THE CHILDERBRIDGE MYSTERY

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVIII, Issue XII, 22 March 1902, Page 530

THE CHILDERBRIDGE MYSTERY

By

Guy Boothby.

SYNOPSIS of INSTALMENTS I.to VIII. —William Standerton. n 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 n “swagman” who tells him to inform his father that Richard Murbridge wil: meet him in the morning. When Jim delivers the message, his father seems greatly agitated, 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. Cbilderbridge 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 Bursfleld. The two young people in time fall in love with one another, but Mr Bursfleld 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. At the inquest a verdict of “murder” is returned against a person or nersons unknown. Jim takes Helen Decie back to the Dower House, and is met by Mr Bursfleld. who angrily forbids any more communication between the two and refuses to state his reasons. Helen writes Jim that whilst she sorrowfully acquiesces, she will be true to him to the end. As Scotland Yard fails to unearth William Standertons murderer. his son essays the task aided by Terence O’Riley, a former servant, who opportunely turns up from Australia. The two discover several clues, but these prove fruitless. At last Scotland Yard reports that Murbridge has sailed for Madeira. The same evening Jim's hansom nearly knocks a man down In Piccadilly — and that man happens to bo none other than Murbridge. Unaided. Jim darts off in pursuit, but without success, and he has again to call in the detectives’ aid Ho returns to Cliildorbridge. In search of n photo of Murbridge, and moots Helen, wlv gives n strange report of be grandfather. Jim finds the photo and sees the Black Dwarf. CHAPTER IX. IliiHteiiing round the gallery of the Hall. Jim endeavoured to discover some trace of the mysterious visitor, spectre or human, whom he had seen. The corridor, however, leading to the oldest and western portion of the house, was quite empty, bike the remainder of the building it was panelled with dark oak. some portion of it. being curiously. I hough richly carved. He searched it up and down, stopping every now and then to listen, hut save for the wind sighing round the house, ami an occasional burst of laughter ascending from the servants' hall, he

could hear nothing. At the end of the passage a flight of stone steps led to the domestic offices below. These he descended, and having reached the servants’ hall, called Wilkins. the butler, to him. When the latter emerged. Jim led him a short distance down the passage before he spoke. “Wilkins,” he said, “do you remember the night when you thought you saw the P>lack Dwarf on the landing?” “I shall never vorget it, sir.” the other replied. “I can’t go along that corridor now without a shudder. What about it, sir?” “Only that I have just seen the figure myself.” James replied. ”1 had been up to the lumber room, and was descending the stairs when I saw it pass along the further side or the gallery, in the direction of the west corridor. Now. Wilkins. T have come down to find out whether’ you would be afraid to come upstairs with me in order that we may discover whether we can come to any understanding of the mystery?” “Yes, sir. of course I will come with you,” said Ivakins. “At the same time I am not going to say that I am not afraid, for it would not be the truth. However, sir, 1 am not going to let you go alone.” “Come along then,” said Jim. “and bring a candle with you. ' Wilkins did as he was ordered, and having procured a candle, they ascended to the floor above. As they reached the corridor Jim turned and caught a glimpse of his companion’s face. It looked very white and frightened in the sickly candle light. “Cheer up. my man, said he, "if it’s a ghost ii won't hurt you, and it it's a human being we should be more than a match for him.” As he said this he opened the door of the first room on the corridor. It was empty and quite devoid ot either the natural or the supernatural. “Nothing lu re.” said Jim, as they passed out. into the passage, and into the adjoining room. This was used as a sewing room for the female servants, sind was furnished with a long table and half a dozen chairs. They explored it thoroughly, and having done so, voted it above suspicion. The next room was a bedroom, and had only been used once since the Standertons had eonie into possession of the house. The walls were pai elled, ami there was a curious recess on the side opposite the door. Jim overhauled each panel, and carefully examined both recesses, but without discovering

anything suspicious. Thus they proceeded from room to room, searching every nook and cranny, and endeavouring in every possible way to account for the creaking noise which at first attracted Jim’s attention. The carving of the corridor itself was carefully examined, every panel ot the wainscotino- was tested, until at last, having reached the gallery ot the hall, they were compelled to own themselves beaten. The fact that they had not been able to discover anything only aoded to Wilkins’ belief in the supernatural agency ot the Dwarf. Jim, however, had the recollection of that creaking hinge, before mentioned, continually before him. There might be ghostly bodies, he argued, but he had never heard of ghostly hinges. “Well, it doesn’t appear as if we are destined to capture him tonight,” said Jim, when they had finished their labours. “Now, one word of advice: just keep the faet of his appearance to yourself, Wilkins. If the maidservants come to hear of it we shall have no end of trouble.” Wilkins promised that he would say nothing about it, and then returned to the servants’ hall, leaving Jim standing on the gallery ruminating on the behaviour of the figure he had seen. “One thing is quite certain, and that is the faet that he disappeared in the corridor,” he said to himself, reflecting!}'. “Now 1 wonder where he came from?” The only room on that side of the Gallery then in use was Alice’s bedroom. and io this Jim forthwith made his way. It was a strange scene that met his eyes when he opened the door. As he had good reason to know, Alice was always a most methodical and neat young lady; now everything was in confusion. The drawers of the dressing table stood open and their contents were strewn upon the table and the floor. The writing table in the further corner of the room was in much the same condition, while the wardrobe doors were open, and the dresses, which

usually hung upon the pegs, were piled in a heap upon the floor.

“Good gracious! what on earth does this mean?” said Jim to himself as he gazed upon the scene of confusion. “Has Alice gone mad, or has the Black Dwarf been trying to see how untidy he can make the place? She must not see it in this condition or it may frighten her.” Thereupon he placed the candle upon the table and did his best to reduce the room to something like order. His task as last accomplished, he went downstairs to the drawingroom, where he found his sister seated beside the fire reading. “You have been a long time upstairs,” she remarked. “I hope you found what you wanted?” For a moment Jim had forgotten the important discovery he had made. In reply he withdrew the photograph from his pocket and handed it to her. She took it with what was almost a shudder. Somewhat to Jim’s surprise, she made no comment upon it. He replaced it in his pocket, also without a word, and then stood before the fire, wondering how he should tell her of the other matter he had discovered. He did not want to frighten her, yet he did not quite see how he was to make her understand the importance of the. communication without doing so. “Alice/’ he said at last, “do you make a point of locking your bedroom door at night?” “No,” she replied, “why should I?” “I can’t exactly say why you should,” he answered, “but I want you to do so for the future. This is a big, lonely house, ami we have to remember that you and I are the only two folk on this side. 1 wish my room were nearer yours, but as it is not I think it would he safer if yon were to loek your door.” “But what makes you say this tonight?” she asked. “What is it, or who is it, you suspect?” “I suspect nobody." he replied. “You must not think tba*. But there are such people as Imrg'ars, and it would only be an ordinarv act of com-

mon sense to make yourself safe while you are permitted the opportunity. Ever since that terrible night I have been nervous about you, and for that reason I have decided upon something which at first you may think strange.” “What is it?” she enquired. “For the future,” he answered, “I intend that Terence shall sleep in the room next to that which was our poor father’s. Then, if anyone makes trouble, and help wert needed, we should have a sure ally within call.” “But I hope no one will ever attempt to make trouble, as you describe it,” she replied, looking at him with startled eyes as she spoke. “I also sincerely hope not,” he continued. “Now I am going to see Terence about the matter.”

He thereupon left her and went to his study,- and rang the bell. On the butler making his appearance he instructed him to bring O’Riley to him at once. A few minutes later Terence made his appearance. “Wilkins had better remain, too,” said Jim. “Just close the door behind you, in case anyone should chance to overhear us. This is what I have to say to you. Doubtless, Terence, since you have been in the neighbourhood, you have heard certain stories connecteo with this house. I suppose you have been told that it has the reputation of being haunted.” “Lor’ bless you, sir,” said Terence, “I’ve heard all sorts of yarns about it. There’s folk down in the township yonder as would no more think of coming up here after dark than they would of lying down in front of the train and having their heads cuts off.” “You’re not a believer in ghosts, T suppose.” “Not as I knows on.” said Terence candily. “Though T don’t mind saying as how there are things as have never been explained to my satisfaction. Twas said, as you may remember, sir. as how there was a ghost of an old man to be seen some nights in the year, waiting to get over at the Thirty Mile Crossing up the river. Then there was the ghost outside Sydney that used to sit on the fence beside the road and ask everybody who would listen to him to have him properly buried.”

James knew that the man before him was as brave as a lion. He was the possessor of nerves of iron, and did not know the meaning of the word fear. “Well,” he went on after a moment’s pause, “the long and the short of the matter is, Terence, some little time ago a maid servant saw what she thought to be the ghost of the Little Black Dwarf up in the gallery outside. Wilkins here was the next to see it. I thought at the time he must have been mistaken, but this evening I know that he was not, for T have seen it myself.” “Yon don’t mean that, sir?” said Terence, while Wilkins plainly showed the triumph he felt. “And what may he have been like, sir?” "I had not time to see that,” Jim answered. “He disappeared into the western corridor almost as soon as I caught sight of him. At the same time I heard the sound of a creaking hinge. What would you think of that?” “I should say that it was no ghost, sir.” said Terence. “I’ve been told that this old house is full of secret passages, and, if you ask me, I should say it was somebody playing a game with you.” Wilkins stared disdainfully at him. He was quite convinced in his own mind of the supernatural nature of the mysterious visitor. “I am inclined to agree with yon. Terence,” Jim replied. “The more so as, since I parted with yon. Wilkins, I have made a curious discovery. At what time was Miss Alice’s room made tidy?” “While you were at dinner, sir. according to custom.” replied the butler. “I saw the maid coming out just as I left the dining-room, and she would not be likely to leave it —-” “To leave it in an untidy state.” said Jim. “Of course, she would not. sir.” the other replied. “She would hear of

it from the housekeeper if she did. No, she’s a nice, steady girl, sir, and I’m told she does her work to the best of her ability.” “Well, it seems curious that when I entered the room after you had left me, I found it in a state of the wildest confusion. The contents of the drawers of the dressing-table were lying scattered upon the floor, as were the dresses in the wardrobe. Now. I feel quite certain in my own mind that the figure I saw came from the direction of my sister’s bedroom. T am equally sure of one thing, and that is that it is no ghost.” and he added this with a smile, “no respectable ghost, of course, would dream of playing such tricks with a lady’s wearing apparel.” “Then, sir, whom do you suspect?” Wilkins enquired. “I can assure you that none of the staff would dare to take such a liberty.” “I am quite sure of that,” Jim replied. “Yet the fact remains that somebody must be, and is responsible for it. Now. what I intend to do is to lay myself out to capture that somebody, and to make an example of him when I have got uim. For that reason. Terence. I am going to ask you to sleep in the house, in the room next to that occupied bv Miss Alice. It will go hard. then. if. between us. we cannot lay our hands upon the gentleman, whoever he may be, who is playing these tricks upon us.” Terence willingly agreed to the proposal, and occupied the room in question. His watchfulness availed him nothing, however, for no further sign of the Black Dwarf was seen that night. Next morning Robins received the photograph of Murbridge. and from that moment Jim awaited news from him in a fever of expectation. Dav after day, however, went by. and still no good news came to reward his patience. The only consolation he derived was from sundry mysterious interviews which he had with Helen in a wooded corner of the Park. With the cunning of lovers they had arranged a plan of meeting, and those little tete-a-tetes were to Jim as the breath of life. No sooner was one at an end than he hungered for the next, But he was destined ere long to receive a fright, such as he had never received in his life before. Winter, as T have said, was fast approaching, and the afternoons drew in quickly. When he reached the rendezvous on this occasion it was nearlv 5 o’clock, and almost dark. Helen had arrived there before him. and he discovered her pacing up and down the little glade, in what was plainly an agitated frame of mind. “Oh. I am so thankful that you have come, Jim dear,” she. said, as she came forward to greet him. “I have been counting the minutes until I should see you.” “Why,- what on earth is the matter?” he asked, placing his arm round her waist and drawing her to him. “You are excited about something. Tell me, dear, what it is.” “Something so dreadful that it.has upset me terribly.” she answered. 1 scarcely know how to tell you. He led her towards a fallen tree upon which they had often seated themselves on previous occasions. “Now, tell me evervthmg from the beginning to the end,” he said She looked about over her shoulder in a frightened way. Then she began almost in a whisper: “Jim, what T have to say to you concerns mv grandfather. I can only say that T am very much frightened about him.” “Why what has the old gentleman done?” Jim asked. “I hope he has not been making himself disagreeable to you again on my account, If so. T think I shall have to call upon him-” , “Hush, hush.” she said. do not speak so loud, you do not know who may he listening.” “T will be all discretion, dear, now go on!” “Well. T must tell you that, this afternoon. T was playing the piano in the drawing-room, when a message was brought- to me that mv grandfather desired to see me in his study at once. I went to him there, to find him seated at his desk as usual, at work upon his hook, the History of the County, you know. He signed to me to be seated by the fire.

and when I had done so resumed his writing, not putting down his pen until I had been some minutes in the room. Then he looked at me with a very thoughtful face, in which 1 thought I could detect an expression that I had never seen there before. His manner was so strange, and so utterly unlike himself, that I did not know what to think. Then he took off his spectacles, and laid them on the desk before him. ‘So you are still in correspondence with Mr Standerton. Miss, I understand.’ he said. Then, before I could answer him. he continued: 'and I hear that you have secret meetings with him in the Park. Is this so?’ I was forced to admit that it was, and went on to say that as we were betrothed I could see no harm in it.” “And what did he say to that?” “He rose from his chair and paced the room for a few minutes without speaking. Then at last he re-seated himself. As he did so he said: ‘You are not engaged, and you know it as well as I do. Never let me hear you say such a thing again.’ Then, leaving his chair, he began to pace the room once more, and finally hurled at me such a torrent of abuse that I was almost stupefied by it. He accus'd me of the most outrageous things, until I could bear it no longer, and rose to leave the room. By this time, as you may suppose, I had come to the conclusion that the life of retirement he had lived for so long had turned his brain. No man could have said the things he did without his mind being a little affected.” “My darling, this is more serious than you suppose,” said Jim anxiously. “But you have not beard the worsl yet. It appears that before I had entered the room he had drawn up a document which he now desired me to sign. It was to the effect that. 1 would bind myself never to speak to you or see you again, and contained my promise that I would abandon all thought of ever becoming your wife. ‘Sign that.’ he said, ‘or the consequences will be more terrible than you suppose. I am an old man, bn I remember even old men can be dangerous at times.’ With that he handed me a pen, but 1 refused to take it.” “And then?” “I cannot tell yon how he looked at me as I said it. I could never have believed that his face could have undergone such a change. But I still refused to sign the document, and at last he discovered that it was impossible to force me to do so. ‘Very well,’ he said, ‘since you refuse, the consequences be upon your own head.' Then, opening the door, he bade me leave him. You can imagine for yourself how thankful I was to do so.”

“And then you came on here,” said Jim. “You were most prudent, dear. He may try to revenge himself upon you when you return to the house.” “I don’t think he will hurt me.” she replied. “I am only afraid for you.” “There is no need for fear on my account.” Jim answered, with a short laugh. “I do not think it is possible for him to do me any harm. But the idea that you are shut up in a house with a madman, for a madman he surely must be, frightens me beyond all measure. You must sec for yourself that you have no longer any reason to remain with him. He ha« threatened you, and-' that will be sufficient cause for you to leave him.” “No. no.” she answered. shaking her head. “If he is losing his reason, he should not be blamed, and it is all the more necessary for his comfort that I should remain with him. I feel sure I shall be quite safe. He is angry with me at present, but he will '•alm down. It is above all necessary, however, that you should not come near him. It will only irritate and make him more excited than before. Think bow good he has been to me. dear, for the past eight years, and try not to be angry with him.” “But. I am not angry with him.” Jim replied. “I am only trying to be just. One thing is quite certain. I shall not know a moment’s peace while you are living in that house with him.” “Will it satisfy you if I give you my promise that, should he become very bad. I will at once send for you ?” “If you persist on going back there. I suppose I must be content with that.” Jim returned, but with no good grace. “And now you haff better be running in. If he finds that you are out, he might suppose that you are with me, and have another paroxysm of rage. In that case there is no knowledge what the consequences might be.” Helen accordingly bade him goodbye, and left him, running down the short path to the Dower House. Jim watched her until she had disappeared into the garden, and then turned homeward with a heavy heart. He felt that he had already enough anxiety upon his shoulders without this additional burden. He was at a loss to understand the reason of Mr Bursfield’s malignity, unless it might be accounted for by the fact that his brain had given way. When he reached his home be let himself in by a side door, and made his way to the drawingroom where lie found Alice. “How late you are.” she said. “The gong has sounded some time. You will scarcely have time to dress.”

“Then dinner must wait,” replied Jim. “Alice, I have bad news for you.” “Why, what is the matter now? she enquired. Jim thereupon proceeded to furnish her with an abstract of his interview with Helen. She heard him without a word, but it was to be easily seen how distressed she was for her friend. “My dear Jim,” she remarked, when he had finished, “this is indeed serious. What do you propose doing?” “I scarcely know what to do,” Jim answered. “The case is an extremely delicate one. The old man has taken a decided dislike to me, and it I interfere between Helen and himself it will have the effect of adding to his wrath and do more harm than good. And yet I cannot allow her to remain there, ami perhaps run a daily risk of her life.” “What does she think about it herself?” “She has an absurd notion that her duty lies in standing by Bursfield in his trouble. That of course is all very well in its way, but no one could possibly expect her to turn herself into a keeper tor a lunatic. Alice, seeing the tired look on his face, crossed the room to him, and placed her arm round his neck. “Dear old Jim,” she said, “you must not worry yourself too much about it. All will come right in the end. Helen is a girl of very marked character, and it is very probable that, under her influence, Mr Bursiield’s condition may improve. Were 1 in your place I should trust matters to her for a while. You know that she loves you, anu you may be quite sure that she will keep her promise, and let you know directly anything is very wrong. But there: what am 1 thinking about! I should have told you when you first came in that there is a telegram waiting for you. Here it is.” As she spoke she took an envelope from the mantelpiece, and handed it to him. “Who can it be from?” he asked, as he tore it open. Having withdrawn the contents, he read as follows: — “Standerton, Childerbridge Manor. Childerbridge. Murbridge found. Come at once. 13, Upper Bellington-street. Robins.' (To be Continued.)