LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2108, 25 November 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE MYSTERY OF LORD BRACKENBURY: A NOVEL. BT AMELIA B. EDWABDP, Author of “Barbara’s History,” •* Debenham’s Vow,” &c. {.Continued.} Chapter VIL lost. The miller and his family were at supper when these unexpected guests with their lanterns, sticks and firearms, knocked at his door. Startled and bewildered, the good man rose and let them in. Hla wife snatched her baby from the cradle. Their three boys sat wondering and open-montbed ; the smoking polenta, the flask of country wine, the black bread, and the three-wick lamp on the table before them.

The miller was so taken by surprise that be could hardly be made to underst»nd at first what his visitors wanted. Would they be pleased to come in ? Who 7 What ? The Signori Bernado from La Spezzia ? The Signor Sandro 7 Ah, yea—of course he remembered the Signor Sandro ? Would they take the trouble to be seated ? How 7 A traveller what traveller ? A mi-lordo Ingle ie ? Here ? Here at the mill ? Heavens ! no. How should he be here ? Missing 7 Lost ? Since when ? To-day—-this evening 7 Holy St. Francis ! How was it possible 1 How could anyone be lost on the high road between the old bridge and La Spezzia 7 Had he heard nothing—no shout as of some one in distress 7 No, nothing ; absolutely nothing. He had been all day in the mill, he and his boys, and had only left off work when it grew dark. They had not been out with the carl, or along the road, all day. What, going already ? Eooo !he might as well go with them ! And the miller took hia hat from a peg behind the door, whistled to his dog, bade the boys take care of their mother, and went to join in the search. Up the steep and slippery path, out again on the high road, on in the direction of the old bridge they wont, shouting, listening, sweeping the road with their lanterns as before. At this point where the caleche had stopped, Sandro Quaranta-Sette called a halt. ‘ It was here that he got out—at this very spot. I know it by the young ash yonder, * said he. * What if he turned back to Matterano V suggested the barber, ‘ Turned back 7 What nonsense ! Why we left him walking—walking fast towards La Spezzia!’ ‘ And you lost sight of him—whore ?’ asked the apothecary. * About two hundred yards back.’ They retraced their steps as far as the second turn In the road. It was hero they last saw him. On this point Sandro, Mr Fronting, and the postboys were unanimous. They stopped to hold a harried council. They had now tracked over every foot of the ground by which Lord Brackenbnry would have come, and they bad found no trice of him. Had he been anywhere within sight or hearing, they must have found him. What was to be done ? Was it worth while to go farther? To Matterano? To Borghetto ? It was just possible that some accident had happened to him, and that he had been taken up by a vehicle going in that direction. It was also possible that he had missad his footing on the torrent side of the road, in which case he might at this moment be lying bruised, Insensible, dying, among the bushes and boulders far below.

There were places where such an accident might happen; but to those familiar with the road, it seemed scarcely probable. Still they were bound to leave no stone unturned. To go back to La Spezzia without seeking him in ‘every direction, likely or unlikely, was out cf the question. So said Sandro Qnaranta-Sette and the two Bernardos, They decided to divide their forces—one party, including Sandro, Mr Fronting and Marco Bernardo, making for Borghetto, the other, under the leadership of Bruno Bernardo, undertaking the more difficult duty of searching the torrent-bank. Most of those who >had joined nnder an impulse of curiosity gave up now and went home; the apothecary, the barber and the miller being of that number. Their ranks thus thinned, the exploring parties separated and went their different ways. It was now past nine o’clock. The night, variable as the day by which it was preceded, had cleared up suddenly. The mists had parted and dispersed. A pageant of massy cumuli swept solemnly and swiftly overhead ; and the depths of space between were powdered with keen stars. Still pausing at times to unite in a prolonged • Hola !’ the elder Bernardo’s party now tramped rapidly on, meeting only one old peasant, trading under a burden of firewood. Him they questioned; but he had seen no one on the road.

Arrived at Borghetto, they wont straight to the hotel at which Lord Braokenbury had declined to put np a few hours before. Here, however, nothing had been seen or beard of him. They debated whether it was worth while to go on as far as Matterano. Now Matterano was a mere mountain hamlet, only four hundred and fifty feet below the summit of the pass, and twelve kilometres further up the mountain. If any accident had happened, and Lord Braokenbury had been taken up by a passing vehicle, that vehicle would certainly have dropped him here at Borghetto, where there was a good inn, instead of carrying him on to Matterano where there was none. Besides, no vehicle had passed either to or fro since the yellow caleche drove through at four o’clock ; except indeed one or two country carts belonging to farmers in the neighborhood. So said the landlord of the Europe. Nothing on wheels could pass that way and not be seen from the hotel. Also, there was a water-trough at the opposite side of the road, where the peasants always drew up to let their beasts drink, and whera the stableboys filled their buckets to water the horses for travellers driving through. It was impossible that any cart or carriage should stay for water, or drive through unobserved. They decided that it was useless to go on to Matterano, • Blessed Mother of God 1’ said Sandro Quaranta-Sette, * What shall we do ? Where can we go ?’ He had been the life of the party till now ; but now, for the first time, he seemed utterly hopeless. • You can do nothing but go back to La Spezzia,’ said the landlord of Enropa. • How can we go back without having found mi-lordo ?’ The landlord shrugged his shoulders. _ • If you had but stayed with us,’ said he * all would have been well.’ Sandro drew his sleeve across his eyes. ‘ Che, che! don’t do that. Signor Sandro!' cried the landlady. ’lt is not like yon to despair. Maybe, when you get back to La Spezzia, you will find your traveller waiting for yon. ’ ‘Ay, he might have passed through La Spezzia, and have gone on by mistake to Lerici !’ said Marco Bernardo. They caught at this hope, just as they had caught at the hope of finding Lord Brackenbury at the mill ; and having partaken hastily of food and drink, set out to return by the way they came. It was now getting late, and though the night was fine and the road one long descent, the distance seemed half as far again from Borghetto to La Spezzia as from La Spazzia to Borghetto. They were tired, anxious, silent ; the most anxious, the most silent, being Lord Brackenbury’a valet. Again and again he had been on the point of revealing the secret of the diamonds, of telling all he knew and all he feared; but, remembering that he had acquired the greater part of this knowledge through the keyhole, he had as often checked himself. He felt, however, a great and growing dread—a dread that ho scarcely dared define. The others felt it also ; but more vaguely. They halted again by the path to Qrassi’s mill halted, and shouted, and waited ; not in actual hope that anything had happened since they left, but on the chance of it. All below was, however, dark and silent. The miller and his family were long since gone to bed. So they went on again. The moon had by this time risen, and as the road zigzagged, they paused alternately

i through spaces of ghostly shade and still more ghostly light. There was not a creature stirring. They still stopped now and then to shout and listen ; but, save at one spot where there was a double echo, heard never a sound in reply. About two miles from La Spezzia they came npon Bruno Bernardo and his party. They had searched every point at which en accident seemed possible. They bad been down in places to the water’s edge, and their clothes were torn by the branches, and their boots were cat to pieces by tho stones; but they bad seen nothing of the missing man—nothing- * Courage! we shall find him at La Spezzia,’ said Sandro Quaranta-Sette; bnt the words wore more hopeful than the voice. They came presently to a turn in the road high above La Spezzia, where there is a famous view of the bay reaching almost from horn to horn. The olive slopes sh : mmerad, the distant headland slept, the sea was farrowed with silver in the moonlight, All was still in the little tpwn. All was dark in the windows of the Croce di Malta, ‘ He is not here,’ said the elder Bernad', as they went np to tho door. A sleepy night porter who conld hardly speak for yawning, let them in. It was only too true. Lord Braokenbury was not at the Croce di Malta.

Chapter VIII. AN IMPENETRABLE MTSTYRT, A detailed account of the search made for tha missing traveller, of the rewards offered, of the judicial injuries Instituted, would fill many chapters ; but the main facts may be told in a few pages. All the local machinery of tha law, such as it was In North Italy at that time, was put in motion. To lay the facts before the Syndic of La Spezzia was the first step to be taken ; and tha brothers Bernardo accompanied by Sandro Qaaranta-Setta and Lord Brackenbury’a valet, waited npon this functionary the following morning. The testimony of the two last, and of the postillions, having been taken down, the Syndic, with his clerk and a conple cf gendarmi repared to the Hotel Croce di Malta, placed official teals on Lord Braokenbury’s luggage, and tcok possession of the key of the room in which the things were deposited. Messengers were then despatched to Sarzans, Carrara, Massa-Ducale, and all the smaller communes round about ; special couriers were sent to the authorities at Genoa and Lucca ; mounted carabineers were told off to soonr the roads ; and a reward of 2000 Genoese lire was offered for information of the missing man. Before twenty-four hours had elapsed, the whole country side was in an uproar. At Borghetto, at Mattarano, at San Benedetto, domiciliary visits were made to such of the inhabitants as might be thought to bear, or at any time to have borne, an indifferent character. At Carrara, two men who chanced to apply for employment at the quarries were arrested for no other reason than they were strangers. In the same way, an invalid soldier travelling on foot to his home at Pietr* S antra, and an itinerant photographer who chanced to visit La Spezzia in the way of his calling, were detained on suspicion. Nothing being proven against any of these persons, they were liberated in tha course of a few days. Not even the cantonniers to whom Lord Brackenbnry had given a ponr-boire on the summit of the pass of Bracco, not even the fisherman with whom he bad chatted at the little sea-side town where Sandro Quaranta-Sette put up to dine, escaped examination. The Comics and Hiviera were at this time considered the safest roads in Italy. No one dreamed of brigandage between Nice and Genoa, or between Genoa and Fisa. As for cases of robbery with violence, nothing of the kind had happened in the neighborhood of La Spezzia for well nigh a score of years. That a traveller should disappear from a frequented highway between fonr and five o’clock in the afternoon—disappear utterly and leave no trace—might well send a shiver of alarm throughout the district. The youth, the rank, the wealth of the missing man, made it iso much the more startling. When in addition to all this, it by and by came out on information from Genoa (confirmed by the tardy evidence of Lord Braokenbury’s own valet) that the lost nobleman had not only a large sum in cash, but upwards of thirty thousand pounds’ worth of unset diamonds about bis person, the excitement reached its climax.

On the eighth day, Lord Braokenbury’s brother, the Honorable Lancelot Bracken bury, arrived at La Spezzia, Lord Brackenbnry having disappeared on 'the Saturday. Fronting had telegraphed on the Sunday to Brackenbnry Court, his master’s seat in Lancashire. Mr Braokenbnry, who was shooting at the time over a remote Scotch moor, did not, however, receive the telegram till nearly twenty-four hoars later. He was therefore only jast able, by dint of hard travelling, to catch the French steamer which, then as now, left Marseilles for Genoa,Leghorn, Civita—Yecohia, and Naples every Thursday. From Genoa he posted straight on, without an hoar’s delay; so reaching La Spezzia on tha Saturday about mid-day. * What news of my brother.’

He was out of the carriage, in the hall, and face to face with Lord Brackeabury’a valet at the foot of the stairs, before any one could ran oat to receive him. 4 No news, sir, I am sorry to say,’ replied Fronting, white as a ghost and shaking from head to foot. 4 Good God 1 What can have become of him ?’ A tall, dark, brown-bearded young man, dusty and travel-stained, he stood with his hand on the balustrade, looking from one to another of the faces fast gathering round him, and seeing no hope or comfort in any. ‘ Everything has been done, sir, that can be done,’ said Fronting. ‘ I'he military has been all over the country.’ * And have discovered no trace V 4 None whatever, sir.’ *lt was last Saturday that you lost him t ’ 4 Last Saturday, sir, just a week today.’ Xhe young man looked bewildered—lncredulous, He could not believe it. * Are you the landlord ? ’ he said, turning to the elder Bernado ‘ Show me to a private room, please ; and you, Prouting, come up and tell me about it.’ They went np to a sitting-room on the first floor, the same sitting-room that had been prepared for Lord Braokenbury. The elder Bernardo opened the shutters and let in the daylight ; the younger followed with an armful of rugs and wraps. * That door opens into a bedroom, I suppose V said Mr Braokenbury, as Mr Prouting helped him off with his overcoat. ‘ Ye —es, sir,’ replied Prouting, hesitatingly. 4 But it’s locked. That’s the room my lord’s things are in. The magistrate of the place—him they call the Syndic—has the key.’ Mr Braokenbury stared at him confusedly, sat down, got up, walked to the window, came back again, looked utterly confounded and overwhelmed. The two Barnardos lingered a moment to see if the new comer wanted anything. 4 Won’t you take something, sir, after your journey ? ’ asked Fronting ; 4 a cup of coffee or ’ Mr Braokenbury shook his head. (To he continued.)