—THE- Mystery of Beacon Hall.

Rodney and Otamatea Times, Waitemata and Kaipara Gazette, 23 June 1915, Page 2

—THEMystery of Beacon Hall.

By L. G. REDMOND-HOWARD,

Author of " John Redmond, "In the Days of Parncll," etc.

(Published by Arrangement with the Proprietors of the Copyright.)

CHAPTER I.—(Contiaeed.)

The Ghost, as it was called by some, or the Curse, as others termed »t, had manifested itself at different periods in history. It formed a strong argument in a Catholic work on the evil results of confiscation of Church property; it appeared in tie books of Society prattle in the days of (he Georges, and ag^ain, even in late Victorian days it had acquired apparently a new lease of life. Generations would come and go— the mystery seemed always to surv'.ve. At one time it was the murder by in unknown hand of an eldest son, at another the suicide of a parent. In the good old days the Ghost had frightened to death a foreign ambassador staying at the Hall. At another time it was some theft: but whatever their cause this great fact had made Beacon Hall one of the most interesting country houses of the East of England, and the curse of the Beacons contained as much terror for the inhabitants of the little village of Beaconhurst as the curse of Cromwell has for the Irish

peasant

"Ye who go to Beacon Hall

Guard ye lest HI chance befall." So ran the doggerel rhyme among the village gossips; and so ran the verdict of county history, for even Hope, who was familiar with the history of most county families, was struck by the enormous list of coincidences that endorsed the legend.

It was while in the midst of these and like reflections that he was aroused by a slight creak outside his door.

In a minute the sharp intelligence was on the alert. He thought the servants had all retired to bed at least an hour ago. With characteristic determination he seized the small revolver in the left side-pocket of his coat, and rose upright beside the table.

There came a faint knock at the door, so faint as to be almost inaudible. With one stride Depford Hopo was across the room and had flung open the door. Dilmot the butler stood on the threshold.

CHAPTER II

*or one short moment neither Hope nor his nocturnal visitor spoke a word, both seeming at a loss to explain the situation. < "Well," said the detect'rve, looking fiercely at the man.

"A thousand pardons, sir," replied the no less surprised butler, as he glanced at the glittering eye of the revolver. "I only came to ask you if you were comfortable, or—or at what time you would like to be awakened in the morning, sir." "I'm not going to bed." going to bed, sir?*' Dilmot—for such was the butler's name, prepared to retire, once more apologising for the intrusion. "Then, sir, I think I'll go off to bed myself, that is—er—unless I can be of any further use to you." "Yes, I think you can." "Go to bed, sir?" "No, be of further "use to me.*' The man seemed hardly to have expected this, and stared dumbfounded, for he had been about to step back into the darkness of the stairway; and so he might have done but for the suspicion which this sudden intrusion had created in the detective's mind. "Come in," he said. . The butler came in. "Sit down, Dilmot." The butler sat down. "Now, Dilmot, I want you to tell me what your own view of this mysterious case is—your own per-, sonal view, mind." The man winced visibly; there was something in his manner which struck the detective as strange, strained, and artificial. He had all the appearance of a man who knew more than he said. True it was only a suspicion, but suspicion had become with Hope an instinct, a second nature, and he often owed so much to this faculty—for such is tht only word which can be used for it—as a woman owes to her sense of intuition. "Well, sir, I'm feeling a little unnerved and run down to-day; besides it's very late and it's a long story." The detective had evidently expected this evasion, for he replied: "I have my reason for asking you now." "Well, sir," the butler began, it's this way. I think that this here Braoeford, sir, is at the bottom of it all. It's very strange don't you think sir, that he should have come and stayed a whole day and night talking to Lady Edith about the book of that young author chap and yet be the scoundrel he was." Hope nodded encouragement. "And then the letter, sir; it is terrible to think that a respectable woman like Lady Edith was, and a

dear good mistress to us, sir—to think.she,should be threatened with death unless she gave up her jewels. "I don't-know what to think about the future. Anything might happen to us here. We might be robbed and murdered even before we knew what was up, sir." Depford Hope allowed the man to ramble on, but he could see the drift of his remarks —Braceford first, Braceford second, Braceford third; truly some explanation must be found for the mysterious name. He looked at the man. The butler was perfectly cool and collected, and, settling down, was prepared to launch once more into a long invective against Braceford, when Depford Hope* realising that any future conversation would only be an amplification of his fixed idea, stopped him. *

Now, why should this be a fix-;.'! ) idea in the man's mind? Thrt was what the detective wanted to know; and in this case more particularly, for usually the untrained mind, ike the untrained hound, is apt to wander about for the scent. The question of Braceford's name being n due was not a matter of doubt, b'v:. in the tracking of criminals none knew it better than themselves; Could Braceford be a false trail, a red herring dragged across th<= ' path? That was the question of questions.

For a moment the dark, bushy brows of the detective were knit together in thought. This nocturnal visit was but a slight affair it was true, but somehow he did not like it, though he could find no reason to justify his fears. In fact, it was quite open to the most proper explanation, the solicitude of an old family servant for the safety and comfort of the guest of the house. No, there was nothing beyond this strange instinct against the man, but the detective trusted to it, nevertheless.

"Now, Dilmot," he began, after a pause, "let me ask you a few questions."

"Certainly, sir," replied the butler.

"Tell me, were Sir Louis and Lady Beacon—well, I mean, did they hit it off well—you understand? Even in the best regulated families there are at times "

'Oh, there never was a happier marriage in the world than that of those two, sir*' broke in the old servant. As cook was always saying in tf|e servant's hall, it was a perpetual honeymoon."

"Indeed."

"Yes, sir. And I'm not surprised that Sir Louis should have broken down so upon hearing the awful news. Why, I myself was crying, and so were we all. It's a terrible. thing, sir. It seems as if there was a curse on the Beacons, though goodness only knows why, because I never heard in afl my life of a family that was more kind to their own people than were the Beacons."

"Have you had any order about the funeral?"

"No, not yet, sir; and seeing most of the family on both sides are dead I don't expect they will want much show; in fact, I should not be surprised if it were strictly private, especially in the circumstances —the tragedy, the breakdown of Sir Louis, and all that."

Whatever the position of this old retainer, thought Hope, he seemed wonderfully well up in the family affairs, even more so than butlers usually are. "You might take me to those rooms again, Dilmot. Perhaps we might be able to find something else to work on." .."Certainly, sir," answered Dilmot, rising from the chair. "Shall I get a light?" "No thank you, I've got my electric torch, which is all I require. Besides, it will be dawn in another hour.'* ' As Hope rose he took from his suit case a magnificent weaynn, a patent Mauser repeatjyJMflHßknfa latest make, one thJ^^^^^^HlH off a man at a t^^^^^^^^^^H fact, a kind of ~a^^^^^^^^^^^H "Now let me^^^^^^^^^^^^| added the deta^^^^^^^^^^^^H visitor. For a moa^^^^^^^^^^^^H gave a stna^^^^^^^^^^^^^H in an insh^^^^^^^^^^^^^H servility rs^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H his brow. i^^^^^^^^^^^^^H "Yes, s^^^^^^^^H tragedy I armed. a duty to^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H ing I am of affairs *^^^HP^ra^^^^| away." *^BB^^ >^^^^l "Quite rigW/ i TJllmot, le^^Bj commend you for your prudence,'^ replied the detective, calmly taking the small pearl-handled Colt revolver from the butler's none too willing hand. "Nice, small, handy thing^ it is, too, sir," remarked the latter. "Yes," answered Depford Hope, ""^^Liust the thing for indoor your leave I'll takei^^^^^^H^ "I^^^^^B yours, sir?" ia^^^^^^^Hfe in the butler. trouble. I don't think^i^^^Hany danger," and putting l^^Kirger weapon back into ' the scnt^case, Hope let the lid fall down, and the click of the automatic lever lock announced to the two men that there was but one weapon between them. It was merely a precaution,

however, For as yet, as^ j repeat, there had been no V~ suspicions aroused in the iamous expert's mind; but as a precaution it was the stroke of a P>^ter hand. He began to think.

Matheson had jammed up the whole situation in a nutshell, so small that it could not contain'the facts, much less their explanation. He had jumped to the conclusion that Braceford had again appeared at The Hall, but had returned to London to execute more daring crimes. Depford Hope was not satisfied with Matheson; in fact, he rarely was, for he began his analysis usually where his colleagues of Scotland Yard ended theirs. It was for this reason, therefore,, that he prepared to go once more over the scene of the tragedy in company with the butler.

"Take this torch, Dilmot," said the detective, handing him the patent electric lamp, and carefully, unknown to Dilmot, placing a similar one in his own breast pocket.

The butler led the way through the cloister corridors, holding the lamp hig-h above his head, so that it cast long shadows on the oaktimbered ceilings of the old castle. The detective followed close upon his heel's, and thus they passed from the new block with its dainty white panelling into the sombre wainscoting of the Gothic portion.

From time to time the servant would seem to take an anxious look round, as if hesitating about something he had in mind, and coming closer and closer to the detective. At the end of a short passage they came to a few steps, and from the light in an adjoining room he guessed they were coming to that portion devoted to the use of the servants, one of whom was rising. "Mind the step, sir," whispered Dilmot. At this moment the light on the torch was suddenly extinguished, and the detective's body came into collision with the stout form of the butler. Quick as lightning Hope's left hand drew from his side pocket another torch, and flashed it in the eyes of the astounded man.

"I must have inadvertently released the spring, sir." he said, "I'm afraid I am not used to these strange new-fangled things."

"Oh, never m.nd," answered Depford Hope coolly. "You will get used to them in time. Just press the small steel button again, and it will be all right."

The butler did as he was told, and continued his way without further ado, while the detective in his heart determined that, whatever might happen, he would not allow the man out of his sight for one minute until it was dawn.

It had been too late to order coffins from the village, and accordingly some had been wired for to London. In the meantime, the two bodies had been left just as they had been found, first in order to give the detectives from Scotland Yard full scope for their investigations, in the second place out of deference to the explicit instructions of Depford Hope, who had determined to go over the scene on the following1 morning in daylight, but had been led by the events which we have just narrated to make his inspection somewhat earlier than he had at first intended.

The room presented a gruesome sight in the harsh glare of the electric light, (the bodies seemed of modelled wax of the most unnatural pallor) as the butler pushed open the door and entered with the torch. And even the cold heart of Depford Hope softened with pity as it beheld the delicate curves in the beautiful face of the late mistress of Beacon Hall. Could those lips have spoken, they would soon have told the terrible secret, but since they could not, Depford Hope solemnly vowed that the truth which lay locked up in the tragedy of these dead forms should one day Ibe brought to light, and justice yiave its prey. BftSeveral alternatives arose before mind as possible explanations of mysterious deaths. The first that it had been administered of some drug;"the second it had been administered party; the third that it of suicide. But in all a sufficient reason for was always wanting, seemed forced to accept the of the letter signed by which, from the very it had come late, Hope the first most loth to acAgain, the thought of some Hscret hostility between Lady Edith, and her maid was not with-, Pout plausibility, except that it came into too close proximity to the death of the young author and also left the letter of "Braceford" meaningless. All these explanations passed and repassed before the mind of the detective .as he paced up and down the room, occasionally casting a look through the great oriel, whence he could see a dull red glow that heralded the coming dawn. (To be Continued)—-.8.H 3 -iSalzac says that one of the best preservatives of friendship is an interior conviction of some point or points of superiority in each party. N© man can produce great things who is not thoroughly in dealMg with himaelf.—LomlL '