CISSY: AN AUSTRALIAN GIRL.

Otago Witness, Issue 2921, 9 March 1910, Page 70

CISSY: AN AUSTRALIAN GIRL.

TjiE HQVBI.IST.

, [All Eights Reserved.]

By Mrs J. K. Lawsost.

CHAPTER XVII.—MRS BAUER'S DISCOVERY.

Pv THICKER had indeed returned, and to the surprise Sa of his housekeeper and Wh hired men had brought with him, held in leash, a ® huge dog, which he ex plained was of the great ■%* He was not going to have tramps prowling round his place, and one dog like this he led, and which was safely muzzled, was better than 10 policemen away up in the country here. The housekeeper said she’d no objections so long as the brute was kept chained up, but she told Fricker frankly that in his house she would not stay one hour longer unless the beast was secured by a chain.

Flicker agreed, blandly assuring her that it would be allowed to run loose only after 8 in the evenings, after she had shut up for the night, conceding that it was no wonder that she was afraid of the dog, for he had the physique of a lion and looked as fierce as a tiger.

Evidently his new owner, too, had been of the opinion that the dog had better be tied up, for resorting to his valise" he produced therefrom a stout chain, which he at once attached to the muzzle by one end, fastening the other to a post near the end of the house, and leaving the animal there.

"Don't give him anything to eat to-day, - ' lie said to the housekeeper. "Too much food will make him fierce, I will see he gets something before I go to bed tonight."

The woman replied that he miglvt keep his mind easy; there was no danger of hev or anybody else going near such a vicious-looking animal. But Fricker had something else in his vaiise—a purchase he had made in town—something which, had she seen it, would have confirmed her opinion that he was "wrong in his head." It was a mask, a black mask, made to wholly cover the upper part of his face, though why the man wanted to possess such a thing was best known to himself.

Though professing to be somewhat tired with his journey from town, having to walk most of the way on account of the dog being with, him, lie did not rest, as might have been expected. But he ate a hearty 6 o'clock supper, and afterwards requested his housekeeper to fill a large bowl with substantial scraps for the dog, stating that he would be down in a minute to feed him. When he came down some half an hour later he smiled grimly as lie took the dish and went out with it. Strange to say, instead of feeding the starving animal, which had become ravenous with hunger, ha struck out in another direction, and threw the while contents of the dish into the chicken run.

Then he brought in the dish, went upstairs, and seated himself at the gable window, which commanded a. view of the avenue. The lamp, which had been lit, he carried into the front room and closed the door on it, so that his form as he eat

at the window might not be outlined by its light. The night was fairly warm, and as he raised the window to admit mora air the rumble of an incoming train could be heard a long way off. The only nearer sound was that made by the hungry dog straining on his chain and whining wretchedly. The moon was at the full, making a vivid display of light and shade in the avenue.

For a full hour Fricker sat there motionless, watching for the first glimpse of the figure he expected to appear at 8 o'clock, and repeatedly glancing at his watch. At last he caught a glimpse of a woman's figure turning in at the far end of the avenue, and in great excitement he dashed into the lamp-lit room, seized the mask that lay in his open valise, and fitted it or his face, disguising it completely. "Now for it!" he muttered.

And, hurrying down, the stairs, opened the front door and stepped out into the moonlight. For a minute or two he stood in the shadow of the hedge, gazing eagerly through the eyeholes of the mask as if to make sure it was the individual he expected. A few steps nearer decided him; it was Mrs Bauer, yhe had come, as requested, to see him.

"Well, then, she will not!" he muttered between his teeth.

And now, hurrying round to where the dog pa.wed and whined in canine misery, he came close to it, and, seizing the chain, began to detach it from the muzzle. But the muzzle itself he could not undo—was unable to find the clasp. In desperation! he tugged and strained, the animal growling viciously, till at last he drew his knife from his pocket and slashed the leathern strap. But in so doing he unconsciously set his foot oil the dog's front paw, while the keen steel blade slid down the muzzle strap into the creature's lip. With a howl of pain it sprang free, only to flash back snarling as It leapt at Fricker's throat.

Then a wild shriek of pain and terror rang down the avenue and thrilled across the orchards, startling the folks at Wood house Farm.

"What's that?" they inquired of each other as they sat round the door enjoying the cool air of the evening. "Seems as it wei'e in the avenue over bv Fricker',s," breathed Cissy with a sickening apprehension of danger to Mrs Bauer.

David eorang from his seat at Fhe door, and, dashing upstairs into his room, seized his rifle, loaded it, and the next minute was flying across the road. He had been in a volunteer rifle corps in Glasgow for over a. year before he left, and had more than once scored at rifle practice. "Gome along, boys," he shouted., erlancing back. And at once Sam and Joe sprang up and followed him, Horace lib their heels, in spite of Cissy's cries for him to come back.

David had just reached the bend of the road where the avenue branched off, when Mi» Bauer, uale and breathless, rushed almost into his arms. "What is it, Mrs Bauer? Was it you that was screaming?" he paused to inquire.

"No, no! It was some.wdy up at th'o house: and, oh, it sounds like murder J I was almost there when [ heard something like a wild lveast snarling, and then that awful cry. I was so Reared that I just turned and ran for my life!" "I'll see what it is." said David in * quiet voioe. "You go borne. The folks will be orlad; to see, you safe back."

Mrs Bauer did as reouested, and waa soon reoeatino; to the Woodhouse family all she had already told David. They were still speculating as to what that awful cry could mean when the *harn report of a rifle rang out, again and yet again.

"I've a c-n.od to go and see what's up." said Woodfiouse. And presently he, too. was on his way throuQ-h the opposite orchard, despite the protests of his wife. "Dear, dear! Can it he burglars that Dave iis firing at so?" 'Burglar*!" scoffed Cissv. "What is there worth biirsrlin,<r in that house? No silver plate or jewels or anything worth nvnnina: a risk for, A'.s for his money, he very wisely keeps it in the bank." "\fr FnVker is a wise and pood man." said Mm Woodhouse to Mns Bauer sententious!];. "It's unfortunate this should have happened just when vou were on '•our way Vm to see him. I'm sure you'll like him. He's a really fine man!" They were still discui'isinor the. matter when a light crackling sound reached their ears, and presently from, the apple orchard on the other of the road a light fieure leaned out into the light and sped on towards them.

■Needless to pay, it was Horace—Horace. with his small, eager face white and terror-stricken. his eyes wide with horror. He flew into the outstretched arms of Cissy, clhiffin.cr to her and uttering dry sohs. but unable 'to speak. 'Tbera. there, Horry, darlinc, take tin-re i What is a'l the shooting about?" In the soft shelter of his sister's arms, he af, last found strength to gasp, "Oh, sav!''

"Yes. dearie: Ml w all about it," she coaxed, kissing- his cheek. "Say—oh. say, He's d*ad I" "Horace." cried Mrs Woodhouae sharolv. dead?" *■ "T^ri'cker."

"Fricker !" gasped Cissy and her mother in one breach.

Put- Mrs Bauer, at the name, dropped God!''

'Ruddenlv «He sprang to her feet again, and seized Horace by the arm.

"Tell me—are you sure it was Mr Pricker. TWd yon see him?" "Better believe I did!" sobbed the horrified boy. "Oh, say. he was lyin' ther* with a queer black thing with eveholes on his face, and his throat wa« all torn and bloody, and, you see, the dosr was stand*

ing over him snarling and baying when Pave came running up with the gun; and when the- dog came gallopin' up h«. let him have it right there 1 Say. didn't he jump up and roll over, though? But the brute wasn't dead; so he just fired another and another at him. and' you bet your boots he lay quie' after that! Oh say."

lor a moment Horace mused reminis cently over the terrible incident, then, resumed :

"Dave sent me home to tell yoc iiot 'to be scared, and said I was just to telJ you they had shot an ugly dog that wa? prowlin' round, and he'd be home afore long. Guess he'll be mad at me telling about Pricker, but it was out before A thought about Dave an' what he said ''' "It's awful—awful!" breathed Cissy, and "Terrible—terrible!" moaned her mother.

But Mk Bauer, who nad dipped into the house before Horace came, had lit he» lamp, and by its light was staring at th» handwriting of Fricker's letter which Oiesy had given her the day before "I really think I ought to go over and see Mrs Adams the housekeeper '■' said Mrs Woodhouse, entering the room with Cissy. "The poor thing must be in r ten* Tible state of mind over this.'

Mrs Bauer thrust the letter hastily into her pocket.

"I'll go with you,', \Voma like to see this Mr Fricke* Die h« aJwavr keep a. dog?" "Never until now He brought it home from the city, I believe. It must have been a vicious brute, lot safe for anyone going up the avenue of an evening ,; "No; he must have known '.hat " iaid Cissy in a musing tone. There was u step on the floor, ind David Macintyre knocked on thr oane 1 of the open door: "Oh, it's you, Dave-"-'Aaid Mrs- Wood house. "Isn't this at awfu.' business o '- David shuddered.

"Awful!" he achoed, with & shake of hie head. "It was a fearful sight ? But he must have been dead ere we got there. That- was an awful brute of a dog. What evei tempted the man to bring such an •unnecessary animal to such a quiet locality? Looks as he had intended to scare everybody off. As soon as Mr Wood•house came he. went into the stable and saddled Fricker's horse, and Joe is riding into the village to telegraph for the police. Ot course, there will be a coroner's inquest held. The boss will stay there till they come.'' Mrs Bauer rose quietly. "Hadn't we better go off to keep Mrs Adams company till they come?" she suggested. "I'd like to : it would be only neighbourly, and then Mr Pricker being, as you mijrht say, a friend of the family." Needless to say. when they arrived the housekeeper of the late Mr Fricker was more than thankful for the neighbourly companionship of Mrs Woodhonse and Mrs Bauer, being well nigh distraught by the awful thing which had happened.

But while she talked to the mistress- of Woodhouse Farm Mrs Bauer slipped outside, where Mr Woodhouse and Sam kept watch at some distance from, the still bodv of Fricker.

"May I look at him. Mr Woodhouse?" she inquired. "I wouldn't advise you. Mrs Bauer; he's not a pretty sight." "I won't touch him ; I merely wish to see him. I—well, I have an idea that 1 once knew Mr Fricker long ago." The lantern by Avhose Sight Woodhouse had ea-ddled the horse in the stable stood at his feet, and at the woman's appeal he mutelv lifted it, muttering:

"Well, I've no objections, but the law .is very particular about meddling with a bodv before an inquest has been held." "I won't touch him; I only want to see his face." »

"And that's exactly what you can't see. He's sot a black mask on. What he wanted that for heaven, only knows." "I think 1 know," said Mrs Bauer composedlv. And. as she bent over, Woodhouse held the lantern close.

"Cannot I lift his mask, only for one moment?" But Wcodbouse shook his head. "No. ma'am ; this is too ticklish a business. You'll have to wait till the officers of the law come. They'll soon unmask him."

"He is unmasked already!" she exclaimed ; n an excited tone. And, snatching the lantern from Woodhouse, she-held it down close to the hand of the dead.

"Ah. so you still wore the ring I gave you—the ring with our monogram outside and inside—wore it while seeking another woman for your wife! Well, Auguste, I have found you at last!" The astounded farmer wondered if the woman was mad : but, rising from her knees, she handed him back the lantern, and pointed to the dead man

"That." she said quietly, "is Auguste Bauer, my husband!"

CHAPTER XVIII.—ARRANGING FOR THE FUTURE.

Even in a quiet country district the news of a fatal accident or a murder flies far and fast. In either case it means death—the solemn, irretrievable fact of the sudden evanishment of a soul who but yesterday had been one of us.

But in the case of Fricker's death the circumstances were so strange, the manner of it so appalling, the revelations at the inquest so astounding, that more than ordinary interest was aroused.

The first surprise was that the deceased i—who hitherto had ben known as Jake Pricker —was not Fricker at all, but Auguste Bauer; that he was a married nian who 10 years ago had cruelly robbed and deserted his wife during her absence at the distant bedside of her dying mother, and that ever since his purchase of these farms he now owned he had posed as a bachelor. "That he had discovered the arrival of his wife at Woodhouse Farm there could be no doubt whatever: his Budde© de-

parture that night on pretense of sickness, so soon as he heard her voice, proved) it. The fiendish plot he had conceived o* obtaining a dog fierce enough to attack the woman he expected that evening; his haste to release it from the chain so soon, as the figure of Mrs Bauer became visible in the moonlit avenue, wounding and in. furiating the animal in. his struggle to get the muzzle off—all was laid bare by the evidence given by an eye-witness—one of his own hired hands : —Tom Jackson

Tom had promised a boy friend of his to procure him •some apples from a tree which stood just a. few steps behind the post to which the dog was chained, and though it tugged and strained and barked when he began to climb the tree Tom had no fear —that chain and that post would hold a lion, far less a dog. So he climbed as only boys can. Arrived at a crutch, he seated himself comfortably . and • prepared his pockets for the reception of the apples before crawling out on the bough to fill them.

Then suddenly he heard the front oooi open and shut, and a man with a black face ran round the corner, and, passing

under the tree where he sat, made a grab for the chain, while the dog growled viciously. He himself was hidden in tbs. shadow of the top branches, but below it was clear as day, so that he saw every movement. He thought of crying out for Mr Fricker, but he was too scared both of the dog and the man. He saw the man tugging and struggling and swearinc dreadfully; then the dog uttered a loud yelp, and the next moment it leaped upon the man, who uttered a. terrific yell and fell back with the dog at hk throat. Then, knowing the dog could not climb the tree, he stood up and screamed with all his might, and through the leaves he saw a woman running for all she was worth down the avenue. Then he heard shouts, and a man with a gun came running out from the apple orchard and shot the dog, and when he rolled over other two men came running, and when they saw the man lying there with his neck torn they put another couple of: shots into the beast.

Tom wound up by declaring that it was terrible, and that nobody would ever catch him up a tree in the moonlight again. That the deceased was the husband of Mrs Bauer was proved by very conclusive evidence. "Before I married Mr Bauer," said the widow, in giving her testimony, "we exchanged rings—that is, he gave me a ring: this now on my finger below my wedding ring. He had always said it would be 'Ltoxe until death' between us,

so the initials 'L. U. D.' in the form of

| a monogram was chased 'nside both 1 rings." | Here Mrs Bauer, whose iaee snowed what she had suffered in thus discovering her faithless husband, drew off two rings ! and handed one to an officer replacing the ' other on her finger again. j "There," she said,, pointing to the inj side of the circlet, "you can see the three

I letters intertwined. 'Love until death.' I indeed ! Xo; it was faithlessness and fair. ' seeming from the first. He married me . for what I had—for the help I could give j him, not for love of myself. If you will look inside the ring on his dead finger you j will see the same initials. The wonder j to me is how he dared to wear it ail jbhefitj years with that lie cut into it.'' ' Some who were present thought her hard to speak so of the still form lying i there with the sheet thrown over it; but ' the hardest thing in this world is oetriiied love. That she had spoken the truth- however, was at once made apparent.. The ring, carefully removed from the dead ! man's finger, showed the initials "L. U. ! D."

" 'Love* until death'—'Love jntii death,' " she murmured, holding the ring in her hand. "I wonder —I wonder what you think of it all now, Auguste? I wonder if you think now that the game was worth the candle?" The coroner, as well as the officers and the audience, had now not a doubt of the woman's story—not a doubt that the man known so long as Jake Fricker was in reality Auguste Bauer, discerning that here was a double tragedy—not only this sudden and appalling death, but also in the long-drawn-out tragedy of a -oman'e life.

The verdict arrived at was that the deceased had been strangled by his own dog while letting him loose, ostensibly for the protection of his property dining the night, and that blame ' attached to no one. save perhaps the deceased himself in keeping such a menace to human life on his premises. Such was the verdict as spoken and written down, but what those present thought, what they expected, now that Flicker's identity had been disclosed, was voiced only by grave shakings of the head, the puzzled expression of the faces, the eloquence of pitying eyes fixed on the pale, quiet woman who had been so heartlessly deserted.

Probably the busy exigencies of the season had something to do with the fact that it was remarked that his funeral was the most scantily attended ever known in that vicinity. As to the property left by Baue T , alias Flicker, the"disposal of that was settled by an investigation made by the authori ties, who found among the private papers of th« deceased more than sufficient evidence to prove that the woman who claimed it was in realitv his widow, the very papers connected with the sale of his farm in Tasmania years ago being found, in all of which the signature was not Flicker, but Bauer.

Mrs Bauer herself offered to bring the purchaser of the farm and his wife for identification of their papers, and 1 also of the photo which Fricker recently sat for in order to present it to Cissy Woodhouse. but the evidence was so conclusive as to make that unnecessary. After th& investigation was over Mrs Bauer returned with Mrs Woodhouse to

the farm, Cissy having remained at home -ihat day to prepare dinner "It has been a great trial this, to my wife M well as to me" said Woodhouse that evening by way of conveying his sympathy all round. "Mr Fricker had such a taking way with him at times, and in the country here one is glad to have a good neighbour In fact ; Hrs Bauer, you'll find T'm your debtor to the extent of £2OO, for which T gave Fricker a mortgage, and, of course, feelin' we owed him made us maybe more civil to him and more welcome at the, house than he would otherwise have been. 1 was going to pay off that mortgage this fall, so the money will come in. good to you for the winter."

"Mr Woodhouse," said the widow, "instead of paying me as epTeeenting the man who lent you the money, I will give you a free discharge of the mortgage. I have no desire for more money than will pay back what he robbed me of—the price of the farm purchased by my money Besides, when I was in straits and in need of employment you took me in and treated me kindly. But for you I might have passed on and neve" have discovered my husband.''

■'All* the same,' pursued Woodhouse, 'though it is very good of you to say so, I'd prefer to pay your lawyer, whoever he may be- L was foolish enough to be lured into a speculation, and lost; chat's why I borrowed. And if you don't want to. use Fricker's money—why. there's orphanages you can give it to, refuges, and all them sort of places. But I can't have the countryside saying that Fricker's death was a good thing for Woodhouse folk. No; I couldn't stand that" "Well, Mr Woodhouse, you shall mention what orphanage it would benefit, since you will not accept my poor attempt to show my gratitude, especially," she added, "when I am about to ask you another favour."

"Why, certainly, Mrs Bauer." broke in Mrs Woodhouse, with more than usual warmth. ''Anything whatever that we can do we are only too glad to do it after all this trouble and trial vou've had."

"Yes; twelve years of it," sighed Mrs Bauer. 'I feel as if I would just like to stay a few months longer with you in this quiet and peaceful home. A little room and board with you. I will be so glad to pay for it if you will." Amazement was written on the laces o* tier listeners

''But, Mrs Bauer, ar-en t you going to take up your abode in that beautiful brick villa with that lovely lawn in front and all so stylish and comfortable' It'e vour own now by all rights." The poor woman shuddered visibly ; her already pals face grew wan ;t the _ ery thought. "That house? Never, never! The sight of the man I once loved so lying there, his breath stopped' while planning a like death for me—oh, please, don't ever suggest such a thing? As it is, his wicked face haunts me as I saw it there!"

"It was terrible; we must admit that," murmured Woodhou.se. ''Tt makes one understand how people in the old days invented prayers for the dead So you think you would rather be under our humble roof for a little while?''

"Yes, if you'll have me. My plan is to advertise booh iarms for sale, either singly or the whole, as you advise. Put a man in, witliNsuch help as he may need to do what work is needed until I can get a purchaser. When it is sold I shall go back to my oid home in Tasmania. Perhaps I may have a chance- to buy back the old home I was robbed of."

Mr Woodhouse sat with his elbow •on che table and his chin in his hand, thinking deeply. "Men—that is, men who know something about fruit-farming—are mighty hard to get," he remarked thoughtfully "Now, there's Dave, a very nice young man, and anxious to get on, but he hasn't had very much experience. As far as I hear the man that Fricker had won't be staying longer than' April—going to Queensland. But if Dave would care to go and stay over at the villa and get pointers and wrinkles from him, and have Mrs Adams keep house for them two., as she's done for some years, I don't see but what it might be a good thing for you both." There was a pause; then Woodhouse clinched the matter by saying: "Well, I'll sound Dave on the subject—see how he would like the prospect; and if he does his duty well and you find a buyer for the farms —why, you can make a strong recommendation that he be kept on as manager of the place—that is. unless the mirchaser himself is going to boss the show""

Next day Mr Woodhouse drove into town with the last of the grapes. He was coma- to sound David, as he had proposed, when the sight of an open carriage coming towards them made him pull into the side of the road. The road was not wide, but the travellers on both sides could see each other's faces closely. Two men were sitting in the carriage, with their faces to the horses. One, an elderly man, stared and stared at, David as they passed ; while David, struck by some recognition, leant out the better to see him. Once past, he looked bnck, to find the elderly man also looking back. Woodhouse turned to David, remark-

ma-: "That fellow will know ye again. Dave." But Dave gave no response. He was sitting with hands on his knees, clenched BO that the knuckles stood up white ; his face was flushed as with anger. (To be continued.)