The Mine Master's Heir OR THE REAL JOHN SMITH.

King Country Chronicle, Volume IV, Issue 267, 11 June 1910, Page 4

The Mine Master's Heir OR THE REAL JOHN SMITH.

(All Rights Reserved.)

T By HEDLEY RICHARDS,

Author of "Out of Darkness," "A Day of Reckoning," Etc. PART 6. Jack did not' reply, and followed Betty into the house. But he did not find her ; she had taken refuge in her own room, where she sat thinking with blushing face and. a happy light in her eyes. She knew Jack had alluded to her when he spoke of getting bis heart's desire. They went to. dine that night with tho Gelders, and as Betty dressed she. felt so light-hearted that she told herself she was a wicked girl to feel so happy within such a ■short time of .her brother's death. Eat during the drive to Wearside Hall she was unusually silent. Squire Gelder had said it should be a sort of family dinner party, but. Betty in ; her.' own? miiid christened it the rival's dinner. JohnN3mith Jim Gelder, and Jack each tried to engage her attention, while her gi'andmother—who sat at the opposite end of the table to her son, Squire Gelder, who was a widower —Ipoked on with. quiet amusement. A 1 last, when they had gone into the drawing-room, leaving the men to enjoy their wine, Mrs. Gelder said: "Well, Betty, have you enjoyed yourself ?" Betty laughed and blushed. "Not much. That John Smith is enough to spoil anything." "I see ;" and the old lady looked keenly at the girl. "Do you like him, grannie ?" "No. 1 like Jack, but your uncle wishes neither of- them had come. You see, he would have liked you to be Jim's wife ; now he is afraid"-r—----"Oh, grannie, I soould never have married Jim." Then she blushed as she said : "And it's ridiculous to think I must marry any one at present. But, grannie, I have been wondering if e-ver v you saw my father's sister, and /whether you can see a likeness in either of the Smiths to her ?"

For a moment there was silence, then Mrs. Gelder said :

"Yes ; your, aunt was in my Sunday class daring the last two years she lived in Witton. You see, there was a lack of teachers, and the vicar persuaded me to take a class soon after I was married. Of course, it would be difficult to trace a likeness between a young man and a girl that age, but as it happens, I saw her after her marriage." "You did, grannie ?" exclaimed Betty, in surprise. " Yes. It was while your father and mother were away on their, honeymoon. I drove from here to Witton House to speak to the house--keeper about some alteration in arrangements that had to be made before the newly-married couple returned home. It was a lovely after-, noon, and I took the further, way round, by Pikesly ; then as I drove down the hill, almost opposite to Witton House, a little child ran into the road. I pulled the ponies up on their haunches as I heard a woman's scream. Then a moment later I saw she had a child in her arms who was screaming lustily. I threw the reins to the groom and got out, and after a few words, I persuaded the woman to bring the screaming child into the house. I knew he wasn't hurt, but I saw she was white shaken. I took them into the drawing-room, and I gave her some cakes, and as the stranger revived I saw her look curiously round ; then l I asked her if she would have some more tea, and the words, ' No, thank you, Mrs. Gelder,' astounded me. " 'You know my name ?' I said, and the colour mounted to her face. " 'I didn't mean to let you know that I did," she. answered ; and after a few more questions I found out that she was the girl I had known as Mary Thompson, that she was married to a man named Smith, and the boy with her was her only child. She told me she had felt a great longing to see Witton again, and have a look at her brother's grand home, but she had no intention of intruding, herself on his notice or letting any one know who she was. She had read about her brother's marriage, and thought she would come while he was away. I asked her a lot of questions, and suggested your father might give her monetary help, as she said her husband was a hard-working man. But she wouldn't hear of it. She said they had both saved a good siim before they were married, and been very frugal since, so-that they had enough to take a small farm, and had not decided whether to go to Australia or settle in England. I asked her to let me know where they settled, but she said it was better, not—that her brother's path and hers wer§ - far apart, and it was wiser to , pass out Qf bis life. But she had wanted to see his home and Witton once again." "What was she like ?" asked Betty. "You are not unlike her, but she had a quieter manner. She gave one the impression of being a quiet, self contained woman, with a lot oi | nai"e dignity and a fund of com/mon sense. The' boy was a merry, light-haired little fellow." ."Light-haired ? So is Jack !" exclaimed Betty. "Yes, but very often light-haired children develop into dark-haired men and women, The greatest likeness I can trace in that little boy to Jack is that he had a merry face." "You don't remember the colour ol his eyes ?" "No, or I should have told youi

father what I have told you ; and as your aunt said they might either settle on a farm in England or . go to Australia, it makes it possible that either man may be her son," said Mrs. Gelder.

"Oh, grannie, what a hopeless muddle it is ! I wish you could call your second sight to your aid," said Betty. The old lady shook her head. "The vision comes, but rio amount of wishing can bring it. I saw the two men coming, and I knew trouble would follow.." ' " What kind of trouble ?" asked Betty. '' Mrs. Gelder shook her tiead as she said : "I don't know ; but there will be trouble —seas of trouble !" CHAPTER VIII. AN EVENTFUL AFTERNOON. It was Saturday afternoon, and the miners and quarrymen stood about in the streets of Witton. It was a f custom of theirs to congregate in the little town a.t the week-end while their wives did their shopping. Sometimes they discussed local news, sometimes the doings of Parliament were the subject of talk, and various members .were- 'censured or praised.? • c "I say, that's a rum thing; up at Witton House," said a stout, middleaged man as he filled his pipet "Reckon it is—two fellows of same name and both. say. as they are the master's nephews,"' said an older man. "Sarve him reeght ! He shouldn't have been so keen on putting a stranger in Miss Betty's place," said another man. "Well, mate, folks say as he tho-ught a girl couldn't manage the quarry and the mine, and I hold with him in that," said the first speaker. "If I know anything of the master, he's not thinking of going just yet, and Miss Betty will marry ; then what's to hinder ; her husband being called Thompson, and bossing the show?" said a man who had not spoken before. "i" "Nowt but his notion that he'd have his sister's son come after him., and folks say as the man who proves to be that is to be Miss Betty's husband." "Reckon she'll have something to say to that. Women folks isn't easy to drive, and Miss Betty's got a will of her own, bless her' bonnie face !" said an old man.

"Well, one of 'em must be an impostor," said a young fellow. "That's where you're wrong, Bill," said the man who had begun the conversation. '"They're both of 'em Smiths, with mothers called Mary Thompson ; but one Mary Thompson was the master's sister, and the other a third or fourth cousin, and he's got a detective trying to find .out which is which." " As well look for a needle in a bundle of hay, said. the young felLow who had before spoken. '"Here's old Anthony. He'll maybe know more about the matter," said one of the men who h:ul before spoken ; and turning tljeir , heads, they saw a wiry old man, who had been employed in the stables at Witton House since he" was a lad. "What's the Parliament' • about ?" tie asked, with a grin. "We're talking'. : about the two young gentlemen ai Witton House. It seems the master cannot settle which is the right one." "No. Mr. Jack, he's the first comer, laughs, an' says it's a Chiaese puzzle." " And t'other one, what does he say ?" asks a man. "He glowers, and rides the Black King. He'll ride to win—if he can;" and old Anthony 'spoke the last words in a lower tone. "Well, maybe it's prejudice, but if I was betting, I'd lay my money on the light horse." "Meaning the one as is called Mr. Jack. Now, I'm with you there. He's like the poor young master and Miss Betty—a pleasant sort of gentleman —while the other" "There he goes !" said a young fellow. All eyes were turned in the direction he indicated, and they saw the man of whom they had been speaking turn along a street that led into a lane, and from there into the open country. "He's like the master," observed one ofi'the men. "Not so like when you see him at close quarters. He's a pair of as shifty eyes as ever I saw in a man's head," said one of the others. " you're right there, mate —cunning and shifty," remarked another tnan. "Well, I, for one, hope he won't be the one to follow the master. He's hard, and he'll get his full penn'orth of work out of a fellow, but he's just, and I don't think that chap's to be trusted," said an old man.

Old Anthony, wb,o> had been .gazing after the I young man, now spoko abruptly. r . "Well, i lie says his name's John Smith, but I'd like to know who his father was." "It seems to matter most who his mother was.," remarked an old man.

"His mother wasn't the master's pister, I dare bet," said the old gtftbleman as he turned on his heel and walked slowly up the street, muttering : "Like the master, eh ? But he's more like the other. It's a cute piece of villainy, but there's no proving it." Meanwhile John Smith walked quickly on. He was fond of exploring. Already he had visited the mine, and mentally appraised its value, longing and hoping that he would soon be acknowledged as heir to it. Now he was going in the direction of the quarry, but after proceeding some distance he mounted a stile and followed a path that led up the steep hillside. At last he gained the top, and paused to look round. A wide exp.anse of country lay below. Near at hand it was wild, rugged scenery ; further away

he could see woods and pasture land. "'But it's not worth as much as this moorland, with its wealth of stone. If it was only mine ! And it must be,," he thought. Turning round, he descended into the valley that lay between the hills ; crossing it, he climbed again, and presently came to a cart track that led to the quarry. For a moment he hesitated, wondering if he should go and examine it. It was Saturday afternoon ; the men were not working. He decided he would not, and began climbing again. This time the hill was steep and difficult to ascend. Here and there he had to lay hold of the great pieces of stone that jutted out, and when he reached the top he saw there was no proper path, but, stepping between the huge boulders of stone, he soon came to a spot where the path ended,, and, looking over, he saw the quarry beneath. "It's inexhaustible," he muttered as he looked around ; then he turned and retraced his steps.

Keeping near the edge of the cliff, he noticed that the road lay close underneath. Not very safe if any of these pieces of rock should give way," he reflected. "" Suddenly he came to a standstill as his eye rested on a huge boulder that had slipped and seemed to hang half over the road, and he wondered it had been allowed to remain. Then he came to the conclusion that its insecurity could not be seen from the lower road. Certainly it was not safe ; very little and it would fall. It might stand for years, or it might be hurled below any moment. He would tell Thompson about it when he got back to Witton House. Yes, any one below would surely be killed if that fell. A swift thought crossed his mind :

" Any one ! What if Jack Btood there and the stone fell ?" He went nearer and looked. "A very slight push would send it over. If Jack was below it would be instant death, and he would surely then he John Thompson's heir. He - turned away abruptly. Of course he couldn't do it, yet* he had seen worse thingi than that done in Australia. And Jack's death would mean money,' position, and escuring the lovely Betty, who scorned him, as his bride. All that, and only one man's life between. But he didn't want to be a murderer, he reflected, as he descended a little hill on the other side and went forward; but he couldn't get rid of the thought that it would be so easy to get Jack on the lower path, then a slight push to the stone and all would be over.

He strode on, scarcely seeing where he was going, when a woman's scream brought him to a standstill, and looking round he saw that he was on a cart track at the foot of the hills. On one side it was divided from a turnip field by a low stone wall ; not a house was visible, or a human being. Again a scream, louder than the first, followed by the words, *'* Help ! help !■' rang out, and Smith dashed in the direction from, which it came, and as he turned a corner he saw a girl struggling desperately with a tramp. They were so engrossed that they did not hear his steps, the tnan trying to master the girl,. who was fighting desperately to free herself from his embrace, beating his lace unmercifully. Desperation seemed to have _ given her the strength of two women, but it was evident he was getting the better of her, and as Smith came up the ruffian said : "I'll pay you off for them blows my pretty !"

The last word was uttered with a ihoking sound. John Smith had grasped him by the back of the neck, and was shaking him as a cat shakes a mouse. His arms fell to his sides, and the girl, freed, stood looktag, with a face that expressed intense gratitude, at her rescuer. The tramp tried to free himself. He was short and broad-set, a fairly muscular man,, but Smith towered above him, and as he held him firmly, pressing his fingers on his throat so that the man seemed to be on the verge of choking, Smith looked quiet and composed. "Oh, don't choke him !" she implored ; and he noticed that her voice was refined and gentle. "He deserves to choke, and I'll give him a lesson another way. Will you kindly pick up that cane I threw down ?" he said, pointing to one that he had flung away when he seized the tramp.

She picked it up and handed it to him ; then holding the man by the collar he grasped the stick firmly and began thrashing him unmercifully, while the man writhed, howled, and begged for mercy. The girl stood by watching, pity struggling with her just indignation. At last she spake. " Oh, let him go ! You have punished him enough," she exclaimed. "He deserves killing, the brute !'' and Smith brought the canc down with a stinging blow that cut through the tatered garments. "Don't ! don't ! You have given him enough," she said. (To be Continued.)