THE CHILDERBRIDGE MYSTERY

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVIII, Issue VIII, 22 February 1902, Page 338

THE CHILDERBRIDGE MYSTERY

By

Guy Bòthby.

SYNOPSIS of INSTALMENTS I. to IV. William Standerton, a successful colonist, with his two grown up children, have decided to leave Australia and settle down in the Old Country. Just before their start, the son, Jim. is accosted by a “swagman” who tells him to inform his father that Richard Murbridge will meet him in the morning. When Jim delivers the message, his father seems greatly and although no harm comes of the meeting with Murbridge, whom Standerton acknowledges having known in previous years, both Jim and his sister are rendered very uneasy. Childerbridge Manor becomes the English home of the Standertons—an historic mansion with an army of ghosts. Jim, out driving, runs over a dog, and becomes acquainted with its mistress. Miss Decie, and her guardian, Abraham Bursiieid. The two young people in time fall in love with one another, but Mr Bursfield refuses his consent. Jim encounters Richard Murbridge in the park. He forbids him to see his father, but the latter, on hearing of it* sends for the man and they have a stormy interview. That evening a fainting servant declares she has seen a ghost, and the next morning William Standerton is found dead in bed, strangled. Suspicion fastens at once upon Murbridge, who, it is founds has left for London. “The Black Dwarf’ again appears, frightening the inmates of the Hall. CHAPTER V. The Inquest on the body of William Standerton was held next morning at the George and Dragon Inn in the village, and was attended by half the neighbourhood. The affair had naturally caused an immense sensation in all ranks of Society, and. as the Coroner observed in his opening remarks. universal sympathy was felt for the bereaved family. Wilkins, who had not altogether recovered from the fright he had received on the night before, was the first witness. He stated that he had been the first to discover the murder, and then informed the Coroner of the steps he had immediately taken. Questioned as to the visit paid to the Squire by Murbridge, he said that the latter was in a great rage when he turned away from the house, and on being asked to do so, repeated the words the latter had made use of. In conclusion. he said that he was quite certain that no door or window in the house had been left unfastened on the night in question, ard that he was equally sure that none were found either open or showing signs of having been tampered with in the morning. Jim followed next and corroborated what the butler had said. A sensation was caused when he informed the Coroner that Murbridge had threatened his father in his hearing in Australia. He described his meeting with the man in the park before dinner, and added that he had forbidden him to approach the house.

Examined by the Coroner, he was unable to say anything concerning the nature of the quarrel between the two men. The doctor was next called, and stated that he was summoned to the Manor House. He described the body, and gave it as his opinion that death was due to strangulation. Then followed the Police Officer. The landlord was the next witness, and he gave evidence to the effect that the man Murbridge had stayed at the inn, had been absent on the evening in question from eight o’clock until half-past twelve, and that he had departed for London by the first train on the following morning. The driver of the mail cart, who had seen him standing beside the stile, was next called. He was quite sure that he had made no mistake as to the man’s identity, for the reason that he had had a conversation with him at the George and Dragon inn earlier in the evening. This completing the evidence. the jury, without leaving the room, brought in a verdict of “Wilful murder against some person or persons unknown,"’ and for the time being the case was at an end. “You must not be disappointed, sir," said Robins afterwards. “It is all you possibly can expect. They could do no more on such evidence. But we’ve got our warrant for the arrest of Murbridge. and as soon as we can lay our hands upon him we may he able to advance another and most important step. I am going up to London this afternoon, and I give you my assurance I shall not waste a moment in getting upon his track.” “And you will let me knew without fail how you succeed?” "1 shall be sure to do so,” Robins replied. “In the meantime there can be no harm in my putting an advertisement in the papers offering a reward of five hundred pounds to anyone who will give such information as may lead to the discovery of the murder “It is a large sum to offer, sir. and will In* sure to bring you a lot of useless correspondence. Still, it may be of some use. ami I would suggest I hat you send it to the daily p ipers without delay." “It shall be none at once.” Jim thereupon bai.e the detect.ve good-bye, and returned to me house Io inform his sister of what had taken place at the inquest. Sne quite agreed with him on the matter >■ the reward, and an advertisement was accordingly despatched to the London newspapers together with a cheque to cover the cost of a number of insertions. Next day the mortal remains of

\\ illiam Standerton were conveyed to their last resting place in the graveyard of the little village church. After the funeral Jim drove back to the Manor House, accompanied by his father’s solicitor, wno had travelled down from London for the ceremony. He was already aware that, by his father’s death, he had become a rich man, but he had no idea how wealthy he would really be. until the will was read. When this had been done and he discovered that he was worth upwards of half a million sterling, he shook his head sadly:

“I’d give it all up willingly, every penny of it,” he answered, “to have the poor old Governor alive again. . wonder what the police are doing, it seems an extraordinary thing to me that so far they have not been a-he to obtain any clue as to the whereabouts of Murbridge. Look at this heap of letters,” he continued, pointing to a heap of correspondence lying upon the writing table, “Each oni hails from somebody who has either seen Murbridge or professes to know where lie is to be found. One knows just such a man working in a baker’s shop in Shoreditch, another has lately returned with him on board a liner from America, and on receipt of the reward win give me his present address. Al third says that he is a waiter in a popular restaurant in Oxford street ; a fourth avers that he is hiding near the docks, and intends leaving England this week. So the tale goes on, and will increase, 1 suppose, every day?' “The effect of offering so large a reward,” replied the lawyer. “My only hope is that it will not have the effect of driving the man we want cut of England, in which case the difficulty of laying hands upon him will be more than doubled. “He need not think that flight win save him. Let him go where he pleases: I will run him to earth.” Helen had spent the day at the Manor House, trying to comfort Alice in her distress. At nine o’clock

she decided to return to the Dower House and Jim determined to accompany her. They accordingly set oft together. So occupied were they by their own thoughts that for some time nether of them spoke. Jim was the first to break the silence. “Helen,” he said, “I cannot thank you sufficiently for your goodness to poor Alice during this awful time. But for you I do not know how she would have come through it.” “Poor girl?' Helen answered, “my heart aches for her.” “She was so fond of our father, James answered. “Not more than you were, dear,' Helen replied. “But you have borne your trouble so bravely—never once thinking of yourself.” The night was dark, and there was no one about, so why’ should he not have slipped his arm round her waist. “Helen,” he said. “the time has come for me to ask what our future is to be. Will you wait for Mr Bursfield’s death before you become my wife, or will you court his displeasure and trust yourself to me? You know how I love you!” “I know it,” she answered. “But I do not know what answer to give you. Do you not see how I am situated? I owe everything to my Guardian. But for his care of me I suppose 1 should now be a governess, a musicmistress. or something of that sort. He has fed me. clothed me, and loved me, after his own fashion, all these years. Would it not, therefore, seem like an act of the basest ingratitude to leave him desolate, merely to promote my own happiness?” “And does my happiness count for nothing?” asked Jim “Let us talk the matter over dispassionatelv. and see what can be done. Don't think me heartless in what I say. but you must realise yourself that Mr Bursfield is a very old man. If is fust possible, therefore, that the event we referred to a few moments ago may’ take place in the near future. Then, owing to our terrible loss, it will be impossible for me. I sunpose, to he married within the next six months. Now the

question to be decided is shall we go ou as we are doing now until, «ay, the end of six months, and then make another appeal to your guardian. It is just possible he may be more in-clined-to listen to reason then.”

"1 will do whatever you wish," she answered simply. "I fear, however, that while Mr Bursfield lives he will take no other view of the case.”

"We must hope that he will," Jim replied. “In the meantime, as long as 1 know that you are true to me and love me as 1 love you, I shall be quite happy.” "You do believe that 1 love you. don't you, Jim?" she asked, looking up at her lover in the starlight. “Of course I do,” he answered. "God knows what a lucky man I deem myself for having been permitted to win your love. I am supremely thankful for one thing, and that is the fact that my poor father learnt to know and love you before his death.” “As 1 had learnt to love him,” she replied. “Hut there, who could help doing so?” "One man at. least,” Jim replied. "Unhappily’ we have the worst of reasons for knowing that there was one person in the world who bore him a mortal hatred.” "You have heard nothing y r et from the police?” “Nothing at all,” Jim answered, shaking his head mournfully. “They have given me their most positive assurance that they’ are leaving no stone unturned to find the man, and yet. so far, they appear to have been entirely unsuccessful. If they do not soon run him down I shall take up the case myself, and see what I can de with it. And now here we are at the gate. You do not know how hard it is for me to let you go even for so short a time. With the closing of that door the light seems to go out of my life.”

“I hope and pray that you will always be able to say that.” she answered solemnly’. Then they bade each other good night, and she disappeared into the house, leaving Jim free to resume his walk. Tie had not gone many steps, however, before be heard his name called, and turning round, beheld no less a person than Mr Bursfield hurrying towards him. He waited for the old gentleman to come up. It was the first time that Jim had known him to venture beyond the limits of his own grounds. The circumstance was as puzzling as it was unusual. “Will you permit me a short conversation with you. Mr Standerton?" Bursfield began. “I recognised your voice as you bade Miss Decie goodbye. and hurried after you in the hope of catching you up.” For a moment he hoped that the old man had come after him in order to make amends, and to withdraw his decision of a few nights before This hope, however, was extinguished as soon as it was born. “Mr Standerton,” said Abraham Bursfield, “you may remember what I told you a few evenings since with regard to the proposal you did me the honour of making on behalf of my ward. Miss Decie?”

“I remember it perfectly,” Jim replied. “It is scarcely likely that I should forget.” “Since then I have given the matter careful consideration, and I may say that I have found no reason for deviating from my previous decision.” “I am sorry indeed to hear that. The more so as your ward and myself are quite convinced that our affections are such as will not change or grow weaker with time. Indeed, Mr Bursfield. I have had another idea in my mind which I fancied might possibly commend itself to you and induce you to reconsider your decision. You have already told me that Miss Decie’s presence is necessary to your happiness. As a proof of what a good girl she is I might inform you that, only a few moments since, she told me that she could not consent to leave you, for the reason that she felt that she ow’ed all she possessed to you.” “I am glad that Helen has one little spark of gratitude,” he answered. “It is a fact though you may not believe it, that she does owe everything to me. And now for this idea of yours.” “What I was going to propose is,” said Jim. “that, in six months time or so, you should permit me to marry your ward, and from that day forward should take up your residence with us.” The old man looked at him in astonishment. Then he burst into a torrent of speech. “Such a thing is not to be thought of,” he cried. “I could not consider it for a moment. It would be little short of madness. I am a recluse. I care less than nothing for such things as society; my books are my only companions. I want, and will have, no others. Besides. I could not live in that house of yours, were you to offer me all the gold in the world.” Here he grasped Jim’s arm so tightly that the young man almost winced. “I have of course heard of your father’s death,” he continued. “It is said that he was murdered. But. surely, knowing what you do, you are not going to be foolish enough to believe that?” “And why should I not do so?” Jim asked in great surprise. “I can believe nothing else, for every circumstance of the case points to murder. Good heavens, Mr Bursfield. if my father was not murdered, how did be meet his death?” The other was silent for a moment before he replied. Then he drew a step nearer, and looking up at .Tim. asked in a low voice: —

“Have you forgotten what I said to you concerning the mystery of the house? Did I not tell you that one of the former owners was found dead in bed. having met his fate in identically the same way as your father did? Does not this appear significant to you? If not. your understanding must be dull.” The new explanation of the niy-

stery was so extraordinary, that Jim did not know what to say or think about it. That his father's death had resulted from any supernatural agency, had never crossed his mind. "I fear I am not inclined to agree with you, Mr Bursfield,” he said somewhat coldly. “Even if one went so far as to believe in sueh things, the evidence given by the doctor at the inquest, would be sufficient to refute the idea.” “In that case let us drop the subject,” Bursfield answered. "My only desire was to warn you. It is rumoured in the village that ou the night of your father's death, one of your domestics was confronted by the spectre known as the Black Dwarf, and fainted in consequence. My old manservant also told me this morning that your butler had seen it on another occasion. I believe the late Lord Childerbridge also saw it, as did the individual who preceded him. One died a violent death—the other abandoned the property at once. Be warned in time. Mr Standerton. For my own part, as I have said before, though it was the home of my ancestors. I would not pass a night at Childerbridge for the wealth of all the Indies.” “In that case you must be more easily frightened than I am," Jim returned. “On the two occasions you mention, the only evidence we have to rely upon is the word of a hysterical maidservant, and the assurance of a butler, who, for all we know to the contrary, may have treated himself more liberally than usual on that particular evening, to my poor father’s whisky.” “Scoff as you will.” Bursfield returned. “but so far as you are concerned I have done my duty. I have given you warning, and if you do not eare to profit by it. that has nothing to do with me. And now to return to the matter upon which I hastened after you this evening. I refer to your proposed marriage with my wa rd.” Jim said nothing, but waited for him to continue. He had a vague feeling that what he was about to hear would mean unhappiness for himself. "I informed you the other day,” Mr Bursfield continued, “that it was impossible for me to sanction such a proposal. I regret that I am still compelled to adhere to this decision. In point of fact I feel that it is necessary for me to go even further, and to say that I must for the future ask you to refrain from addressing yourself to Miss Decie at all.” “Do you mean that you refuse me permission to see her or to speak with her?" Jim asked in amazement. “If. by seeing her. you mean holding personal intercourse with her. I must confess that you have judged the situation correctly. I am desirous of preventing Miss Decie from fal’ing into the error of believing that she will ever be your wife.” "But. my dear sir. this is a most absurd proceeding. Why should you

object to me, in this fashion? You know nothing against me, and you are aware that I love your ward. Tou admitted on the last occasion that 1 discussed the matter with you, that Miss Decie might expect little <>r nothing from you at your death. Why, therefore, in the name of common sense, are you so anxious to prevent her marrying the man she loves, and who is in a position to give her all the comfort and happiness wealth and love can bestow?” T ou have heard my decision,” the other replied quietly. “I repeat that on no consideration will I consent to a marriage between mv ward and yourself. And as I said just now I will go even further and forbid you most positively for the future either to see or to communicate with her.” Ami you will not give me your reasons for taking this extraordinary step?” I will not. That is all I have to say to you. and I have the honour to wish you a good evening.” "But I have not finished yet,” said Jim. whose anger by this time had got the better of him. “Once and for all let me tell you this, Mr Bursfield, I have already informed you that I am ’ desirous at any cost to make Miss Decie my wife. I may add now, that your tyrannical behaviour will only make me the more anxious to do so. If the young lady deems it incumbent upon her to await your consent before marrying me, I will listen to her and not force the matter; but give her up I certainly will not so long as I live.” "Beware, sir, I warn you. beware!” the other almost shrieked. "If that is all you have to say to me I will bid you good evening,” said Jim. But Bursfield did not answer; he merely turned on his heel and strode back in the direction of the Dower House. Jim stood for a moment looking after his retreating figure, and when he could no longer distinguish it. turned and made his way homewards. On reaching the Manor House he informed his sister of what had taken place between himself and Helen’s guardian. "He must be mad to treat you so." said Alice when her brother had finished. “He knows that Helen loves you; surely he cannot be so selfish as to prefer his own comfort to her happiness.” “I am afraid that is exactly what he does do." said Jim. “However. I suppose I must make allowances for him. Ohl age is apt to be selfish. Besides, we have to remember, as Helen says, that she owes much to him. I shall see what he says at the ead of six months, and then, if he is not agreeable, take the matter into my own hands." But though he spoke so calmly he was by no means at ease in his own mind. He was made much happier, however, by a note which was

brought to him as he was in the act of retiring to rest. It was in Helen’s handwriting, and he tore it open eagerly. “My own dear love,” it ran; “Mr Bursfield has just informed me of his interview with you this evening. It is needless for me to say how sorry I am that he should have spoken as he did. I cannot understand his behaviour in this matter. That something more than any thought of his own personal comfort makes him withhold his consent, I feel certain. Whatever happens, however, you know that I will be true to you - -and if I cannot be your wife, I will be wife to no other man. Your loving. Helen.” (To be continued.)