The Secret of Whitmore Chase.

Hawke's Bay Weekly Times, Volume 1, Issue 46, 18 November 1867, Page 283

The Secret of Whitmore Chase.

A TALE 01 ENGLAND k AUSTRALIA.

Bt It. E. Lzi, Author of “ A .Tangled- Skein.** WRITTEN TOR THS HAWKE’S BAT WREXLT mm The right of translation is reserved by the author.

- AvL CHAPTER IXXI. LORG THEEAT£NIIfG COMES AT LAST.” EutfINGTON found that his confederate Grabbe afforded him no assistance in r| Ws designs respecting Miss Warren ; that lady, either from suspicion of . I A-bigail, or from being naturally k j too reserved to make a confidante of ji a domestic, taking no notice of Jane Dwyer’s - i insinuations. Grabbe was greatly annoyed at - this, his first failure in the matter. His intention had been to playoff Wilmington against Beecham, . bolding the game in his own hands, in order to . close with the one more liberally disposed. The failure of the attorney’s spy, however, incensed Wilmington, who became impatient, and called on Grabbe to vent his spleen, a few days after Walters’ interview with Mr Haynes. By a mere chance, Grabbe was absent, and Wilmington waited impatiently until his return. A stormy scene ensued ; Grabbe found it useless to attempt to cajole his dupe any longer, and Wilmington left the office in anger. As he turned the corner he felt a touch on his arm, and found Walters at his elbow. 1 “Found the old rascal out at last?” said the clerk, indicating tbe “ rascal” by pointing in the direction of Grabbe’s office. “I don’t:understand you,”' said Wilmington, surveying-with some disgnst the seedy appearance of the;individual who accosted, him so familiarly, Do you mean your employer P” ' . ; “ Bather,” was ihe rejoinder. •" I. heard you at it,- hammer and tongs, or rather pot and kettle, eh P There, don’t get angry; listen to me. I 1 < suppose.you can, give a good guess'that Grabbe! •Ims been tolling you all this time P” ' “i am not-aware that it is any business of yours,-- whatever transactions I may have with 1 . your master,” returned Wilmington, hastily. | “ Come, don’t get out of. temper,” rejoined .Walters, “ridiculous, you know, a military-swell quarrelling with ‘ athing.of shreds, and parchments.’ You don’t suppose I should have-stopped Jo' 1 if .it wasn’t, to tell yon something to your adVantoge,! as the advertisements say. ; = Come in ’here,” anddieentereda neighboring public house, Wilmington; following him after a moment’s hesitation. t • ■ " • ’ . ; ;;VOSrow look here,”_ said Walters; “I must be, -... hack directly;- he.thinks Dve gone to.serye awrit, . therefore sharp’s the, word; , You must be satisfito for the .present ,with.wbat I choose to tell yon, and promise me one thing. Don’t stop to ask Trie how? T got iny. information, but listen. You think vGrabbe has been* endeavoring 'to advance . yonr interests?ih r a : certain; direction; • X; can prove to; you that he has been; selling you to another party j that the bribes you have been giving-him . heAas pocketed,. ninning. at you • and that the Dills he wasto houLtillyoucame intoyour property have all been disposed of to an individual who : /intends shorfly to:pht thefßcrew qn.’’" : u t ?tb^sp«ii£ Jint motioned ?hm?to 'rem,ainl silrat; and • continued': * rjnestion? is what is'-to/be - done,? ayl affair Grabbe undertook for, yon ; ;but:next td Jove coipes revenge; you-. likp.to be-brought “ yourriyal,at?amomentwhen the’latter i* humbled to thedustP ' -'** \ /, v.

• Wilmington’s .eyes sparkled. I how acquired yonr information,” be, said, but if; it be true; and you can* accomplish vvhat yon propose,-.I will'richly reward you. r ? His name is— 7— ”. „ “‘lncog.* for the present,” returned Walters. “No, if you want to be in this bowling-ont match, yon must let me place the field. All I require you to do is to, promise that you {will attend to any letter, signed John Walters, ■ (requiring your presence at a given time and place.” - : ;

•“ I will do so,” replied Wilmington. “ I liave a shrewd suspicion, and would give much to have satisfactory proof of its truth. Let me but once be convinced I have been paltered with, and I shall know how to act.”

‘ Aye,” said Walters, “ then as far ns proof is concerned, yon shall be satisfied on that score. Remember your promise, and recollect that one word spoken liefore the proper time may spoil the whole affair.”

“ Ypu may rely upon my discretion,” replied Wilmington; and Walters hurried back to his den, wearing a more than usually stolid physiognomy ; though Grabbe was too much occupied by the new. phase in his schemes to pay much attention to his clerk’s appearance. Walters had stated the truth respecting the bills which Wilmington had'given to the attorney. The latter, as a matter of precaution, had placed them in the hands of an individual who had a perfect understanding with him in those matters; and who, in fact, administered the cot/p de grdce to Grabbe’s clients, i.e., victims. This he had done contrary to. his promise to Wilmington, who was exceedingly indignant at this breach of faith, independent of the attorney’s double dealing with him in the other matter. He'therefore felt disposed to place some degree of credence on Walters’ statement, and waited anxiously for a letter from him. Weeks passed into months, and he began to imagine the clerk had forgotten his promise; though, from the fear of exciting Grabbe’s suspicions, he did not attempt-to write or communicate with him.

At length, nearly six months after his interview with Walters, Wilmington received a letter, containing the following words:—“ John Walters to Captain Wilmington—time, 10 p.m. the day after to-morrow; place, Whitmore Chase; you are invited to. be present at the final smash of the bloated spider and his employer. Remember your promise.”

CHAPTER XXH. OH THK BKINK - Hj||a| imiNQ the long time which has e^Pse ?- B ™ ce we l saw Philip the material alteration in his character, ( then commencing, had become strength- ' ened. The manly and independent life of the A run was the very thing needed to subdue his ef- | feminacy; and Neill beheld without alarm the ■ evidently growing attachment between his daughter and Philip, The latter found his new existence so greatly opposed to his past career that his former life gradually assumed the faint outlines of a dream,, and no donbt his perfect willingness to forget added to this effect. .1 Mr Neill gave. Philip many hints of his willifigness to receive him into his family; but although the latter firmly believed his wife to be dead, he wished for some confirmation of the matter; though, as he had resolved not to communicate again with his relatives, or, indeed, any one in England, it would be strange to say in what manner he expected to receive the tidings. Perhaps he trusted to the chapter of accidents, a ll many have done before him. Neill returned from one of his periodical visits to Melbourne, bringing with him a young man whom he introduced to Philip as Mr Warren, a distant relative. ‘.‘ The strangest thing in the world, Mr Phillips,” said the squatter, at dinner, “ here is the son of my old friend, come purposely from England to find me, wit’ news which necessitates my immediate return to. the old . country. I don’t like leaving you alone, but I must take my family with me; their presence is required;” He looked keenly at Philip'as he'spoke, who .tried to appear unconcerned, but made a signal failure. “It will take you some time to arrange your affairs before starting,” said Philip,: at length; “the Assembly sits next week, and, with the important questions before it, in which you have taken a leading part, you can scarcely go before the session is over.” “ True,” rejoined Neill, “ our party, might say I have thrown them over; and no man shall ever accuse me of that. We must persuade my young friend to put up with colonial hospitality for two or three monthsand then we can start.” During the' remainder of the evening Philip appeared remarkably thoughtful. The squatter, though he noticed it, forbore to question him, doubtless fathoming his agitation. ' When retiring to rest,, Philip accompanied Mr Neill to his room. “I have.followed you here,” he said “to tell you the story'of my life. Whatever change its recital may create -in the impression; you have formed of me, it is my duly to reveal all to you; a duty which, in accordance with my old disposition, I have refrained from fulfilling too long already.” “ Let me say one thing before you proceed, my friend,” said the squatter, taking his hand, “ if-you suppose I have not noticed the change; in you since you have been here, you are mistaken. I have marked the struggle, with old habits which you have successfully gone through, and rejoiced at it. Still, there are reaisons” and, lie' looked significantly at Philip as he said this, “ which render an explanation due to me.” With a grea f deal of confusion, but also with a determination to conceal nothing* Philip unfolded his history. , .Neill’s face. assumed a .graver look as..the;,young, man-proceeded, bat he remained silent until Whitmore had finished. . ' “You-have done very wrong,”, he then'said"; “von have, been unjust, not only to me, blit to your wife. Whatever impression her silence may have produced upon you; it was your : duty to have strained every nerve to communicate with her. I cannot express.my feelings on the subject in sufficiently strong terms; and, at the .same time, I do hot entertaia the.idra.’ tiiat yomr wife is dead., Had yon frankly, tbld ' yonr story , on our first acquaintance, .matters' might-have-been; arranged which are"now,;perhaps; beyond remedy.” ; jjV Pbilip sat with his headbbwed,bis'face.hidden in his ' hands. f . The haental -conflict; was veirj bitter:: ; ; ‘I Hi; Neill continued :. ,"T entertained-hopes of seeing you-in-a different-position i;ini fmy .femily, jiiwhal -those hopes were, if I do not misjudge yon, I need not explain:;-ba^'tihdef^ai^-<mrmfeut£hbe% F \irlud haßbcourredmustannihilate.them.’’,; i --•He'pau^^ young,, nm^waa 7 pvercome:hy4'bißs^itati'on,!an(j

wards you, I am willing to make every allowance for yon, and to assist yon in pursuing the right course.. Return to England; you have saved some money, more shall hot bo wanting; seek out the woman you:have deserted, and from the interest I feel in'you, I will place you in at least an independent position. It is probable that I may remain in England; you are well acquainted with the business, of the station ; return here, and manage it as my partner.” Overcome by this generous offer, after his conduct had been placed before him in its true colors, Philip could not speak, he cast a glance of mingled shame and gratitude at his friend, and remained silent.

“ I shall explain matters sufficiently to my family,” continued Neill, in a meaning tone, “to let them know your true position; my daughter, fortunately, is now in Sydney, and I will arrange for her remaining there until I reach England, and decide upon my plans. As ray counsel and experience may be of assistance to you, I think you bad-better return with us.” “So be it,” exclaimed Philip, “ I leave all in your hands; I feel too crushed to object to anything; and with a dejected look he left the room.

Warren did not have much of Philip’s society daring the two mouths they remaind at Burreep. Still, the explanation had done the latter good; his mind assumed a healthier tone; and Neill’s forcible manner of pointing out the injustice he had done to his wife, caused him to think of her in a different spirit. The idea of her existence was no longer a matter rather of fear than hope to him.

At length the week arrived at the end of which they were to leave Australia. They were at breakfast when one of the men brought in the mail. “ English mail just in, sir,” he said, giving the letters to Neill. One was for Warren, forwarded from the hotel from whence he had written to Haynes. As he read it, he uttered an exclamation of annoyance. “ Nothing wrong, I hone P” asked Neill. “ Rather unpleasant,” returned Warren, “ here is a letter enclosed for some individual, and instructions not to return, if possible, without him. Rather rich, with not the least clue to his whereabouts.”

“ I am afraid it will prove a wild goose-chase, in that case,” said Neill. “At any rate it will delay our departure indefinitely if you must wait to find this Mr”

“Whitmore—Philip Whitmore is the name,” replied Warren, referring to the direction. Philip started up and seized the letter, which he hastily tore open and read. “Sit still,” said Neill, pressing his hand heavily upon the shoulder of Warren, who was indignantly rising to recover the letter, “ Sit still, man, the rightful owner has it, that is Philip Whitmore whom you see.” Philip read the letter over several times, and handing it to Neill, sank into a chair. “My poor boy,” said Neill, after finishing it, “ there is much to excuse in your conduct, after all; but let us act, not talk. Write to Haynes; the mail leaves to-morrow, and he will be prepared for our coming.” Grabbe’s chance in the game was getting smaller.

(To be continued.)