Our Novelettes. HUBERT BERESFORD'S TREACHERY.

Western Star, Issue 977, 29 August 1885, Page 1 (Supplement)

Our Novelettes. HUBERT BERESFORD'S TREACHERY.

Chaptke IV.

Jack's arm went round her—the one that hold the terrible carving-knife and thus they waited in the death-like silence. Poor Maggie's heart almost ceased to beat. A door creaked a long way off in the still house, and Bhe trembled. Jack pressed her closer to him, and kissed her cold forehead. At that moment the cry of the magpie was heard again, but this time nearer the hou e and more subdued. Soon after the shadow of a man's head appeared on the floor. They drew their breath more quickly—the shadow disappeared. There were whispers outside, and then there was a slight push, as of a man's shoulder, against the door. Then came a pause—an awful panse—and then the blow of the butt-end of a blunderbuss against the door-panel. Maggie almost shrieked; Jack made a spring to got to his feet, but he was arrested by the sound of a subdued but angry voice outside. . . "Notyet—not yet!" it said with an oath. Jack and Maggie stared at each other in wild amazement, for the voice was that of their cousin Hubert. "Go round to the back, one of you," it continued, " and see if there is a light in the old fox's bed-room—the second window over the back entcanee. Quick 1" " Is there, a light in your father's room ?'-. Jack asked,' hurriedly. " Teß," Maggie whispered. "Go and put it out, Maggie. Stoop low before the window. Be quick back again."

Maggie vanished noiselessly. In a minute she returned and in silence crept to her former place. After a little while they heard the man returning. . <■' There is no light there," he said. "Go to the stables then," said Hubert's voiee, " and to the coach-house, and see if the pair of grays and the carriage are there." There was a pause, dur'.ng which the moon was clouded, and the two got on to their knees, with their cars near to the window to listen. In the darkness they heard the man come come back and say—- " The carriage is not there, nor the grays, but there is a bull's eye alight in the coachhouse, and two stalls are laid out ready in the stable." ',-_■,, " Theu he hasn't oomeback," said Hubert 3 " but he is on the road. So much the better. We will wait till dawn for him." i "And then?" some one asked. But. Hubert made no answer that they could hear, and the one that asked the question went on, " And then we'll fire the house! "Come with me, captain," Hubert's voice said. Bring a few men with you and we'll watch the drive j the rest of you keep watch about the house. Stab anyone that attempts to get in or out; but no firing, mind—no alarm, if possible. When you hear shots in our direction " And then fo'lowei other orders which Jack and Maggu could not hear, for the, speakers were away. The two listeners were silent for a few moments, and in that terrible interval the rude picture on the envelope—a man lying on his face, dead, with four women weeping over him—rose up before poor Maggie. She.sank low upon her knees, covering her face with her hands. "Oh, Heaven," she murmured, in her despair, "he will fall into their hands! Is there no way of escape for him ?" Jack sprang to his feet, and took one of her hands.

" Come," he whispered. She stood up, and he led her into the dining-room. " Where are you going ?" [she whispered, .eyes to see his face in the darkness. "To meet your father and save him if I can. You are safe for the present at least." " Oh, my darling," she said, in her agony, *■ they will kill you!" "Hush! What is below the window of your painting-room?" A flower-bed."

- Come—lead the way then." "With a heavy and foreboding heait she obeyed, and they stole up the great creaking staircase in the darkness, she leading him by the hand. On the landing her foot touched something, and she started baok. " Ob, oh!" cried a voice. Spare me—mercy!" The voice was that of one of the female servauts. "Silence! All right \" Jaok said, and they stole on, There waß no light, fortunately, in the little painting-room. Lucy had removed it when in search of the revolvers. Jaok groped across the room and opened the oasement noiselessly with Maggie's help. It was pitchdark outside. He put out his head and listened. The rain was dripping from the leaves as they rustled in the light wind. An owl flapped lazily by, and a bat was whirring about in the darkness, but there was not another sonnd. |Not a whisper came from the wood to tell of human presence there. Jack turned into the room again, put his arms rouud Mageie's neck, and kissed her cold lips in silence. "The next moment ho was hanging in mid*air, grasping with one hand the single bar that ran across outside the window, and in the osher the revolver and carving-knife. " Heaven guard you, my own brave love!" was all Maggie could say, as he vanished into the darkness. She heard the thud. of his feet into the soft earth below, and she leaned forward, peering into the darkness with straining eyes. , "Who's that?" said the Voice of a nan who came rushing round the corner of the house. There was no answer. Who's that P" it repeated, louder, " Answer, or I fire !" " Whist; you boBthoon!" rebuked Jack, in a low voice aud in his best brogue. Do you want to have us all murthered alive ? Can't you see 'twas only me that was taking a peep ?" The man's footsteps were heard retreating around the corner of the house, and Jack Bprang away on tip'toe through tall grass of the wood. Maggie was at the open window still, watching, listening, praying* with a beating heart Suddenly the traitorous moon shone out and through the trees she caught a glimpse of Jack running along by the low wall between the wood and the meadow that lay beyond. He stooped quickly into the sdadow of the wall, running along still. But it was too late. A laurel-tree he had just paesud shook violently. A man crept from behind it aud ran along by the wall after him, crouching in ita shadow too. Maggie gasped for breath—there was a straining at her heart. She tried to shriek, but could not. Suddenly the man sprang forward; Jack rose at the same moment and met him. There was a struggle for a moment, a fuint cry for help, then something glittered for an instant in the moonlight and one of the two fell, and Maggie, with a shriek, fell back iainting into the room.

Chapter V., and Last. The sudden bnvst of moonlight however which acted in*such a reprehensible manner in mealing Jack to his lurking enemy acted in a most commendable manner at about the same time two or three miles away on the high road to Limerick j for it there and then

revealed to the coachman of Mr Beresford that the person who had been sitting on the bGx-seiit beside him a few moments bi fore — no less a person than Mr Beresford's French valet—had just slipped off the seat, and was lying ia a helpless condition on the road a couple of hundred yards behind. The expression on the coachman's, face was at first very serious as ho pulled up his horses, muttering—" Oh, powers above, if the poor Frencher isn't dead now or niver!" Then the expression became decidedly comical, for the person who had just come to grief had been protesting on the way home that he was not drunk, and that ho would drink " te viskoy against any man in ze country." Mr Boresford, roused from his nap, put his head out of the window, and shouted —

. "Hallo! What are you stopping for? "What's up indeed!" muttered the coachman, half to himself, descending leisurely fi;om the box. " What's clown, ye mane, sir. Shure if tisn't that French varmint (hit's been fallin' off the sate the whole night, a->'s lyin' above there now all of a heap, curled up like a salmon that's goin' to jump !"l " Put him up again," 6a!d Mr Beresford' in a gruff voice, though evidently amused- " You've been making him drink, Pat, I seeDon't talk now, but put him up and get on.'' Then Mr Beresford pulled up the window of his carriage, settled himself qiiofcly into the comfortable cushions, and was soon dozing again. , , • When the coachman discovered that the poor Frenchman had received no hurt, he indulged in his merriment without restraint. Putting his hands to his sides, he appeared for a time to be suffering from some fit of an extremely painful kind, while the Frenchman, seated quietly iu the mud, looked at him in silent wonder. " Be jabers," said Pat, when at last he had got his voice, " but ye'd frighten the horses of the headless coach itself if they were apassin' just now! Och, if the new coat isn't spoilt entirely ! Shure'n' 'twill take the thrashin' machine to knock the mud out of it to-morrow 1" There was another fit, and another long gaze of silent wonder. " Get up," cried Pat at length— • get up, ye varmint, or the sightof you will drive away the poor sowls that's doin' their penance in the churchyard yonder!" Here there was a feeble attempt at a protest from the Frenchman. " Get up, I tell ye," Pat continued—- " get up, and never get drunk again, or I'll get Father Murphy to exorcise ye from the altar. Come along, and don't before the horses' heads, or they'll run away." And the Frenchman, vainly endeavouring to strike an attitude and look dignified, was pushed along and deposited safely on the boxseat again. Then the horses set off at a quick trot down the hill.' It was fated, however, that they were to, meet with .another check, and that the .Frenchman w.as.tohaye yet another descent. At the foot of the hill was a sharp turnipg "round the angle of a high wall. As the carriage went quickly round this, a man jumped suddenly through the bushes at one side of the road, seized the reins of both horsej, and threw them back with a jerk on their hauuehes. and this time very nimbly, the Frenchman slipped from his seat to the ground. ' The oiach'man, however, whether from superior' bravery or the difficulty of running away, 'remained in his position, and quietly put his hand under the seat, whence he drew a long duelling pistol. This he amed at the man who still held the reins nf the panting horses. The function of this pistol was purely ornamental, as it was unluaded, but Pat, though knowing this, aimed it with a bloodthirsty determination, shouting—- " Let go them reins, iny man, or your blood be on your own head!" " Pat, you fool, don't you know me P Be silent for your life 1" • .' '• Powers alive," exclaimed Pat, throwing the pistol under the seat with a recklessness that revealed his knowledge of its utter harmleasness, "if it ain't Master Jack!" "Jack, Jack," cried Mr Beresford, in an angry voice, as his nephew approached the carriage-window, " what the misohief brings you here at such an hour P You. may thank your stars that 1 hadn't my revolver, or I should have shot you for a highwayman. Good Heaven, boy," he went on, observing his nephew's pale, anxious face more closely, "is anything the matter P" " Come out of tne carriage as quckly as you can, uncle," requested Jack, openiug the door. " Something is the matter." " What do you mean ?" said Mr Beresford, quickly, without stirring. "There is no time for many questions," Jack answered, hurriedly—" every moment precious. This is all you nesd know at' present—your house is surrounded hy the ftibbomnen. If you want to Bave yourself and your family, do as I tell you." " tf-ood Heaven, are you a madman-?.}' cried his uuole, his old face lighted up with a terrible fire. "You tell me my house i* sur. rounded, and stop me here on the highway 1 Drive on—drive on, will you 1" he shouted to the coachman. "Stop!" Jack, called, in a subdued, earnest Ha'tig it, sir, can't you see that you are driving to certain death, and, what is more, destroying all ohance of rescuing your family?" , „■ 1 " I know this, that those fiends may be at this moment battering in my doors or setting fire to the house." "There is no fear of that," Jaok answered —"they are waiting for you. jThey-know you haven't returned, as the grays are not in, nor the carriage. They will wait for you till dawn, and then they will fire the house." " How do you know all this ?" his uncle asked.

"Prom their own lips. I was listening within your own door an hour ago when they were talking outside." In silent wonder the old man looked at his nephew for one brief moment. Perhaps something in the young man's earnest face decided him, for he stood up immediately, got out on the road, and said — " I will be led by you, Jaok. Now what are you going to do ? " There is some time yet till dawn," Jack answered, glancing at the moon. *• You stay here with these two. Here's my revolver. I will tuke the carriage, drive to the next police barrack, and bring back what help I can. Then we must trust to Providence."

He had jumped on to the coachman's seat, taken the reins in his hand, and was now trotting back up the hill. Once over the brow of it, the whip twined around the flanks of the spirited grays, and away they went at a gallop, clattering between thick hedges or high walls, or over the lonely, dangerous bogroads, whilst the carriage was j-.srked out of the ruts, or rattled over the stones, rumbling and whirling along through the quiet night, so that the peasants in the few cottages by the roadside rose in their beds for a momant and crossed themselves., thinking (hat they heard the " headless coach," and that Death was going his rounds. And all the time, Mr Berostord was waiting by the roadside. He Btood erect in the shadow of one of his own oaks and watched with eyes that never wandered the house where all he loved on earth lay at the mercy of men that hated him with the savageness of a hutred stored up for years. What were his thoughts on th it quiet summer night? Was he thinking of the wretched ones whom he had made homeless —poor good-for-nothing wanderers ? Did his ears oatoh fully now their curses as they stood

by tho roadside looking towards "the homes tho.y dared ,uoteiifc.r a»aiu ? He alone knew. He was, an old, man. now. His hair was while, and, though' there was a certain fresh' ni»i?s inhiV face, one'could 'seo that for hini tho best part of life had', long' sinoe passed into inemnry., In the fixed look and attitude there were, no \ signs' of personal fear, but within his breast there, was ..evidently'self--questioning as to the : causo ..of the present clanger to those dear to iairnl It was a long and weary waiting. ' '. ' " Will he never como ? Oh will he never' come ?" he thought, often and often, as'fche' slow minutes dragged on and yet no sound was heard. The moon had now.set, and the woods, the still Holds,' tile sleeping cattle, the house and its silent watchers were shrouded in darkness, Once Mr Beresford stinted and whispered to his coachman, with something of terror in his voice—

',*' Is that not a light there moving through the trees beside'the house?"

"No, sir," ho answered, "bless you, that's a will-o'-the-wisp in the bo2!" At I'ist the coachman, who had been listening with his ear close to the ground, lifted his head suddenly, and said, " They're comin'— and precious quickly. I'd know the tramp of the j>r its anywhere. They must be at this side of the tarnpike now." ■ Mr Beresford s'ooped to listen, but could hear nothing. Sooni however, the clatter and rumble of a pair of horses and a carriage were heard in the distance.. Nearer and nearer drew the sounds. At iast the horses reached the brow of the hill, and then the pace was. slackened lest their approach should be heard in the, wood. The next moment the grays cam? at a, trot round' the corner.where MY Beresford and his teryant were waiting..

" Where are you ?" said Jack's voice, as the horses were pulled up. , ~ ~; , •'• " Here," replied his uncle, from the darkness. ...'.. "Get up then," " said Jack. ( ;".Quick! Here, beside me." Mr Beresford soielfc, though he could not see, tho hot steam of his beautiful grays as he mounted the box. The carriage was full of men; several were huddled together about tho box and on the roof.

"How many have you gotP" he asked, as they drove slowly on. ~ , v « " Twelve," said Jack ; •' out that's enough. Two brave fellows Had to run the whole way, holding on behind. Be ready with your revolver, uncle," he added, .taking one that he had | procured for himself in his hand with the reins. So they went on till they came to Liscarra j'.ate; then. Jack pulled up the.horses. "Now get down,'every■ one," he'said in a whisper. They did so; ' Then Jack said, still silting on the box with, the reins in hi* hands, "I shall go slowly up the drive with the carriage; that will draw them out, I.think. 'Follow me a little way behind, and be ready for my whistle." ,-, '' • '•' 'When they'CameHo the gate, thore was a pause ; no one wished to'run the risk of being, the first, to; be.shpt* But Mr Beresford came forward and un'oosed the chain;; the gates swung open with a squeak, and the 'carriage entered. Jack immediately, guided the horses oh to the grass b'eside the drive, in order to conceal their approach ;, his uncle' and the others followed a few hundred yards behind, stealthily, aud with rill's Ut t f ull- - cook ; The carriage-drive was half a mile' in length, aud approached the house by a wid* sweep j on either side, at a distance of about thirty yards, were r.nvs of tall chestnuts. As Jack drove slowly along his eyes scanned the dark shadow of these, and his ears were intent for the slightest sound. Every moment he expected to see a from a pistol or blunderbuss, and to hear the whirr of a buliet or the rush of terrible slugs j but he saw nothing but the black outlines of the chestnuts—not a sound was there but that of the light wind passing over the land like a sigh at the approach of dawn. He shuddered, for the silence had something terrible aud oppressive in it He began to fear that they should be too late, and his fancy played strange tricks with him, showing him black clouds of smoke rising up in the direction of the house. But soon a light flickered through the opening of the chestnuts—a small solitary light, showing where the house stood awaiting its doom.

Not far from the front entrance, beside the carriage- drive, three or four weeping-willows grew together, with bra-iohes reaching down to the ground. Jack knew of these, and had thought of them all along as a likely hidingplace. As he drew near them his heart beat faster, as, with the reins in one hand and the revolver in the other, he sat leaning forward peering into the darkness* to catch a glimpse of them. As last be was near enough to see them, Not a leaf stirred, not a' s6udd from them. One of the grays however, jerking up her head, .gwe, a quick frightened snort. It was answered by a neigh from be T hind the willows.' In au insta-itjthe branches stir-rSfd..; and the ory of a magpie was heard froui'taree or four places at once. " Now for it I'' thought Jack, as he turned the grays on to the drive, and, putting his fingers to his lips, lie gave a shrill whistle. With the loose reins he lashei on the grays. As they passed the willows at a gallop they came against something placsd aoross their path. With a plunge and a,jerk that smashed the oarriage pole like a reed, they tumbled over it, and Jack was thrown violently from his seat in between them* • As he struggled to extricate himself the branches of the willows parted, there was a fashing of- the lights in the dark' ness, five shots rang out into the quiet night, and the carriage-panels ■ were smashed to atoms. Then followed a scene of mad confusion. Three wild shrieks came from the house; torches blazed' out in twenty places in a moment—there were cries and curses ani shouts.

"Have you got him P" ," Is he dead P" " Break open the carriage l" " Finish him I" "Fire the house!" In the blaae of the torches, could be seen the fierce faces of men rushing from all directions towards the Oiiriage. \ Presently the voice of Mr Beresford was heard shouting—- " Now my lads—steadily 1 Take aim at at the rascals 1"

Twelve rifle shots rattled together, the balls whirring over Jack's head, as he lay still between the plungin; horses. Then the con* fusion increased tenfold The Ribbonmen held their ground for a faw'moments, and fired back in answer. But soon the torches were thrown a tray, aid one of those that had fired into the carriage, jumping on to a horse that stood ready saddled by the willows, shouted— . ,

"Kuu for ifc, every one of. you, into the wood, and save yours }lves!" ' "Not so quickly !" Mr Beresford shouted, rushingtpwards him, and firing his revolver. The other turned, and with a half-pike in his hand rode towards Mr Beresford. But Jack was on'his legs nowj and, s.'einij his uncle's danger, fired three barrels of his revolver at his as>uilint. The man's uplifted right arm 101 l dis bled to his side, and the weapon dropped to the ground j he turned towards Jack and tried to ride him down, but failed.' ", Curse you, whoever you tire !" he muttered, and, managing the bridle with his left hand, he rode away into the darkness, :