The Moor End Mystery,

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 440, 1 September 1904, Page 6

The Moor End Mystery,

\ By Victor Waite. Author of * Cross Trails,' Ac, to.

COPYEIGHT.

CHAPTER XI—THE MYSTERIOUS MESSENGER. (Dr. TRING'S Narrative.) I HAT) scarcely got to sleep on the night of Sunday the 7th, when I was called out to see a lady patient. 1 did not get home till about one o'clock, and was surprised to find my man sitting up for me. He handed me a very crumpled and wet piece of paper. Unfolding it, I was startled to see the writing was like Kentland's although evidently written clumsily, with a burnt stick or something of that kind. It said simply: ' How is she ? Send word at once by bearer,' That was all. 'Who brought this?' I asked sharply, turning to James. He looked sheepish and awkward. * Well, sir, 'E stood houtside, and I can't say as I saw 'im werry well, sir; but *e 'ad a light tweed suit, and one of them Jameson Raid sort of, 'ats, sir, like the pictoores in the' hillustrateds,' I confess I was alarmed. The description was that of Kentland; but I could scarcely believe he could have been insane enough to venture back into the town, * Tell me,' I said to the man. «I want to know the truth. Do you know who it was ?' A vacant look came over his face. 'No, sir. H I was on my Bible hoath, sir, I could not say for certing who it was.' 'Who do you think it was? Come, now. No prevarication,' ' I dunno. sir,' he answered, looking as stupid as a wheelbarrow, ' Quite right, James. Quite right. It is a good thing to know how not to know, Very good—very good. Now go to bed.' 'Thank you, sir, he replied, and departed. But I noticed as he. left the room a movement of his auricular muscles, and that his ears wagged; and I knew that there was a grin on the front of the head of my man. James can b very discreet when he choosec.

I sat down with the paper in my hand, and lit a pipe to consider the matter. 'By bearer,' the message said—that was a precaution. But James said he would ' call again ' —a most injudicious proceeding. But it was just what I should have expected of the man. He was always hotheaded and rash. IS it had not been for his folly—but what's the good of talking? He did it—and a pretty commotion he set up. It was no use sitting up on the chance of Kentland's returning ; so I went to bed and slept over it. I was sitting at breakfast next morning when James announced that someone was waiting to see me. • Good heavens! Is it Mr Ken I mean the same person again ?' 'No, sir, replied James, stolidly. | It's a boy, sir. 'E says he has an important menage for you, sir,' said the man significantly. 4 Ah, send him in here.' A moment later a boy of about twelve appeared in the doorway. He was more like a public school boy than an ordinary messenger. I told him to come in and asked him what he wanted. He made no reply, but turned and carefully closed the door behind him, and coming close up to me, asked, rather nervously,' Are you Doctor Tring, sir?' * I believe so,' said I. ' Speak out, boy. What have you got to say to me?'

He looked round the room cautiously before replying ' I came for an answer, sir,' he said, in a low tone, ' For an answer ? Answer to what'?' • I don't know, sir.' 'Don't know? What the deuce does the boy mean ?' I cried. •Is he mad? Are you mad, boy?' ' No, sir,' *Then what d' mean by it ?' • I waa told to ask for an answer, that was all, sir.' « Who told you?' I asked quickly, The boy was taken by surprise, * •Mr Ke 'he began, rod chocked himself, feeling he had ben injudicious. *He said you would understand, sir.'

I did understand. Keatland had been unable to return—and a good thing too—and had sent the boy-

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which was very foolish, although, the young imp was careful enough in all conscience.

' Ah! I see,' said I, ' Now tell me —where did you see him ?' He looked at me suspiciously. Evidently my ignorance frightened him. ' I can't say, sir, he answered. ' Now look here, my boy, this won't do. I know all about it, and I will take the answer to Mr Kentland myself. But you must tell me where to find him.'

He regarded me still more doubt fully.

'I can't!' he said, looking very frightened. But you must,' I said, severely. ' I won't l' he replied, with considerable pluck.

. • Now—now! .No nonsense ! It is no use concealing it" from me. Suppose I were to detain you here., or hand you over to the police; what could you do then r' "ijhad scarcely finished the sentence wh3n_he made a-bolt for the door. I caught at his coat, but he slipped through my fingers, slammed the door in Jny face, and was gone. And I was none the wiser as to Kentland's whereabouts. What troubled me was that he should be mad enough to stay about Moor End at all.'

That afternoon I ran up to see Dorothy; "and the moment I entered the room, saw that a change had occurred. She looked flushed and anxious, and her eyes had an unhealthy brilliancy. Her first sentence told me whai was the matter.

'Has anything more happened? she asked.

' Anything happened ?' I said. 'Cer tainly. Disobedience has happened. Y u've been reading papers and breaking my orders.' She looked up at me with a curious pathetic glance.

' I couldn't help it, really!' she said. 'I must know whether—what he—l mean, lam dreadfully interested in this horrible '

• There, there. Don't make excuses. lam seriously angry with you. You are a naughty little person.' And to myself I said,' So. Just as I feared. She is beginning to remember.'

I sat down by the bed, and took out my watch, and felt her pulse. It was over a hundred from sheer nervous excitement. She was evidently fretting herself ill about something; and what that something was I knew only too well.

' Doctor,' she said presently, turn ing away her head, ' there is something I wish to talk about—oh, so badly. I can't tell mamma She would not understand.'

'My dear young lady,' I said. ' I cannot allow you to talk about anything. You must keep quiet.' ' But it's much worse to keep quiet,' she cried impatiently, 'lt is awful to lie helpless here and think, and think, and think. It will drive me mad!'

' There—there,—there! Don't get in a fluster, my dear. You must not allow your mind to dwell on anything that worries you. You must cultivate calm, my dear—cultivate calm V

' But how can I be calm when—when everything is so horribly mixed up':' she burst out with her old petulance, 'leant;' ' But you must, my child. Can or can't, you must compose yourself, You absolutely must try to be tranquil, I can't allow this. Papers—fidgets—febrile symptoms, Quite unp rmissible. Wrong—wrong—very wrong!' Dot was quiet for a moment, and then suddenly said: ' I must tell you, Doctor; I must tell somebody ! I can't let him suffer —an innocent man !'

I was thoroughly alarmed. ' Now—now, my dear Dorothy, what nonsense is this about innocent men ? Pooh'.' my dear, you've been reading police twaddle- No, no- It will never do—never do,'

' But I will talk;' she cried passionately. 'lt says they have a clue ; and he didn't do it. I know he didn't do it. I know he didn't! It is a hideous injustice, and—• —'

I saw that at all costs this must be stopped. 'Hush!' cried I. 'Hush! Not another word You need not tell me, my poor rhild I know all—everything,'

•Do you really fcnowP Do you know—everything V she said, with .a hysterical sob. •Absolutely everything, my- poor little girl—absolutely,' • 'Then why don't you make him come back ?' she burst out. .' Does he know ?'

',He knows all about it, Dorothy; all about it,' I said, ' Now, lam not going to say another word. Leave it to me, child- It's all coming right. Don't worry, I assure you it is all going for the best.'

• But he must come back. He must not allow himself to be suspected.' 1 Now, no more about it. You can do no good by fretting, Dot, Leave it on my shoulders. I know just what to do, and you don't.' • But it is so horrible—' she sobbed, ' so tangled up.' • Not at all, not at all! It is all as plain as pudding. Don't fuss, my child. Placidity—placidity—that is the great thing. A cool head and a calm mind. Treat life like a hank of wool, my dear—like a hank of wool; and don't get in a fever! Hurry—flurry—worry ! Pooh, pooh! Great mistake—great mistake! Calm—calm; always keep calm!' Then I left her to have a thorough good cry. There is nothing like a weep for a woman's nerves. They work the trouble through the lachrymal ducts. Excellent thing for tension —excellent. I believe in letting them do it- Now Dorothy, poor child, had her little cry, and in half an hour was fast asleep. Which was just what I wanted. I prescribed a sedative for her, and left the house.

That evening when I was sitting over a pipe, in came Shadow with the news that he had seen Kentland himself. Of course I did not wish to tell him what I knew, so I pretended not to believe it- ' H'm! You saw iiott after he was killed,' I said. * That was no optical illusion or imagination; and so is this. Kentland is probably hundreds of miles away.' ' But I tell you, Doctor, I saw him 1' cried Sharlow, irascibly. ' I had just left the vicarage, when I saw him coming down the street towards me. He passed under a gas lamp, and I knew his hat at once. Nobody else wears a hat like that. When he saw me he turned and hurried off in the opposite direction. I called him by name, and he began to run. I ran after him calling; but he would not stop, I followed him right out into the country, but he gave me the slip in the lanes and escaped-' *■ Fancy—exuberant fancy t You need treatment. Optical illusions indicate nervous disorder. Yes, I recommend '

' But I assure you I saw ' 'Thought you saw, my dear sir; thought you saw! I quite understand your case—V-' 'But I'm' not a case!' he cried, angrily. ' I saw either Kentland or his double '

'That just proves it! —proves it absolutely- No healthy man sees double! You need a plain diet—fresh air—exercise 1 Doubles? Tut —tut r

But Sharlow only flared out of the room in a huff. I hate temper, and an irritable man always aggravates me. At the same time, I was only too sure that he was right, and that it really was Kentland

CHAPTER XII—THE HAUNTED CANAL BARGE.

(Kentland's Narrative Resumed-) I did a big nap that Sunday, for I had spent three sleepless nights, and was pretty well tuckered out. Looking back, I can't understand how I managed to snooze away so calmly in that place when any chance passer-by might have found me and had me run in. But somehow I don't think you ever quite believe you're in real danger until it's all over; and then you wonder why in snakes you ran into it. Anyhow, I knoAV I slept like forty railway sleepers on a siding, and didn't wake until sundown.

Still there was no sign of that blessed parson- I reckoned he had got full of sitting in that old house and had climbed over his maiden modesty, and under cover of his gamp and the darkness, had made a bolt for the Vicarage. I felt a bit riled over it, for even if-he couldn't hang on any longer, I thought the fellow ought to have carried out his section of the contract and have taken my message to Dr. Tring. Now that the padre was gone I didn't see any way of getting hold of the doctor and hearing any word of Dot, Mind you, I didn't know what was going on. They might have arrested her for all I knew, and sometimes the thought of it would almost send me off my rocker, and I would feel that for two pins I'd run amuck through the township and see the old doctor or hurt somebody. But of course I knew that was all rot, and I could do no good by getting my hair off. I would have written to the doctor if I had any writing plant, but as it was I could see nothing for it but to get my bike and pull right out for some seaport.

While I was lying there, telling myself what I thought of him, suddenly something went smack against the hatchway above me and came rattling down the steps to my feet. Picking it up, I found it was a round flint with a scrap of paper tied to it with string. 'That's the padre's,' I thought. ' By gad, he's learning and will make a criminal yet-' And I jumped up the ladder, and taking care not to show myself, looked round- Not a soul was in sight- The towpath wound away along the south bank, all still and deserted. There was no barge on all the glassy band of the canal thai stretched out into

the evening haze. Not a head showed along the railway embankment; and all around there was not a sign or sound of living thing, except a sleepy buzz-fly and -a great yellow-striped bumble-bee. The place looked as empty and innocent as if it had been made that way and had been off duty for a hundred years. The stone must have been thrown from some distance, for no one standing on the bank could have got out of sight before I reached the hatch.

' The parson must have used a catapult,' I thought. 'That was acute idea. He must have been afraid of drawing attention by coming near the boat- Hullo t Great Scott 1'

That bit of paper took my breath away for a second, I can tell you. I had expected an answer from the doctor, but instead read : ' You are betrayed. Hiding-place known. Escape at once- Will meet you in lane with bike.'

It was written in a round boyish hand. I had never seen the padre's writing, and never doubted that it was his- Anyhow I had no time to think about it- For the invitation was not the kind you could very well refuse.. It just meant' Get!' And I got. In about two shakes I was doing a streak across the paddocks in the shortest kind of bee-line for the laneI reached the hedge that bounded it, slung all my arms and legs over at once, and nearly landed on top of a small boy who was* wheeling a bike slowly along. He looked scared. '*l looked at the bike. It seemed uncommonly like mine. ' Waiting for me?' I asked, seeing a scratch on the handle-bar that I recognised. ' Who sent you ?' The boy gazed at me doubtfully, ' I wasn't waiting for you,' he said after a good stare. . 'Well, that's my b'ke.'

'No, it isn't.' ' Look here, young man, that bike is mine, and I'm going td~have it; so stand clear, .

' But you're a parson. You're no the man,' he cried.

I had forgotten my beastly clerical rig. It's a devilish hard job to remember you're a parson, I found; and I expect the real ones sometimes find that too.

1 Parson or not, sonny, I'm going to ride that bike.'

'No, you're not!' ht said, and I liked the pluck of the kid, 4 Don't be a little fool,' 1 said, ' I have no time to waste. Look at the name on it,'

I turned the label over, He glanced at it and cried : 1 You're not Mr Kentland!'

' That doesn't matter,' I said hurriedly, for I heard the sound of buggy wheels coming. ' Out of the way!' 'But you're—' his jaw fell suddenly—' you're the mad parson, And you were drowned.' And then, before he could say more, I picked him up by the scruff of the neck and dropped him gently over the hedge. There was a rattle of wheels behind me and a shout, The boy screamed out, ' The mad parson ! The mad parson •' He has stolen the bike ! Stop him! Quick.' Then I got the machine moving, and buzzed round the corner and away, But I was in a precious tight place I can tell you. The lane ran straight into the township, and behind me was a cartload of farm lads all dead nuts on catching me. There Was one side-lane that turned off between me and the village ; but that led over the canal bridge and into the main road, where I was sure to be stopped, It was a case of cross-country work ; so I cut across by the old track over the stile that runs out by the Grapes Inn near Four Lane Ends, meaning to take High Bourne Lane westward to the Common, from which I could ma'-ie new country. I reached the stile, lifted my machine over, and shoving it in front of me headed across the fields, The worst of a bike is that it is useless across country. Now if I'd had a decent quad under me I wouldn't have given a continental for all the fences and fields in the place. As it was I hadn't got half-way over to the Grapes when I heard a corrobberee behind, and up came the cart to the stile I had left, Two of the men got down and started to chase after me, and the other Wo whipped up and clattered on, meaning to head me off before I reached the other lane, I cantered on, and managed to help the bike over the stile before they came in sight,

Just as I vaulted over after it a bigstranger in a tweed suit, who was leaning against the door of the pub opposite, came running across the road.

' Mr Jenkins,' he said, staring hard I took no notice of him, and prepared to mount.

' Shtop a minut and be aisy now,' said he, laying his hand on the machine, and as he spoke there came a howl up the lane, and round the corner swung that blessed cart- ' I'm in a hurry,' I said. _' I'm Constable Spudderty, of the Q Division,' said he.

' Oh, are you ?' said I, and let him have it under the jaw. He went down like a stone, and in a second I was peddling up the lane like a little cyclone. I heard all kinds of a hooroosh going on behind, and everybody braying at once like a brass band. And cocking my eye over my shoulder I saw that my friend, Constable Spudderty, had raised a bike somehow and was coming after me eyes out. I believe they teach bobbies to ride bikes how, which is rough on people who don't want their company. (To be continued.)