“THE MYSTERY OF THE MARSH"

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16284, 26 November 1920, Page 5

“THE MYSTERY OF THE MARSH"

fßy JAMES BLTTFi A BEKdATIONAL STOR? 03 ADVENTURE, CHAPTER XXIX AND LAST. THE TWO SqUIBES. Early on Monday morning the Spurrells and their guests made their way down to the Dirty Marsh. The squire managed, with some groans, to get into Jim's. car, from whence he watched his turn,' Walter and Elder make their way to tlio hangar. There was no sign of Arthur Noddyfield and his associates. And though tho tarred gate was otill padlocked it soon gum way to a skilful manipulation of certain tools taken from mo stock in the motor’s lockers Tho hangar required a little more time and trouble to upon, but at length its'door yielded to pressure and stood vide. * “ What on earth does it mean?” asked Tom, as he advanced into tho interior. Elder looked about him, inspected Certain barrels which stood about, looked at the engines and at a machine Which appeared to have been used in boring a well into the sodden marsh. “My dear fellow,” he said, “ I congratulate you. This explains why that scoundrel was so anxious to exchange his level for yours. Unlew I am greatly mistaken, ho had struck an oil deposit hero. You have to thank him i for that.” Subsequent investigation proved the accuracy of the lawyer’s words. How Roger had first been led'to suspect the existence of oil at a place where such B valuable commoditv had never been known, save as a domestic necessity, never been made known.- But that ho had suspected it, brought it to

][oore'3 notice, and arraugod for the jKhibition of his find, there can bo no oubt. Mo ono had previously connectd <he greasy surtaca of the drains ind dykes on that level with tho existence of oil. in that part of Daneehire people arc conservative, and ivhat was unknown to their sirea for the most part remains unknown to thorn. Evil as Kogor's schemes had been, he had lot"b a great fortune- to bo rcado by those whom he had triod to rob. But for his scoundrelly behaviour tho i-quiro would gladly havo allowed him a generous share of the profits realised from his find. He would even havo penmtted him to receive a considerable amount of the rents ?£ •i? eh!Un ' Aa is oftou Ule case, the villain had ruined himself by his villainy. Ho had been innocent of usurpation until the truth concerning his father's birth became known through tho Nurses' investigation of title and old Enoch's revelations. ■ It was agreed' to overlook the old dene's silence as to the real facts for so many years. He had been tho main instrument of the discovery of the truth, and though Nurses discharged him from their employment, the remainder of his days wero mado very comfortable by the squire. Nor was -jld Ephraim Berry forgotten He had at first been influenced by loyalty to his old master, and tho Equiro.wfis not a man to visit an offenco of that kind neavily. The fact that Koger had endeavoured to harm his granddaughter was enough to persuade the skipper to tell tho truth. And here again tho villain I .* villainy recoiled upon him. Violet Stokes had only herself to thank that her treachery became knowu to Tom. On hearing of tho flight and ruin of Roger, nnd of her sister's betrothal to tho man whom she had once had at Jier apron-strings, the vain girl's jealousy induced her to attempt to win hack' tho heart that had never really been hers.' ■She was ao ill advised as to persuade her father to drive her over to Bullaceby on the pretext of giving his formal consent to Jim's marriage with Tom, for since Tom had become the heir both of Bullaceby and of Bedgeham the miserly old farmer was delighted at the turn events jiad taken. But Violet intended to make a last throw for Tom, regardless of her sister's happiness. t While her father was in conversation with the squire, she wheedled Tom to accompany her out into the park. There sho wept and complained of her lot till Tom grew uncomfortable. "Ho mado me, he made me," she kept saying. " I always loved you, Tom. But that man terrified me and ~J dared not go against him. Why didn't you rescue me, Tom? I always loved you best, I always did." Poor Tom shuffled and looked foolish, and the girl imagined that he was yielding to her. " How can Jim love ybu'asi I do?" she asked. "She is only a tomboy. She does not know Vi hat love is." " Oh, don't!" pleaded Tom. "Don't! And Jim docs love me." " I tell you that she cannot. Tom, ■ls it too late? Must my heart bo broken?" i'cr'laps it was fortunate that Jim,

cn learning from old George Usher that her sister had decoyed her lover cut into the grounds alone, promptly took steps to ascertain their whereabouts, and ns Violet dung her arms round the protesting and highly uncomfortable Tom, she appeared on the scene. ' “How dare yon!” she cried. “Tom, let her go. She won’t fall. She is only humbugging you now that she knows you are rich. Listen: it is your own fault, Violet. I have kept your secret up to now. But now Tom must know/the truth.” “ Don’t believo her, Toml” cried Violet,' pulling herself together with commendable rapidity “ She is lying.” Tom was roused by this. His heart had begun to weaken. Ho had thought he loved this girl for so many years, he had so often hung on her every word, he had so often tasted rapture in her kisses. Though he realised that he had never really loved her as he had loved Jim, he could not treat her as though she had never been anything to him. He could not but cherish a tender place in his heart for her. But her accusation that Jim was lying turned his tenderness to angry contempt. “ I would believe her rather than you at any .time,” he said. You know 1 would, Jim dear.” “You ought to,” said Jim. “Why, it was she who stole your pistdl from your room because Roger asked her to do so when she told him that you had one. Bhe stole it the last time but one she stayed at yours, and gave it to Roger the nest day. I saw her coming out of your room with it, and I wanted to tell you then. But you were so silly about her and she was my sister, and—and 1 did not know then how much you were to me ” “Is this true?” asked Tom. ‘VHow could you let all of us piizzle our brains how the pistol was stolen 9 And you knew tho use that had bsen made of it. You knew that it was by God’s mercy alone that I had not been killed by it, and that old Sam Noddyfield undoubtedly met his death by its means.” “It is not true! It is not tmol” gasped the girl. Jim turned from her in contempt. “Como, Tom,” she said, “you must choose now once for all. It is she or 1.” “My darting,” said Tom, “ there is no choice- I nave never loved anyone but you. As for you,” he said to Violet, “ I think you had better persuade Jour father to take you home at once, am sorry, very sorry, .not only because I was onco so fond of you —, as, I was, Jim, though I did not really love her, I was a fool about her—but because you are Jim’s sister. We must bo strangers for the future now. You came here to try to make me unfaithful to Jim, And I used to think 1 loved you 1” “ Oh,,come, Tom. She will 1 soon come to her_senses if we leave her alone,” said Jim. “You don't know her as well as I do,” So they left her alone, and presently old Dick Stokes drove off with her back to Kuddby. Jim refused to return homo for her marriage, giving it as a reason that she would not remain under the same roof with Violet. Boldly disregarding all the proprieties, she stayed at BulInceby. In order partly to comply with the orthodox notion of the right "thing, Tom stayed with Walter for the fortnight immediately preceding his marriage and Walter’s. And it was while he was there that Arthur Noddyfield sought him and told him tho little that remained unknown to him as to Roger’s machinations. Old Sam nad been put on guard oyer the Dirty Marshes lest anyone should suspect the real reason why Roger had proposed to exchange. Ho had been ordered to fire on any person who seemed to he peering about the marsh. Tom’s pistol had been stolen and given to old Noddyfield for two purposes. One was that should the ■old marsliman shoot anyone in the course* of his watch the pistol should bo left aa evidence or Tom's complicity in the affair. It was also suggested to the old man that the world would rub along very well without Tom’s existence. On the night nf Jiis death his eon Arthur had accompanied him to his patching p ace against the haunted cottage,, and had pointed out Tom to the old man, .saying that he was evidently pooling about the marsh and was probably on tho track of Roger’s secret. b the result is known. And although it will never by proved, beyond all doubt it is tairly certain that in endeavouring to pump up another cartridge to the barrel «f the automatic }' he ' vlfl man, ignora.it of the true handling of the weapon, had shot himsell. . Roger’s hope that Tom would be implicated 7-as frustrated by Noggin’s action m c im.oaling his find. And from that point Roger’s plans began to go wrong. 6 Deere had previously lent money to the spendthrift squire of Sedgeham, and had really hacked him in his attompt to exploit bis discovery on the Dirty Marsu. Whether lie married Marion or not is uncertain. But he became bankrupt and Mrs Deere was found to be in possession of considernblo settlements. Tht s ma, have been -Ui ion, tor there is no reason to beheve that Deere was not sincere in his passion for her, and when a man ot his type becomes infatuated with a woman he is wont to sacrifice even his most cherished vice, or most vaunted vutue, to attain his wishes. lorn is now indeed the squire of Bullaceby. lor on his marriage the squire settled the Bullaceby estate oh him with the usual life interest to his wife and remainder to his issue, while the old gentleman took up his residonee as the squire of Sedgeham. Ljder is a frequent visitor at Btdtaeeby, and Mrs Tom Spurrell tells hor husband that sho thinks that, on the death of old Ephraim Derry, Mary Blagg_ wit] become Mrs Elder. Far . whcre Danoshire is regaided as a foreign country, and where even the “ hetfermost people ” do not know the name of Colchester her antecedents wit! he of no cons*-' qnonce, and she has. by forming berEclf on -the excellent mo*M 0 f t ), e rrw -Jim become ns refined and well-man-i lore cl a young lady r.s any lawyer need

desire to call his wife. The story c her mother’s death does not belong ti this chronicle of events. That old liar ridan became tho most dreaded woman in East Daueshire, and, as Carlyle saw of tho departure of the Jews from Bur St Edmunds, “thets wens many di. eyes at \m departure.'* The Dirty Marsh Oil Company, Lin ited, is, now a household word in th times when oil has become more rail able than coal. And tho Spurrells a* rapidly becoming millionaires, to. th great advantage ol the whole country side. They are asnpich beloved as the' are respected, and the delight of tin feasants that a genuine old county amily, “rale gentry,” should rule ovc ten thousand acres—for they have bought up more land since the development of tho oil welts—is a source of wonder to every plutocrat who has recently established himself as a Dancshire landowner, and made himsolf ridiculous by endeavouring to pose as a country squire. (Tho End.)