GOLDEN CROSS INN.

Western Star, Issue 1548, 28 March 1891, Page 1 (Supplement)

GOLDEN CROSS INN.

BY CA3ULLA.

Mfiny years ago, there lived near Manchester a wealthy old gentleman named Juiian Vernon. With him resided William Vercci), his brother's son, who was associated vith him in business. The old man, though now on the verge of three score and ten jears, was yet in the habit, as he bad b;en for nearly half a century, of riding into Manchester alone, once a year, to collect his lonts. This business usually took two oi three days for its transaction. Being of a miserly disposition, he preferred to do the errand himself rather than pay an agent, however trifling the charge may be.

Will Varnon oonstantly upbraided the old man with tho folly of the thing, telling him that it was not safe to go on such journeys alone, that he would certainly be robbed and perhaps murdered ; but it was of no use to remonstrate. Mr Vsrnon oould find no reason that was of sufficient importance to prevent him from pursuing the course which he had marked out for hiimelf, and which he meant to follow as long a 3 he oould.' ' I can do just as well as an agent', hs said. ' I have atfcendod to this business for many years, and have not tern molested yet.' ' That doesn't prove, that you may not be, uir,' said Will. ' The soundest pitcher is broken at last.'

' Tut, tut ?' testily exclaimed Mr Vernon. ' Youngsters are too wise nowadays. Don't try to dictate to your elders, boy. I oan takroare of myself, never fear.' Saoh were hi 3 parting words on the on casion of his last visit to Manchester. Or this day his nephew felt rnoro than usually anxious, and, after fretting away two days o! his uncle's absence, determined to tike shr road ia the direction of town and meet him on his return. The old man always made his headquarters at the Golden Cross ; h; would transact hia business in the daytime, and return at night to tho inn. The fourth clay he usually started to return home, and his nephew knew that on the evening of the third, if nothing should happen, he would meet him there.

He accordingly started, and arrived at the inn saf«ly, just as night was coming on. On entering, he observed t??o rough looking men seated at a side table, partaking of laroheon end a pot of beer. His firat thought was to make inq liries of the inn-keeper respecting his uncle. ' H-3 left the inn early thi3 morning,' esio tho landlord, 'saying that he bed much busi-

ness to transact during the day, but should be back shortly after sunset; ho will ba hero soon, I think. But he ia mueh too old to rido round the country in this fashion ; it is not safe.'

1 I know that, but it's no use to reason with hin!,' said Will. 'HB persists in having hie own way, and will continue the practice bo long a 3 he is able to get about. I felt uneasy about him—that is why I am here tonight.' 1 Do9S ha usually collect a large nmounfc of money V

• Yes—too much for an old man to have about him ; he is not oble to defend himself in case of attack.' The two men seated at the table here exchanged glances. ' Well, he ia foolish, that is all I can say,' caid the landlord, with an ominous shake of the head. ' I suppose he will return through Aahdene road ; that's aa safe as any in these parts, I think.' The two men arose at this point of the conversation, and after settting their score, quietly withdrew from tho inn. Do you know those fellows?' Will asked his host, when they had gone.

' No, they are strangers hereabouts,' Boni fioe returned.

'Kough.looking customers—one oi them especiilly.' 'Ye3,l noticed that.' Will said no more, but reßtlesily paced the room. Prosently he exclaimed : ' I frel strangely unxions about my uncle, Wilson. If he does not return within the hour I shall ride out in search of him.' ' Wait till the moon rises, Mr. Will,' Wilson replied. ' It's so dark you can't see your hand before your face,' In silence Will continued his roßiless walk. An hour might poaaibly have elapsed since the men had taken their departure, and the silvery moon had just sent her first ray cf light into the darkness, whan there suddenly cama from without the sound of horses' hoofs.

' That miißt bo the old gentleman 1' cried Wilson, opening the door, and gazing ous into the darkness. ' But I never knew him to ride so before; ho must be alarmed at something; why, he is coming at a fearful paoe.' The clatter of hoofs now grew louder and more distinct. Will waitel anxiously ; nearer and nearer still id csae ; in a moment the horse was visible; it approached, but was riderless!

Wuhout a word, the innkeeper summoned the groom and postboy, and with lanterns they all started in great alarm toward the Aahdene road. Will would not wait for the regt, bat galloped ahead, riding at a furious rate. Suddenly the horse came to a standstill.snuffed the air a few times, then snorted vigorously. Young Vernon gszfd anxiously along the road. Soon he decoried, a few paces in advance, a dark figure, outstretched and motionless, by the roadside. Ho at onco leaped from his horse, and, with a great fear at his heart, advanced with trembling steps toward what proved to be the dead body of his unole. It was evident that the old man had been murdered; there was every appearance oi a stra?<"le» & n( * B number of blood marks near the spot where ho lay. Hia pockets had been rifled of everything in the shape of money, and the murderers had thus far made good their escape. Suspicion at ouoe naturally fastened upon the two rough-looking men who had overbeard the imprudent conversation between Wilson aud Will Vernon, and, during the next week, Manchester, and the adjacent oountry was thoroughly well searched by detective police runners sent from other places, but all to no purpose; the perpetrators of the foul deed could not be diacovered, and after a time the exoitement wore away. Ten years passed,and the tragedy was well nigh forgotten. Will Vernon, as the only living heir, of oourse succeeded to the estates in Manchester, and, like his uncle, followed np the praatice of visiting his tenants yearly. He made it a point to stop at the Golden Cro33, aud many a time was the topic of the murder discussed by himself and the innkeeper, and speculated upon until a late hour of the night. On the occasion of which I wriie, Will Vernon had just arrived e.t the inn on hi 3 annual visit. The landlord wcb standing at his door when he droveup.and gave him a cordial greeting.

■ I've been thinking about yea ail day, Mr. Will,' he said. ' It's just- ten -years ago to. night (since the poor old uncle was mur. dered.' ' Yes,' replied Vernon, ' I remember it well; and hark ye. Wilson, I shall never rest satiafltd till hia murderers axe brought to punishment.' ' Wei), sir, they say murder will out, but [ don't know whether that raeaoa the doers won't escape—like these fell own seem to have done,'

As they talked in this strain they observed a middle-aged- man approaching from an opposite direction ; he wan dreasad ti.iibliiy, anil looked pala and ill; there was a resti-.ss look about his eyes which coul-i be noticed at a fiance by the most casual observer. He accosted the inn-keeper, and dCbired to knew if ho could be accommodated with a room, ia he intended to remain in the neighbourhood a few days.

'Certainly, tir,' said raino host. 'Here, Uootsi shew this party to a room.' With a nod the man shdll.-d away. Will, who had been regarding him intently, felt sure he had seen his face before, but where, he could not at first remember. Suddenly came light, and his face grew pale. 'What's the matter, sir ?' said Wilson, •Are you ill?' ' Oh, no ;' Will said. 'But I have an odd request to make. Can you arrange it so that ! can have the room next to this stranger !' ' It i 3 rather a strange fancy,' replied the iandloid, curieuely, ' but I think I can accommodate you,' ' Thank you,' said Will. Dj not mention :o any one. what 1 have said ; I have reasons Lor eecuey.' The strunger ordered rapper to be served tu his own room, and Wraon felt disappointed and uneasy, and when at an early aour, he went to Lis chamber, it was with no inclination to bleep. He lay on the outside A the bed, and listened intently for the faintest sound in the adjoining apartment; but everything was silent in that direction, ibout midnight Will heard a movement in she ttraneet'd room. Kiting sciily, he listened and heard a latch lilted, and then a door cautiously opened, and a man passed

Will at once sprang to a window, which overlooked the jurd, from whence he saw the man walk dewu the Aehdsne road with a spade on his shoulder.

Ve non had watched hid movements nar-io-.vlv ; now the time for action had arrived; he crept down stairs, carrying hia boots, which he speedily drew on in the open air. Ha then suited off in pursuit of the stranger, keeping as much in the shadow as possible

Occasionally the man paused and looked around him, as though he suspected some one was dogging his steps; then, as if reassured, ha moved sleukLiiy along. In this way they walked for over a mile. Suddenly the man turned to the left, and walking a little distance, paused beside a clump of bu3hefl.

Will Vernon waß not twenty rods behind him. He sat down in the shelter of a ledge, where he could safely watch tho other's movements. First he examined the ground carefully, and peered down a 9 if in search of soma coveted prize.

' Ah, I have it!' said he aloud. That is the very spot.' The nest moment he had driven the spade into the ground: he threw up a few shovelsJul of earth, his attitude one of extreme nervousness, after which he stooped, picked up something, and held it toward the moonlight. It wa« a small box, and Will knew by the dull, clinking sound that it contained money, Feeling satiefbd on that point he hurried back to the inn, where he arrived fifteen minutes before the stranger. He watched tho fellow on his return, saw him replace the spade, heard him ascend the stairs and enter hia room. Soon all was silent. Will listened awhile longer, theD, feeling satisfied that the man was asleep, groped hia way to iha landlord's room and requested him to get up immediately. In a few moments Wileon appeared rubbing his eyes, and wondering what his guest could possibly want. ' Hush !' said Will, sa he was about to speak. 'Bi cautious! As I stand before you a living man, I hava found my uncle's murderer to-night!'

The landlord w<vs greatly astonished at fchia unexpected declaration. i \yjj 0 w ho is it ?' he managed to stammer out.

Why, tha stranger,' rapliod Will,' I oan't atop to tell you about it now, for I must be off a-> quickly an postibla. Lit the post-boy be called immediately. Don't for your life mention a word of ray suspicions io any one everything depends upon secrecy ; if there is the least movement to excite suspicion the bird will have flown before my return.' Ten minutes after, Will Vernon was on the road to procure a warrant for the stranger's arrest, and next morning drove into the yard of the Golden Gross with two policemen just as the stranger was coming down !he steps. He was taken at once into custody and conveyed to prison, where he was committed fOl trisl at the next assizes. Martin Bluko, for such was tha stranger's name, continued indifferent to ail persuasions to confess his crime. Ho did not know tha nature of the testimony Will would bear. He felt sure, np to the moment of the trial that no evidence could bo brought against him sufficient io warrant his conviction.

The testimony of the inn-keeper and postboy tended in no way to alarm him; but when Vernon was called, and stated in a calm, clear voice that he had recognised the prisoner, on the night of bis arrival at the Golden Cross, as one of the men ho had seen at the inn on the very night that his uncle, Julian Vernon, was murdered, he began to show eome sign 3 of alarm; and when Will stated further that he had watohed the movements of the stranger, and afterwards followed him to the plase where the box was concealed, Blake's guilt and terror became so manifest as to convince people of his guilt; the? oould have no doubt now of his participation in the crime. Suftlco it to say that the jury, after a brief deliberation, returned a verdict of guilty, and Blake was sentenced to be hanged on the very spot where ho had buried a small portion of the stolen money, the attempted recovery of which had caused his arrest and conviction.

When the murderer found that there was uc- longer any hops for him, he made, a full confession, but refused to betray Li 3 comp!>n:.cn in crime, who, ho claimed, bad long a"ii repuiited a?id turned over a new leaf. Even th* moat hardened criminals ais not without B'.'Uio virtue; Will respected this man's fi itl'tiy, and umde no further inquiries, satisfied that justice had overtaken the principal iff.wler, and that his uncle's murder was at last avenged,