believed that this was true, and many thought that the Jew's determination was a hedging one, so that he could get rid of all )ris property and leave a neighbourhood wherein, he was so greatly disliked. Of course, tfie majority o' people declared that he would be. found ga : lty and hanged, so that there would be no chance of his selling either the Hall or aay other property. However, whatever people might say, pr whatever reason the^ might assign to ths rumour which > Wain had started co cunningly, the re- • porter managed to bring about what Ben- • - Ezra desired. From end to end of Brunt- ; lea, the news travelled that the hated Jew ; wished to sell the Hall and other pro- ! parti-as— -this was now added — so that he might leave Bruntlea when acquitted. "As ii," said the quidnuncs, "there ever was . any chance that he would escape the just j punishment of his crime." j Towards the end of the week Wain. re- ; ceived a verbal ' message from Ben-Ezra, j .which was delivered by Phirieas Verily. , "Friend Barrington," said the Quaker, who called one afternoon at the Princess , Eotel lo give the information, "this morn- j ing I beheld the Hebrew in durance vi-e. He- bade me tell thee that he is aware ; thou didst his bidding regarding the gc6sip j anant the selling of Tanbuck Hall, and ' that the desired result has been "brought ! about." | "What is the result?" asked Wain, considerably astonished. "Nay, friend Bar.ington, I cannot tell tbee that." , ••you mean you will not." ! ••I mean that I cannot. But the Hebrew exulted in tlie accomplishment of^ some- j thing connected with the rumour of the sale." „ I "Do you know who ljas called to see J him or what letters he has received?" i "Nay, I do not. I went to . comfort j him in distress, and found that he verily j believes he will be saved, even at th-e ( •eventh hour." i '"I'm hanged if I see how .".' muttered the reporter, greatly perplexed,. , "Friend, the Hebrew will not be hanged , if ha sees how, and that is the main point. ; Th? man is wise and far-seeing." ; "He is very mysterious." ' "I agree with thee -wholly,'* as>ent«d ; the Quaker, prepared to take his leave. "Years as I have known Ben-Ezra, he ever hlleth me with a sense of being one who [ worketh in dark ways' to bring about great results." ' ' , "Do you think him qiiiliy?" j ' "Nay, friend Barrington. He is too subtle a ;naa to slay thus openly. Unkfs i* be." added Phiuea?. with 'an afterthought, "ths.t ho mistook th-e aged Sir Giles — to irixQ him. his. vain title — i'oi a burglar and fired rashly." ''He saj-s that he did not do that, and " "I read all the evidence, friend Barrington, and know what hi* defence will be." But I doubt if he will escape, unl ess " ■ "Unlefs what?" ""Unless he ti'iuJcth stronger grounds ' than his bare- word upon which to prove his inuooenre. In giving the conduct cf the ea--« to friend Ashton he is supplying , I'-im-with. bricks la ■.•lan.; ■straw. I jrreatly , tear that the ycung ma:i will ln?e his first important caf-e — a blow to youthful vanity." "Wliy so disagreeable a name? — call it ambition." - , j '"It-it us not 1 dre*s up vnin passions in j fine, raiment," sai-d ths Quaker, in his , sedate manner. "Judith i-. anxious that fri-entl Ashton should undertake the saving of the Hebrew." i "I thought that Mie.=> Verily disliked Ben- Ezra. i "Call her Judith, friend Barrington. : Thou sayest truly that she dislikes the j Jexr, and yet not wholly, for he hath been , kind to her in many ways. It is because j fhe believes t-hat the Htbre.v rrincd Gerf- ' ral Ashton. and so robbed the young man of his heritage, that she looketh askance s on him." . I "If Ashton hates tho Jew so much that j he has infected Judith," said Wain, "he j will not act as counsel, neither will Judith ; try to persuade him." . "These things are in the hands of Divine j Provi<3e:ioc," psi-d t' » Quaker with jjrr;it ' geriousneFS ; then he added, after a pause: | *' Frier-d Barrington, dost thou know the young man Dove?'' "Sir Reginald? '^'o ; I only saw him. on the day he smashed the cart, and he struck me as a heavy, dogged sort of youth with no brains." "He hath not the brilliant- parts of friend Ashton." observed the farmer, "but | nath.,.good qualities all the same. He hath j paid;- for t^o. wre.ck.o| the cart and for j ths ,loss of- the vegetables which Judith , wa«c taking to market. . Several, times he jiath been within •our. walk, and appeareih j ie admire tte maiden.**

"More shame to him," said Wain warmly, "whexi she is engaged to Ashton ; and I* understand that Dove is in love ■with the governess V" "I had some such thoughts myself," muttered the Quaker, "and yet the young man is desirable." "As a titled millionaire, I suppose he is. What do you mean exactly?'' The Quaker shook his head gravely, but declined a direct answer. "It is a vain world," he sa.id, moving towards the door, "and the beauty of a comely maiden allures the foolish." When he was gone Wain stared at the door which had stout him out. "Why, I'm hanged if Verily doesn't intend to getDove to marry Judith. The old plotter and sinner, for all his sober airs. But she won't : if I .am any judge of a woman's character, she will stick to Ashton." Then his face clouded as he how rashly be had' married, and be came to the conclusion that he was not so acquainted with the character of the sex as he had boasted. It must De admitted that the liints of Verily regarding Judith and young Dove mystified Wain almost as much as the behaviour oh Ben-Ezra with regard to the spreading oi the -unxoua-. He could not understand the workings of the mind in either man. It was impossible U see how the announcement of a possible sale of the Hall could save Ben-Ezra from the scaffold. And it was difficult to think that a plain godlj Quaker, such as the farmer appeared to bz, showd nish h:s only child to break one engagement to marry a man of whom he knew little. Wain would have thought Phineas to have been the last person in the world to— putting it plainly-^ell his child. Yet from the hmts that had been giv.cn, it seemed he was about to do so Perplexed and mystified by the murder, and by the behaviour of those connected with it, Wain left the somticn of these problems t< Time, and by doi-jg so took a leaf out of Ben-Ezra's book. .Ueantdme he could not but confess that his life was made- .much more aiterestin-r since the date- of 'the murder. He had now a goal in front of him, which was to discover tthe true criminal, instead of aimlessly wa.nde.ring through existence as he had hitherto been doing. Also, the Jew seemed to know something about Wain's wife, and, the reporter was anxious to learn what that something might be. But until Ben-Ezra was safely extricated from the peril in which he stood, there was no chancs of learning anythine. Wain mused a great deal upon the Jew's mixed character. lie vrcs at once good aiKi bad. So are most men. since few are wholly white and none entirely black. But B3ii-Ertawc.it -to extremes in both ways. He ha-d dona an extraordinary and eomewha quixotic act ol kuKtoe?., to old Mrs Wain J( and in ruining Daxley— the first example which occurred to the repoi-ter — he had acted v.ith merciless cruelty. At one moaicivt the Jew w?.s a s a ire— more sairrUy, indeed, than many a Christian — ac<d l at another a cold-blooded demon. The study of this contradictory character appealed to Wain, and he wished to solve the enigma ' of two such natuies dwelling in oae'frahir. But hs knew that the solu" tion \tould not be easy, as the Jew's mask eouVl not l:z torn off. ■ Then, again. Wain wondered tvhv BenKz.a kapt Tanbuck -Hall in such good iidev aud would not live >in it. In ere seemed to be no reason to cherish such a white olephsnfc, y-el when the man had been given an opportunity to Fell it a.t a profit he had dcJiueJ. In spite of the rumour which ha 'md been asked to spread by the jlachia\eMian Jew, Wain did not believe that he had any intention of doing \i hat he said. He had merely promulgated a fiise tale, co as to bring about certain e;:ds connected v.ith his release. But what th-c^ ends nu^lit bs. Wain couki -Hot con;>ctui". The mystery of the murd-tr was d:';p, but the mystery '<f the Jew-; oha: laccer was deeper, and there seemed to bo w ore chance of learning the truth about the first than in probing to the depths oi tho la- 1. While thus thinking Wain caught fight of the c-lo.k on the maalLi'-.c-?. aid a-, it v. is nearly 5. recollected th.-t he had ' niv'ajjed ht:os?lf to te:i at tho house of Mi.-.- >h-:toK, a *eriou--/nlnded, charitable .•r>.'!is>ie; - , v, horn he foul mcd several lime.-. S.io was yonng A«hton'< aunt, and en , hearing ih.tt he 'n&A. mat her nephpw vc.uk befeve, she had n~\-cd him to parw'-e of !;.:• bo£pitality. Wa ; n lir.<l .-icfeptcd with aLicrity. as hs v. ?^ a'l.vious to it-new his acquain: .nee v. ith the \Oiin^ man. and alf=o to learn if Mi«s Mertc n lifted tho ! Jew as viru'entlv as her nev'r.jw Mas reported to do. Beside.*-, he v. is'.ied to learn thi sxiil t"rirr> which existed bctv.ccn •Trdit:i and th» barrister, and if the latter h'd an\ j-usnicion* lh,-t Veiily's hoa--t inclined to ui.utv ths prirl to Sir Re^in?H Dove. Tl ous;h. to be turp, a.- the lar:r"" had >aid little. Wain could not be sure if lit- ic-a'ly desired such a match. Hastily bT.a-tchinii up his cap, Wain left ths hotel end took his \»«.v a'oii^ the Hi-rh street towards the -cheaper part, of Bruntiea. where Mi'-s "Me r ton live-d. He had gathered from her dress and from the observation? of Judith, to fay nothing of. those of other dear friends of the old spinster, that Miss Merton was extremely poor, and but for the assistance of her nephew would not have been able to keep the wolf from the door. As sli9 was Gen-eral Ashton's cousin and had lived at the Hall, it was a great come-down for her. financially speaking ; but she always maintained her social position by reason of her birth, and was hand-in-glove with the best people in the suburb — not that these were anything especial at the best. But they were the best to be met with, and Miss Merton, being gregarious, attended lea parties and lawn tennis tournam2nts. p.r.d became friends with the wives of clerks and the aisters. , and aunts of clerks with whom she- would not have mixed when General Ashton was alive. | That fierce old aristocrat would not have :■ permitted her" to do so. ■ '' '■ l On turning into the district wherein Miss

Merton's tiny villa war situated, Wain . became aware that there wae a small crowd of people in his path. The journalistic j instinct for. news asserted itself at once, J and he hastened forward to inquire what • was ths m-attei. He then sa\7 that a man J j was being carried along on a stretcher, ' i beside which v an a golden-haired girl of j 12 or 13 years of age. A nearer view ' showed Wain that the wretched object j . being borne along was Daxley, the con- ■ Guniptive beggar, whom he had last seen ■ sitting, like Lazarus, at the ga-tes of Dives. ! , The miserable man resambled a ccrp.se, ' ' with his emaciated frame and waxen face, j ' which was wasted almost to the semblance j of a skull. It appeared that Daxley had 1 [ been soliciting alms as usual with his j \ little daughter beside Mm, but had dropped ; in the roadway from sheer exhaustion, i , Some charitable person had procured a i stretcher, and Daxley was now being ! ' borne to his miserable home. ! Even while Wain was pitying him — for who could help commiserating such a wreck of humanity — a tall, thin lady, : plainly drcc&ed, appealed unexpectedly and took the little girl by the hand. ! "Mabel, child! what is the matter?" ■. she asked sympathetically. I "Father is so ill, Miss Merton. He j will diei he -will" die!"' an-d she wept i afre?h. i | "If it be the will of heaven, he will ( die," said Miss Mc-i'to-n softly ; "but there • may be a chance of saving him. Why j did he came out, Mabel Yesterday I j gave him loojd and fire and a little money j for the week. This east wind is enough ! •] to kill him." ,' I "Father would come out," sobbed the i child, clinging to the charitable spinste/s :• , hand ; "he . c ut by the prison to beg, , because he hates {h>t wicked Jew, lien- ; Ev.ia.. Oh, dear! oh, dear! i.oor iaib.tr 1 v.:!I die!" : At thj ficund of tho <tet-e>tcd name a n.iu;iu!i'of sympathy ior Daxley tamo Ironi every !ip. mid .Uia-j Mcrfo^'-- diipady pale :n _» b;cnio paler &>> t-'.e tightened her in*. The hick iran wo!.o from hi* .-,pe!l oi pvh:"ii-t> (i n, or pejhar-s iecoverc«l him-.-cf by an otto.x of will, a^ Ihe name called hi.n back to life. j "■Efrn-l'"z:-n ! B<_-ii-Ez:a !" he mattered. ; •"J'ik." :re U tho < T vc:^ <.■«* tr.« p:.r>;. -> J that 1 en a feivt my eye* on his misery ; j H is srePt-cr than mine. 1 have poveiiy ! but not .-hamo as ny puition." j '■Sinuja ! Simon! " k.ive him in God.-; ! h?::cK" uigcJ >fes Mc-rtcn Daxley opened h ; h.-c^.ird eyes to t!;eir full^t "intent and 1-oked very .-t-e id.iy on the strike.". ''Ijci u--cs in-«tii':rf!i:- t-t wonc jidKv-'iiments en thc-c v\ ho oppre..-? the po.r." he nmrmuied, "s.nd the r.ichcl ' t aio broti^hc }ov .' j Ho woi'ld have -aid ivove, bui. }i> 5 ■« ci\r.C", wa.s Mich that he lainied before he coi>!d cciiiluue. 3lis.s Merton looked helplessly rou.id tlie crowd, and v. a-> about, to motion the bsarera ot the stretcher to • proceed, v hen her -raze alighted on tha sij mpathetic face of Wain. She hastily moved towards him. "You are coming to tea at mv house," e!ie c'o*erved in lov/ t<<nes. "Pray go there ai, once, ;m<l you will find my nephew, who is anxious to renew your acquaintance. I murt go home with this poor man.' "Can I not go with you?'' "There is no necessity. I can do all that in necessary to be done, and .'•hall rejoin you in half an hour, w hen I have made poor Simon comfortable." Miss Merton had a rhrk, callow fpre. worn with anxiety and poverty. But her eyes were sorrowful and sympathetic, and if her thin, compressed lips hinted at hardnsss, the expression was belied by the readiress of her harA to succour the needy. ■ Slie "was not beautiful, nor did her somewhat rigid personality attract Wain. }'ufc • -he judged that the ugly casket enclosed \ the ' «eh jewel ofr •a- kind heart, and ' pressed her hand warmly. (

| "You are a good woman, Miss Meirton."' "Good?" She looked at him amazed, as though she had not heard aright. "Would tihat I were. But we are sinners , all. Still, there is no time to be lost," i she added amxiooisly, seeing the bluish hue of Daxley 's face; "the man may die ( , while we talk. Good-bye just now, Mr Wain ; I shall see you later. Mabel. • child, come with me,'"' and: she held out her hand, while the melancholy procession started again. As it did Daxley opened his eyes and spoke. "The Lord delivered my enemy into : the hands of the tormentors, and he will j not come out oi prison until he has pa ; d the. uttermost farthing. May I^ive to r.ee him hanged' — hanged — hanged." The vehemence of the hatred contrasted j strangely with the worn aspect of the man . who cherished the deadily passion. Wain j tui-ned away, sick at heart ; yet he could > .scarcely bla*nie Daxley for speaking as he j did, seeing that Ben-Ezra had brought him : to low. More than ever did Wain wonder pt the strange character of the Jew, who could at ones do a<n act of quixotic kindle 3 to an old lady atnd also ruin a miserable man who had offended- him some thirty years before. For the moment he ol.no«d hatedi Ben-Ezra, a.nd then the re,i ymbra nee of how the man had succoured ii- mother made him regret the angry + nought. But he resolved to entreat BenL/ra to make ajnenids for his cruelty to the unfortunate locksmith, and provide enough money to solace the poor creature's j remaining days. These, judging from Daxley 's looks, would be very few. In a few minutes Wain arrived at the tiny villa of Miss Merton on the out- j skirts of tho town, and the door was j opened to him by a tall young fellow, in 1 w'liom the reporter had' little difficulty in j recognising Lancelot Ashton. He beheld the ?anie oval face, clean-shaven and pale, i with the sensitive mouth and. deep-set j eyes that he had seen in the photograph j j on the mantelpiece in Verity's sitting ; I loom. Ashton was dressed in a ciosefitting suit of well-worn, well-brushed j blue serge, which feet off his fine figure j jto advantage. His hair and eyes were | ; brown, Ids hands and feet were small, j and he 'ooked a true aristocrat, in sp : te ; of t.he poverty of his surroundings. His ' i voice when he spoke was mellow and sym- j | pathetic, and would, as Wain thought, : ! sound well in the court when used to ■ plead before a jury. : "Come in, Mr Wain," said the young man. extending a ready hand. "My aunfc j ! is out for half an hour, so I have" to do , the honours of the establishment." • j ! "I hays se«n Zxliss M.erion f " remarked i Wain, ftepping into the narrow pa f ssage J I which strvrd the purpose of a hall; "she j ! has gone home with poor D-axlcy, who is : dying, I believe." , ! i "It would bo a happy release," said i j Ashton, leading the way into a small j I sitting room. '"The man must suffer ; terribly. But the wretch who brought him j | co low," said the young barrister, flu&hi ing, "must be suffering worse." | "'Meaning Ben-Ezra?" | "Who else? Daxley had a good business as a locksmith ; a young wife, a ; child, and a happy home. But he got into • the' dutches of that reptile, and Ben- ' Ezra showed him no mercy when he sold < i him up. Well, Daxley is dying in misery, but at least his death is honourable com- , [ pared to that which is waiting Ben-Ezra. \ That thought will console Daxley's dying ' hours." Wain listened gravely, and saw her.v I deep wss the hatred Ashton bore towards l t.hi 3 Jew, a hatred scarcely les^s virulent than that of Daxley. His face flushed and . has eyes shot firs when hs spoke of his i enemy, and even his hards trembled with suppressed Tage. The reporter, not having met Aahiton for some years, did not wish I to lead hinx to talk upon this subject I immediately, as, looking upon him as a ccmppiatd^e Ftranjrer, the young man wC'j'rl nob fool inclined to speak openly. AnJ Wain wished him to do fo, in the ho',e oi ui^ing h'tm to lay aside his enmity LT Si ai.p ar hs coimi.-j! lor the defence. At t!i.> v.'i'^^t moment Iheie did not ?e<;ni to he 'ni:< 'i r '.vii.ee oi such a, coi.L-ami/a- , tio-i takiu.; ]*'aci*. \ " We hay? not met for =ome years, Ash- j ton," h.? »aid. p-oin.te-d!;/ < 'landing the bub- . ject. "Jo \o:i r. ir.cmba.- how ire wero I mlrvluccl at Gibion's ohamber.s?" "■ Oh, yes,"' coairszcd Lancelot frankiv. "W lif a >]>- Verily rrca'led you to my lcoliecuV'ji I rmiembcrcJ you extremely MiV. Don't you rcr.i ember that w lien ■\ve Lft (JiLvon'.s i corns I might have be-en ir.n over by a cab but fov %ou''" i ■"I'-o-'i! ponh! 1 merely pulled you out of t':j \^ay." ••'ih.it, mc-rcly pulling me exit of the \ <iy my life."' tiid Asht-cn drily, "'•.id n~* 1 %a!uo it jrreath-, I am not in<c!')kJ io make I'^lu oi the .service. But n- ioi;r \\ <iy to belittle your deeds. Verily tod t.\o t.ac you p^oii-poched your rescue Ol hi^ daughter iii the same way. You hpvo me pnd you saved Judith, therefore aie you; 1 friends." "f ho'_ 2 vju wiil be." sai-d Wain cordially, bti l uneasily at the prais-f-. the-, heaped upon him. " It', v. foregone concliifcion," replied t!:o young barrL-ter. smiling ; ''you are rsally too modest. Wain. Excuse me oaUmg >ou .=«) without the Mister, but I do not look upon you as a *lran£«'." Wain thought tii.it this was just as 'veil, a.s he might sjvay the young man into appearing as counsel for the defence. • However, he fi«id nothing on the point for t!'2 moment, being diplomatic, but merely ' feigned to ltuigh at Ashton's enthusiasm. ''How are you getting along?" he asked idly. " I am alive, that is a'l. I have been admitted to the B,ar, and with, the aid. 1 of a distant cousin ,in Devonshire have paid my fees. Now lam waiting for more s paying briefs, and in th© meantime I am writing stortes and" articles for various ' magazines 'and newspapers. ' " " You' can j ■guess" — Ashton looked round ■ and" spb£e '- batt-orly — <"that the "wolf howls round this '

house fijeq[R«ntl3s.j ©ifr nf^er mind that. What of yourself, "Wain?" J ' "I have been wandering over the world in search of ;r^ortune;.and .have not. found the lady yet. Her daughter, Miss Fortune, lives "with me, and she's a sour old spinster who makes me very uncomfortable." " Never mind, Wain. When you least expect 't the lane will turn and the, day will break. You should seize every chance "I do," interrupted Wain, seeing an opening to bring forward the subject of the Jew, "but you should take your own advice." "By Jove!" said Ashton, taking up tha * tongs, "just show me the chance, and I'd be on it like a dog after a bone." "Your chance is being offered to you, if Miss Verily has spoken what is in her mind. Take the brief which Ben-Ezra'a solicitor offers you." The tougs dropped with a clatter from Ashton's hands, and he-turned pale "with rage. "Defend that beast," lie^sped, "You ask too much." (To be continued.)