A SCARLET SIN.

King Country Chronicle, Volume III, Issue 184, 23 August 1909, Page 3

A SCARLET SIN.

By AUCM and CLAIM; ASKEW, Authors of "The Sfuiinmitc." "An» na of the Plains." &c-, &c.

(ALL iw: ;•;> ,

A POWTIM'UL BTORY,

•* TWENTY-SIXTH INSTALMENT. The man with the spade paused, and stood Iwforo the cringing creature In rvidont surprise and licwildorment.

"Who may ye be ? " he queried : and then, meeting with no answer. "It's sorely a daft body." he muttered audibly to himself. Basil recognized the voice then : it *o» that of Dugald M'Laren. the innkeeper, of Metherly. In a flash he understood something of the position. M'Laren. having learned from old Klspeth of Hob Perrinl's |ieculinr digging operation* in the Motherly fields, had determined to investigate for himself, and disinter, if possible, whatever it was that Pcrrint sought. Perhaps he had sonic idea of hidden treasure : but in any case, if there was a secret buried away. Dugald M'Laren had thought himself justified in unearihing thai secret. Sir Charles Sainton paid no heed to the man's words, probably he did not hear them. He grovelled about the ground, writhing his lean body in an excess of frantic despair. It was n ghost he l>efore him—the ghost of a sin long since dead and buried, hut reawakened, as it were, to his own calling. "Go awoy ! " he screamed again. "Why have you come to me after all these years. Clinton Peele ? I did but wish to give your hones securer rest.*"

He staggered to his feet, one arm pressed over his eyes as if to conceal a horrid object from his sight—the spectre that his own brain had created.

"When I killed your body didn't I kill your spirit too." he yelled.

"Who* do you want of me—what ? Am I to confess that I killed you as you lay helpless at my feet ? Am I to share your grove ? " "He's daft—quite dofl." muttered the bewildered Dugald MT.nron. "an' what will I lw doin" with him?" He Kswl little time for reflection, for the next moment Sir Charles Sainton flung hin»«s II u|»on the innkeeper, striking b'ittdly and wildly with hi* clench''4 lists.

"Go l-nck to your grove * " the madman screamed trying to force Ilugnld M'lutren bark to the pit whith had been dug out. "Back — back I soy and let me pile the earth upon you as it was piled liefore : " For the moment Dugald M'Laren. powerful man ns he was. gave way before the unexpected attack. Sir Charles Sainton had nil the strength of his madness. The two men wrestled together on the very border of the hole.

tint the issue could not long be in doubt. The innkeeper quickly recovered hi* composure and then, with a brutal oath he flung the weaker man from hhu. or d «ifh a blow straight between the eyes, felled Sir Chnrbs Sainton lo the ground. The baronet lay th>re. perhaps on the very spot where in the forgotten past his own vettm had lain, his white fnee upturned to the cold im>»MTT. a thin stream of blood trickling slowly from a wound on the forehead. CIIAPTKH XXXII. "Till: SIX IS OX MY HEAD." Between fre-m. on n roughly Improvised strvtch«T. the portion of n |>rok*n sate that luckily lay nt hand Pngaid *I and Ilasil carried the injured ir.nu to the inn. In fnHing hj- hs>4 ?truck his head ngainst a spade, th'-rvby adding considerably to his hurt. lie was unconscious, and his condition was luseh ns to need immediate ailent inn. Evory thing else had to Ih» abandoned lor the time lieing. Basil had sprung out (rom his place of conrejtlmenl ns the two men struggled, but he had not lieen in time in retard the blow which had jelled the- baronet llljj np|«cnranee Upon th" scene had added to the inllkev|wr's l» wildernient. but thorn' had lueen time for little more than n few hasty ».>rds. Dugald M'Laren had realized for himself that he had struck a weightier blow than he had intended to. and that the consequences might l»e awkward for himself.

On their way to the inn—luckiij n»> great distance —they were not a'>[e to hold 'much communication wifh enf-h other, and Pamela kept tit* '* to Basil's side, understanding Ivrietf very little of what had hn|>[■••ri"4. failing lo see. as did Bn:«il. any light through the mysterious events of the night.

And so. without having met any one on the way. they reached the inn pod Sir Charles Sainton was carried upstairs and laid upon tho best beil Hint could lie provided, the services ot old Klspetn being called into requisition until the doctor could be summoned.

"But I'm thinkin'." said Dwgatd M'l.aren. with a shake of his head.

'that it'll no lie an easy thing to fetch Dr. Maipherson here the nh-fct. fe>r. if I don't mistake, the doctor's a« a* Irae Sloneport till to-morrow." Pr Matph-rson. the only medical man available in the neighbourhood, had his resilience in Stoneport. but the wide area pf his duties made it j pot infrequently necessary that he fehould nhscnt himself from his home. Nevertheless. Dugald M'Laren gave instructions to one of his men to ride into Stoneport on the chance or finding the doctor at home. "Ye may tell him there's been an accident to a gintleman," he »aid. meaningly, glancing at Basil as he •poke—"an accident, >*p mind." When the man had token his departure, the innkeeper spoke more luridly. I'm thinkin' iV"« best for me, on' [na-. tie for you, too. that we speak .>' tiui as an accident. An' now. if ': ready, young sir, pcrbops wc ; v have" a little clack an' under- »■ .in*! -a'-h offer tietter."i'. tsi! ii-idrl.-d. for tt seem.il the v.;-'if. plan, as iimf.:.»TS had turned

if. lo have a few words of cx-

:.:.-.rn':••!» with the innkeeper. Hut •;•. • n -.'s-sity was still before him of r.-twrnir.t; to Metherly fields in order :,i romplctc the task that had been I t't undone. Also there was Pamela to Ik* thought of. though for the present all was well with her,, resting as she was in one of the spare rooms of the inn.

The interview between Basil and the innkeeper, however, was destined to be but a short one, and to lead to no definite understanding between them . Both men were-, on their guard, afraid "of committing themselves by speaking too openly. Basil had "the advantage of guessing fairly accurately the reason of Ducald M'Laren's* operations in the field Dugald. on the other hand, had no idea whatever, why the stronger whom he remembered serving at the inn that afternoon, should have interrupted him at his work. Certainly the fact that Basil was in Pamela's company—Pamela whom he recognized as the cause of the trouble that had arisen between Rob Pcrrint and his own people—made him suspicious. But he could only assume —not knowing of the accident that Itoh Perrint had met with—that the master of Orgndale. not daring to venture forth himself, had entrusted others with the accomplishment of the mysterious task in the Motherly fields." As for Sir Charles Sainton, he was an absolute stranger to the innkeeper, who still looked upon him as n wandering lunntie. And so the two men queried and rountor-fpieried. thrust and parried, with no satisfactory result to one or the other. And then came an interruption in the shape of old Klspeth. who stated that Hi" patient had come to his senses and was talking like n rational being. He was anxious too. it appeared, to learn who was his host, and how his accident hod befallen him. his mind lieing very vague upon the sul>ject.

His host, however, was seized by a not unaccountable bash fulness, tho recollection of that blow between the eyes lieing still with him. In his hesitation Dugald turned and begged ilasil to see the sick man and explain matters as best he could. It was Basil, accordingly, who presented himself at the bedside of the injured baronet." Sir Charles Sainton recognized him at once. His head had been dressed in a clumsy fashion by q|d Klspeth. and though his face had lieen washed, there were traces of congealed blood round the border of the conrse bandog.-. His voice was very feeble but it was evident that his mind was no longer wandering. "You. Basil Farraday ! " he muttered. "Are nil the ghosts of the post to rise up and confront me tonight ? Am I going mad ? "•

Basil drew a broken chair to the liedside. and spoke what comforting words he could. It was impossible to explain at length nil that had happened. Sir Charles Sainton had not the strength, nor was he in the mood to listen : but Basil did his best to set the Injured man's mind at rest ns to his present safety.

"I don't know how you've come here." Sir Charles Sainton interrupted, turning wearily on his side, so as to face Ilasil. "But I'm glad It is you. Elsie's child, to whom I can talk. You are the very man I should have sent for had I known when* to find you. I want to make a confession to you In-fore I die."

"Hut y«.u are not dying." cried Basil impulsively. "You hod a mental shock and a blow on the head. The doctor has been sent for and he'll soon have you on your feet again."

"It's a shock from which I shall never recover." returned the other, faintly. "My days are numl»ered. There's an old-standing trouble : I've hod plenty of warnings. Bu,t I need not go into that. It's lucky my mind Is clear, and that I've got lime to make my confession. Ido not think I shall need the doctor's services. Hut you'll do wisely to let him think I met with my hurl by accident—a fall, owing to an attack of my complaint, o blow from a I'uolpad—anything that vou like. He won't lie able to deny that I died from natural causes."

The man spoke callously. It was evident that the fenr of death was no longer upon him. "| was a fool t%i worry myself so terribly over the possible finding of Clinton':! Peele's bones." he went on "when a pistol shot would hove ended things satisfactorily as far as I am concerned : but if I've ever had a virtue it has been pride in my family name and a desire lo let it pass on. untarnished." He paused, then continued with an efTj«r.i ; ''But I had lH<t!er lie brief. I take it you wvre searching for the dead man's bones, even as I intended to search ? "- Basil nodded.

"Fi»i» •he sake of my mother's reputation." he murmured ; "for the sake of the girl I love—daughter of him whom I believed guilty pf the piurder." Sainton laughed—a laugh that ended in a racking cough. "George Leslie," he said, hoarsely. •'Yes, George Leslie believed that he killed Clinton Peele, ami I was content to leave him In that lieliof. And he might hove lieen arrested and hanged for oil I cared ; but. unfortunately I was fool enough to leave traces of my own handiwork about the dead man. The murder would have been brought home to me if the body had lieen found.'*- He laughed again. "I see I shock you; and yet you were ready* t,o Jielp (Jeqrgc .Martinilule he. calls himself novel doesn't he ?—believing him to lie guilty." "I thought Clinton Peele deservod to die," said Basil, sternly.

"He di«l—he did." returned the other. There was a horrible sound in his throat that was half a chuckle half a groan. "Though he was innocent of the crime for which George Leslie struck him down. That sin in on my hcad.'i

'.'Upon your head ? "• Basil sprang to his feet, his fists clenched, his whole soul in revolt against the proximity of tho man who had betrayed his mpther, and ruined her life. That Sainton was also an avowed murderer had little weight at that moment, with Basil. "Yon won't strike me. a dying man. I suppose ? " said Sir Charles Sainton. "I admit that I was a blaekfiuard. n anything

that yon like. lam not going to niv a word in my own defence. But

will point out that if you refuse lo listen to me"—Ha.sil had turned away in utter disgust and loathing, and taken a few stops towards the door—"my lips shall 1e sealed til! I die. Come—come," he went on with a gesture that was almost appealing "I'm not going to ask for your forgiveness—l don't expect it —but it will be a relief to me to make the reparation of a confession before I die. (Irani me that. Take no'cs of what I say, if you please, and I will sign the paper."-

Half-rcluctantly Basil returned to the bedside. lie felt acutely the position in which he was placed. The sight of this man's face, the sound of his voice, cynical in spite of suffering—both were equally loathsome to him. He felt a desire to throw open the window and breathe the fresh night air, for the very atmosphere of the room in which Sir Charles Sainton lay seemed foul and vitiated. Yet it was not sufficient to know the truth ; he must have evidence of it : real, tangible evidence —and only in one way could this be procured. Let Sainton's confession be written out and signed by him while there was yet time.

"You hate me, don't you ? " said Sir Charles, hoarsely. "Well, you must derive what gratification you can from seeing <nc lying here in this state, and from listening to the confession that I am about to make. It's a weapon in your hands in case of need ; it will at least save George Leslie from the gallows. All the same I don't suppose you will make use of it unless you are forced to •lo so. for, for your mother's sake, the secret of Clinton Peelc's death must be kept, if it is possible to keep it. lly the way," he added, "you ancl, I suppose, the individual I was foolish enough to mistake for the ghost of Clinton Peele were digging in the field when I appeared upon the scene. I take it that he was acting under your orders. Had you been successful in finding what you sought ? " His speech was weak and constantly interruptod by fits of coughing. Once indeed, he raised his handkerchief to his mouth and withdrew it stained with blood.

"You .see that I'm not exaggerating when 1 Icll you that my days are numbered," he explained. "I was a doomed man when I came up to Scotland." Basil saw no need to state that Dugnld M'Laren had not been acting by his orders. The point was immaterial when so much was at stake. Hut he told Sir Charles Sainton that the remains of Clinton Peele had not yet been unearthed. that the task had been abandoned in order to carry him back to the inn. "Then you had belter send the fallow back to the field at once," said Sir Charles. "and let him do all that he can whileayet there is time. for I happen to know that to-mor-row the work folk will be about, and there'll be no more admission for strangers to the Mcthcrly fields. If you don't succeed to-night thu game will be up. It was because I knew this that I hurried up from London, having waited, fool that I was, to the last moment in the hopes that I might raise sufficient money to induce the solicitors who arc acting for the purchasers to make a deal with me. Hut, of course, they wouldn't. They were not prepared to consider any offer, however large. I plight have known it from the first." lie shifted his position in the bed, groaning a little, as though the effort caused him great pain. For a moment or two.he shut his eyes. Ilasil fancied that he must be looking back into the past. "Fate juggles strangely with our lives," he said, after a pause. "To think that you »vo Klsle's son, and that you should have fallen in love with George Leslie's daughter ! Well I hope you will be happy in the future, when all these troubles arc things of the past ; and I hope that you may forget me and all the. avl\ I have worked upon yqur- house."

Ho p.|K>ncd hih eyes again. They very dull and heavy, and the livid mark of a bruise was appearing upon his fordiead where he had received Dugald Al'Laren's blow.

"Perhaps," he said, "if you would bring mc pen and. paper I might myself he able to write. There's very little to state in order to clear Oeprgo I>e.slit», for the greater part Of the story 1 can tell you by word of mouth. " His eyes roved round the room. "Isn't that a writing desk over there—that queeer old box bv the window ? " he asked.

Ita-sil investigated th" hox in question and found it to be indeed a desk, ut a kind, though it contained a medley of articles besides pen and, paper. Nevertheless he brought it to the lied, and placed it before Sir Charles Sainton. Ink he found in a Separate stand.

Sir Charles fumbled In the desk for a pen. Hasil had turned away to adjust the lamp, when suddenly his attention was recalled by a sharp exclamation from the sick man. The latter had drawn an object from the dejik aud was holding it before him, his eye. fixed upon it in abject terror A moment later it had dropped from his hands upon the bed. Basil hastened to pick it up.

It was a sheathless dagger, the handle l>eing of silver, though black with the tarnish of years. Yet the design upon this handle was so quaint and unusual that Basil felt it must be unique. "What is it?"- flasil turned from his examination of the dagger the man upon the bed. "What jtas frightened you ? There is really nothing but an old-fashioned knife that has evidently been lying here With a lot of other things, forgotten for years.'"An old knife ! " Sir Charles Sainton burst into a laugh that seemed to rack hi« body even wore than his cough. "It is 'the ' knife I tell you—the dagger with which 1 slabbed. Olinton Peele. I .should know it among a million ! And it was to recover this that I \wiit out to dig to-night, for it has my name engraved upon the handle. Look, and you will sec it clearly for your* self./* To be Continued.