Tales and Sketches

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5285, 15 June 1895, Page 1

Tales and Sketches

THE THIRD VOLUME.

BY FERGUS HUME, Author of "The Mystery of a Hanaom Cab," "The Lone Inn," "The Chinese Jar," &o. (All Bights- Reserved.) Chapter XXVI* AN OLD, BEBVANT. Leaving the two men to talk over their dark secrets together, Jenny went into the garden. Her brow burned as with fever, and her understanding waa confused by the thoughts which filled her mind. What 'Was the meaning of her father's words? Why had Mr Hilliston come over from Eastbourne to request her silence ? And what was the connection between him and her cole surviving parent p She paced np and down the gravel -walk vainly asking herself these questions, and racking her brain sb to possible answers. Hitherto the Bky of her young life had been pare and ■ eerene j but now, by her own act— as though she had unconsciously wrought a malignant spell— a sudden storm had arisen, which threatened to overturn the foundations of . her small world. In the very unexpectedness of these events lay their terror. . • ;

As Tait shrewdly aurmißfid, Jenny was by no means satisfied with the evidence of Hillieton at the trial of Mrs Larcher. So far as she' could judge from' the unsatisfactory rerorfc , m The- Canterbury Observer he had given his version of the affair glibly enough j yet there seemed to be something behind which he was anxious to suppress. Definitely enough he stated that he had not been at " The Laurels" on the fatal night; that he had not seen Captain Lsrcber since he left for, London; that he had not noted whether Mrs Larcher wore that ill-important dagger when she left the ball-room. But, pressed by an evidently suspicious counsel, he accounted co minutely for every moment of his time, hia evidence had about it snoh an air of frank falseness, that even unsophisticated Jenny saw that the man waa acting a part. She did not believe him guilty of the crime, but she waa certain in her own mind that he knew who had struck the fatal blow; nay more, Jenny, thought it not impossible that he had bjßen at "The Laurels" after three that morning in spite of his denial, and had seen the tragedy take place. Taifc'a hints confirming her own doubts* led her to grayely doubt; the parity of Mr Hilliston's motives, then and now.

Bat what moat perplexed the girl was the reason why the lawyer called to ccc her father on the subject and requested her silence. She knew nothing of the tragedy save through the papers— those old faded papers, dated 1866, which she had found in the garret. She was not born when the murder took . place, bo Hilliston could not possibly wish to close her mouth for her own sake. Ife was on her father's Recount that Jenny feared. What coull he know of an obscure crime perpetrated in a country town so many years agoP She oould recall no mention of his name in the report of the trial ; yet his words led her to suspect; that he was more closely connected with that tragic past than he chose to admit. Could it be that her father was a relative of Jexingham, and knowing that Jeringham was still alive, wished to stop all inquiries made as to hia whereabouts, lest he should be punished for his early sin. This was the only feasible suggestion she could make, and yet it failed to satisfy her too exacting mind.

Again, there was Kerry. Kerry certainly had a personal intereotiu the case ; else he conld scarcely bare related the episode of the eoarf-pin. Moreover, be had been very angry when he found her with the papers in herpoßJßßeiou; and putting thesetwo things together it would aeem aa if he knew more than he chose to tell. Jenny thought, for the gratification of her own curiosity, she would ask Kerry to explain these matters ; and so went to the kitchen in search of him. Maria was there, cross and deaf as usual, and intimated that Kerry had beep out some two hours on a message. This sounded extraordinary to Jenny, who knew that the old servant rarely left the house; but it argued that; her father was anxious to have him out of the way during the visit of Hilliston. What did it all mean? A horrible fear seized the girl, lest she should have 3et some 'machinery in motion which would end in crushing her unhappy father. Unhappy he had always been, and given to seclusion. There must be Borne reason for this, and Jenny felt a vague alarm, which she could neither expreaa nor display. Dearly eaough had she paid for meddling with that old bundle of papers. Again she returned to the garden, and went outßide into the lane in order to see if Kerry was ia sight. In a few. minutes he came shuffling round the corner, and his withered face relaxed into a grin, when he saw her standing' by the gate. She was the apple of hia eye, and though he scolded her often himself, yet he sever let anyone Bay a word against her. To -look askance at Jenny was to lose Kerry's favour, and -win his enmity for ever.

"Ah! there ye are, me darling Mies Jenny," he said, with the familiarity of an Old servant. " Watching and waiting for poor old Kerry. Sure it is a sunbeam you are in this dark lane."

"Kerry ! I want to speak to yon."

The change in her tone struck him at once, and he peered sharply into her fresh faoa with his bleared eyes. A look of wonder stole into them at the sight of her white cheeks, and he crossed himself before replying as to avert any evil that might befall. Kerry always lived in a Btate of suspense, waiting tor a bolt from the blue. Jenny's 6cared face almost assured him that it had fallen.

"What is it, alannah?" he asked, pausing at the gate. "Is anything wrong ?"

"Oh, no! nothing ia wrong, Kerry! What conld be wrong !" said Jenny, nervously ; only papa has a visitor." " Angh ! His reverence \" "No j not the Vicar. A [stranger— or at least almost a stranger," she said, half to herself. "It is many yeara eiuce Mr Hilliston cama here."

"Mr Billiaton ! " cried Kerry, with an ash en face. "The black curae on him and his !• • What is he doing with the maater ?" ••"I don't know, Kerry," replied Jenny, rather astonished at fcho old rasn'a vehemence, "he has bean with father over two hours. .

" And I was sent away/ muttered Kerry tinder hia breath, "sorrow befall yon, black attorney that you are. J7ever did yon cross a threshold without bringing grief to all hearts. If? was ah evil day we saw you, and * Q e^l d ft y when we see you again." . He uplifted hia handa as though about to invoke a curse on Hilliston* fchcn unexpectedly letting them fall, he turned sharply on Jenny. • " Bow did he come, miss ? " "By traia from Eastbourne—no doubt lie walked from the station."

' " Fll drive him back/* exclaimed Kerrr; in quite an amiable voice. " Sure he'll be weary on his legs. Why not. I'll borrow his reverence's trap and the little mare uritb the white foreleg, but— —"

"Kerry, father might not like it." . " Get along with ye,". said Ksrry, cheerfully, "sure hia xovuroace- haatifiered tha ;rsp » hundred ' times. I'll, take it on njself to explain to the . mlistcr. Keep IU HtllUtott-hate till ha aeea m« arriving

up this road— a dirty one it is, too, bad cobs to it."

He was hurrying off when Jenny stopped him. She saw that his borrowing of the Vicar's horse and trap was a mere excuse to get Hilliston to himself for half an hour, and rendered more curious than ever by Kerry's artful way of arranging matters, she ran after him and pulled his eleeve. "Kerry! Kerry! Has fifr Hilliston come over to see pa,pa about the Larcher affair ? "

" How should I know," retorted Kerry, relapsing into his crusty humour ; , " for shame, Miss Jenny. Is it your business or mine ?".

"Ifc is mine," said the giri, with a resolute look on her face. "Mr Hilliston came over to ask me to be silent about what was contained in those papers you took from me."

" How does he know of that, miss ?" " Bcauaa all London now knows tho atory of the Larcher affair/*

" Augh ! Get away with ye. Sure it's a fool you're making of old Kerry," eaid the servant, in an incredulous and angry tone. " Indeed, lam doing no each thing 1 . I did not know there wrb any harm in reading those papera, and I did bo. But I did more than that, Kerry, I told the story of the tragedy to Prank Linton; and he has written a- book on the trial." " A book ! With the real names ?" "No ! The names are fictitious, nncl the scane is laid in a different place. But the whole efcory is told in the novel." " Does the master kaow ?" asked .Harry, mutteriz^j something between his teeth. "He cbes now. Mr Hilliston saw the book in London, and came over to tell him, and to ask me to cay no more about it." "What's that for anyhow," demanded Kerry, who .seemed to oceat new danger. | " Becauae Mr Larcher is here ! " ' .;j Kerry flung up hia hands with a cry of astonishment. "Mr Lareher, miss. Who are you tellin? about ? " • "Oh, Mr Claude Larcher," said Jenny,, rather, alarmed, for he had gripped her arm, " the eon of the deceased m&n. He is Staying at the Manor House with Mr Tail." For a few minutes Kerry stood looking: at the ground in Bilonce. Up to the present he had succeeded in preserving hie calm, but the last piece of news upset him altogether, and he burst into violent speech. • *' Augh it's sorrow that iB coming to .this house, and the black cur eg will be on the threshold. Cold will the. hearth be soon, and the old master will be driven put. Ohone ! and. we and time will have eenfc him into the cold, world.. Whirral I wbirra!" .... . i Jenny was bo dumbfounded by tha un-' expected eloquence o? the old man that she could do nothing but et?re at him. He caught her eye, and seeing that he had been indiscreet in so betrayicg himself he out Bhorb his lamentations, wipsd his eyes, and relapsed once more into the crusty faithful Kerry whom Bhe knew. But he gavo her a word of warning before he took his departure. " Say nothing of this MiB3 Jenny," he remarked, „"Suro it's an old, fool I am. Keep a dilent tongue as the; maetor and lawyer wiaheß you to ck>, aad then, pleatsd the saints, things' will go the better." ■■■,■•• .... . '■„■ • i

" But, Kerry, before you go, tell me, whet is Mr Hilliaton to. my f&.thqr."

•• Ho is your, father's best friend, miss," said Keryy, with emphasis, "his best and his worot," and with that enigmatic reply ha hurried of down the lane in the direction of the vicarage, leaving- Jenny in a state of bewilderment. ;

She could understand nothing 1 , and at that moment sorely needed some friend with whom she could consult. . Kerry gave her no satisfaction, and spoke so indefinitely that his conversation mystified in place of enlightening her ; it was no use to make a confidant of- Frank Lin ton, as notwithstanding, bis London reputation which ohe had greatly contributed to, Jenny did not consider him sufficiently steady to be told of the commotion raised by his novel in her immediate circle. She could therefore discuss the matter with no one, and so annoyed was she by the whole affair that she by no means could bring herself to go back to the house while Hilliston was yet there. lie would be gone, she trusted, in another half hour or so, and pending his departure she strolled along the lane in the hope of evading him.

But she only escaped Scylla to fall into Charybdis, for as she turned the corner, Taifc and Claude met her almost face to face. Jenny would have given much to escape this awkward meeting, and intimated her wieh for solitude by passing the young men with a curt bow. The eight of Claude, the memory of his father's death, coupled with the suspicions she entertained, wrought her up to a pitch of excitement which she had great difficulty in concealing. Sbewas, therefore, greatly annpyed when Tait took off his hat, and placed himself directly in her path. The little man thought it was too favourable an opportunity for introduction to be overlooked.

" Don't go awsy, Mies Paynton," lie said, smiling. " I wish to introduce you, to my friend Mr Larcher.. Claude, this ia Miss Paynton, of whom you have heard me speak." -. ' ' "How do you .do, Miss Payaton P " said Claude, with a suave bow. <f I hope you will pardon the irregularity of this introduction."

This remark made Jenny laugh, and set her more at ease. She was not particular as to forms and ceremonies herself, and the idea-thata young man should apologise lor such a trifle struck her as ridiculous. Moreover, a glance assured her that Mr Larcher waa by no meana a formidable pereon'. He wa& decidedly good-l<^>kirg, and had pleasant blue eyes, with a kindly look, co speech and glance broke the ice at once between them.

" Do you stay 'here long, Mr Larcher ? " she asked, pointedly ignoring her previous conversation with Tait.

"Ab long as I may," he replied, smiling. " London does not invite ujeat this time of the year. I prefer the fragrant country to the duafcy town."

. "He i 3 a true lover oi the fields, Miss Paynton," broke in-Tait, admirm* her solt-pogeession, "and insisted that 1 should come out for a walk, bo that he might lose no time in steeping himself in the sweetness of nature. Quite idyllic, ian't it ? " " Quite ! " said Jenny, lightiy. " Good* bye at praoent, BJv Larch er. I am going .to the vicarage, and have' not a moment to spaie. Mr TaiS, can I speak with you a minute?"

Taifc obeyed with alacrity, and Claude was loft to musoon the frssh charm of Jenny, c.v.d the BweetDees of her voice, H?r trim figure, her exquisite neatness and spritißing gait made him admire her greatly, aad when ehe tripped away with a smiling nod, he wsa so taken up in watching her that he failed to observe the grave face witrt which Tftlfcjoined him. "Ab I thought," saict the latter, when they resumed their walk.

" Wba'j is up now ?" I "Oh ! nothing more than usual. Hilliston 1 has called on Paynton already. He is | there now." . ,' J

"Ton don't say ?o. I did not think he •would have beea bo smart. However, you have stolen a march on him. Do you intend to see him now ? To wait his coming out?" '

" Why, no," said Tait, af ter a moment's deliberation, " Bathor let ug go homo again that Hilliston may not sea us... I wiah to wait and sco whafc.excusa he will make for not calling on yon. You'll gßt'a letter full of lies to-morrow, Claude."

(To be continued.)