THE BLACK RIDER.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6138, 26 March 1898, Page 1

THE BLACK RIDER.

A TALE OF EPPING FOREST.

[Bt William Westall.] (Author of ""Red Ryvington," &o.)

(All Rights Reserved.)

Chapter I.

On a certain October morning, something more than four score years ago, a group of horsemen and a pack of harriers were gathered before the Wake Arms, an ancient inn on the borders of Epping Forest. The most conspicuous man in the group, conspicuous because he seemed to be an object! of general attention, was a farmer-like individual mounted on a rough colt.

"How do you say it was, Broadley?" asked Clinker, a sporting butcher on a thoroughbred screw. " I heard as you had been robbed, but how was it ?"

"Well, you see it was this way," answered Broadley, telling his story fov the twentieth time. " I had been to London to draw the price of some wheat I had sold, a hundred and twenty in £71. notes. It was middling late when I started for home, and 1 stopped a bit at Woodford Wells to gruel Bess and get a glass for myself. Maybe I stopped longer than I should ha' done, for it was past eleven. When I set out again it was nearly twolve. Well, I jogged on quietly and nothing happened till I got nearly to Copt Hall, when a chap on a black horse jumps the ditch by tho roadside just before me, and whips out a pistol. "'Your money or your life!' says

" Well, if you'll believe me, I was that taken aback as I could do nothing but stare at him. Then he shoves his pistol right under my nose and says ' Out with it or I'll blow your brains out,' quito tierce."

"And you outed with it ?" put in the butcher.

" I did, and was glad to get off with my life. But a deuced hard case I calljit, a hundred and twenty pounds of hardearnod money clean gone !"

. "And what was the highwayman like r"

"All black, black clothes, a black mask and a black horse, and when he had pocketed my money he went away into tho forest."

" The Black Rider again, though .he does not .always ride a black horse, and it may have been a dark brown or a chestnut. You cannot distinguish shades by night. Who is he, I wonder ?"

" That's what a good many of us would like to know. Anyhow, he knows tho country well," observed another farmer. " Many a one cannot find his way about the forest by day ; he can find his by night, and you never hear of anybody of his de scription calling at a pub. or being seen on the road, except when he is on the job. Queer, monstrous queer, I call it. * * *

You have heard what they are saying, I reckon ?"

" You mean about" Vane-^but hush ! here he comes, him and his daughter."

" And Mr Lucas and Duke Thorne."

"Of course. When Miss Vane comes out, he comes out. Looks like a

case."

The lady in question had seen somo twenty summers, and with her auburn hair, pink cheeks, laughing blue eyes, slender figure and coquettish ways looked winsome and dangerous. No wonder that Marmaduke Thorne, a stalwjart brownfaced young squire, had' lost his heart to her, though, as yet, with lover-like timidity he had let "I dare not" wait on "I would."

Dolly Vane must have taken after her mother, for she did not resemble her father — a tall, dark-visaged, stern-looking man, whoso rare smiles were as grim as his daughter's were sweet. He was engaged in earnest converse with his friend and neighbour, Mr Lucas, the master of the hounds, whose ruddy weather-beatenj faco bespoke good cheer and a sound constitution, a parson of the old-fashioned sort, whose liking for port was only exceeded by his lovo of field sports and life in the open air. It was, indeed, rumoured that theso jiropensities cost him more than he could well afford, and that he was heavily in debt. Nevertheless, he was popular with his people, probably because he was genial and good-natured, and spent his money freely when he had auy.

Which was more than conld bo said of Stephen Vane ; ho was neither gonial nor lavish, and though he minded his business, rodo straight to hounds and owed no man anything, nobody had a good word for him. In part, perhaps, because there was a mystery about him, and the plain squires and farniers among whom he livod disliked whatever interfered with the gratification of legitimate curiosity, and took kiudly to none with whoso antecedents thoy were unfamiliar.

Not that Vane was an eutire stranger. His father was Parson Lucas's predecessor and himself a native, but while in his teens he had left Essex to seek his fortune in foreign parts, and until he appeared one day at the Cock, at Epping, with lm daughter, a maid, and a servant man, nothing had been heard of him for well nigh thirty years. He told tho landlord, a man of about his own ago, who had not quite forgotten him, that he had come home for good, and meant to buy or lease . a house and a few acres of land and settle in the neighbourhood.

With the landlord's help he found what he wanted, a roomy old-fashioned manor house with a small park and extensive stabling, known as Fiddler's Hall, and there took up his abode.

. As his family had been well known and respected; most of his neighbours of the same class called upon him, and their calls were duly returned. But they got little out of him as to his doings during the long period that had elapsed since he left the country. Ifc was, however, understood that he had made the fortune he weat to seek chiefly in America, where he had married and lost his wife, and that he had travelled much in both the old world and iv the new. But as to the extent of his fortune, how he had made ifc, and where it was invested, Vane had maintained a provoking silence, whether from natural reserve or because he had something to conceal, who could say ? Most peojile thought the latter.

Anyhow, he seemed to be well off, kept a stud of high-priced hunters, and lent money, and it was believed that he had lent a good deal to Mr Lucas.

Another equivocal peculiarity — in the opinion of local busy-bodies — was Vane's frequent absence from home. He would go away for two or threo weeks, occasionally a month at a time, nobody knew whither or why. When Miss Vane was asked what had become of her father, she would answer, with a manner that stopped further enquiries, "he is away on business," As much ns to say, " Mind your business." All this deepened the mystery. If Vane made business journeys he must have a business. So much was obvious. But what sort nobody oould tell, though thero was considerable guessing. Altogether, it was no wonder that the tenant of Fiddler's j

Hall was a good deal in people's minds toaS,' Jhis name-often in their mouths.

Chaster IL

" Any news this morning P" naked* Dnka Thorne, as he reined up before the old inn, ; whereupon all save Broadley answered ill! chorus: "Haven't you heard P Broadley; was robbed last night." And the victim, * nothing loth, had to tell his tale oncaj more.

" This Black Rider is a very devil oka,; fellow," remarked the young squire.; "Some say he is the devil. .Anyhow, I( wish he would try to rob me. I wonld not J stand and deliver. Why didn't yoa knock ! his pistol up -ind then. knock him ofE Mil horse P"

"I would ha' done if I had thought -ot; it. But he didn't give me time to think, i He jumped out of the forest like a ghodt*, i and had his nasty pistol under my I nose before I could say Jaok Robin*' son."

"So he took a hundred, and twenty* pounds from you P A heavyllcßß,bttk-wit-L* wheat at its present price yoa oan afisxti&i it, and it will be a lesson to yoa not toj stop gossiping and glassing-when yoa bob j coming from London with money in yonr pocket," said Mr Lucas, and then tamed. ] away to confer with Bill Hawker, his' huntsman.

Vane made no remark at the moment, ! but later in the day he had,* word asidol with Broadley. '■

" If this loss inconveniences youafc*aUf*i said he, "I canlet you have«iinndred< pounds or bo for a few months."

But Broadley, answering that he had *! tidy balance at his banker's, "-thankXJo^j bluntly declined the otter, which he ..as-' cribedtosomesinistermotive. !

In the intervals of the cha_e wbioh,, owing to scarcity of hares and bad scent, | were pretty numerous, the talk ran almost 1 * exclusively on the Blaok Rider, with.'* occasional references to Stephen Vane— | when that gentleman, his daughter and; Dnke Thorne were out of earshot.

Though at one time Epping -Forest itad, been a haunt of highwaymen, stringent i police measures and regular night patßols had for several years before the date of ourl story put an end to their depredations*' which made the appearance of the Black' Rider in the neighbourhoodall the more-sur-prising. Every attemptto catch or entrap or even to identify him had so far proved futile. His ways were not the ways of ordinary highwaymen. He was seldom, seen at close quarters except by hie-victims, I and as he wore a mask none-of them had: seen his face. He wae always well: mounted, too, although nobody had the' least idea where he kept bis .horses, and aa Clinker, the sporting butcher, shrewdly ob-i served, a chap cannot keeps, 'horse in his pocket.

It was at first supposed that he hailed from-the metropolis, but as no >man answering, to his description was ever encountered on the road, though assiduously watched for, this theory had to be abandoned.; Moreover, as a rule, he robbed only local, people, and none were molested who had not got a good round sum in their purses; from which, and other -circumstances, it was evident that the Black Rider was in the way of kno wing a. great deal about people's movements and affairs.

Tho difficulty was to spot him, and though many had suspicions nobodyventured to put them into a definite shape until Sidebones, the horse dealer, one night-electrified the -oompany at the Roe* buck by hinting that, in his opinion, Stephen Vane was the delinquent.

"If I may tell you what I think," said le, " the Blaok Rider does not live more than twenty milesfrom Fiddler's Hail/

"That's nonsense — rioh men don't risk their necks by robbing on the highway,'* said one of them. " Besides, Va— "

"Name no names. It is dangerous,, and what we are saying here must go no further," interrupted the horse dealer. "As you say, rich men don't rob, leastways on the highway, but it has never been proved aB he is rich. What was hettbout all the time he was in foreign parts ? Nobody knows. What is this business as takes him away every now and then for weeks on end? Nobody knows. Where does he get his income from? Nobodyknows. Ijf all was straightway and aboveboard do you think there would be so much mystery? And that is not all. There was no Black Rider before ie came into the country, and no robbery has been committed except at points that can be got to from Fiddler's Hall through the Forest, and there's poachers as has seen a horseman stealing by night down the Green Ride, and you know where that leads to. That's the point. Who else is there as keeps horses, knows what's going on, and can find his way about the foreßfc after dark?"

"Thafs true. All the 'same, a man like that could not go out riding late at night without the servants suspecting something, and if they suspected they would blab," urged another of the company.

" Why not ? It's not as if it was every night. It is only now and then. And: that servant man, as sleeps over the stable and is as close as the grave, wonld dress his horse down and nobody be any the wiser. They are both in it, as sure as my * name is Sidebones. * * * But this must go no further. It is quite among ourselves, and no names, please, oip some of ub will be getting into a hobble."

"Quite among ourselves," acquiesced the company, probably meaning to be as good as their word. Nevertheless, all who wore married related to their wives what had passed, with Variations and additions, and tho tale was whispered from one to another until it became tho town's talk, although a considerable time elapsed before itcame to the knowledge of -those whom it principally concerned.

Chapter 111,

"I am afraid we have lost the hounds,** said Dolly Vane, leaning forward. in he? saddle, and listening intently. "So am I," answered Duke Thorne, glancing admiringly at Dolly. "I have not heard either the horn or Bill's voia-9 for half-an-hour or more."

" Where are the others, I wonder P" "Goodness knowß. All over the forest* I expect."

" Really, this is very tiresome, losing thi hounds and getting lost ourselves. It is your fault, Mr Thorne ; I followed you, and you led me astray." "I am very sorry; never mind, though, if ,we wait here we are sure to hear them before long." But he did not look sorry, not in thai least. He had led Dolly astray with intention, and wished neither to see nor hear aught of the hounds for the rest of the day.

"It is really too bad," deolared Dolly, trying to look oross. "My skirt iB torn and my hair down 3 I must be a perfect fright."

"You a fright 1 I never saw you looking bo well, and those loose curls become you to perfection. Don't put them up, please don't."

" Oh, but I must. I oannot go about in this way. Will you please hold Ranger for a moment?"

Duke drew near to Dolly, and laid hold of her bridle roin. ,

" I say Doll— l beg your pardon, I ine&n Miss Vane— l want to ask you a question. May I ?" he stammered.

"Yes, what is it, Mr Thome P" turnintf [ior faco away. ■

" Well,lamnotmuoh of a handat makina speeches and that. But I can ask aqueE tion. Will you marry me P" " So that iB the question / "Itiß, and the most importantior -in^

happiness I ever put in my life. Won't you say yes, Dolly? You know I love you." Dolly did know, and was well disposed to say "yes" to her lover's request, yet her face grew very serious, and she remained silent so long that Duke began to feel uneasy. rt Won't you say '' yes ' and put me out of my misery?" he repeated, imploringly.

"On one condition." "Name it, dear. Any possible condition I- will gladly fulfil." " You mnsfc catch the Black Rider, or, at least, find out who he .is and. all about him."

1 " God bless me ! Catch the Black Rider! Why on earth— ?"

" Never mind why. That is my secret —for the present. Catch him or. find out who he is."

"I think it would be easier to catch him, and I will either do it, Dolly dear, or know the reason why," ancl his arm stole round her waist and his face drew near to hers.

"You must not, Duke— l cannot— Go away, please. Somebody might see — "

• "Nonsense, darling. There is nobody abcut."

"You don't know. Mr Lucas, or Bill, or one of the hounds tmighc pop up at any moment. And there goes the horn, quite close. Let us go." And with that Dolly gathered up her reins and cantered off in the direction of the sound, followed by Dnke.

They found most of the hunters in a glade of the forest. The master and the huntsmen were calling the hounds off' preparatory to going home. The day was over.

After exchanging a look o£ intelligence with her lover, Dolly rode off with her father, Duke following, though not immediately, with Mr Lucas, whom, before parting, he informed of his intention to Catch the Black Rider.

"I hope you may, but- take care you don't catch a Tartar," said the parson, laughing pleasantly. "You must be very sanguine, though, to think you can succeed where the police and so many others have failed."

"Anyhow I can try," answered Duke, and he did try, albeit with disappointing results, or rather, no result at all. As he could not very well make an appointment with the highwayman, he had to go out at a venture and perambulate the borders of the forest, always- of course woll armed and at the witching hour of night, on tho off chance of falling in with him — which he never did, nor even heard of him, and felfc so discouraged thereby that he made sure the Black Rider had left the neighbourhood, and besought Dolly to absolve him from his promise.

"I shall" do nothing of the sort," she said, resolutely. "If you don't catch the Black Rider you don't catch me. Besides, you haven't gone about it in the right way. You made no secret of your intention. Everybody knows, and you may depend upon it the Black Rider knows too ; and as he doe 3 not want to be caught, and -is probably a coward, he will not go on tho war-path while you are after him. Keep a still tongue, and try something else."

On this hint Duke acted. After telling divers people thafc there seemed to be no more chance of catching the Black Rider than a Will o' the Wisp, and making as though he had abandoned the enterprise, he took into his confidonce Giles Lambert, one of his father's tenants, a man of some substance and a bold spirit, and the two hit on an ingenious device for entrapping the gentleman.

Lambert prepared the way by mentioning one night at the Cock that he had sold some wheat at tip-top price, and on a day ho named was going to London to draw the proceeds.

"How about the Black Rider?" asked somebody.

" Oh, I don't think we shall hear of that chap any more ; he has not been seen, for months. Retired from business, I reckon, or maybe got lagged somewhero else Fellows like him always get lagged sooner or later," said Lanlbeit, carelessly.

"So you don't believe what they have heen saying about — you know who I mean ?"

" Not I, nor anybody else with any sense. .It doe 3 not follow, because the villain knows the forest, and rides good cattle, that he is a gentleman of the neighbourhood."

In the meanwhile Duke and Lambert had completed their arrangements. The farmer, who lived a mile or two wide of Epping, was to go to town on the day agreed upon and time his return journey 80 as to reach Golding's Hill about midnight, for between that point and Bell Common ran a long stretch of road where the highwayman would probably wait for his prey. Thereabouts Duke would also lie in wait, and, if the event which they anticipated came off, fall on the Black Rider while he was engaged with Lambert.

So on the night in question the young squire mounted his -fleetest horse and rode by devious ways to Golding's Hill, where he took post among the trees on the west side of the road, the wildest part of the forest being on the other side. There was lightof moon, but every now and then drifting clouds intercepted hor rays, rendering the road invisible, and covering the forest with darkness. Carriages, horsemen, foot people and a mail coach, and after a.long interval, a belated hay-cart, went by. But as the night wore on passengers became fewer and fewer, and the silence was disturbed only by the cry of a corncrake or the bark of a wandering cur. After a while Dnke, keenly observant, and with eyes attuned to the darkness, detected the vague figure of a mounted man, which seemed to have emerged from the forest, and was lurking in the deep shade cast by the trees.

Presently the ring of hoofs was heard, followed by the«natch of a song, " 'Tis my delight on a shiny night, in the season of the year," the signal by which it had been agreed 'that Lambert should give notice of his coming.

Duke tightened his reins and cocked his pistol. So did the highwayman; and as the farmer came abreast of him he advanced into the moonlight and bade him stand and deliver in a voice which Thorne fancied he had heard before.

"Stand and deliver!" said Lambert, coolly. " You have got the wrong sow by the ear this time, my man. All I have about me is a crown and a few coppers — "

"Nonsense! You have two hundred pounds if you have a penny. Shell out or I'll shoot you."

Duke dashed into the road. "Surrender, or I'll shoot you," he shouted.

The Black Rider answered with a pistol shot, which missed its mark, then wheeled his horse round and galloped off, followed by a bullet from Duke's pistol/which also missed.

" After him ! Come along, Lambert !" •and away they went ns fast as fchey could goThe Blackßider turned into the Green Ride, a broad track of rough ground, all up hill and down dale, as dangerous to gallop over by night as leading a forlorn hope. But on he went, neck or nothing, Duke close behind him, the farmer, whose nag was both tired and fat, a bad third. After sinking one hill and rising another, they reached a bit of more even ground, then crossed a heath, full of water holes, among which the Black Rider threaded his way wifch wonderful dexterity, giving his pursuer a lead without which he had inevitably come to grief. Then the Green Ride again, under overhanging boughs, and down hills which. N in the darkness looted like unfathomable ! depths. But on they sped, Duke keeping his man well in view, yet despite his utmost efforts, unable to overtake him,' until, nearly at tho bottom of the last descent, the highwayman's horse put his foot into a rabbit hole,, turned a complete somersault, and rolled over his rider. Duke, saved from a like fate by the swerving of his horse, pulled up and dismounted, for the fallen Steed did not seem disposed to rise, and the Black Rider lay beside him, all in a "heap, stone dead.

When Lambert, came up, Duke bade him keep watch until he returned, then rode on to Epping. The village- was* silent and

dark, but Thome roused the people at the Cock, told them what had happened, and asked for a carb to fetch the dead highwayman, a request with which the landlord, who was greatly excited by tho new 3 and eager for a solution of the mystery, promptly complied. _ " I will go with you myself, Mr Thorne, ' said he. " Bring lauterns, men." As they neared the scene of tho accident Lambert called out to them :

"A nico go, this ! A regular tragedy, I call it ! The horse is dead, too, dead as a stone !"

" Drat the horse ! I want to have a look at the Black Rider. We shall know who he is now," exclaimed the landlord, letting the light of a lantern fall on the dead man's face. i.

"My God ! Parson Lucas !" Ur . * * * »

An investigation of Mr Lucas's affairs showed thafc they had long been seriously embarrassed, and thafc to retrieve them he had taken to betting, which only made bad worse. Then, pressed by creditors, and at his wit's ond for money, he resorted to highway robbery to fill up the void, a system which hia position and local knowledge enabled him to carry on with impunity, suspected only by the Vanes, who, in the absence of proof, had to keep their own counsel. But when Dolly heard that suspicion had fallen on her father, she resolved that the mysterious highwayman should be unmasked, and to that end, as we know, utilised her lover's devotion.

The task being accomplished, Duke Thorne claimed the reward, which was graciously granted. He found hor father both less austere and more freehanded than he had expected. Mr Vane dowered Dolly handsomely, and when he died left her a noble fortune.