THE BAN DHU

Taranaki Daily News, 17 August 1935, Page 23 (Supplement)

THE BAN DHU

(By

Desmond Lough)

CHAPTER 11 (continued.) / Munroe was better. He Jay propped up in bed to ease the throb of his wounded shoulder. His face, with its two days of grizzly stubble, looked rather formidable. He was a Scot, hard and reliable, and he had worked many vears for Mr. Prestwich. Naturally, he was not very popular with the people of Knockarra. He had never taken . nor stood drinks in the bar of the hotel, 1 James did not think much of him, but nobody could accuse him of b ®‘ ng * sponger. He held himself aloof, though he was never uncivil. To poachers, of course, he was an enemy, but not a vindictive one. Under his regime, warnings, when youths did happen t be caught, were more frequent than prosecutions. Mr. Prestwich’s idea was to keep things within reasonable bounds. Mrs. Munroe had been a maid m his service when the steady young Scot had wooed and won her. • Dr. O’Behan gaye a good, report of his patient that, morning, and now the good woman smoothed.' and patted. her husband’s pillow with rising spirits. “You’ll be all right in a few days now. Alec. You heard what >the ‘doctor said. “Aye, lass, I heard rightly,.. I suppose I'm getting better, but ma head is a worry to me yet. I feel all bothered when I try to think.’ / “That's only what you’d expect after a khock like that.” “I -can’t remember things as as I'd like. 'Whoever it was that struck me down—l want tp get even with him.” .the grim jaw set firmly, “and I’ll do it too. A foul blow in the dark it was. “Aye, aye, Alec. We cqnt guess who did it) yet. As you say, the poachers wouldn’t be likely to be up there. “It was no poacher.” „ “You’re mighty sure about that, Alec. •"I'm certain sure s of it. I know those lads. ' P was. after none of them. They would not strike me down like that. It’s farther down they’d be and they didn’t know that I’d be up by, the that I’d be in that part of the grounds. Nobody knew.” “But what were you doing, Alec 1 didn’t ask you before, you were too ill, but I was wondering.” . Munroe smiled grimly. “I was taking a walk, lass.” Mrs. Munroe gave her husband a shrewd glance. ' . “There’s more than that in it, Alec; you can't fool me. You were up there for some reason. I know if you dont want to tell me, you won’t. I haven t been married to you all these years and not know that. Was it trying to meet the Ban Dhu you were?” “Aye, lass, pairtly, pairtly. Its a good enough thing to say and to, think, and there’s 'no lie in it.” With that she had to be content. _ “I’m getting stronger,” he said, feeling his sinewy arms with satisfaction, I was always a braw lad, wasn t I? “There, now, lie quiet and take a sleep or you’ll not be braw as I’d like you to be. Don’t be bothering yourself about anything. I’ve got to go and see about things in the house. Miss Johanna wants me. Did I' tell you she’s getting married to Mr. O’Hara?” “No! Are they? They’ll make a bonny pair, the twa of them. And so did we, my lass, in our time. Gie us a buss. “You're a terrible old man,” said Mrs. Munroe, laughing as she stooped to kiss his greying head, but her cheeks were flushed and, she , looked almost young again. Then she left him. iMunroe stroked his forehead -wearily. His head ached sometimes, still since the' night of the attack when he tried to think; what he. sought eluded him. That paper! He had it when he started on the expedition. That, of course, was absolutely certain. . He went through everything that had happened.for the fifthieth time. The silent, secret journey up the slope to the Witch’s Rock; the rustle of the bushes; the shadowy thing that .ran between them, crouching so low that he could not tell .whether it was man or beast in the brief instant ere it had attacked him. Then a blank and a returning to consciousness in his

bed. The paper was gone, with its faint, almost illegible, brown markings. And with its loss, what had he lost, if anything? Munroe reproached himself for nor having studied it more carefully. Now his dazed head reeled and stumbled la a very maze.

On his return to the village something put the immediate investigation of the rock and river out of Albert Repton’s head. When in doubt, call James.

“James, who is that beautiful little girl 'with dark hair and eyes—anything from fourteen to seventeen I should say—l saw her just now in the street—l suppose you call it a street?” “I’d be thinkin’ ’twas the Fairy Child now.”

James thought this name much more interesting than Kathleen MacMorroughi as has been said, James had a game nose for the dramatic.

“The Fairy Child! How romantic! That’s exactly the right name for her. Who is she?” /

“That would be Kathleen MacMoxrough then.” “A most ‘ fascinating little thing, just the sort that would fit into a picture of this place. I’ll have my cast before the plot is ready if we go on like this! I hope she won't be as sulky as old Burke.”

James did not understand much of this- talk.

“She's a good little tiling, is Kathleen, but strange in her ways. They do : be nearly afraid of her here, her. and her grandmother. They call the old one the Wise Woman of Knockarra.” And James gave a ten minutes history of the pair. “I must talk to them both.” "I’ll take ye up to see them after dinner, if you like, sor. ‘Twould be better for ye to have me that they knows with you. ’Tis queer an’ shy many of the people here do be, an' you a stranger, an’ all. There might be some that wouldn’t like it.” “I’d be very much obliged for your help, James. Have one with me." James felt like an angler who had landed a fish. *

And so it was that the Wise Woman and the Fairy Child made Albert Repton's acquaintance that afternoon. James, as became one who had travelled, performed the ceremony of introduction most correctly. This done, he used his usual formula; ‘l’ve a lot to do’ for getting away and spending a goodly portion of the half-crown Repton had tipped him. “I have come, madam, to have a little chat with you on the subject of pictures,” began Albert. “We don’t want any, we’ve got plenty,” said Mrs. MacMorrough, noddipg to the cheap lithographs on the wall. “Not that sort, my dear madam; talking pictures, talkies, you know.” “I’ve heard of them.”

“Now your charming grand-daughter here,” Repton paused and smiled on Kathleen, “I was thinking that we could do a bit of business.”

Both regarded him, in stony silence. “How would you like to open up a great future' for her by letting her act on them? There’s a fortune in such things.” “A fortune?” said Mrs. MacMorrough slowly. “That’s a big word.” "Not a bit bigger than the reality. I don’t, say she’d make as much as well— Garbo—to begin with, but that might come.”

A slight flush crept into Kathleen’s pale cheeks. She would riot have been human if the idea, so foreign to anything she had ever heard of, did riot stir her.

“Go on,” said the older woman. “This is my idea then: I came down here with the idea, my own, I may say, that I might be able to strike out something new in the way of pictures. ‘Peg o’ My Heart’ was a great success; why not equal or beat it? I came to ah unknown and beautiful spot. I meet unknown but beautiful people. I have had a lot of experience. Then I know what lam talking about. Now, I have heard quite a lot about the charming legends'of the place. lam investigating them, in fact. I intend to incorporate them into a story—a story of love and mystery—perhaps just a little crime to spice it up—your grand-daughter would make a charming heroine. We have a splendid background.' Last night I met an old man’ whom I might be able to persuade to act too-ra wonderful old fellow, but rather sulky, I’m sorry to say. He was not inclined to come in, but perlraps you, a neighbour of his, might be able to persuade him. Donal Burke—” ' . '. “Donal Burke?” cried. Mrs. MacMorrough, “I’d see her dead. before. I’d let her have aught to do with him!” CHAPTER 12, . ' The unfortunate would-be producer saw his hopes fading. He could make no further progress with the fierce «ld woman and her strange grandchild, the latter said-nothing; big-eyed and solemn, she let the older woman do the talking; There was some stirring of rebelhpn hi her heart, nevertheless. Like swordthrusts new ideas and hopes were stab* bing through the mantle that had kept hex- shrouded from the outer world all her life hitherto. Even in Knockarra items of news had sometimes filtered through, letting them know of such things. But they were little heeded by those whose news generally consisted of local items in the country newspaper, -'epton had suddenly painted new and vivid colours on Kathleen’s life. Lionel O’Hara had, in a way, prepared the canvas by his conversation a few hours before. , Being a pretty shrewd gentleman, Repton saw that it was better not to oppose the old woman’s fanatical hatred for Donal Burke. He proceeded to pour oil on the troubled waters. “That needn’t put you Out in the least, my dear woman,” he said blandly. We can easily arrange that they shall have nothing whatever to do with one another. In fact, the idea I had in mind, (he hadn’t any), “was to work these characters entirely apart from one another. That would suit you, wouldnt it? “I’ll say nothin’ yet until I see now things will be.” The storm subsided sullenly. _ “You couldn’t say fairer than that, agreed Repton. “I hope to call'on vou again shortly.”- . . ” He bowed lumse-lf out swearing Inwardly at the old- - nuisance. Back at the hotel .'his .methods were different, but perhaps more effective. “James!” ' “Yei, sor.” . “What's yours?” jerking his thumb in the direction of the bar. “Well, now, a small malt, sor, thank y e " , .. “Two large whiskies, one soda, corrected Repton. - . “Ah,' well, now—” “That's ’■ all right, my dear man. I'm taking, care it is none of. your, mountain dew, as you call.it, this time. It nearly finished me, you remember.-’ “You weren’t used to it, sor, thats all that was the matter wid you.” “And never likely to be. I’m sure of this brand, though.” “None better, your honour,” replied James, who believed in being on the right side with such a patron. (To be continued.)