THE PRIDE OF THE MORAYS.

King Country Chronicle, Volume IV, Issue 229, 29 January 1910, Page 4

THE PRIDE OF THE MORAYS.

'ALL EIGHTS RESERVED#

By MAURICE SCOTT, Author of "Tho Mark of the Broai 'Arrow, etc. etc.

PART 21.

A lino old house, truly. Tho massive iron gates now rusted into the roadway, not having beer, opened since the body of Sir Malcolm Moray had been carried through them., followed by represensatives of Scotland's bjst and bravest, while the pibroch> wailed out "The Flowers ol tli3 Forest."

They entered through the posterngate, and found an ancient janitor, crippled with rheumatism, who looked suspiciously at the unmistakable Saxon Iv'.ue eyes of Sir John Tom pi eL'omb?-, but whose weather-beaten face lit up with joy at the sound of a few words spoken in his native Gaelic from the lips of Keith lloriot? And tlnn he waxed communicative. Tho "auld hoose " was now the,.property of Mrs. Gorc-Ritchio. "Wad that she wad cooni lu\me in dead o' gaddin' in ootlaiulish countries, lor tho hoosc was sadly neglectid. r.nl why not, when never a ana set foo' in it."

But Master Heriot might go where he pleased, and welcome. "Tonal would gladly accompany "the slvn tlemans over the lioose, biit hit rheumatism "

"No, no, Donald," laughed Keith, "we shall enjoy rambling about the rooms alone."

'They went, info the grand old hall silently, involuntarily removing their hats and stepping softly, as if in the presence of the dead. Ih.e tapestries were mouldy and more o( less in tatters; the magnilicentlycarvcd balustrades of the bi'oad staircase looked bent and weary, as if with age, and creaked ominously at the least vibration on the stoneflagged floor. From one room to another —the banqueting hall with its minstrels' gallery; the armoury, where trophies and weapons of a pattern long obsolete were still on the walls; through the picture gallery where the dead and gone Morays seemed to stare from the canvas in high indignation at this intrusion on their solitude— everywhere the two men moved silently, respectfully, almost hesitating to disturb the hallowed duat with so much as a desecrating footprint. They spoke very little, and almost in whispers, and then when, having explored the older portions of the house, they came to the rooms apparently, to judge from their more modern appointments, lived in by Sir Malcolm Moray and his family, the tension seemed lifted, and they breathed more freely. "Quite uncanny these places where people have lived for centuries," sai4 gir John with an air qf relief. "Impiensely interesting, of course; but don't you think our modern style pf pulling down and rebuilding a s fashions an-1 customs change better for the coming race?" *'Possibly," replied Keith whose fervid Celtic imagination had peopled the an-:iYnt mansion witl; its sturdy inhabitants of long ago—men and women possessed of physique which not. all our boasted science and modern hygiene appears able to reproduce. "And yet there is something about the atmosphere of a place bearing historic association " "There's a considerable amount of duat, and that is an article against which you medical chaps are presumably making constant war.""Confound it Jolinny, yo 1 :! ts,kQ pne so literally!" laughed Keith, for. tjje mpmqjt forgetting his anxieties svhile going pver the house, whicty had interested him greatly, scarcely K n:.'w why. boasted many a histqric seat, Jveith from his boyhood had rcvelletj in jmany of th Mil.

"I say, Heriot, my goad fellow, what's this?'' There was a note qf consternation, almost of alarm, ifl Sir Johir Templecamlje's vqice, ajic} JCeith tu ,•■))"(;} quickly, tp sec h' lll staring at q. portrait paiflted ii} ivater-cplfiurs, {.he pqrtra.it qf g, wqiiian. . One glance at it on the part of Keith Heriot, and tlun he, too, gave expression to a sound of amazement one almost bordering on alarm. "■Why, what"—

Then both pairs of eyes left the portrait, and rivetes themselves on each other.' Had bpth seen alike? Wa< it not pftrn said that what was opaque to some visions became as limpid as a crystal stream tq others ") }sut now each ma;} req,d pqrrobqrain fellpw'-'s gaze, and both that they iyercf lpoking at a portrait of Lat]y Blair's -''companion-" Aliiipn, dressed . all in white; and pow,. like a lightning's flash it became bP !- n j in.upon Sir John Temple-L-onibe that here wss the h 01 '. 0 " 10 P' tho'"flying knives, and Heriot's strange' questions as to what Sir John kn&w, qr had asked about Miss Alison bocatne a s plain as noondayHut who could have. oxpeeted to find a music-hall performer in the home of Lady Blair? Equally, who would expect to find her portrait in the- house of one of Scotland's proudest noblemen ? The silence' was oppressive. Keith was the first to ferenk. 1! ■; i'-ii is, 'js it j}ot? ! -* h c littered, hparsely." "If you nieaii, i§ it the portrait of your §ister's late pompanion, Ih; lady of whom we have come to Edinburgh iji I answer you—yes};'l "By Heaven, how comes it here?" "That is q, prgblem puzzling.mc also- Heriot, I iqltf you lifhad askpd nothing, further than I' met a lady in your sister's libuse, and loved her. But now I beg you to bear with me if I am mistaken; but in that * portrait I see something more." •"Go on."

"I see the stage of a music-hall, a lithe, graceful figure all in white reclining against a dark background, tlu whole forming a target l'or a man who liirls at it, gleaming, double-edged kniyes.""Vnn are riwjtfc." ut.toi-g-r? Keith

(lis eyes now -gluc-ci to the portrait. "Then am I not justified in asking for an explanation of the circumstances under which Miss Alison became your sister's guest?" "You are, Teniplccombe," and Keith related the story from his first attendance on the supposed America girl in St. Thomas's Hospital, on through his acquaintance with the Stanniforths, and all the circumstances down to the present. Sir John listened attentively, offering no interruptions ' nor interpolating any remarks. His brain was slow to move, and he liked things to sink in before committing- himself to any opinion.

"And here we come to Edinburgh to search for her, and instead of Alison, we find her portrait," concluded Keith.

"I wonder is it her portrait?" suggested Sir John, meditatively. "Who else should it be ?" "That, I take it, becomes our business to find out. Suppose we look round the roqm. Ah, here's an allium. I wonder if that'll throw any light on the subject?" Breathlessly they turned the leaves and th'.n Keith breathed quickly as Sir John slipped from " its socket the photograph of a woman and turned it over on its hack. There was the name of the photographer, and below that, in now faded characters had been written, "Barbara Moray, aged sixteen." Sir John 'slowly turned round the photograph. Tt was Alison, younger and differently dressed, but still Alison. The great eyes looked straight info their own, tli.i fui-j coil of hair with the rebellious, escaping curls, and even the - handwriting 'on the back was recognised by Keith as that of the girl he had known and loved as Alison Stanniforth. And again the two men looked at each other in awe-stricken consternation.

CHAPTER XXVIII. PUTTING THE PIECES TOGETHER.

Once more Keith was the first to break the silence.

"Good God. Templc-combe, what does it all mean?''

His Voice appeared to inspire in his companion a suddi n outbreak of inergy, aiul now Sir John dived nto \he bookcase and the musicstand. lie re he found songs, inscribed with various dates, and the name

"Barbara Moray" on most of them, in the same distinctive handwriting, that neither man "needed expert opinion to enable him to identify. Inside a book were one of two snapshot photographs of the same person as portrayed in 'the water-colour picture, but evidently taken more recently. They were also inscribed "Barbara Moray " an.i one of them dated only six months prior to Keith's attendance on "Alison Stanniforlh" in St.' Thomas's Hospital. And the snap-shots were even more unmistakable.

"Let us go outside into the air," said Sir John at last. "The dust seems to be getting into my brain, not to say on my nerves. And I propose to retain these photographs. N'eed wc say anything to (he old cus-. todian? They are valuable to us just now, and if he refuses (o permit (heir removal, it will only increase our difficulties. We fan return them to Mrs, Gore-Ritchie same future lime."-

Keith appeared 'loo stunned lo offer any further opposition, an<l after oxclianging a few words with "Tonal as they, passed through hisi lodge, thoy. made their way out at Hie postern-gate and both involuntarily struck far the open country.

"Are your legs equal to a second pull up that hill ?" asked Sir John rempleconibe. "It's a curious place to select for a 'seat,' ; but if King Arthur was often pulled up by such a as we've got to de:;l v.-it it just now, I understand his seeking its seclusion in ct'.'der to, trash it- out. And the co'd fresh air's the finest tp clear the cobwebs away. Lei us first get a drink ; n\y ino,uth and throat seen} parched and clpggetj with dust.'"

They drank home-brewed ale at a small wayside inn, and then striking out into the open again, climbed to a fair elevation, .and seated them? selves upon twp huge boulders, "Jri the name pf Heaven, combe, can you pfl'er any explanation of this astounding rnystovy? 1 -' began Keitl}. Sir Jofrn was intent oil getting his cigar well • alight—no easy task at that altitude on which .they had established themselves. His choice of a debating ground had been majie in order to gain time (Jurijig which to think. TTo was accustomed to say of himself that he wasn't by any means a brilliant chap; but only..give him time, and 'he could add two and two together as well as mast c^aps. And his practical commonsense told fyim now that Keith Heriot, brilliant ajld clever as he undoubted ly was,. unless prevented would, by reason of his fiery impetuosity, play into the hands of the enemies'of tl\e girl, to save whom he would savri-. fice his life.

He delayed as long as possible, and then when the fiery glow at the end of his cigar iiq longer gave him any excuse 'for not /diverting his attention, he answered Keith's question by asking another. "You 'havc .frequently dealt with cases of lapsed memory, I suppose ITeriot?"

"Perhaps not frequently. I have dealt with such cases."

" Did it-never strike you that tftc Mis»S./.•• who accepted Jter for $o other reason, than that'-'fhey declared theinselves related ,tj>. ju-r might be somebody else?" "Never," Keith, solemnly-. "Wfty should I, when Hermann himself entertained not the slightest doubt? As you suggest I have dealt with similar cases, in whicl* tl\e patient absolutely loses all knowledge of his or her identity, was npt unusual." "The obvious difference existing- too-, twecp the juggle*' and his supposed eousiu never struck you, then?" "Indeed it has ; but remember they had not met since both were children, and Htanniforth accounted for his cousin's lack of 'Americanisms by the fact that she had lived a great in Canada. But Hejyvena, '•lteinplei/onibe, can it be that such a d°adls'. has arisen? Do you suggest"— "laddie," broke in Sir John, "it must' have been the force qf suggestion that blinded you to what I, as

an outsider, \vo«l«i have sworn to, after the Parthenon, and that was, the utter impossibility that the juggler and the lady who assisted at his performance could have grown upon the same family tree." "Then — My God, Jack, do you realize what you arc inferrii-jg? If Alison be not Alison, but Barbara Moray"— "I see no alternative but to believe that such is the case," returned Sir John, calmly. "Then she—sh« is the wife of Sir Talbot Hester? '-5 "Exactly. And as he is announced as about to unite himself to the Vansitt act's millions, the poor little lady's disappearance may be tho more readily accounted for. Steady, Heriot, old chap! Want as mucli as you like, 'twill relieve you to let oIT steam; but keep both feet on terra firma.. We've got to deal with a diplomatist, remember, and will need all our balance." For Keith had started up in his agitation, and was perilously nearing the edge of the lofty crag on which they sat.

"And for you to lie in the valley with a dislocated neck would in no way help the situation," concluded Sir John.

"But, while we are wasting time here the villain might be murdering her!" almost shouted Keith. "I don't think .70," returned the other. "Sir Talbot's not the man to put his head into a noose unnecessarily, t But now, Heriot, let us piece this thing out on the evidence before us, as the legal Johnnies say. We must be sure of pur facts beforo taking any steps."-

."But the time lost. I will go at once to that scoundrel, Hester, and "

"And he would laugh at you, would (ell you his first, wife was killed in the railway collision, and lies buried in ihe Moray vault. There is no loss of time in measuring- one's ground, and. besides, we must wait for the chief's report. Wc have at any rate established the existence of a motive why the poor little lady should desire to visit Edinburgh. No one understood why Miss Alison wanted to come, but there is every reason \\ hy Barbara Moray should wish to return to the house of her ancestors. By—l believe I've got it" cried Sir John, almost emulating Keith's excitement. "What have you got?"

"Sit down and remain quiet wliilo I tell you. Don't you sec, when memory came back to her, and she remembered whom she really was, the announcement of Hester's forthcoming marriage was in all the papers'? My idea is that she went to him and told him that, as she lived, the marriage to Miss iVansittari would bo illegal." "And then?" put in ICeith.

"And then, perhaps, he repudiated her assertion. You see, her father is dead, and he would think there is no one to back it. And Hester's too hard un to lose the Vansittart dol* lavs without a tussle." "But why did she not confide in mo or my sister 7" "Ah, why indeed! But even I have heard of the pride of tho Morays. I can't help thinking that, wounded by her husband's rebuff, she contemplated travelling down to Edinburgh in order to secure proofs of her identity Whether Hosier had divined her intention and hSd got her put out of the way we have yet to leatn." "I'll kill him if he has injured a hair of her head!" oxclaimed Keith, fiercely. "Go slowly,"- advised Sir John. "Remember they stumble who run fast.' We must see the juggler and the sister must bo to come to England without selay, I suppose there's room for doubt that this; Stamvforth did travel over from New York about the time you first interested yourself in your patient Bt, Thomas's?" "Xftt the slightest. was on tho strength of the rot urn ticket made Qut in ;thut liftine and a letter comher to the care of Hermann Stanniforth—'both found on her parson when brought in—that wo oalalvIjshe*} her identity. And Staimiforth received subsequent letters from the sister, Monica, confirming the But how could these things hQVO cotne into the possession of Barbara Moray, or Lady Hester?" "That is a circumstance on which only Lady Hester herself could cn« lighten us," replied Sir John, "Could the two women have met?"

"It looks UKp H, Horiot." who—who lies buriod in the name of Lady HcSter?- The idea appears preposterous, worthy only of Surrey melodrama, yet I see no other explanation. Could they have met and changed clothes, though w}\y?", u.ltered Keith, breathlessly, "Hester's utterly devoid of conscience where women are concerned," Sir John. "It is by no means impossible he may have behaved like a blackguard to Miss Stanniforlh in the States or in Canada. He has been in both. And if she came over in order to denounco him "

"Hv Heaven, that idea corroborates Stannii'orth's belief that some Englishman had wronged "little Alison'! broke iji Keith.

"Yes; 1 think we've about got things into line and may as well return to the Midlothian," said Sir John, rising. "It's a strange story, and the last chapter's about to bo written; but Horiat, ' old' fellow, things look a, hit more hopeful for you.'-'- -

"Hopeful! 'Are ypu jesting?" "She loves yau,' 1 - replied Sir John simply,

"And she is the wife of a tilled scoundrel!"

"A tie from which the law may release her if he has been guilty of the outrage of depriving i her of her liberty, to say nothing of the reasons inducing her to leave him on her wedding-day as she must have done apparently," "Would to Jleaviin it might be so!" uttered Keith fervently. "My poor little darling, HQW she must have suffered!" "Yes, it must have stung a bit for one of the Morays tg realize she had been a performer. Bjj Jovo!"--"What is it, now?"* To be Continued.