FOR THE SAKE OF GOLD.

Tuapeka Times, Volume XLIV, Issue 5963, 24 July 1912, Page 4

FOR THE SAKE OF GOLD.

(AH Righto Reserved.)

A SENSATIONAL ROMANCE,

Um Author of "Out of Dark*■l" "A Day of Reckoning," Etc., Etc.

PART 6. "It wasn't the same as yours, ■ir." "Ah; well,, likeiwsos nrp queer things, and don't alwnys argue relationship," said the doctor, as he felt his patient's pulse : and professional caution prevented him diseuseing the subject further. Then in a, few minutes he left the room, followed by Mrs. TSunis, who inquired anxiously n.s to her father's state. "I won't deceive you. It's a bad CMC, and he must be perfectly quiet; a. great deal depends upon that." "He'll be quiet enouirh. I've sent th« bairns to my husband's mother's ■he replied ; ami Ilr. Lucas departed. It was true ; Xed Jones was very ill, and hour by hour he seemed to grow worse, " until his daughter loafed for nlgbt, when the doctor Mid he would pay another visit. "I-wieh the doctor would come," ■he said, expressing her thoughts atoud.

"Sally, lass, it's no use. The Almighty's called, and there's no shirking the answer. He's a captain as cannot be cheated. I'd 'a' liked to have lived a while longer. There was a bit tot a matter I wantto help set square ; but it's not to be."

"Hugh, father ; you mustn't talk Ilka that. I'll send for Dr. Lucas; ■one folk* say he's cleverer than Dr. Maples. Why, what is it ?" she aaked, in a tone of terror, the sick man having raised himself and gripped her arm. "Doctor what ?" he asked. "Dr. Lucas, father ; the other one couldn't come." "Lord, to think I've had the

chance and missed it ! Send for the doctor, Sally. Don't waste time, lass," he said, falling back, but still

bi a state of intense excitement. Mrs. Bums went downstairs and asked her husband, who was seated la the kitchen, if he would fetch the doctor; then she returned to her father. "Is he coming, Sally ?" he asked, IS ihe entered. "He won't be long, father." "That won't do ; I want him now. D'ye hear, lass ?" "Yea, yen, father." "It'i all very well talking, but I Won't be put off. You're in the. Mptata'a pay," called out Jones. "Mo, no, father," she said, in a toothing tone. "But I say you are. and I'm a-go-ing to fetch Lucas and tell him the troth. Darn it, I siw him dead and •vied, and yet he's here. I'd nothing to do with the diamonds, and if I'd known he wasn't acting square I'd 'a' spoken," he shouted. "Lie still, father," Sally begged. "Lie still ! How chu I lie still when he's come from the bottom of tha sea ? Captain was mighty anxioua to put him there. My, he did scramble through them prayers?" At that moment there were footsteps on the 9tairs, and Dr. Lucas entered the room, and as he came towards the bed the sick man exclaimed : "By gum ! How did you get up ? [ s'posa aa you're a landlubber you wanted to be tucked up tidy in the churchyard ?" "Has ha been wandering long 1" the doctor inquired, in a low tone; lad Mrs. Burns told him how excited ha had appeared when he heard the doctor's name was Lucas. "You know I had told him I was sending for Dr. Maples," she exclaimed. "I wish he had known my real name this morning," said Dr. Lucas. "Yes, I knew you ; but hanged if I can tell you what he did with the diamonds."

Much as fir. I.ucos wanted to question the man and see if there was any germ of truth to be found in these wanderings, he knew it would be wrong, and after doing his utmost to quiet the patient he wrote a prescription, which Mr. Burns took to a chemist. After taking it the tick man fell into a heavy slumber, which lasted until dawn, when he awoke and began rambling about the pint. When Dr. Lucas appeared he grew more excited, and told him not to :ome bothering him ; it was the captain who had the diamonds. All the time the doctor remained lie talked in this incoherent fashion, '.lit after his departure he became ■aimer. Two more days passed in this way n.! t'e end drew near. He talked ss, b : t was unconscious until the ery last, when there was a brief .ii'ting of the veil, and, looking at his daughter, he said : "Sally, I'm going. You've been a jood lass ;" then his eye rested on Dr. Lucas, who was standing near, and raising his voice, he said : "Doctor, the captain got the diamonds." "What was the captain's name?" Lucas inquired. The dying man's tips moved, but no word could be hoard. That last sentence h?,d exhausted him, and his breath grew fuinter and fainter. "He's gone," said Dr. Lucas, reverently. "My poor father!" and Mrs. Burns began to weep. "Go upstairs and rest," he sni!. kindly ; and in a few minutes he was talking towards his home, which was lituated in the centre ot the little market town, as Jack Lucas found it better to fcave a house than reside in lodgings. An old housekeeper and a young girl did all that was necessary, Once he had suggested that his mother should live with him, but she had decided to remain with her brother at Bridge Rouse. While th* doctor ate his luncheon he thought of the strange things the dead man had said, and the more he reflected the more certain he became that Jones knew something about his father's death. Accordingly, when he had lunched, he mounted his horse and rode to Bridge House, where he found his mother at home as usual. "What is it,. Jack?" she asked, quick to detect something unusual. "Mother, I believe I hnve got a clue to my father's death ; but I will tell you what I have heard." When be finished, Mrs. Lucas said : "The man thought you were Dr. Maples at the time he remarked upon the likeness ?" "Yes; then when he knew the

truth he was impatient to see hip, and 'he worked himself into such an excited stale that delirium set in. If he bad only been able to tell either the- name of the captain cr the vessel !"

"Do you know, I believe the "truth will now come to light I'or two it\four years not one frlimmiT has be-n thrown on your father's fate. Tlvm tin's, sailor, who had never bcv'ii in the north before, comes, mil is I iU'"ii ill when quite by accident jou hj, \e 1o tak.e the place 01 i,i Ai ipirs, -who is their usual m-<l mI man Jne-V Providence, is woritiuj f"i' ir,. ' said bif mother,

"I hope so. T know i.i'w you havn longed to know something more of my father's fate."

"I shall know before leig, I am lure," she replied.

CHAPTER IX. AT DOWfION'S FARM. At the moment the drawing-room door opened, and Joan entered, accompanied by Sybil Marks, whose eyes brightened when they rested on her lover. "I am fortunate," he said, as he took her hand, pressing it gently. "Yes ; isn't it lucky I met Joan ? And she asked me to come in, though I'm not sure that I should have required asking if I'd known you were here," Sybil answered, with a merry laugh. "Didn't you see my horse ?" "We came across the field path, and in at the back garden gate," said Joan ; then looking at her she asked what was tV rantter. "Joan, I believe the mystery connected with you father's death is going to be unravelled," said Mrs. Lucas, in a tone full of emotion. "What have you heard ?" Joan asked, looking from one to the other; and her brother told the tale he had previously told his mother. "How strange you should hear this after so many years ! What are you going to do, Jack?" "I'm going to try to find out the name of the ship in which the men Jones sailed a little more than twenty-four years ago. Then we can consider the next step." "Sybil, I would rather you did not mention the matter at home," said Mrs. Lucas.

"Of course I won't. In fact, Ido very little talking to any one but Aunt Melita, and she would want to know how I heard the news ; so you may be quite sure I shall not chatter." Just then Mrs. Lucas remembered she had something to attend to, and Joan went upstairs to remove her hat, and the lovers were left together. "Sybil, if my father had left a fortune—the man raved about diamonds—and we got it, would it make any difference to your stepfather?" "Not the least bit. He doesn't care about you being poor. If you were as rich as Croesus it wouldn't make any difference ; he wants my fortune to enrich his own family. It's a case of much would have more." "They may have the fortune, but I shall have you," said Dr. Lucas, tenderly. "I won't agree to that. I mean to have the spending of the money my father left me. Oli, Jack, I do get so tired of Phil's attentions and the air of proprietorship he assumes." "My poor darling, I wish I could honourably marry yon," he said, with a sigh ; then added, "Cheer up, Bweetheart. I fancy matters will develop so that I shall feel justified in taking you into my own keeping."

At that moment Joan entered the room, saying that a farmer in the neighbourhood, seeing the doctor's aorse at the gate, had left a message asking if he would go on at once to the White Farm ; so the lovers tete-a-tete was cut short, and Jack leparted, leaving Sybil to have half an hour's chat with Joan, and aelp the latter to build castles in

the air as to what she would do if it was proved that her father had left a fortune. On« thing was certain— Joan intended Geff to reap the benefit of it. When Ned Jones was buried, Dr. Lucas set to work to find out the aa'me of the ship in which the man lad sailed twenty-four years ago ; out in spite of the assistance given lim by Mrs. Burns he found it was :ikely to prove a long and tiresome task, and when a month had passed ae was not any nearer the desired ;nd. Still, he persevered, and Mrs. Lucas avowed her belief that the truth would yet be known. When Ned Jones had lain nearly \ month in his grave,. Captain Starke bade good-bye to his relations in Peterborough and took the train to Witton, near which place his youngest sister, who had just married a second time, lived. Her husiand was a farmer, who held a farm under Squire Basset, and the house tself fronted into Red Path, near the end which joined the main road :o Witton. The morning after his arrival he rts.s shown round the farm by his irolher-in-law, and finally the two nen settled themselves down to moy their pipes and a chat in the. litr.ing-room which overlooked Red Path. "Its a snug little farm," said Farner Dowson, as he filled his pipe. "Thnt it is. I think Maria has ions well- for herself," replied the laptain. "Did you think I was going to be i fool twice ? I'd a hard time of it 'or years ; but this time I've light'd both on a good husband and a :omfortable home," replied Maria Dmvson, who believed in plain speaking* •it's good wives as make good msbands," replied the farmer. "Now, Seth, that's not gospel. I've »een t:ome of the best of wives helpng r.n! making much of drunken sots ,- s were a disgrace, and they :iidn't m?nd one bit. All the wives got f<,r their trouble were cuffs and

Mirses." "Well, missis, you know most thims, so I'll give in." At that instant there was a sound of horses' hoofs, and a lady and gentleman rode slowly past—so slowly that the captain noticed the girl's lip curl scornfully when she spoke to her companion.'* "Pretty girl that; but she doesn't seem to think much of the party with her," he observed.

"That's Miss Marks, though everybody calls her Miss Sybil. She's our landlord's stepdaughter, and that's his youngest son," said his sister, speaking with interest. "You're right; she don't make much of Mr. Phil, though folks say the squire intends them to marry," said the farmer.

He may intend "it; but I guess he won't ;:et his own way with Miss Sybil. Any one can see she's got a will of her own," said his wife. "She'll have to give in. He turned his own son out because he wanted to marry a young lady as hadn't any money, though she was of very old family. Oh, the Bquire's a bard, 'un with his own family; not that he's a bad landlord—a bit tight, and wants a biggish rent—but fair in most ways. Mr. Qefl was a fool not to give up the girl, and now they say he's at the front as war correspondent—a gentleman that was heir to, eiw of tbe finest estates in j*»eoßfltx7. I Aug tlia >o» fein

to have a loo's at the casUe. The squire won't have people • ;.,oing through, but it's like a picture to look at. When I was a lad the Croftstones lived there, and they wert always willing to let "strangers set the place ; but .Squire Baßset hatef it." The captain took his pipe out 01 his mouth and looked at his brother-in-law as he said : " What did you say his name was ?"

"Basset—Squire Basset. He's one of the richest men about. He has a big private fortune beside the estate." "What kind of man is he in appearance ?" inquired Captain Clarke, trying to speak iudiiu renuy. "A fine man ; big am! i.road-shoul-dered. You can tell he's a determined party to look at him." "Yes, he looks a masterful man," chimed in Mrs. Sowson. "An old man ?" said the captain, in a questioning tone. "Getting on to sixty ; but a fine man. • Looks as though he live to be a hundred," replied Farmer Dowson. "I heard some one speaking of a man called Basset. I wonder if it could be this squire of yours. What's his first name ?"

"It's a Scripture name ; but I cannot just remember it." "It's Bphriam. I've thought once or twice that it wasn't a grand name for such a rich gentleman, and I don't think he can be very proud of it, as his sons are neither of them called after him," said Mrs. Dowson. " Ephriam Basset ! You are right; it's not a grand name, and it's uncommon. You're not likely to for-

get it once you hear it," replied her brother. "Is he the Basset you hoard of 1" asked Dowson. "No, I don't think it can be the same. The Basset I heard of was just a man who had to work for his living," replied the captain, tolling the lie with a good grace. "Well, I have heard as the snuire speculates a lot. They sny he's made heaps of money that way ; but it's an easy kind of work," remarked Dowson. "And was that how he got. the money to buy this e;<fc;>te frc.m the folks you spoke of, or was lie born rich ?" The farmer laughed jovially. "Lord bless you, mrin, there isn't i soul in the countryside, c,en<!e or simple, knows anything of :-• .'ire Bas6et afore he came here. ; was once at a dinner give:) in '-on./iir of old Timothy Clayton's ■•:,.'. e.:.\\ birthday, and the old il> v, i;i euile of his age, was the life ruid soul or the party. And after dinner, when we were smoking and enjoying a drop of whisky, Timothy t ogan telling us tit-bits about one groat family and another as he'd known. Then sone one said : "' Do you know aught about Squire Basset ?' "Timothy just takes his pipe out of his mouth and cocks his head on one side, as he said, ' Squire Basset ! No, no ; he's like the man in the Bible as was without beginning or end—leastways, he's had no beginning as anybody knows of ;' and you may take my word for it old Timothy spoke the truth." "And how long as he lived at this castle ?"

"It's on to twenty-five years since he came to CroftHtone Castle. It's twenty-four since he married Miss Veraoa. Now, she was of good family. Poor lady,, she died young. Then the squire married a widow, who had one little girl. The squire's » widower for the second time ; but [ don't think he fretted much after tier—he thought the most of bis first Fife. Ah, here's the dinner, and that's better than talking about one's landlord," said Dowson, as a strapping girl placed a boiled leg of mutton on the table ; and th«y took their places. An hour later, when Farmer Dowion was busy about the farm, and His wife engaged in the dairy, Cap:ain Clarke, having put on his over:ont and a snug cap, set off at a jiiick pace down Red Path in the lirection in which he had been told Uroftstone Castle lay. "The squire's Captain Basset, sure :nough—Ephriam Basset ! It's not likely there are two men of that lame about the same age. Then the ;ime he came here agrees, and Basset was a tall, broad-shouldered fslow with an iron will. That fetlow's :ele a'~out the diamonds was true, ;nd Basset has appropriated them. They must have fetched a tidy sum, )(, he wouldn't have had time to io much speculating. I wish Ned ;;ne.i had kept his promise and .vrit'.cn, or that I had his address. A .yv.ay, I'll sec this Squire Basset. ■ n s.'ite of the number of years I ?h:.li knew if lie is the man. He ivr-s a striking-looking fellow—not Tinny m.-n'.c .in the same pattern—md if I find lis is the man who was Japtsin of the Sea Gull, then I'll ;ax h'm with having appropriated the diamonds ; and if I don't hear !rom Nod Jonis sonn I'll advertise in the London papers. Uo't; sure to see them," thought Captain 3arke, as he went qui--- 1 ■■ forward. Presently he e.<me tv. to face with the young man, who stared at aim. The captain had net ;:V.c .nnny yards further when I'.s i\i . ,'.i:::i '. ..s attracted Ly a map. s*:.:' -, v.i : :';n the wood on one side of th? ■:-.<], who was shaking his fist after i>e young gentleman, wi.ile his v ; i,:le face looked black v.it'i a;■••■:•. "Something wrong '-nt'Tc-i you and that young gentium;.!!, ' ?■ ' : the stranger, crossing over towani-.i t'ie man, who w«s c.hkntly employe 1 on the estate.

"He's a scamp, but I'm a fool to show I f-cl, L-cf'jg as I 'vork under his fatV.;r."

"I don't think you're very -vise ; but wbat has the you:ij; fellow done ?"

The man leaned forward, saying : • "You'll have read ,'s arable of the rwe lamb ? Wc'l, he look my ewe lamb and lie broke her heart. Never a blither, bci.u.T lass than my Peggy was, till ha crossed her path ; and now she's never a word to say, and her face that sad it makes my heart ache to look at her."

"Poor lass ! Does bis father knew the sort of man he is?"

" I don't knov. The squire's a good man in his way, but t'.iesc s irt of things don't come to his cr.rs. But if ever Mr. Phil is master here, I .shall find work elsewhere or starve." (To be Continued).