CHAPTER XVIII.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 160, 10 July 1886, Page 8

CHAPTER XVIII.

MORE EXCITEMENT, "Yes —that man, John Penfield, lies dead over there under the Hanging Rock, just as sure as you re standing living there before my two eyes this minute." This is what one of tUe would-be-nut-gatherera said to Shirley Benson, when that young gentleman pulled his sleeve and asked him if the report was true. Shirley Benson did not attempt another question. That one satisfied his curiosity by striking him speechless. The news appeared to have the same effect on a majority of the villagers, judging by their frightened eyes and blanched faces. Ho was a bold man who suggested a way out of the great doubfc to the people by calling out : " Let us go to the Hanging Rock and see for ourselves 1" If this man had been a veritable Solomor, the people could not have acted more quickly on his counsel. "To the Rock !" burst in a ehout from the villagers. Judging from the rapidity with which they ehook off their awe-striclcen stupor, one would have thought that the people expected to be of some service to John Penfield. They ran in groups of twos and threes in front, while straggling bodies of dozens brought up the rear. The fastest runners could be seen coming to a sudden stop close to the rock, and this excited to greater effort the people who bad not yet come up. Unfortunately, it was no false rumour. There, not ten feet from where Frank Ashworth'd bcdy had been found, John Penfield lay, with such an expression of peace on his ashy face as it had never worn in life. Some of the bolder ones stooped and laid their hands on hi-s forohead. It needed no second touch to convince them that the man was dead, and had been dead for hours. ' • Let us send for the coroner, ' said one. ••Let us fetch Dr. Beriaford," eaid another. A messenger had already gone to the Manor with the news. As soon as Shirley Benßon became convinced that the rumour was not false, he returned to the Manor with all speed. As he dashed panting through the grounds, he stopped on hearing Miriam calling to him : ■> -, " What is the matter, Shirley ?" For reply he asked : " Is Mr Ash worth at the house ?" "I do not think so. He said last night that he would get an early breakfast, as he was going to hunt some distance away. But why are you so excited ?" " Because, Miriam," he eaid, " there has been another terrible murder committed." " Where ? What do you mean ?" she asked, as she tottered to a tree and leaned against it for support. "John Penfield—" " Well, what of him, Shirley ? Do not torture me by holding back your news." "He has been murdered." "Murdered?" "Yes. Bia body was discovered early this morning by a party of people who were going out to gather chestnuts." " Where did it happen ?" " Over in the shadow of the Hanging Rock." 11 And why did you ask tor Mr Ash worth ?" asked Miriam, her fine self-control returning. " Because," stammered Shirlej. " Becausq of what ?" "Because I knew that he and John Penfield were on good terms — " •'What of that?" "Do not ask me more. I was excited. Where is your father?" As Shirley asked the question he caught eight of Dr. Berisford talking to Hans some distance away, and to him he ran. '* Another man dead at the Hanging Bock, Dr. Berfsford." , This was Shirley's salutation, and as the doctor heard the words he staggered back as if they had been blows. " Gott im Himmel ! Vot yon moans?" cried Hans. The doctor could not speak for some time.

He was overwhelmed by the horrible news, and his face showed the agony it brought him. At length, and after Shirley had repeated John Penfield's name a half dozen times, the doctor got an understanding, though evidently not a clear one, of the case, for he said : "Let us go up to the house, Shirley, and make sure that you are not piving credit to a wicked rumour." When they reached the front door, from which a view of the Hanging Rook could be had, Shirley turned, and pointing to the people hurrying out from the village, he said : " That goes to prove that it is no wicked rumour. But, perhaps, Doctor, it would be better to set all doubts at rest by going over to where the body is supposed to be " " The very thing I was about to suggest." The doctor called to Minnie to bring him hia cane, and then he started off for the Hanging Rock with Shirley Benson j and on the way he met a number of people coming to tell him the news. When the crowd about the body saw the doctor coming, they made way for him to pas>B ; for though the most simple-minded did not imagine that all his skill could avail the dead man, there was a very general belief that he could do something to dispel the mystery surrounding the detective's death. The instant he came within sight of the body, all the doctor's nervousness vanished, and there came to him the calm, assured manner that ever distinguished him when called on to act professionally. " This is an awful thing, my friends," he aaid, as, after acknowledging, by lifting his hat, the respectful salutations of the people, he knelt down beside the dead man. " Woundod through the heart," said the doctor, as his eyesfell on a redspotsurrounding a ragged, cut through the left breast of the grey coat. He opened the vest, and with a small pair of surgeon's scissors he cut through both shirts, bringing to view the left breast, in whioh there was a triangular wound exactly like that which had slain Frank Ash worth. <\ majority of the people present had seen or heard all about the strange triangular daggerwhich thedocloratated at the inquest must have made the wound. The most stupid could see that John Penfield was killed in the same way. The doctor, still kneeling, kept his eyes fastened on the wound, and thought of the dagger which he had been shown by Clarence Aahworth a few nights before, and which he had so carefully oxarained the following day, " The same weapon and the same hand, Doctor." On hearing the wordf, the doctor looked up and saw Shirley Benson. " A similar weapon certainly," replied the doctor, as he rose to his feet with the help of his cane, adding as he straightened up : " As to the hand, it is not for us to judge with the light we have before us." " True, Doctor," said the innkeeper, who was standing near. "But supposing we was all to agree that it was the* same hand that did both black deeds, who is there to tell us whose hand that is?" " I certainly cannot, ' said the doctor. " No, nor can anyone else. Rewards has been offored, and this man, John Pentield, lost his life a-tryin' to earn them. Only God and the murderer knows anything about it." The doctor made no reply, but Shirley Benson looked aB if he were bursting with suppressed information. A deputy coroner had been appointed for Willowemoc, and this man now appeared with a waggon and took charge "of the body. He said it would be taken to the village, and that the coroner would come that afternoon and hold an inquest at, which he summoned the doctor to attend. The murdered man was planed in a waggon, and about this the people formed and n. arched back in solemn procession to' the village. The doctor, with his white head bowed, as if under a crushing weight of trouble, returned to the Manor with Shirley Benson. On the way Shirley tried to get him to speak. He wanted to tell the doctor his secret, but the old man appeared deaf to all his efforts. In the library they found Miriam and Madame Barron anxiously awaiting them. "Another !' cried Madame Barron, '• Another," aaid the doctor, hoarsely. Miriam did not look up, but sat with her eyes fixed on her interlocked fingers. The doctor, with a sigh, dropped into a chair, and asked Madame Barron to ring for water. The fact that Clav«nj*a AAworth had brought with him on thrs vftlt the casket and triangular dagger waa known to every one on that Manor. It had been exhibited and handled by all but the servant*. 11 You are sure* "Doctor," said Shirley Benson, after the old gentleman had drunk the goblet of water brought by Miriam, "that this wound was made in the same way as the other one and with a similar blade ?" "There can be no doubt of that," replied the doctor. " Then the blade must have been something like that which Mr Ashworth showed us yesterday morning ?" " Yes." " That blade would have made just such a wound ?" •• Yes, Shirley, that blade, or one exactly like it." "I am sorry that Clarence Ashworth had a quarrel with John Penfield some time ago. I am afraid the people will recall that incident, for the detective has not another enemy in the world." " Yes, Mr Benson, that is sad, very sad," groaned Madame Barron. Miriam, who, judging from her abstracted manner, did not appear to be listening, now sprang to her feet, and facing Shirley, she said : " What about the quarrel Clarence AEhworth had with the unfortunate man ?" "I— l said that it was unfortunate," said Shirley, astonished at the energy of her manner. "It was unfortunate when it occurred, but Mr Ashwof th was not to blame. Why should it be more unfortunate now ?" " Because people will talk." "What about?" demanded Miriam. " About this," stammered Shirley. " You mean that people will connect Clarence Aahworth's name with thfo crime ?" •' I am afraid so. ' " But why connect him with the death of the detective any more than with the death of his brother Frank ?" "But people do connect him with that crime," said Shirley, regaining his courage. " John Penfield believed that Ashworth was guilty. But I shall say no more. Wait till you hear the evidenoe at the inquest." " I do not need to hear evidence to be convinced that neither in thought nor act is Clarence Ashworth capable of a crime. Ail the circumstantial evidenoe in the world would not convince me of his guilt in this or in anything else. Confess, Shirley Benson, that you hate and that you have persistently tried to slander this man. I need not add that you have always taken good care not to acquaint him personally with your feelings." With this, and a glance full of indignation at; Shirley Benson and Madame Banon, Miriam swept out of the room.

" Shirley," said the doctor, waking up as if from a Bleep, "I- I do not understand this. What ia it?" "It appears, Doctor," replied Shirley, with no attempt to conceal a sneer, " that Miriam has becoire the champion of Clarence Ash worth, whose name the people, without exception, are associating with this crime."