"A FIGHT TO A FINISH"

Southern Cross, Volume 16, Issue 32, 14 November 1908, Page 13

"A FIGHT TO A FINISH"

? [COPYRIGHT.] j

J [By FLORENCE WARDEN.] J i m *

4 $ # [PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.] J

CHAPTER XXI. When Gaspard reached St. Mary’s-on-Sea that afternoon, on his return from town, he almost ran into the arms of Madeline Chalmers, who was at the bookstall buying a magazine for the Vicar. She was shocked and amazed by the extreme pallor of his face and the wild look in his eyes. "What has happened ? Is your brother worse ? Or Miss Farebrother ?’’ asked she quickly, Gaspard could scarcely speak. "Will you go back to the Abbey with me ?’’ implored he, after a moment’s pause. There’s no time to be lost. It may be a question of life and death for my aunt !’’ '■‘What ?’’ "That rascally Skates is trying to murder her, and has probably succeeded by this time," gasped tne young man, as Madeline, at once agreeing to his suggestion, kept pace with his rapid strides. "Unluckily, he’s been artful enough to gain over my aunt’s companion to his own views ’ ’ "Miss Bell ! Oh, no, it’s not possible ! ’’ "Of course she doesn’t know what he’s doing,’’ went on Gaspard, quickly. "I didn’t myself till a couple of hours ago. It seems this scoundrel has been at this game before, tried to poison an old lady at Bournemouth. " "Oh, are you sure ? Are y r ou sure ?" "Yes ; I’ve just come from Scotland Yard. There, for some reason I can’t understand, they made light of what I told them." "Perhaps," suggested Madeline, "he’s forestalled you with them, as he- did with Mr Buckle." The suggestion was so startling, and, by the light of what he knew of Mrs Skates, so probable, that Gaspard stopped short to exclaim below his breath : "By Jove !’’ Then he hurried on again, clenching his fists and teeth in impotent rage. "Oh, don’t despair,’’ urged Madeline timidly, for indeed she cohid not feel very- hopeful in face of the mountain of fraud and intrigue which rose up before them. "Everything may come right, after all. Don’t you think there must be a limit even to the audacity’ of these people, and that—.— ’’

'■‘lt won’t be readied until they’ve murdered my aunt, and perhaps Michael, too,” said Gaspard. ‘‘Skates hates him more than he does me, because he’s g-ot more spirit than I have, and more pluck, and because he’s taken more active measures than I have.” ‘‘But his active measures haven’t been any more successful than your passive ones.” ''He hates him for it, though, and he’ll never rest until he’s had his revenge upon the poor lad. I gave particular directions to the nurses that they were not to, leave him alone on any preten ce. ” ‘‘And what is it you want me to do ?” asked Madeline, who was panting from the pace at which they were 'walking. ‘‘l want you to persuade Miss Bell to send for a doctor at once.” ‘‘But surely you’re the person to do that !*' '•‘l’ve tried. I sent Dr. Preston to her yesterday, and my aunt wouldn’t see him. But this girl has influence with her. and if she chose, she could have a doctor in, and persuade. my aunt to see him. That’s what I .want vou to do.” Madeline agreed at" once, though ■with many misgivings as to her powers of persuasion. The fact was that the situation at the Abbey had by this time grown so serious that it had caused a general feeling of consternation among those of the neighbours who knew anything about it. The boldly-made aecusations of Miss Parebrother’s two nephews against the popular Dr. Skates and his wife Hollowed by the rather mysterious accident to Michael, and now by the reports of the dangerous . illness of ‘Miss Parebrother, had increased this feeling to something like a panic ; ■and nothing was now talked of by,

the neighbours but the course of affairs at the big house. There were two sides taken in the matter, of course ; and Dr. Skates, with his genial manners, had made so much better a general impression than the two now somewhat reserved and low-spirited young men that, on the whole, there were more sympathisers with him than with them among their acquaintances. Madeline knew- this, and the knowledge that these unlucky friends of her childhood were threatened with absolute ruin, without tne power to m-ave an attempt to escape it, filled her with so much distress, that by the time she and Gaspard stood under the glass shelter which led from the gate to the house-door, the tears were gathering in her eyes. It was light enough still for Gaspard to see see this as he turned again to speak to her. The sight made his own eyes moist as he held out his hand to her.

■ "Thank you," said he, in a husky voice. "It does one good to know that tnere’s a kind feeling for one anywhere, and especially ’’

Don’t,” she whispered hack. “Don’t, ah, don’t ! I’ll do whatever I can, and if it’s of no nse, ah any rate. I’ll—l'll ” Her lips moved, hut her voice had gone. But she gave him such a look, so full of tender sympathy and goodness, that he caught her in his arms, and kissed her passionately on the lips. Then, both very white and tremulous, and slightly indistinct of speech in the passionate anxiety and excitement which possessed them, they were admitted hy the man-servant, who told them, in answer ta his questions, that there was no change to report in Miss Farebrolher’s condition. She was very ill, and had seen no one but Jarman and Miss Bell, who would allow no one else to enter the sickroom. “I’ll go upstairs, and ask if she’ll see you,” whispered Gaspard to Madeline, who thereupon followed the servant to the drawing-room, while Gaspard went up to interview the inexorable companion. “Where is she ?” ashed Valelta, who was beginning to look very wan, as the result of her long vigil. “In the drawing-room with the ■Skateses.” “Then I’ll go down to her,” said Valetta, as she turned back to give some instructinns ta Jarman, before leaving the room. She went downstairs with him without saying another word, and only answered by the shake of the head the question he put as to his aunt’s condition.

When she entered the drawing-room however, the firmness of her look, and carriage for a moment left her, and she staggered slightly as she advanced into the big Square room, which looked strangely unlike itself now that Miss Parebrother, in her favourite low armchair, no longer occupied her usual corner by the fire. Mi’s Skates now sat there, wrapped in a shawl, and shivering, though the May afternoon was by no means particularly cold. The doctor stood on the hearthrug, his feet planted wide apart, his face as ruddy as ever, but his features composed to a look of irespectful sympathy with the distress in which the household was plunged. tie at once prepared a chair for Valetta, who sank into it quickly, saying, ‘‘Thank you,” in an almost inaudible voice. For some reason she seemed at first scarcely able to look up, and when Madeline held out her hand she took it in a hurried, nervous way, while the blood suddenly rushed to her cheeks. ‘‘You look overwrought, n;.y dear young lady,” said the Doctor, kindly. ‘‘Let me give you a cup of tea.” He prepared it with his f 'Wii hands, but Valetta would not drink it. She had had her tea upstairs, she said. Madeline had taken, the chair by her side, but felt rather nervous about addressing her, so plain was it to all eyes, that the slight, girlish-looking creature had been suffering from a severe strain. The questions had to come at last.

however, and it was the Doctor who I asked the first : j "And how did you leave our dear [invalid, Miss Bell?" he asked, in his I deep-toned, genial voice, just the i voice to express sympathy in the [most eloquent possible way. "Just the same—as she’s been all day to-day, and yesterday., too,’’ answered Valetta, her voice gaining a little in strength and firmness as she went on. "No worse, eh ?” There was a pause. Then Valetta said, very clearly, i‘l shouldn’t like to say that she’s no worse.’’’ Another pause, broken only by the doctor’s muttered, "Dear, dear !-’ Then he said aloud, "You don’t think she’s sinking, do you ?’’ ‘T really couldn’t say even that,’’ said Valetta. There was a low hush of consternation. Mrs Skates began to move restlessly in her chair. "Won’t she take nourishment ?’’ asked the Doctor. "She takes what I give her,’’ said Valetta. And as she uttered these words everyone could see that the girl grew red and white. "And yet she gets no better ?’’ "Nq better,’’ said Valetta. "It seems as if there were something to irritate and make her ill in everything given her to eat and drink.’’ Gaspard and Madeline uttered each an exclamation. Then Madeline spoke shyly, but earnestly ; "Exit isn’t it alarming when she gets so weak as that ?’’ "Very. I am much alarmed,’’ said Valetta, and as she spoke her voice trembled. " Mrs Skates said not a word, but watched her very intently throughout the whole of the conversation.

“ Surely/' suggested Madeline, meekly, “it would be better to let her see a doctor, wouldn’t it ?” “Is she,” asked the Doctor, anxiously, “in such a state that a doctor could do her no good ?” “I’tm sure of it,” said Valetta, with sudden boldnessThere was a short silence of utter consternation, real or affected, on the part of all but Mrs Skates, who still sat regarding the companion with a fixed, curious, and entirely inimical stare. Madeline stood up. “I hope you won’t think it impertinent of me to say so,” she said, “but I do think you ought to send for Dr. Preston, and see if he could not give her something to stop these dreadful symptoms.’-’ "1 think so, too,” said Valetta, simply. “You don’t think,” said Dr. Skates gravely, “that she would be in a fit state to know who he was, and therefore, you feel sure that it would no longer disturb her to find her wishes disregarded.” “I’ll take the responsibility of that,” said Valetta, as gravely as he.

Mrs Skates sa't upright. “1 call it wicked,” she said vehemently, “to disregard the express wishes of a dying woman !” ‘■‘(Dying !” cried Madeline and Gaspard at "the same moment. ■‘‘Didn’t you say, Miss Beil, that you believed she was dying ■?’-• said Mrs Skates, as emphatically as before. “I shouldn’t like to say that,” answered Vale'tta, in a low, tremulous voice. Then the Doctor spoke, interposing between the two ladies with one of his gracious waves of the hand that seemed to settle things. “I think,” said he, “since Miss Bell takes upon herself the responsibility of calling him in that we can do nothing but assist her in the matter.” ‘‘Thank you,” said Valetta. “I really can’t see that it would be of any use,” protested Mrs Skates again. "My dear Blanche,” said he, “we have no voice in the matter, none whatever. Miss Bell, who has taken upon herself the nursing of our dear friend, must know best what to do. Though, if the sickness has gone on all this time, two whole days,” and he turned- again with a solemn face to Valetta, “I’m afraid there is very little hope. You are sure,” he went on, impressively, while the eyes of all in the room rested intently on his face, so solemn was he, “that she cannot possibly have got anything to eat or drink which had not passed through your hands?” “Absolutely sure,” said Valetta. “And, of course, every care was taken in the preparation of everything that was given to her ?” “ Every care,” answered Valetta, earnestly. “More than that, I can answer for it that nothing that was not absolutely wholesome and. good has passed her lips,.

‘-'No possibility, of course, of anybody having tampered with anything ?” asked Gaspard, suddenly. I The question caused a certain un- . easiness in two of the ladies present. But Valetta turned to him at once, | now as self-possessed as at the beginning of the conversation she had been timid, and answered ; ‘■'There was absolutely no fear of that. I’ll answer for that. 1 ’ The Doctor nodded his head, perfectly satisfied, but still Mrs Skates kept her eyes fixed suspiciously upon the young girl’s face. ■‘■‘Then,’’ said Dr, Skates, “since you can answer for so much, you are the person. Miss Bell, to decide .whether the doctor is to come. So much is absolutely clear.’’ ‘-‘■Yes,’’ said Valetta. And at once she said to Gaspard : “If you will ask. Dr Preston to come, I’ll per suade Miss Farebrother, if any persuasion is necessary, to see him.’’ Gaspard went quickly to the door. !At the same time Madeline rose. As she shook hands with Valetta she noticed Ihow very cold the girl’s hands were. She would not shake hands with either of the Skateses, but gave a hurried bow to them as Valetta rose and accompanied her to the door. “How cold you are,” she cried, as they reached the passage outside, on the way to the hall. “Yes,”* replied Valetta, with a shiver, “whenever my head gets hot my hands and feet get quite cold. It’s' an anxious time, you know.” The two girls looked in each other’s face, and their hearts 1 went out in instinctive sympathy. Then Madeline asked : “And Michael, how is he ?” A look of pain contracted the pretty features of the young companion. “They tell me he’s going on all right,” she said, “but I haven’t dared to see him. I think, if I did,” she went on quickly, “I should break down altogether ; and I can’t afford the time to break down just now.” “That’s right, that’s right,” she whispered. “You are brave, you are splendid. I’ve the greatest hopes that you’ll do something for those poor boys yet.” But Valetta only put her finger on her lip, and said : “Good-bye, Miss Chalmers. Give my kind regards to the Vicar, won’t you, and to Mrs Chalmers ?” And then Madeline went away, and Valetta ran upstairs. Gaspard soon came back, but he had been unlucky. The doctor was out, so that he could only leave a message asking him to come round to the Abbey as soon as he could. In the meantime the young man hastened to see his brother, who was anxiously awaiting his return. Michael at once agreed that .Madeline had hit the right nail on the head in supposing that Skates had had been communicating with Scotland Yard. But here Gaspard saw a, difficulty. % “How about the detective down here ?” said he. “You heard him call out ‘ Anderson !’ so there can be no doubt he recognised him,. Surely he would have sent such a piece of news to headquarters at once !”’ This did seem the most likely thing to have happened, and Michael was puzzled how to account for the ignorance on this point shown by the official they had both seen. “One thing is certain,” said 1 he, “and that is you must find out what has become of Watkin, the detective who was sent down here. Inquire among the servants as to the time and place he was last seen, and then find out, if you can, where he meant to pass the night. I suppose he had taken some lodgings. If the servants don’t know it, make inquiries in the village.’-’ ■‘-'All right,” said Gaspard, “It’ll do in the morning, won’t it ?” ■“Ho,” answered Michael, quickly ; '“you must see about it now. I want to see the man to-night, at'once.” So Gaspard went to the servants’ hall, and made diligent inquiries, according to his brother’s instructions. But all in vain. Nobody knew where )the odd man had meant to stay, nor Why he had thrown up his work, without, as it turned out, even applying for his pay for what he had done on the first day. “1 think, sir, if I may make so bold,” said one of the gardeners, coming forward to address Gaspard, ‘"as there was something a bit wrong with that chap. He was all for prying, it seemed to hie. I took it into my head he was more interested in the dancing of the little ladies and gentlemen in the drawing-room than hard on his work. Why, he Was polishing the windows up to past nine o’clock at night, and as I said, it was more from curiosity than love of his work that was.’’ -'■‘And what did he say to that ?” asked Gaspard.

“Why, sir. he said* —and he winked at ine as he said it —as he liked to see the fun, and didn’t mean to give iup polishing the winders not as long \as the dancing went on, sir ! ” I “Oh,” said Gaspard, “then he •must have been about pretty late ?” “Ay, that he was, sir.. Why, he was there, as I say, up to nine” •“And when and where did you see him last ?’■’■ ■“lt was just before nine, sir, while the magic lantern show was goin’ on that I see him last: He was bangin’ about the hall where the entertainment was goin’ on.” “And then you lost sight of him ?” "“Yes, sir. I saw nothing of him after that.’-’ “Did any of you see him later than that ?” asked Gaspard, now no longer hiding the fact that he considered these inquiries of deep moment. There was a silence. Then followed a slight whispering in the ranks of the younger servants, and a girl of about sixteen was pushed forward by her companions, protesting shyly, and trying to escape observation. If you please, sir, Susan heard something,” said one of the others. “Well,” said Gaspard, kindly, to the girl, who was crimson, and inclined to be tearful. “And what was it you heard ? Don’t be afraid of speaking out.” “It was nothing, sir ” “Oh, Susan, you said you heard a noise, and saw two men who seemed to be fighting,” said the older woman . It needed a great deal of persuasion to get the poor frightened girl to tell what she had heard, and then it seemed at first as if it did not amount to much. She had gone up to the second floor on the night of the party, and heard a noise which she described as a “sort of cry,’; and looking out of the window, she had dimly seen, under the trees, something going on which she thought to be a scuffle between two men. Almost as soon as she got to the window, however, the disturbance was over, and she saw nothing more, and heard nothing for some minutes, when a sound like the beating of hands upon wood was followed by the soft opening and shutting of a door, which she thought must be that which led into the house under the back staircase. “Did you tell anyone what you had seen and heard ?” asked Gaspard, kindly. “No, sir, not then.” “Why didn’t you ?” After a little hesitating and stammering the girl was understood to say she did not think anything of it until she heard next day q{ the accident to Mr Michael. Then she did tell a fellow-servant, who spoke to one of the gardeners, who advised her not to chatter about it. Gaspard tried in vain to discover from the girl at what time it was that she heard tke noise and saw the scuffle going on. She either would not or could not fix the hour within practicable limits. The surprising fact remained that it had evidently taken place before the household retired to rest, if the girl’s account was to be trusted. Gaspard’s next move was to go to the cottage of the head gardener at the other end of the grounds and to ask if he knew anything. All that he could say was that he had missed a spade from the toolhouse, and that he had been amazed to find the long hole in the ground into which Mr Michael had fallen. He had no idea who could have made it, nor for what purpose, and all the inquiries he had made among the men under him had failed to elicit any satisfactory response. As for the odd man who had disappeared so quickly, the gardener was inclined to believe that he had stolen the spade, and got away with it, and perhaps with other tkings that had not yet been massed. And the gardener was evidently not sorry to make this suggestion, as Miss Farebrother’s engagement of casual helpers was highly distasteful to the servants in regular employment at the Abbey. “I should like you,” said Gaspard, when he had listened attentively ,to all the man had to say, “to make a careful inspection of the grounds with me now, to see if we can find any trace of this man,” The gardener looked surprised. “■What trace of him could we find, sir ?” he asked with a touch of surliness. “If,” pursued Gaspard, stubbornly, “the hole was made, as you all seem inclined to think, by this stranger, with the intention of hiding stolen things in it, and if he was frightened away by my brother coming out to see what was going on, we shall surely be able to find somewhere about

some articles which he had stolen and prepared to hide." "Of course I’ll come with you if you like, sir,” said the man unwillingly enough. The fact was that the notion which had seized Valetta when she saw the hole by daylight, that it was like a grave, had entered the heads of all the servants' about the place also, and had filled them with a sort of superstitious terror, under the influence of which some were even inclined to think that it had been dug by supernatural hands, and that it betokened an early death to the household. This idea having been strengthened by the severe accident to Michael and the dangerous illness of his aunt, the spot where the hole had been dug was carefully avoided by everyone, when it had been hastily filled in by the order of Gaspard. Now, therefore, that the head gardener found, himself compelled to go, in the uncertain and dim twilight of a May evening, on a search expedition in the neighbourhood of the uncanny spot, even his robust, middleaged commonsense was hardly proof against a sensation akin to that of a sudden douche of cold water down the spine. He took his lantern with him, although it was not very dark, and !he and the young master walked away silently, looking abaut them on both sides, until they came within a .ew yards of the stack of underwood. Then Gaspard said suddenly : "It was here that the man was working that day, wasn’t it ?” "In the afternoon, sir, yes.” "And it was near here the hole was made ?” "Ye-es.” The man answered in a thick whisper, and Gaspard turned to him. "What’s the matter, Miller ?” But the gardener did not answer. Holding his 1 lantern a little way up, he was staring with all his> eyes at the ground close to the woodstack. Gaspard’s eyes followed his, but without another word being spoken by either of them. Twilight was falling fast under the big trees, and an eerie dimness lay over the ground and in the dark places between hedge and bush, shrub and tree trunk. The evening mist struck chill and damp, but it was not with cold that both men shivered, as they looked before them, staring intently, fixed and motion, less, and without exchanging so much as a word or glance,: Yet it was their own fancy rather than anything more certain which held them in the grip of a deadly terror. For what was it they saw ? Something dark, indistinct, shapeless, half-hidden under a pile of brushwood, guessed at rather than clearly seen. "What’s that. Miller, under —under There —there ! ’ ’ His words died away, and the gardener went forward without answering him. He pulled the uppermost twig down, and stopped. Then he turned to the young master, with an awesome face. "Ay, sir,, that’s him, sure enough,” whispered he. After one short pause, during which they scarcely dared to look at each other, they tore the heaped-up wood away, and pulled the pile to pieces, exposing at last, as they expected, as they knew, the huddled-up body of the missing man. They looked at him,! and then again at each other. "Murdered, sir !” said the gardener, huskily. Look at his head.” By the dim light of the lantern they saw a piteous sight. The head of the unfortunate man had been battered in, one side smashed, beaten to an indescribable, sickening horror. There, where he lay, a huddled heap, the horrible injuries had apparently been inflicted, and the murderer had covered the body with wood from the pile, deliberately, cleverly, so that the heap which lay on the dead man seemed but such part of the stack as had been prepared for immediate use. "The police !” whispered Gaspard, -"we must send for them.” He would have kept the awful news from the household for a little, if he had been able to do so. But even before he reached the house, a whisper from the gardener, on his way to the police-station, spread like lightning from lip to lip, so that when the young man entered the hall, he found himself at once confronted, not only by Dr. and Mrs Skates, but by Valetta, who, standing on the bottom stair, with her hand upon the banisters, awaited his return in the state of strongest excitement. "What’s this ? What’s this story of a man found dead in the grounds, Mr Gaspard ? Not true, I hope,” said the doctor earnestly*

Gaspard nodded sullenly, without raising his eyes. "Who is it ?” "Is it someone who’s known ?” pursued Dr. Skates, seizing his arm, and insisting upon detaining the young man, who was shaking with sick terror. “It’s a man who was at work here two days ago, sir,” explained a manservant, who had entered the hall with the dreadful news. The Doctor staggered back.. "Good heavens !” he cried. "And when was he missed ?” "He’s been missing since the night before last, sir.” "The night before last. Dear me Why, that was the very night ” The Doctor affected to pull himself up short, and turned quickly to Gaspard, to say in a low voice : "You’ve done what you can to keep this quiet, of course ?” Gaspard looked at him with a sombre wrath in his eyes. "Keep it quiet !” he echoed, slowly. "Of course I’ve not ! I’ve sent for the police already !” "Why, man alive !” cried he, forgetting to lower his voice in his amazement and consternation, "you’re putting the rope round the neck of your own brother !” j Gaspard drew a long breath. "Liar !” cried he, as he flew at the Doctor like an enraged lion. (To be continued).