A PRINCE OF VAGABONDS.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXII, Issue 144297, 12 January 1914, Page 5

A PRINCE OF VAGABONDS.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

[COPYRIGHT.]

SENSATIONAL STORY OF LOVE AND INTRIGUE.

BY JOHN K. PROTHERO,

Author of “A Strong Man AruioU,”] “Apples of Gold." “Tho Sii'M'r Corel,” “Tho Gamblers,” “W*E Links of Steel,” “An Eyo for an: Eye,” etc., etc. CHAPTER VII. “GOOD FORTUNE DEPARTS, AND DISASTER'S BEHIND.”

Tho man who hesitates is lost—in relation to a revolver! Jeremy did not wait to think, but acting on instinct, crouched back on his haunches interposing tho chimney stack between him and the foe. The doctor lot fly, and the bullet struck ttin slates uncomfortably close; Jeremy decided hi>; quarters were too hot. and. without a backward glance, lowered himself from tho roof into space, trusting to good luck and an innate sense of distance to alight upon tho wail. He struck it with bis knees, and had hn nl work not Ln turn a .somersault. Giddy with pain, but not daring to pause he rolled over from the wall on to the encumber frame, falling with a prodigious crash upon the glass. Tho hot blond streamed down his face, and there was a tingling in his knee that set him dancing. But as he knew, tho enemy was elosc behind, and he dare not j anse. but stumbled on. limping over tho cabbage patch, leaving a‘trail of Wood behind.

Ho never knew tho point at which pursuit slackened, nor by what miracle ho escaped; he was light-headed with excitement, suspense, and loss of blood, and when at last he slackened s]>oed. fetched Tip against, a tumbledown old barn and dung to tho doorpost for dear life. Earth and sky went whirling round him. lie was dizzy and sick with pain. There was not an ounce of light left in him ; he had run himself to a standstill, and could do no more. He flung himself on a heap of .straw in tho corner, ami lapsed from torpor into a deep sleep. The stars fame out ami peeped at, him through the gaping roof, little soft brown furry creatures —field mice and nits —ran across his body as he lay

asleep, His tired limbs relaxed, tho hoav.\ strain upon Ins face loosened. He was away in dreamland, tin- vagabond’s happy hunting ground. Pleasant visions eamo to him in Ills slumber. He thought a woman knelt beside him. stroking his fair hair with tender and caressing hands. And now it was his mother who bent over him. his chocks wet with her tears. And then she changed to Janet Brewer, and he could hear her weeping for his broken boots. And yet again she was a fair young creature with soft lips and shining eyes. He sighed, and stirring stretched out his hand to clasp her, but in dream fashion she evaded him. and ho sank bark into the deep waters of profound sleep. The furry creatures, grown more bold, roused him, nibbling at his sleeve, their sharp white teeth closing in his wrist. Ho waked up, swiftly "like all woodland things, and sat up blinking at the sunshine. There was a moment’s oblivion, then rasping upon his consciousness came recollection.

Ho moved his limbs, put his hand to his head. There was a bandage across his temples; a rug had been thrown over his foot, and under his head was a dainty cushion. The vision of the night came back with startling clearness. Someone had found him in tho barn, tended Ms hurts, touched his hair. Who out of all the world of women would step aside for him. Poor Janet, he decided, had come to seek for Mm. and found a strange dissatisfaction at the thought. But Janet never wore such dainty shoes ns were imprinted on tho ground, close to the ham door! His pulse quickened, lie stooped closer to the earth, a faint sweet scent came to him in a gush of memory. A bluebell lav upon tho grass, dropped it might ho from the full lap of spring, or from young April’s girdle. He took the flower and held it to his cheek. Her own perhaps had touched it, her li tgers brushed the fragrant petals. The vagabond had a well-worn letter case lie curried in the rocket of his coat. The treasures it contained wore few, a letter of his mother’s written in faded ink, hut living yet with the warm love that breathed from every line; a linv curl of soft gold hair from a small hahv sister dead these many years, and a rose plucked from the porch of {lie old homestead and to Jeremy fragrant with many memories. The bluebell was laid beside the letter, and the vagabond’s eyes glistened in the sun. If only Ms mother had not left him, how different life would have been! Tho birds hy this time were awake, and n cascade of mclodv was rippling from every bush. The sun was creeping to the heavens, and aomewhere a dog harked. He shaded his eves from the light, and tried to take his bearings. The grey walls of tho groat house showed clear against tho sky a couple of miles distant. A tangle of undergrowth, young larches, and acres of meadowland stretched between: a luxuriant patch of green, heavy with king cups, marked a hog that stretched right up to the barn-yard where lie lay.

Providence had stretched out n protooting hand, and led him tenderly tho previous night; he hud escaped tho quagmire by a miracle. Ho wondered if tho medico had fallen in-' He made shift to bathe his face, in the stream that meandered through a spinney, buttoned his jacket over his shirt, and removed tho bandage from his forehead. Ho was a pitiable spectacle enough by the time he reached “Tho Shoulder of Mutton,” and gave poor Janet a terrible start, when ho staggered in at the kitchen door. “Sakes alive, Mr. Jeremy!” she threw up her hands, forgetting tho ham rasher broiling on tho hot coals. “What's over come to you?” sho gasped. “I’ve had a tumble, fell down and cut myself.” Ho glanced disconsolately at the knees of his trousers, shaking himself like a groat dog. sorry “By the Lord. I am hungry. Janet,” ho cried, and forgetful of his hurts sat down at the table to ham and eggs, coffee and cream, and now-baked loaves. “I want some linen, Janet, and a pair of boots.” He put a sovereign on tho table, “could yon contrive to get me shirts and collars?” “Your room’s just as yon left it, Mr. Jeremy,” said tho good' woman softly. “You’ll find everything in tho wardrobe upstairs, my boy,'” she put her hand upon his shoulder. “Yesterday evening was a had night’s work. Why did you go to the hall, Master Jerry? They moan mischief, lad, up there. There’s been ‘trouble,’ ” she flashed at

his wounds, busying herself, now that Ins hunger was stayed, with bandages and lotion. “Thereof be more. Why, Master Jerry, what’s happened? Do yon hear that?” she cried, and suddenly wont white, and threw her apron over her head. Tho brightness cf tho morning fadad, tho blue sky was overcast. Over the meadows and tho woods, saddening the singing of the lark that shook the spaces of the day with song, sounded a low-toned mournful knell. “Tho death boll from tho hall,” said Janet, shuddering behind her apron. “Save us, Master Jerry, who’s gone?” “A bravo man, rest his soul,” said tho vagabond reverently. “Tho old sailor —Clift?” Ho nodded, and suddenly for the first.time since the tragedy, ho felt the grip l of sorrow at his heart. “An evil death for a man to die.” iio muttered. “An evil death.” and stopped short, puzzled by tho terror upon Janet’s face. “Get upstairs. lad,” she said hurriedly. “Here’s the red-haired lox; he wishes you no good. Get you upstairs.” She hustled him from tho kitchen, closing tho door behind him ns the doctor crossed tho yard. It was not yet seven o’clock, and Brewer coming from the stables started hack at Jeremy’s face and gazed at him a little scared. '‘You’re early, sir,” he said, with the good breeding of your well-seasoned Boniface. “Show me my room,” said Jeremy, “is it tho old one?’' He let mine host precede him up tho wide oak staircase, polished like glass and black with age. down a cramped passage whose' heavy beams took up the bend room, nnd so to a low-cciling-ed chamber, oak panelled, with lattice windows opening on a quaint, sweci‘.melling garden, where in summer pink hollyhock's and tall Madonna, hides reared .serene fa-v* to the sky. Ht.ro aKo were box hedges and a yew tr?c up against the sundial was fashioned in tho likeness of a peacock. Brower, with all the unction of a family butler, opened the wardrobe, and drew out clean linen, fragrant with lavender. "Your Norfolk suit’s well aired, sir, and here are your boots. ” He poured hot water into the basin, and with a complacent, smile went hustling oft. Jeremy whistled softly when lie saw his face reflected in tho mirror. He was a sight to frighten crows, ho told himself, and marvelled that Janet had received him. Forsyth, whoso clothes lie was about to wear must, bo judged, have been well liked, to win such toleration for his namesake. lie had little scruple in borrowing a change garment. He was playing Forsyth';* hand, ho told himsell, and had a right to dross the part. Without him the captain’s treasure, it discovered, would fall to Rupert and red-headed Judas. Only by his aid eould Marjorie be safe-

guarded. Marjorie and —lie paused—young April. From the courtyard at the back of tin? inn. overlooked by his window.], rose gossiping voices. The doctor had lost no time in bruiting abroad the news of poor Clift’s death. Jeremy heard the slow Sussex drawl of the stable men discussing it. The doctor apparently had let drop no hint as to foul play. Tho old man wa-s dead —of old age, said the < T os>ipp. and a shrill-voiced youth declared he’d had a first-rate innings! There was no longer cause for fear; Judas could not go hack on what he had said. Jeremy walked no more in the shadow of terror. They dare not charge hitn with the old’man's death. And yet, for no reason that he could allege, lie felt a shiver of apprehension as the lowtonod bell droned on. His blood ran slow: he felt that )m was stifling. The walls of the room closed in upon him, cramping his sou!. He had finished his toilette, having bathed his wounds, and brushed his hair to hide the rut upon his forehead, and made a. personable figure in tile Norfolk tweed suit; a grey silk tio was twisted under his soft collar, nnd the shade .served to make his eyes more blue. The room was but a few feet from the ground, and Jeremy, anxious to avoid the doctor, took advantage of tho situation and jumped softly to the ground. . The gossips had adjourned io the front of rhe inn, and no one saw him as lie hurried through the gates along a meadow path, and on to the Lowes Hoad. His instinct led him right, ho had an unfailing souse of locality, and knew just how and where he would strike the king’s highway. Twenty minutes’ sharp walking brought him to the point he wished to gain. He entered the tumbled down gate opening upon the net liecovered held that led to Windmill Farm. (burnt and bare, a stony desert in a fruitful smiling land, tin; place had a .sinister suggestion: an atmosphere cf gloom hung over tho grim-visaged grpy stone bouse with its narrow windows, behind iron bars. The front door was barred and bolted, and resisted all Jeremy’s attempts to force. The back door was built as stoutly, and the windows on the ground floor wore fast shut. Jeremy s*’t liis teeth and climbed a pear tree, gnarled and stun tot! ns were all things on the land: from the topmost, branches be could see into tho window of the attic: strain ing forward j ho could distinguish tho furniture of tho room. A table was in the window, with pens and ink and paper. It gave him an odd creepy fooling to note that tho pen was in the ink. and that a sheet of paper had been newly written on. A tall chair was at the table, and beyond, the outlines of a desk loomed square against the wall. Jeremy swung forward on tho bough ; beside tho desk, just whore it caught tho glimmer of tho sun was a cabinet, of ebony, inlaid with gold and rod and yellow lacquer. Tho Chinese cabinet, said Jeremy under his breath, and swung tho branches near and nearer until he brought his face quite close against the glass. And as he watched a weird thing happened. The door on the other side of the attic suddenly- dosed. To be continued.)