The Moor End Mystery.

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 440, 18 August 1904, Page 6

The Moor End Mystery.

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CHAPTER VL—(Continued.) i|T is a little bit achey,' she said, ■ with' a smile. ' But it's all right. My skull is so thick it would take a lot to break it, I'm sure.' , Quite so, my dear,' said I. ' But that is no reason why you should try to crack it.'

* How shockingly rude you are, Doctor!' she cried, laughing. I confess her condition puzzled me. This cheeriness was certainly not natural. Either she was acting, and acting decidedly well too, or else she was quite oblivious of the events of Thursday night. I determined to test the matter. ;

•What's this?' I said, picking up the morning paper. * Newspapers? Very-improper! I never allow my patients to read the papers without leave.'

Her expression changed instantly. * Oh, isn't it horrible!' she cried. * Have you heard ?' * Heard what?' I- asked, severely."* *Of this dreadful murder. Isn't it shocking! And poor Mr. Lott was here only the other day!' .'Pooh —pooh. My dear young lady*' I said,' you have no business to read such things- I can't allow it-' 'But I've read it,' she answered, • and am horribly fascinated by it- It is so frightful to have known anybody who is murdered, and to know the murderer too- Artcb M>- Kentland such' a nice man I thought- One would never have imagined he was such a horrid villian! I hope they'll catch Kim though.'

*I was astonished. This was no acting- The girl manifestly meant every word she said, and here she was ealmly Condemning the man who Was ruining his whole life to screen her. It quite upset me. ' What nonsense is this, my dear ?' I cried hurriedly. ' Murder ? There was no murder about it-'

'No murder?' she asked, opening her f yes wide'No, nothing of the sort,' I said, lying away like any company promoter."

* Then what do you mean, doctor ?' • Mean ? I mean suicide, of course, my dear,' I said decidedly. ' Now, no more talk of murder or suicides, please, and no more papers. We'll forget all about it-'

Then I made a most thorough and careful examination on the contusion on her temple. It was perfectly clear that the girl had no recollection of the horrible tragedy; that, in fact, there was a complete lapse of memory in regard to the events of Thursday night.

Now, I know, of course, that the somnambulist has sometimes little or no recollection of what he has done in his sleep. But it was inconceivable that Dorothy could actually have committed the crime while asleep. The faets pointed to her having gone to Lott's house tinder the influence of the idea of mesmerism suggested by Kentland, and waking up in his house she had no doubt shot him in a moment of intense fear, also suggested by Kentland's foolish talk. But had she been awake she must have remembered at least something of the affair on recovering consciousness after her fall, unless-and this was the point I had to decide—unless she sustained some injury to the head in falling.

Complete lapses of memory I knew were not uncommon in aged persons, especially in men suffering from overwork ; but in this case it was in the highest degree improbable- I could only suppose that the slight depressed fracture of the skull had occurred, and that in all probability a small spicule of bone had been forced inward • and was pressing on a certain area of the brain. This, of course, might causeat least partial oblivion in relation to a certain group af_impressbus, in which case the remedy would be to trephine- Whether such an operation would be advisable under the circumstances was another thing.

But examine as I would, no sign of fracture could I find. The blow had not been a very.severe one; indeed, in my private opinion had scarcely been

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL "AKBANGEMENT.

By Victor Waitc. Author of.'Cross Trails,' &c, &c.

sufficient even to cause insensibility. The case was a poser. Had she have been an old woman, with degenerated arteries and a weak heart, I might have set it down to apoplexy; but in a young girl of nineteen the supposition was impossible. ;., -;-■':' No, I inclined to the spicule of* bone theory; but that spicule I could not find, nor was there any paralysis, sucp. as might be expected under such cii-? cumstances- I had read, of course, 6i a species of spmi-hysterical lapse of memory occasionally found in America and abominably common in novels, but I should be hard up indeed for a diagnosis if I found myself resorting to that. I would as soon believe in the apocryphal 'brain fever' of a lady's novelette. I never was so worried over a case in my life.

'Well, Doctor,' said Dot, when I had finished my examination, 'have you found the crack in my head ?' j ' No, my dear, I can find nothing of the kind. Now tell me, do you rememben what happened before you fell?' f She thought a moment and then looked puzzled. ~.. ' No—o,' she said. «But I think I had horrible dreams.' -. ' Whafc did you dream about ?' • ' They seem all mi sty mixed up, "but-——' 'Yes?' I asked encouragingly. 'Tell me all about it. She hesitated and looked halffrightened. ' I-seem to remember——' 'Ye's?' " - 'Do you know it's horribly uncanny—l dreamt about the murder, and that was -before . it, happened, wasn't it ?' It must have been secondsight or something.' ' Second what ?' I cried- ' Nonsense, my child! You mustn't, imagine such' things-' ' ' Yes, but I did- It must have been-second-sight. I believe in secondsight, you know-'

' Believe in second-hand fiddlesticks., my dear!' I-cried, perhaps a little' irritably- ''Now stay in bed, and don't read sensational police reports, and fill your head full of fudge !' and I walked downstairs. But one thing I had discovered, that the lapse of memory was not absolute:

'She will remember some day,' I said ta myself, ' and then God help her!' . -

And that worried me""'more even than the spicule of bone did. The inquest on Lott was to be held that afternoon, and I was summoned to attend; but I also had some business to see to in the little town that morning, ■ and after leaving the Olivers' walked straight on to the Bank. I did my business and went up the High*' Street,' which is one of the old fashioned narrow thoroughfares common in small provincial towns- t

Just opposite the furniture shop on the right I was surprised to see on thkr other side of the way Jenkins, the missing curate. Hardly ahle to believe my eyes I stood and stared after him as he walked rapidly down the street. There could be no doubt of it- There he was, dressed, in the ordinary clerical garb, and carrying a large brown paper parcel under his arm, walking down the main street in broad day, and the police were at that very moment searching the country for his body. So astonished was I that I turned and followed him, to make sure that I was not mistaken. Just at the corner, where you turn out of High Street opposite the Bank, the other curate of the parish—or rather his" substitute—met Jenkins and stopped him. Jenkins turned, shook his head, and walked rapidly on- The curate ran after him, and touched him on the shoulder. Jenkins shock him off, and ■•whatever was said •surprised the curate mightly, for he stood staring after Jenkins' retreating figure with an expression of blank astonishment. •Wasn't that Jenkins, ...who is missing ?' I asked as I came up, for I knew the curate. He turned to me with the look of a man utterly astounded. .

'Yes,' he said, absently, 'it is Jenkins.'

•What's the matter?' I asked * You look as if you had seen-: ' :

He broke in sharply• ''A'ghosit ? Yes, I' believe" I" have seen a ghost or worse I' 'Ghost?' I cried. 'lt's a very material ghost-' Yet he only turned and gazed after Jenkins.

And then, as wc looked, a strange thing happened. As Jenkins hurried down the street a policeman on the opposite side recognised him, and crossed the street towards him. Instantly the missing curate gathered up his coat-tails and ran. The police man gave chase, shouting. The bystanders joined in, and the last Ave saw of Jenkins was the flutter of his coat as he disappeared round the corner' towards the lane with half-a-dozen people behind him in full cry,

The curate turned with a white face and looked at me. 'What in the name of wonder is the matter?' he asked in an awestruck voice, I shook my head, and raisin finger tapped my forehead in reply, ' But how has it happened?' he asked in reply, '' Is it sunstroke or hydrophobia, or what ?' ' My dear sir,' said I, a little testily possibly, for I hate questions, ' how can I diagnose a man's case from the look of his coat tails ?'

He pondered gloomily a moment. 'Well,' he said, throwing up his hands despairingly, 'I can't understand it!'

' Understand 1' said I. ' Pooh I It's as plain as rice pudding \' And I walked off and left.

CHAPTER VII.—LIKE A SPARROW ON THE HOUSE-TOP. :«

(Kentlaud's Narrative Resumed) I can't understand that parson. He made as much fuss about a pair of trousers, and was quite as funky of being seen, as if he had done a small massacre in cold blood He was a curious case—a bit off his rocker, I guess;lt seemed rather a low-down game to rouse the poor beggar out when he was as limp as'a wet collar. He was quite pathetic about it ; and I felt several sorts of a brute-beast' when I refused to lend him trousers- He had some grit, too, inside him, for he went, although he was as scared as a bush-hen with the dogs on its tail. I could see he wasn't blissful or keen on the job; and he sized me up for a cross between a lunatic and a cut throat- Poor chap i His face was like a chunk of chalk in the moonlight when I mentioned the police, But he'd have slung a full-sized paralytic fit if he had known what I was doing there- I told him my name, too, thinking I ought to let him know; but he didn't seem to have heard of me- It hadn't got into the papers, I suppose, when the ants started to colonise him and he lost the standing half, of his wits on the main-line down-

Well, the Parson started off'about eleven or a bit later to burgle my house- He didn't seem to hanker adventure overmuch, but he had to do it. I reckoned that bar accident, he ought to be back before one o'clock, and I curled up in my corner behind the partition to wait. It was slow work, and after a while I found myself sitting up with a start and the kind of guilty fael of having gone to sleep on watch. From the hang of the moon I made it between two and three in the morning;. and there was no sign of, the Parson, 1 Wonder if the beggar has got the trousers and sloped off home-' I > thought, :and then was sorry somehowHe didn't seem that sort. For hours I lay there waiting, but he did not turn up. For minutes at a time I'd listen for any noise of footsteps; but there was only the whimpering sound of the wind in the tops of the larches. After a while I began to feel anxious. Something must have happened, I knew; for he had had time to do the job twice over. All kinds of things occurred to me; but I couldn't strike any satisfactory theory, All I knew was that_ the Parson had done the disappearing trick, and it was about three to; one that he had been collared by the police and run in for burglary, Poor devil! I thought I could see his look, when they dropped on him, The job'certainly was not in his line, At last the dawn broke, wet and windy, Yon know what a miserable worm you feel, when that deathly grey light comes sliding in between the lines of rain, and you have sat up all night? I felt like that. I was sick with hunger, for it was close on twenty hours since I had seen tucker; and I was sicker still of the whole business, The outlook was ghastly blue. I was worried about Dot, and infernally frightened besides, because I couldn't see'how I was to get out of the place, It looked a hard row of stumps, for I hadn't ten bob in my pocket, and all the police in the district were yapping round after me like pig-dogs. The drop scene in Newgate was just round the corner, and my show seemed a mighty poor one at the weights- But. one thing cheered me, that our Lott was settled good ; and I had had the pleasure of knocking his teeth down his lying throat.

I was squatting there, with a hump on mo like a healthy camel, and was watching the grey light grow on the bare brick wall, and listening to the drip of the rain under the caves, when suddenly came a quick beating sound like the footfall of a man in a working hurry. I lay low, for I didn't know who it might be.; and presently heard the footsteps bring up under the back window, There was a noise like a donkey engine puffing, and then a

weak voice called my name, I jumped up, and looked, and nearly broke my ribs with .laughing," : There in the sad, grey dawnlight, under the window, stood an affair like a scarecroAV struck by lightning, The upper part of it was mostly built out of the battered wreck of an umbrella turned upside-down, through the top of wh? ( ch stuck a dilapidated clerical hat sagging over a white face, Beneath Avas a long coat spattered with mud, from the tail-pocket of which stuck the remains of a whisky bottle. And below that again a pair of thin and bare and very dirty legs propped up the whole scheme and kept it on end pretty well, In all my time I had 'never seen such a blighted ruin. Its edges dripped water, and in its.raised hand it shook a wet bundle at me viciously, As I gazed upon it, the Thing lifted up its voice and cursed me intelligently, requesting me in Biblical Double-Dutch to come down and take the umbrella from its neck, I was on to do anything I knew to improve and expurgate it, but was for the moment busy trying to raise a fit of hysterics on my own account, brought on by its personal attractions, While I laughed it danced in the mud outside, clawing at umbrella and saying things about me, ' You—you are an infamous person, sir!' it gasped, struggling with the ribs of that gamp ;.' I -I—don't like you! You are some kind of criminal.' It executed a brief step-dance as it spoke, ' Come and take off this umbrella ! How dare you laugh'- You iniquitous, evil-minded, wicked ' It nearly choked with rage, -•You—you—bad man I' It ended up with a tremendous explosion, I pulled myself together, tottered down, and got to work upon it, and after a lot of hard graft and pleasing excitement managed to unravel the concern.

It was the Parson returned at last,

I managed to get him into the upper room, where he collapsed on the floor, and sat silent a long while, gazing disconsolately at the fag end of his umbrella. I could see something had hurt his feelings and was sorry for him.

' Where have you been ?' I asked, .He looked at me reproachfully and said nothing, ' Anything happened f' said I, feeling pretty sympathetic, 'Everything happened!' he bleated feebly, looking as sickly as a blob of paste. 'Did you get the tucker?' I enquired. ' I'm ravenous,' He flung his dripping bundle at me, but did not speak, I found in it a spongy hunch of a loaf and the end of a sodden.ham, but it was all real tucker, and I wired right in. And the parson looked on with a face as long as a bootjack, When I had finished my feed I got his wet things off, laid them out to dry, and put my*coat and waistcoat on him. Then at last he got the handle end of his story and gave the whole memoir in a voice as if he was intoning the burial service over himself, And every time he heard me smile he glanced up at. me, "looking as longsuffering as a churcb hassock, He seemed to have managed all right at first. He reached the house, looked in at the kitchen window, and found the housekeeper sitting up, so that he could not go in by the back door, H-3 had just taken off his shoes ready to climb up the roof of the bicycle shed, when a policeman came in at the back gate and caught him. Jenkins had just time to jump into a big cask in the corner of the yard before the constable saw him; but he left the shoes lying in the middle of the path, and the man of course tumbled over them and took them in charge. However, he did not spot parson, and as soon as he was gone Jenkins made for the study window, He got up all right, and would have managed nicely, only he was so beastly hungry that he stopped to have a feed and a drink. It was that that did him.

• I was so very hungry, you know,' he said to me, < Quite faint.' *ls there any whisky left.?' I asked, ' The bottle got broken,' he said, ' I only had a very little.' It was no use saying what I thought, but I thought it all the same, The bottle always gets broken, and they feel faint. Well, the end of it was that he got fooling around, and by the time he found the clothes it was after midnight. He was in the act of putting on the trousers when a ring came at the front door bell, and in came a detective sent down by the late train from Scotland Yard to look into things. Well, there was none too much time, and the parson dropped . the trousers, stuffed them under his arm, and picking up his bundle of food and a pair of boots he had taken, made for the door. But he was too late to reach the study, for the housekeeper and detective were coming upstairs, so he bolted up the second staircase to the top storey. (To be continued.)