FOR THE SAKE OF GOLD.

Tuapeka Times, Volume XLIV, Issue 5971, 21 August 1912, Page 4

FOR THE SAKE OF GOLD.

(All Jlinhis-; Reserved.)

A SEf'SSWHAL ROKASCF, By the Aulhor of of Darkness," "A ! '<! v of l.'orMiiiing." i'i Ktr. PA lIT 11. Opening the civcloi-e lie drew out a sheet of t'- .i ; ireign r.otepaper, and as his oa the heading, "Bridge Ko'.is-, Crni! he started violent! v. ihtn, though his hands shook, he trie! to -control himself. and began reading the letter, and in a few n.-e nds ho realised that it was from tas • woman he had wronged, denanUi.ij.~yes, in spite of its courteous w-->r ling, it was a demand for restitution. She didn't threaten, but .;;sot knew her well enough to ficl n«rs», if he did not do what she iequnvii, she would set the law in motion. Probably she would wait until he was stronger ; but all the same, she would do it.

" Well, he would give her the money," he thought ; but as he read her stipulation—that she should have the choice oE taking the Grvitstone estate instead of money—his excitement increased, and crunching the letter in his hand, he exclaimed, "Never! I'll—IU1" The last two words v ro sDoken in a thick, unnatural voice, and in another moment Squire li-.suet fell across the table unconscious. Five minutes later Sybil opened the door, .and as she entered the room she said :

"I'm afraid I'm late, dad, but you know it's better late than never." Then as she saw what had happened she uttered a piercing scream and ran into the hall,, meeting Dr. Lucas, who had that morning come earlier than usual.

"What is it, Sybil ?" he asked, in a tone of alarm. "Dad's had another fit. Oh, Jack, be quicif, she exclaimed ; but Dr. Lucas needed no V. Ming ; he had quickened his pnee :-.nd was stan:iing by the squire when Sybil entered the room, and as he raised him his eye fell on the envelope which lay on the table, and he at once recognised his motiwr's hnn:lwrit!ng. A brief, very brief examination told the doctor (hat, hope was past, and turning to Sybil, he said, very gently :

"He is dead !" "Dead; and we th ■ ughc he was getting better !" she said. "He has had another fit," replied her lover. "Dickson wm> snyinst the squire didn't seem q-.;iil"i veil this morning," observed fie ii'.itler, who had followed them into the room. Jack Lucas routed himself. His thoughts since he had seen that envelope had not been pleasant. "Tait, will you tell Dickson that I wish to speak to him ?" Then he turned to Sybil, saying, in a low tone :

"Darling, you must go and tell aunt. Besides. I have questions to ask Dickson that I would rather you did not hear." Slowly and reluctantly Sybil left the room. Then Dr. Lucas picked up the envelope and put it into his pocket, after which he gently removed a piece of paper that was crunched in the dead man's hand. So firmly had he grasped it that the doctor had to use a little force before he could open the clasped hand. One glance at the writing on the thin foreign paper told him that the letter had been written by his mother and he had just time to put it into his pocket when Dickson entered the room. "I didn't think the master seemed well this morning, but I never thought he'd be taken like this, sir," said the man, in a tone of consternation.

"1 hoped he would have recovered, hut these seizures arc liable to recur," said Dr. Lucas, gravely. "And to think he was driving out yesterday !" remarked Dickson. "It's been terribly sudden," replied the doctor, as he left the room and inquired from a footman if he knew where Miss Sybil was. "Yes, sir ; she's in the drawingroom and he led the way to it. To the doctor's annoyance he saw that Sybil 'was not alone ; her aunt and Phil Basset were present. "Tb is is a sudden aflair, doctor," said i iiil, turning round. "Very ; but it is not uncommon for any one to have a second or third fit, and one or the other is fatal. I hoped to have prevented another, but I have failed," he said.

"Yon did your hest !" Sybil excla'nii d. ' Yes. indeed doctor. I'm sure Br. Lowndes said you had been most carof 1, or.i.| he was never tired of praisiu. your s-a'.l," observed Miss Meliia.

"I've done my duty, but the issue has liccn in higher bauds than mino. I only wish I could have saved him," said Dr. Lucas. Then he spoke a few words to Sybil in a lower tone, asking if he could speak to her privately. At th.at moment Tait, the butler, appeai e l , asking if his master was to be taken upstairs, and Miss Melita inquired from Phil what he thought. Sybil took advantage of the opportunity and whispered to lier lover : " Come into the conservatory, Jack."

It was a lovely place, opening out of the drawing-room, and as tiiey stood half l, ;.;en by a luxuriant y-alm, Jack sa.ii : "Sybil, my dtar, I must tell you that your stepfather this morning rccei'. Ed a letter from ray mother that I am afraid agitated him vtry

much ; at any rate, I found it clenched in his hand." Sybil ultcrc-1 an exclamation of surprise and disn.u;.. "I think I know the contents of the lctiec," he proceeded, "but I would rather not tell you until Geolfrey conies home ; then I must ex-, plain. Meanwhile lam keeping the letter, and I do not wish you to name it, because if the contents became known there would be a lot of talk."

"Talk unfavourable to dad?" she asked, the tears coming into her eyes as she uttered the familiar name, "Yes; but do not question me. You shall know all when 'tjfl ttJuts home." •»V'h it if the letter is mliie.l? she said, anxiously. "I don't suppose it will be in the confusion, and you won't name it ?" "No; but I wish I knew what it

was about." "You must trust me. And now I :must go. Good-bye, Sybiland he kissed her. As they entered the drawing-room they met Miss Melita, who was looking for Sybil, and Jack took .leave of her, going direct to Bridge House-

CHAPTER XVI. "Joan, where is mother?" Dr. Lucas inquired, as he entered the brealffast-room. "1 don't know ; she seems very restless this morning, as though she couldn't settle to anything. Before her brother could reply Mrs. Lucas entered the room. "You are early this • morning, Jack," she said, as she seated herself near the fire and looked at him. Then her quick eyes saw there was something wrong. "What is the matter?", she asked,

quickly. "Mr. Basset is dead," he said, in a grave, quiet tone. "Not dead; no, not dead !" she exclaimed, excitedly. "Yes, mother, he is dead, and I found this in his clenched hand," he said, holding the letter she had sent towards her. "You don't mean that it killed him ?" she asked, in a low, awestricken tone.

"I don't know. Dickson says he wasn't so well this morning. Perhaps he would have had another tit ; but I am certain your letter hastened it." Mrs. Lucas sat quite still and silent, looking so pale and grieved, nay, horror-stricken, that Joan couldn't bear to look at her and not try to comfort her. "You didn't know it would kill him, mother, or you wouldn't have written the letter," she said, gently. Mrs. Lucas raised her head. "No, I never thought it would do him any harm. 1 knew Jack had said I must wait ; but I thought he was too cautious—too lenient to the man who had defrauded me, and I believed the squire was hard-heart-ed, and that he would only care to make a good bargain with me, and I told him in the letter that all could be settled quietly. Then I had waited so many weary years for news of your father, and when it came, and I knew how Mr. Basset had treat.J me, I con! 1 hardly hear to wait ; and yesterday Captain Clarke told me that he wanted to sail early in January, so I took the matter into my own huuds." "I wish you had consulted me before sending that letter," said her son.

"I didn't ; I acted cn impulse, Jack. I'm not an ima't'sive woman, but twice in my life 1'»o acted on the of the mom: nt, ami each time trouble has fo:M ■ 'j iie first, time I ran away to be married, instead of waiting till your f ither had retrieved his position. The second time was yesterday." "You must not reproach yourself, mother ; you have been sorely tried," said Joan. "I think we won't talk about it any more, after I have told you that Sybil knows her stepfather received a letter from you, hut is waiting until Gefl comes home for an explanation. By the way, whatever it costs, Captain Clarke must remain. It wouldn't be fair to ask him to give up the chance of a good ship without an equivalent, and I shall call at Dowsou's farm on my way home," said Jack ; and wishing

his mother and sister good morning, he departed. A very short conversation between the doctor, and Clarke settled the matter, the latter agreeing to remain in the. neighbourhood until the affair ot the diamonds was settled, and refusing to take anything but a very moderate compensation for the wasted time. Indeed, he blamed himself severely for trying to induce Mrs. Lucas to get the matter settled.

The next day telegrams were sent by Joan and the late Mr. Basset's lawyer to the office of the steamer on which Geoffrey liasset was a passenger, telling him of his father's death, and it was hoped he might be home in time for the funeral, which was to take place on January 3 ; but to Joan and the lawyer's disappointment he did not arrive. That his absence gratilied Phil could be seen, and he looked very well satisfied as he led the way into the library, where the will was to be read. Most of the gen'-i.emen who had attended the funeral had waited to hear the will road. "Where are Miss Melita and Miss Marks ?" inquired the Rev. Edgar Vernon, who, though a year or two over seventy, was hale and hearty as ever, and in his heart mervelled that a man with a constitution like Basset's—and who so far as was known had been free from worryshould have been struck down when scarcely past his prime. "They are coming," replied the lawyer ; and as he spoke the two ladies entered, seating themselves at one end of the room.' Sybil stole a glance at her lover, who, . having followed the squire to his grave, had waited like the others to hear the will read, knowing that it would make a great difference to his mother if the elder son was the st ire's heir.

rrc-scntly the lawyer began to read the Inst will and testament of Ephriam Basset. First there were L S. cics to the servants, then twentyfive thousand pounds to his youngest son, Philip Vernon Basset, and finally he bequeathed the Croftstone estate, the ChiMer estate, and the money he had invested in stocks, shares, etc., to his eldest son, Geoffrey Vernon Basset. If the said Georirry Vernon Basset died intestate ani 1 . unmarried, the two estates and all other moneys were to pass to his stepdaughter, Sybil Marks, and to be at her entire disposal when sli 1 ! married or attained the age of tw>;nty-one years. When the lawyer ceased there was silence for a moment, until Philip said, in a tone of restrained passion :

"What is the date of that will ?" | "The twenty-seventh of last month; • just a week to-day," replied Mr. i Jackson. { "Who witnessed it ?" Philip demanded, angrily. j "The housekeeper and the butler." j "It's a shameful fraud. Sybil has been influencing my father. I'll dispute it, All the world knows that he had disowned Geoffrey," exclaimed Philip, passionately. "He had forgiven Geß, and I knew he was to inherit the estate; but that is all I knew about the will," said Sybil,- indignantly. ; "Then if you dlda't persuade him, why did he leave the estate to you after (Jeff ? You're , not any relation," replied Philip,, who peeved almost mad miik SMflioa. - !

"X don't know ;■ but I wouldn't accept it. if Get! -dies,'■'••she answered, quickly. Before Philip had time to reply the Eev. Edgar Vernon interposed. "Phil, this conduct of yours is unseemly, and I know that your father had changed his intentions regarding Geoffrey, because when I was here on Christmas Day I happened to be cautioning him to take care, etcetera, when he said, ' Don't be uneasy ; I shall not go just yet ; I've an injustice to set right,' 'I suppose you mean about Geß,' I said, aud lie -nodded.

"Do you call it an act of justice to pass me . over entirely ?" Phil muttered ; but he was evidently trying to restrain himself. A few minutes claptc'i, then the guests began to depart, all glad that Geoffrey was to inherit. the estate, but considerably puzzled that in the event of his death it ivas to pass to Sybil Marks.

"I will see you to-norrow," Jack said, as he bid Sybil good morning and proceeded to - Bridge House to tell his mother the nature of Ephriam Basset's will. As she listened her face brightened, and she exclaimed :

"He tried to do right at last. He knew if Geft got the estate ami the bulk of his private fortune he could remedy the wrong that had been done, and if he dies Sybil will be your wife, so the estate will be virtually yours." "I hadn't thought of that; but Sybil says she shall refuse the inheritance," said, Jack. "Sybil must be told the truth, if necessary," replied his mother. After luncheon, when the' lawyer had departed, Phil was put through a rigorous cross-questioning by hia grandfather, and the latter soon found out about Peggy Marsh, and that the late squire had been very vexed about the matter. "I'm not the first fellow who has done wrong," Phil grumbled. "No, Phil, there are any number of young fellows who arc lax in their morals ; but, you see—excuse mc speaking plainly—you acted like a cad. If you had helped the poor girl with a little of your spare cash it would have been dilierent ; but to be a cad—well, it takes almost more whitewashing than a iittle lapse in morals, and your father would feel like that. He wasn't a cad, but I expect some of his people had been ; they were nobodies," said the old clergyman, who was quite as cynical in his old age as he had been in his prime. "Confound it, you needn't look fat' to see where the caddishuess comein ; I take after my grandfather," said Phil, turning on his heel and leaving the room. The old man leaned hack in hie chair, nun;iiv>i.

"I do v't wori'lor at the lad being vexed. It's natural for Geff to inherit, but Phil Cii.uo next. There's a mystery behind it. Basset knew well what he was doing, and he wasn't a man to cut his son off with twenty-five thousand—a mere nothing to a man of his wealth—tor an affair like that with the girl iu Red Path. Of course, he'd despise Phil Basset wasn't a man to do that kind of tiling ; but that isn't the reason that he has left Sybil his heiress, supposing Gefi should die."

While his grandfather was speculating about the matter, Phil had sought Sybil, whom he found in the drawing-room, vainly trying to read while Mias Melita was napping in an easy chair as tranquilly as though death and money had no part in life. " I want to have a talk with job," said Phil, seating himself near to her. "Very well and Sybil turned a little to oae side. She didn't care to let Phil see that she had been crying through sheer annoyance at the strange will the squire had left. "Sybil, I want to know, supposing Gefl should die, whether you would claim the estate ?" "We have no more reason to suppose that Geff will die than you will," she said, quietly. "Yes, we have. GeS has been invalided home. He may never even land. There was a storm last night." "Oh, you wretched I" she exclaimed.

He laughed uneasily as he said, "I'm not a wretch ; but there arc chances, and I'm not going to shut my eyes to them, and I should like to know, in case of Gefl's death, whether you would claim the estates ?"

Sybil was going to declare indignantly that she would never have the estates or money, when it seemed as though some unseen power compelled her to pause, and in that instant ■it flashed across her mind that to renounce the estates would be putting a premium on Geoffrey's death. Phil was unscrupulous, and be was bitterly disappointed, so she said :

"I mi [.lit. I don't know what I shoul:i do."

"Dou't you ? But I do. You'd take every penny you could get. I've you to thank for (Jeff's bein;; iiia.ie t,he heir, and, not satisfied with that, you get yourself put in if he should die. It's been a case of undue influence over a man whose mind was weakened by illness ; but I'll fi".lit the will, if I lose every penny I'm worth," he said, as he rose. "The squire's mind never was weakened. He was a strong, resolute man to the last. Gefl's more like him. You're very weak, Phil, and always were," said Miss Melita, who had been disturbed by Phil's loud voice. "Shut up !" he shouted, as he left the room.

Miss Melita looked at Sybil. "My dear, he's not a pcnt.leman ; Phil never was. Whm i:e was a little boy your poor mother used to say to me, ' Phil's been born without gentlemanly instincts ; he'll never be a gentleman,' and she was right. But we won't talk about him. Ring the bell for tea; we shall both feel better for a cup." . Dinner was over, and just as Sybil was thinking about pleading fatigue and retiring to her room, the butler handed her a telegram which contained the following message : " Southampton, 7.30.—T0 Miss Marks.—Just landed. Shall arrive at home to-morrow. Due in Witton five o'clock. Bitterly grieved at news of •my father's death. Am writing to Joan. "Geoffrey Basset." "Who brought it ?" she asked. "A messenger on horseback, Mis* Sybil." "Give him this and Sybil put half a sovereign in the man's,band. Then she turned to Phil, saying : "Geff is safe on land." (To be Continued). ..