THE BAN DHU

Taranaki Daily News, 16 August 1935, Page 13

THE BAN DHU

(By

Desmond Lough)

CHAPTER 10 (continued.) “I’ll be going now,” said Donal, tying a tape round his rod. "I hope I’m not intruding?” “You?” The tone in which this was said was quite enough to tell Mr. Repton that his fears were groundless. “Of course , not, I didn’t mean that, but I was hoping to have a little chat with you. You see I’m a stranger here, and I should like to know something about the place and its people.” “You can see the place—what do you want to know* about the people for? You’re a stranger, you say; here today, gone to-morrow, I take it.” “Here to-day certainly, but I hope not gone to-morrow. In fact I hope to be here for a fortnight ’at least, perhaps more.”

Donal grunted. There was no particular reason for him to rejoice at this information. He was not exactly helpful as a conversationalist.

“You see,” said Repton in a confidential tone, “I might‘be able to do something for the people here—put money in their way.”

“There’s many a one would be glad of that,” said Donal without emotion. “I have an idea—l’m with a big Film Company, The Reality Pictures Company to be exact—Talkie Pictures you know, cinemas and all that sort of thing.” “I’ve heard of them.”

“I should be glad if it could be managed to make a talkie here. One racy of the soil, as they say. Plenty of love interest, you know, with a background of this magnificent scenery,” again the cigarette was waved. “It would sell like hot cakes in America, the greater Ireland beyond the seal” “Um, I see what you’re driving at,” said Donal, stroking his beard. “Well, ’tis none of my affair anyway." “But pardon me, Mr.—Mr.—”

“Donal Burke, if you want to know.” “Pardon me, Mr. Burke, that’s just what it would be. I know what I want. You’ve got a splendid—you’ll pardon me for being personal, it’s all in the way of business, you know—a splendid head. With a little coaching you . could take a part. There’ll be beautiful colleens and fine young men in a typical Irish, village, just like yours here. I could supply the scenario'and we could make a great picture. Of course I haven’t settled anything yet, just got the ideas floating in my head. What do you say?” “You needn’t count on me. What would I want with such things?” “Good pay,” hinted Mr. Repton.

“I want no money.” “You’re the first man I ever heard say that,” ■ laughed Mr. Repton, “but think over it, Mr. Burke, think over it,” “I’ve thought all I want to; good evening to you.” “Well, well, we’ll leave it at that for the present. I’ll be sure to run across you again. By the way, what is that curious rock standing up over the trees yonder? I’m sure it has a name.” “It has, sure enough. The Witch’s Rock Jt’s called.”

“Very interesting. I suppose there are some quaint legends about it?” “I don’t know anything about them

if there are,” lied Donal, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “It would be a splendid background for some of our scenes. The sort of place the villain could hurl the heroine from—a dummy, of course—-but it would be effective, very effective.” Tur. Repton, in love with the idea and inspecting the rock with the eye of a producer, did not see the gathering storm in Donal Burke's face. The mad strain in him, often hidden, peeped out through his fierce eyes now. He suppressed himself with an effort. “That would be an ill thing to do." The change in his voice made Repton look at him quickly, and then step back a pace. “Why, Mr. Burke, what’s the matter'?' Surely I haven’t said anything to offend you. I assure you I didn’t mean toreally.” “No, no, I suppose you didn’t,” sate Donal slowly. "How could you know aught about us, and you a stranger? But this I say, and I mean well by you, leave the Witch’s Rock alone.”

Before Repton could reply the old man sprang up the bank, agile as a deer, skirting the bank until he disappeared round a bend. Repton was greatly interested and entirely unawed by the interview. . He had met a real native, quite an unknown type of creature to him—and there was the making of a new kind of picture ready to hand, if he could only work in the characters skilfully. If it took on, and he believed it would, there was money in it. Funny that the old boy was so touchy about that queer rock. It was too good a thing to waste. He returned to the hotel, whistling cheerfully. Being wise in his generation he decided that the best way to get the hang of things was to interview the Pooh Bah of the hotel, the individual who combined the offices of waiter and boots, and whatever ■ other functions he might be called on to fulfil.

‘James’ iyas a native who had drifted to far away Cork, where, according to himself, he had been a very important cog in the wheels that ran one of the biggest and best hotels in the city. After 30 years or so, he returned to Knockarra without having amassed the fortune which he had set out to make; strong waters having seen to that! As he said himself he had gone on a ‘Skite’ whenever in funds to do so. In Knockarra funds vzere scanty, so he was here, a decent, jolly old rip, able and willing to discourse on any subject whatever with anyone who wanted to talk with him. He was extraordinarily shrewd at sizing up the few strangers who came to the hotel. His opinion of Albert Repton was favourable; he would be good for a drink or two and a decent tip when the time of parting came. ’ “Is it tay yer honour will be afther fakin’?” he asked in the broad brogue which he kept for strangers who liked that sort of thing. “Or mebbe a little dhrop of the raal thing?” Very confidential, this last.

“Tea please, James.” One burning of the throat had been enough for him. “Oh, all right, sor,” replied’James with a sigh, padding off to fulfil the unmanly order.

“James,” said Repton when the tray had been placed before him, “I suppose you know everybody about here?” “I do that, sor. Everywan an’ everything in Knockarra is an open book to me, as Shakespeare says.” “I met an extraordinary old man tonight. Donal Burke he said his name was. fishing at a pool on the river.” “Oh, that wan? He’s daft, he is. ’Tis very little he has to say to any wan—not since the fairies ran away with his wife.” And Repton heard various versions of the story of that event.

“Of course that’s all nonsense,” Repton said. Jimes gave him a quick glance to see if he really meant it. “Av coorse it is,” he agreed, “but then, what can ye do? There’s Donal an’ there isn’t the wife he had wanst. Sure ’tis as good to say wan thing as another.” “He told me that the queer rock that is sticking up out of the trees near the river is called the Witch’s Rock.” “That’S thrue for him; so it is.” “He seemed very annoyed when I said something about getting up to the top of it.” “Climbin’ the Witch’s Rock you’d be, is it?” “Why. not?” James scratched his head thoughtfully. “Well, now, sor, I wouldn’t if I was you. Theyjdo say that—that you'd better not.” “Why not?” asked Repton again. “The Ban Dhu,” whispered JanteS. “They say ’tis a sperrit or worse, an’ that the rock belongs to it.” Repton laughed. He could not be expected to believe such tosh. CHAPTER 11. The old legends of Knockarra had been stirred from their slumbers by the happenings of the last couple of days. Gossip and whisperings ruffled the calm life of the village. Munroe had aroused them, how or why no one knew; then came the adventure of Lionel and Johanna.

Over his morning bacon and eggs, Albert Repton resolved to poke his nose into the half forbidden land. The lure of something new called him. He could work in something about this hobgoblin business into a talkie, perhaps. It would probably be good for trade—magic word! James was interviewed again when he came in to clear away the breakfast things. This was usually the job of Mag, the maid of all works, but as has been already said, Mr. Repton was a client worth cultivating.

“I suppose that was just a yam—that talk about the What-you-may-call-’em and that rock last night, James?” “Well, it might be, sor, an’ then again it might not,” replied the diplomat. “Which leaves us pretty much where we were. Tell me now, what is your private and honest opinion?” James had many private opinions, but his public ones were not necessarily always honest. “I don’t be thinkin’ about things that aren’t my business, sor. I have enough to do, God knows, without hoppin’ around, looking for throuble.” “You should b<? in Parliament, James, ‘Dail’ they call it I think; you talk such a lot and say so little—a most valuable talent.”

“Thank ye, sor.” “Now look here, James, I. want to find out all about this rock. Do you know anybody who would be a good guide—somebody that knows all about it, you know?” “There’s none that knows much about it. They don’t go near it, and small

blame to them, sez I. The old people wouldn’t go, and the young wans wouldn’t know.” “Hm, that’s a pity. I suppose you wouldn’t care to come up with me yourself, would you?” “Och, sure I wouldn’t have the time at all, but there’s young Sean Burke now, he might go, though I misdoubt he would.” “Burke? Any relation to that quOer old bird I met last night?” “He do be his gran’ nephew they say.” “Then he’s the very man. I _ wonder where I could find him.” “There he is, just as you say it—talk of the divil,” James pointed out of the Window. “Call him, will you, please?” “Hey, Sean, there’s a gentleman here, what wants to speak to ye.” Sean turned, rather suspiciously. Sudden calls always reminded him of snares in more ways than one. “I have just been talking to our friend James,” said Repton genially. “I am anxious to investigate the Witch’s Rock, I think that’s what you call it; I wonder if you would help me?” “I couldn’t help you,” said Sean curtly. “Oh, I’m sorry for that. I thought you might show me over it, tell me any legends connected with it, act as guide, in fact.” “There’s no guiding wanted there, sir; the rock is in the middle of them trees for all the world to see. But ’tis best left alone.” “Well, it can’t be helped. Thanks for your information.” “I didn’t tell you anything,” said Sean quickly. “Of course not.” “We drew blank that time,” said Reptons when Sean was out of earshot. “An’ I think that you’ll do it every time, sor. Lave well alone, is my advice to ye.” But Repton had no notion of doing so. A quarter of an hour later he reached the trout pool. A short distance above it the river welled frdm beneath the thick mass of bushes that dotted the slope to the Witch’s Rock. “Great possibilities,” he said to himself, as he Observed the scene with the eye of a critic. “There you are again, I see!” said a voice from the bank above him. Donal Burke was peering at him over a bush- His dark eyes were sombre and unfriendly. “Oh, Mr. Burke, I'm glad to see you.” “Why should you be? You didn't heed what I said to you last night—to leave that rock alone.” “I suppose you’ll be fishing again this evening,” said Repton, anxious to change the subject. “I never know when I’ll fish, nor what I’ll fish for—but when I do I’ll catch what I’m after.” Was there a hidden threat in those words? Burke disappeared quickly and Repton heard his departure signalled by the rustling bushes. ’

The whole thing was getting very interesting. The situation might easily develop into a successful thriller, and a successful thriller meant money, and to Mr. Repton money meant very much indeed./ (To be continued.)