The Quest of the Blue Star.

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume LXVIII, Issue 14205, 6 February 1915, Page 7

The Quest of the Blue Star.

I (By JOHN OAKLEY.)

I EXCITING STORY OF MYSTERY AND LOVE.

I Author of "The Hampstod Mystery," "The Blackmailer," "A- Genlltloman in Khaki," "Love and the Cryptogram," etc.

I CHAPTER VllL—Continued. I had mentioned the namo Cruden merely by way of a chance shot, and because it was tho only ono to which Hugler had referred. I had apparently "struck oil" at the first bore. And now it only remained for me to identify Cruden with the man I had seen strugu gling with old Marmaduko Dunthorue jj on the night of the tragedy, ldl "1 may take a copy of this paper?" 1 E asked. ,r -'i "Yes," he said slowly, "you may do that, providing as " Ho hesitated a moment or two. i "Providing as you promise on your word of honour that if you read it .1. shall have my share of the treasure." It was my turn now to pause. "Cruden has done me and 1 would like to do him," he said. "I have shown it to a lot of people, but they . couldn't rend it. You won't, but you [ might. And if you do " | "You shall have a share," I agreed. j And with that he allowed me to take I a copy of the paper. I " CHAPTER IX. [ AN UNWILLING LOVE. I I went back to Thorpe lleston, and jj there I made my sojourn while I cur- _]_■ ried on such investigations as 1 found possible. They were meagre enough, the more that I could not screw myself up to the poiut of asking Dorothy directly for an explanation of that scene in the dead man's house. I tried to persuade myself that my hesitation aj rose from a lack of certainty that she j was the. girl of whom I had caught a I glimpse, and 1. believe that 1 did almost j succeed iv persuading myself that it was a case of mistaken identity. The thought was born of the insistent; wishes of my own heart. For the more closely I set myself to watch .Dorothy | Spedlowo the deeper 1 fell in love with ; her. It was Nemesis! 1 had accepted I the old man's invitation with the un- . j expressed but quite obvious intention of playing the spy upon his daughter, ; and 1. ended by loving her with a depth j and passion which only grew and iv- ! creased with the efforts i made to rej press it. And as tiie time drew on I realised that if I did succeed in niak- | ing any discovery concerning Dorothy | —if J did succeed in linking her up j with that tragedy, if I did convict her of a sordid and unhappy iutrigue, it would be to my own undoing. There was unspeakable sweetness in the knowledge that I loved her, even more in the growing signs I saw that my love was returned. But behind it all hovered ever the sombre shadow of J that house of mysteries iv Hollow Moor, j We were seated one evening in the old-fashioned sitting room, aud by some route or other which I have for- ~ : gotten now, the conversation drifted jK round to life in Loudon and the posi- £ tion of a single man. I recollect de--1 scribing the sufferings of that particuI lar class with some humour, not unI mixed with real feeling. a "You should get married," the old | colonel said, "it brings its troubles, 1 but it's better than being alone." | "I know," I replied, "but when one f| has no money and no prospects " 1 "Bah! Money doesn't count." 1 "Doesn't it?" I said a trifle grimly.

'•A';is sho? it was impossible to think :-o. That sweet mask of shy innocence ami girlish reserve could not be entirely assumed. There must be some awful mistake somewhere. CHAPTER X. THE CRYPTOGRAM. Tho temptation to hurry on with my story is almost irresistible. As 1 live over again the feverish unhappiness of those dark days of doubt and suspicion my [»en sfeirs winged wth a speed that is hardly sane, ami I cannot always eon trol its doings. Is evert hcless, one must pay heed to the proper sequence of events, and that necessitates that I shall go back once more to the day of my interview with the man Hugler. I think I have already told how I bought from him the right to copy the paper which he carried in his belt, /; paper which was a facsimile of one which old Marmadukc Duuthoriie had possessed, and which I more than suspected to be the real storm centre of this network of mysteries. To unravel the secret of that cryptogram might be to set me on the real trail, or at all events to put into my hands a clue which would lead to momentous discoveries. That same night 1 set to work upon it. Ciphers and cryptograms have always been a favourite sport with me. The quaint love letters in the agony columns of the newspapers have afforded me many a pleasant half-hour's amusement, and have given me many little glimpses of life which I have turned to good account in my magazine work. I tackled this one with an airy buoyancy born of almost invariable success. Hut .1 w;m bound to confess that it was the work of no amateur, and that to unravel it might prove a very much longer job than I had at first imagined. 1 had copied the paper as carefully as .1 could, using capital letters in order that i might be absolutely certain, ihough in the original small letters VvC-re used throughout. And 1 give it here in case anyone fancies himself as an exponent of cryptograms. LEEETELLTHELLEUETEULSIIEH BBT HT U EH USIi E KHB ETEHLIILTTL X \) X X EHHSHU TH EEHUHLTHEEHU LLBTLHEULEEB T LHHEHETSSBTE ATTTTLBLLEATT R TATSEISHUKLL LLUEEEEHHJEKLU II LUULEEFJISL BTTLLELBT LHR LEBHEETSSUHTT EEEUirfLLLUEEIIULTTLBHLEUTL TIiTTSHEELLHELEEETBEESEniIH BEEHETELSEETUH. I proceeded first in the recognised and orthodox fashion by counting tho number of times each letter was represented. But I came across a curious fact at the very start. Only nine of the letters of the ordinary alphabet were included, and these were:—E, (10 times, L, 42; 11. Mi) times; T, 38 times; U, 20 times; B,' M times; S, 12 times; A, :> times; R, 2 times, which made a total of 23S letters. This took me very little further. Ei ther certain letters wore missed out through the cryptogram, or the nine symbols used represented more than one letter each. E for example did not probably represent E at all, but two other letters. Which two? The number of possible combinations, I knew, was immense. Eight of the symbols might for instance represent three letters, and another one two, or all might represent two, certain little-used letters such as I or Z being omitted altogether. It was not until I had been looking at it for some time that I realised that the nine letters, placed in order, spelt Blue Star with the addition of an H. H. Blue. Star. The H. must be the middle letter of the word "the," in which ease the E of blue and the T of star probably bore a double burden, thus: THE BLUE ST A R ABC DEFG HIJK LM N 0P Q R ST U V WX V Z I tried it with that, and then went on to other combinations, but I could get nothing definite, nothing worth having. Now and again I would obtain an English word, occasionally a shadowy suggestion of a sequence, but it always peterc 1 out, leaving me more and more irritated and helpless as the time wore on. (To be Continued.)

I "A good girl who " 1 "Oil, 1 wasn't thing about tho lady, j| but about • " I "Yourself —yes, that is just it. It's |» one of the evils of these modem times. §j You say to yourself, 'I have so-and-so | pounds*a week that buys me so many | cigarettes and so much bottled ale; if I I get married there'll be fewer cigarI ettes and less bottled ale.' It's sclfish- ■§ ness, sir; cra:s selfishness." §' "Oh, father!" cried Marjory; "you I shouldn't say such things. I am sure §} .Mr Lamdor isn't selfish." i "I wasn't minking of him particuI larly," replied the old man. "But now f| you'incntion it 1 don't know but ho is." " " You are right, Colonel, I am," I re- | sponded promptly. "At least, I have 9 been. Put I am thinking of turning f over a new leaf." 1 looked up quite involuntarily and ' caught Dorothy *s eye. Her face was a flushed with the loveliest colour as her glance fell again to the book she was pretending to read. The colonel saw nothing, but Marjory noted the little exhibition in wireless telegraphy, and interpreted.it aright. I went to the piano and began to play some fragment of Mendelssohn, ami prcsiitly Marjory and Dorothy came nearer and stood watching my fingers. "How well you play," said the latter. '' I wish I could—as well as that. It is like old times to have good music. It reminds me of " ; There was a miniature crash, and we found that the old colonel had falleu asleep, and had overturned the little i i table by his side, spilling a good half- | ■ gla;-s of whiskey. At least he said he had fallen asleep, but I had seen the • whole curious incident in a little mir- : ror which hung on the wall just above < the piano. As Marjory had uttered the words, "It is like old times to have good music; it reminds me of " the old man had looked up with an angry glare that was almost ferocious, and had deliberately knocked over the table with his foot. "The piano is out of tune," he said harshly. "It makes my head ache. And, besides, I hate music. Come and have a hand at whist." A little later that evening Marjory and I were seated alone waiting for the supper gong. "I am sorry I started playing the piano," I began tentatively. "It seemed to upset your " "Yes," Bhe replied.. "Have you seen 'Hilder's Magazine' "this month. The new number has just come in. Tt has one of your stories in." The intention to change the topic of conversation was so evident aud so open that I could only acquiesce. But it left mo wondering, nevertheless. As wo rose together to leave ' the room in answer to the riotous .summons of the gong, Marjory laid a detaining hand on my arm. "Is it true?" she whispered. •-. I suppose I looked my ignorance of her meaning. "Is it true that you and Dorothy —" Was it true? Could it be true without treachery to Marple Dunthorne? "Perhaps," I replied vaguely; "that is, if there is no one else." "There is nobody else," she _ said, opening hor eves a little at the su<? gestion |{i.t ■ I was not so dure of that. I Unew something about Dorothy of which even her sister wa* s ignorant. ' That night J. «at for hours by the ■ 1 window of my bedroom, thinking deso- " ly. but gaining nothing by my thought. ( l' was hitting info — nay, I had j drifted into love. And yet, if my susnicions were correct, Dorothy Sped- j lowe was. unworthy an honest love.