Novelist.

Tuapeka Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 4251, 22 June 1895, Page 2 (Supplement)

Novelist.

MY OLD WATCH; OR, A DANGEROUS POSSESSION. »♦ * ' By E- F- 0. PART 11. (Concluded. J At luncheon time I asKed my mother what success she had met with. She Beerned rather cross and very tired. Only one of the girls had been at all suitable, and she had asked so many questions about the household that my mother quite loßt patience. How many womenservants were kept 1 Were there any menservants in the house, or any gentlemen m the family ? They always gave " such a lot of trouble," the girl said. Was there a policeman in call in case of thieves ? Did any of the ladies know how to shoot V k — and similar ridiculous inquiries. She apologised for her nature by saying that *he had just left a situation where she had had a dreadful fright through burglars ; and my mother said she seemed so nervous that it would have been useless to try her — on the first dark night she would probably imagine that there was a burglar on the staircase, and drop our favorite five-o'clock tea-set of old Worcester china. We were just finishing luncheon,when a telegram came for my mother, bringing the sad news that her only brother \va3 dangerously ill, and requesting her to go to Richmond, where he lived, at once. We put a few things hurriedly together for the night, and the carriage took my mother to the station to catch the three-o'clock train. Clara and I did not reel disposed to pay the calls that we had planned before the telegram arrived ; so we Bpent the afternoon unpacking and arranging clothes and furniture which we had brought with us. I had told no one of the valuable packet that I kept in my pocket. I knew it would only make my mother anxious if she heard that the watch was again in my possession. Clara and I were chatting quietly over our afternoon tea, when there was a ring at the door-bell, and, much to our surprise, we were told that a " young person " wished to see the ladies. The same girl who had applied that morning for the housemaid's place, and whom my mother had dismissed as Unsuitable on account of her great timidity, had called again to know if the lady would reconsider her answer. She seemed to be stupid, and would scarcely believe that the morning's decision was final. " Could I stop till the lady comes in ?" she asked. Certainly not, I told her, as my mother would not be back until the next day. She said she had come a long way, and had a tiring journey before her, and might she rest for an hour in the kitchen. To that I had no objection, if the cook had none ; and accordingly the parlourmaid showed the girl the way down staira. " What a stupid creature ! I wonder she had sense enough to ask mother so many questions this morning ?" Baid Clara. " I am not co sure about her," T answered. "It struck me that the girl was acting, though I can't tell you why. Anyhow, I would, not have her as a servant, even if I were reduced to making beds and sweeping rooms every morning." The street lamps were being lighted, <nd a sudden darkness fell upon the room, >vhich contrasted with the brightness ahed upon the pavement by the gaslamp outside our house. Then we rang for light". Just as the lamps were brought in, we heard tho rattle of wheels, followed by a furious ring at the bell. Presently the parlor-maid appeared with a note, which she handed to Clara, who read : "Do come and help me with decorations for to-morrow night — I've sent a cab for you — and bring that clever maid of yours ; lam sure you sister won't mind being leil f jra few hours.*' The note had evidently been wrilten m the greatest haste, for it was not even signed, but course we guessed at once that it had come from Mary Chaney,who always admired Clara's wreaths and garlands, and who used to say that she herself " might just as well hare been born without handß." " I don't like leaving you, Sibyl," said Clara. "I don't think I'll go." "You must go," I answered. "I shall be quite happy with my • Swinburne ' while you are away ; and you will be Bure to be hume by eleven, I suppose ?" "If not, you will know that the Chaney'e have given us beda for to-night," replied Clara. "Do not sit up after eleven — think of to-morrow, when you will have to ninkeyour appearance as the belle of the ball ! Good-night, dear, if I don't coma back." > She hastened away to put on her cloak tnd hat, and, as the maid Emma was also very quick in getting ready, they drove off In a few minutes. Aa I returned from closing the front door, T felt vaguely unoasy for the first time as to the safety of the house. The lonelineHS terrified me, the packet in my pocket felt like lead, and I found myself regretting bitterly that I had not followed wother's advice. The imall drawingroom seemed suddenly to have aßßumed vast and dreary proportions, and the shadows behind the largo pieces of furniture struck me as being capable of concealing all iorU of horrors. t .

I started violently when l hearct a gentle rap at the door halfan-hour after my sistßr'a departure, and felt foolishly relieved when only tho cook's portly figure stood in the doorway. Yet surely cook herself did not look quite so comfortable as usual. " I made bold to come up, miss,** she ' said " because I'm a bit fidgety like about something I've seen ; and, if you think proper, I'll go and fetch Stokes to sleep in the house to-night." " What have you seen ?" I asked. "That girl, miss. I distrusted her from the first ; but, thinks I, I won't bo hard on a poor creature as is out of place; bo I sets her in my kitchen as comfortable aa you please. But never a word says she, good nor bad, till the cab drives off with Mibs Clara ; then she Btarts up like, and buruts out laughing loud. " ' What's the joke? 1 I Baid. " ' Oh, I've a long way to go,' says she, still a-laughing like anything. ' I'll wish you a good evening, cook,' Bays she. And she waß out of the back door in a twinkling, and banged it after her, as 1 dare say you heard." " Yes, indeed I did," I said. "Itßhook the house. What then, cook ?" " Well, I won't deny but 1 felt a bit curious, for it struck me that Bhe'd been drinking, and I thought I'd like to see how she got along ; bo I runs into the pantry and climbs on the stool to look out of the little window, because you- can see right beyond the two lamps next to ours from there, miss." " I don't see anything to be uneasy about," I observed, rather woary of this long one-sided conversation. Cook, I suppose, waß ruther nettled at this, for she came to the point at once. Fixing her black eyea upon me, and with an impressive jerk of her forefinger, the Baid, — "That young woman didn't go no further than next door ! She looked up and down to see if anybody was coming, and then took a key out of her pocket and unlocked tho area gate ; and she is gone into the empty house — why, 'tis not for the likes of me to know." I did not like this at all. I agreed with cook that it was mysterious and unpleasant. " It will be better to have Stokes here," I Baid at length. Cook went out, but soon returned with the discouraging information tbit our stables were locked up, and that the coachman next door told her that Stokes and the groom had gone to the theatre, aa I had sent word that the carriage would not be wanted that night. She had left a message with the coachman that our men were to come to the house at once on their return. A strong wind had sprung up, and the tremendous gusts which raged from time to time deadened all outdoor sounds. Cook and I went carefully over the house, shutting windows. We left open only the large one looking out upon the balcony, and we did this becausa the floor of the room had been newly stained and varnished, and the smell was still strong. There was no furniture in the room — it was entirely empty, and the door could be made secure on the hall side by two strong bolts, which I fastened. I felt a sense of comfort in seeing how strong the front-door fastenings appeared to be ; and lastly we descended again to the kitchen. While I closed the window-Bhutters cook went to the door which opened into the area, and her exclamation of dismay drew me quickly to the spot. The lock had been tampered with, and the key would not turn ; tho chain had also been rendered useless, having the last three links cut off. That very morning everything had been in perfect order. "And I could swear, miss, that the only time I left the kitchen was when Emma was just putting on her bonnet!" exclaimed cook, on the verge of tears. " Stop!" I cried. " That young woman was here — the girl who pretended to want a housemaid's plaoe. I felt sure that she was deceiving us. It must have been her doing ; but why ?" I turned to the other door ; there was an excellent lock, but no key, though that also had been in its place on the previous night. Two small bolts were all our available means of defence here, and I knew as I pushed them home that they were poor means indeed to rely upon. My only hop 9 now was that a common burglary waß intended, and that no special knowledge of my watch had led to these alarming occurrences. I was trying to remember if the pretended housemaid had been in the hall amongst the other women when I opened the door for the clerk and uttered those rash words which I now greatly regretted having used. I tried to think she wa3 not there; but I was only cheating myself — though I had not seen her, I felfcsure she had been present, and had heard and noted all I said. I resolved at once that we would leave the house. It waa now half-past ten o'clock ; and directly I had formed this resolution every room seemed to bo filled with danger ; a panic seized me, and I felt as if I should not live to quit the place. My heart beat aB if it would suffocate me. I implored my servant to help me to undo the heavy fastenings of the hall door and go forth into the night with me at once. For the first time cook hesitated. She did not know as I did now how determined odo man was, and what brutality he was capable of if thwarted. The minutes dragged while the woman stood there reflecting. " And where will you go, miss ?" she asked, deliberately. "To the first occupied house," I anBwered. " Oh, make haste — make haste ! Never mind where, so that we get out of this house 1" The almost inconceivable vanity which is the strongest feeling in some natures now manifested itself. "You will excuse me, miss, from going amongst strangers with such a figure as this — and in this cap.. I'm sure I would sooner die than do it. said cook. "Run up-stairs for another cap, but do be quick ! Think, cook — we may be murdered if we don't go !*' I wrung my handsin my impatience, and sank down upon a seat just inside the small drawing-room, where we had been all day. I could not see the hall and stairs, but I could hear the cook's ponderous tread as Bhe went up the three flights to the attic. I was listening for her return when there came one of those furious gusts of wind that muffled all other sounds. A3 th« last wail of the blast ceased I caught mj breath, for I knew I was too late. W hose waß that stealthy footstep creeping up the stairs? I heard every step as clearly as the beating of my own heart. I could neither stir nor call out ; I felt as if I were completely paralysed. A loud acream broke the silence, and then again came a mighty gust of wind, making all the windows rattle. I closed my eyes for a few seconds — I felt I could the better pray for help while they were Bhut~-but a rattling noise close to me

made mo open them, and again 1 saw that cruel face and those murderous eyes which had chilled my blood nearly a year ago. I was alone and defenceless. now, and the man looked at me with a triumphant smile. Yet, with the danger actually present — when there seemed to be no possible escape — courage returned to me ; I breathed easily, my hetirt ceased its rapid pulsation; and I faced the man with no terror in my eyes. His smile broadened into a laugh. "You know what I'vo come for," he said ; " and this time I'm going to have it. Why, I've waited and watched for months for this night ! I won't hurt you if you give up that watch of yours quietly; but if you try on any tricks, I'll kill you as soon as look. A lull in the wind brought the sound of the cook's screams. " Scream on if it pleases you," ho said ;" no one will hear you ; and no ono would hear you, young lady, if yon wore to holler while 1 was cutting your throat. 1 did not utter a word ; 1 kept my eyeß fixed on the man's face, while in my mind — now, thank Heaven, clear and composed — I reviewed rapidly every chance cf escape. There seemed but one chance, and that was through a lie. "Where is it? Ah, there's no fine gentleman to take care of yon now — no one in the house but that screaming fool and you and me t A nice little party, ain't it ?" " There's Emma; she will be awakened by all this noise," I said. " Emma !" he echoed. " Why, Emma went away in the cab ! Now don't you try to bamboozle me, miss !" He seized my arm, holding it so tightly that the pain made me wince. " Emma did go away ; but she came back and went to bed," I faltered. " Stay where you are," he said with a fearful imprecation, " Don't dare to stir till I come back, or it'll be the worse for you. I must make the girl safe." He left the room, but came back almost immediately. Fortunately I had not stirred. He fixed upon me a gaze full of hatred aud ferocity, and snarled rather than said, — " Don't you forget— that's all !" In the lulls that came between the deafening gUßts I could hear the stealthy footsteps glide upstairs. I calculated, by my knowledge of the number of stairs, that he had just reached the top of the first flight, when again that mercifully wild clamor arose. My only chance lay in ita lasting long enough for me to undo the heavy bolts on the door of the big, . empty drawing-room. I darted across the hall in the brilliant light of the gas, and reached the door. Would my hands tremble and refuse to move the fastenings? If ao, Heaven help me ! No, they were firm and strong; and, just as the wild uproar ceased, I threw open the door. Directly afterward I heard footsteps descending rapidly toward me. Like a hunted creature I flew across the dark room— oh, how large it was !— and out upon the b.alcony. Clara and 1 had looked into the balcony from an up-stairs window that morning. We had been disgusted with the heap of broken pots and the forlorn look of the flower-boxes, but had not tried to put things to rights because we did not wish to cross the newly-varnished floor. 1 had noticed that the balconies on each Bide of ours were swept and bare, and that a small greenhouse stretched across one four houses distant on the right. How glad I was-to remember these things, and the girlish curiosity which had led us to observe how all the terrace balconies but those on either side were furnished with autumn plants, or still gay with lateflowering summer ones. 1 could not see a flower-pot now. I Bped through the dead plants noiaeleßsly, remembering exactly — how 1 knew not — where lay the broken pots that had held marguerites, and where the heap of mould from the broken box of mignonette ; I remembered, too, the bareness of the next balcony, and the grievous height of the barrier between without any helping stands or pots to use as steps. Taking advantage, as I had done before, of the recurring tempest of wind, I climbed the first barrier, heedless of the falling pots and the clatter which would otherwise have betrayed me. With s large, heavy box in my arms I climbed it, swiftly and easily as if it had been a stile between country meadows. 1 slipped the box down to aid me in my descent on the other side; and I think I scarcely breathed until I found myself in the next balcony, where I crouched at the farthest end until it was safe to move. Where was my brutal enemy ? In our own balcony, I knew, for I could hear the breaking of the pots, and hia fearful imprecations as he stumbled among them. After a moment I heard a whistle, and immediately a window opened above my head, and another whistle waa given in reply. " Show a light in the balcony ; I want to see which way the confounded cat has jumped," the man shouted. I dared not stir, any movement would be noticed. I had placed my box ready by ita means to mount the next barrier, but I must exceed all my former speed if I hoped to escape, and must let myself down into the next balcony without any step to help me. 1 3aw a faint glimmer of light through the window behind me ; I placed one foot on the box, and heard the first opening of the heavy shutter ; then oh, blessed, beautiful sound! — came the roar of the blast. I dashed over the barrier, falling awkwardly amongst the vases and statuettes which were strewed in the next balcony. Picking myself up, I hastened on as if I could hear the pursuing s£epa and see again the fiendish countenance from which I fled. I did not stay for the friendly aid of the wind. In perfect darkness I rushed on, scrambling and falling, indifferent to the brui<J2« I received, with only one thought — that o* escape — filling my mind. By daylight it would have seemed perfectly impossible for a girl to BUrmount the high iron divisions between the houses, even with all the help which the plants and boxes could give, and with the advantages of time, light, and calmness of spirit; but by night and under the spur of fear I seemed to have supernatural activity. I passed the closed windows of several houses without seeing any light, and a^aia it seemed to me that a purauina Dgure w*a close behind m*. With the thought I felt as if my strength would fail me, when again the noise of opening shutters fell upon my ear, and a blaze of light flooded the spot I had just reached. I had only strength to dart through the open window, to see a confused mass of lights and of well-dressed people, and to hear a waltz being played, mingled with, the shrieks and exclamations of surprise caused by my entrance. I looked around me wildly, and in. the confused crowd saw one man I knew coming swiftly toward me. I gave a low cry of relief, and fell into his outstretched arms. Mr. Wemyss carried me through the throng of bewildered dancers to a quiet little room used aa a study by the doctor whose home X bad io suddenly wfoyd— ■

the only room that had escaped being transformed into a guest-chamber. Here the kind mistress of the house and her hußband came to me. Mr. Wemysß was sent away, and the doctor bathed and bound up my hands, which were woefully lacerated ; arnica was applied to my bruises ; and all was done so skilfuljy that I was not roused from the Btupor into which I bad fallen. My clothes, which were hanging round me in tattrrs, were removed, and my hair, which . had become unfastened and streamed about my shoulders, was gently put out of the way— some of it had actually been torn out by the roots in my terrible flight. I believe the doctor gave me a sleeping-draught ; anyhow, i must have slept for many hours, for I awoke in the afternoon, and opening my eyes languidly, saw my dear sister seated by the side of the couch. My recovery was rapid, but I was not allowed to return to our house for some time, and tlie watch, which 1 had never taken from its cover, was returned to the bankers as soon as any one remembered it. I Bent for it only this morning at Jack's request, when he told me that I might wear it now in Bafety. Jack inherits so much of his old uncle's love of antiquities that I am sure it will be a real pleasure to him to see me wear it to-morrow. I must explain a few little matters in my story, however. The villain who would have murdered me was hanged for robbing and killing an old lady in one of the suburbs ; Jack gave me no particulnra, and I asked for none, but from the expression of his face I knew how brutal the crime had been, and we both went back mentally to my wonderful escape. Disguised as a crossing sweeper, this determined wretch watched our house for our return ; and, finding that a little kitchen furniture and some valuable fixtures had been left in the apparently empty house next to ours, and that a caretaker was required, he sent a female accomplice to occupy it; and of course it was she who, under hia instructions, applied for the housemaid's place. Hia waß a very cunning mind ; and when he found that I was not wearing my watch on returning from the Alleynes' dance, he guessed immediately that Mr. A lleyne would provide for its safe keeping at liis bank. He was determined to see the address on the letter that I had posted, and adopted the plan of changing his clothes and waiting until the letterbox was emptied ; consequently, when the postman arrived he saw a well-dressed man who professed to have Bent a letter to his bankers by his groom, in which he had forgotten to enclose a cheque — he thought the groom must have put the letter into this letter-box, but was not certain. The postman refused to show the letters or allow any to be meddled with, saying that it waß against the rules ; but, as the gentleman mentioned Mr. Alleyne's nam* and the bank address, and Beeined very anxious to have the letter returned, the postman was over-persuaded and gave ib to him. My letter had told Mr. Alleyne where I wanted to wear my watch, so my enemy's course waß clear. He had to find out first if the watch had arrived, and next he had to dispose of as many of the inmates of the house as possible. The pretended housemaid was very useful .to him by acquainting him in the morning of the arrival of the watch, and by telling him in the afternoon of the departure of Clara and the maid. The telegram to my mother was a genuine message and a piece of good luck for the thief. Clara and Emma, after a very long drive, had found themselves, to their amazement, at an obscure public-house Bomewhere in Camden Town, the driver declaring that he had been told to go to this address, aDd had never heard anything of Campden HHI. It was then becoming late, and he refused to drive all the way back to Kensington, and they had a great deal of trouble and lost much time in finding another cab. Clara grew uneaßy, and she began to imagine all sorts of accidents were happening to me, though the suspicion that the note was not genuine did not occur to her. It had been written by the thief, and the cabman was perfectly right in mentioning Camden Town as the address which had been given him. When my enemy had discovered that his pursuit of me was hopeless, he escaped at once through the aid of his friend in the unoccupied house. *"" How I found out who sent me the flowers, how Mr. Wemyss was thought of, and at last spoken to, as Jack, and how I think myself the happiest girl in England, need not be told — in fact, I should find it rather difficult. My bridesmaids, however, will look as pale as my wedding-gown if they sit up any later, so now I will say " good-night,'' and sleep in peace, even though my old watch is in the house.