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

King Country Chronicle, Volume IV, Issue 273, 2 July 1910, Page 4

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

(All Rights Reserved.)

By HEDLEY RICHARDS,

Author of "Out of Darkness," "A Day of Reckoning," Etc. PART 12. "It cannot be explained, and it is Jack's writing. lam so absolutely certain that I sent a line to Coates, telling him I should be there this afternoon to give instructions about my will, and John Smith will be my heir." ♦ "Father, wait until you have spoken to Jack. lam sure he is good ,and true." "Good~and true ? He is a scoundrel. Child, I know how a decent working man regards puch a man, and the man who takes my place shall not spend my money I have worked for in profligacy. I wish I hadn't had to speak so plainly, but I want you to know the character of the man lam turning from the. house." "You are-going to forbid him returning to Witton House?" she said. "I cannot do that, as I haven't his address ; but when he returns I shall have something to say. By the way, do you know his address ?" "•No. He went to meet a friend in London—a maif who had returned unexpectedly from abroad. He said h< wasn't sure where he should stay." "That's what he told you. And now I have said what I had to say, and it's time I was going. Ah, there's the trap !" he said, as they heard a conveyance stop at the gate. " Are you going to Middleham now?" she asked. "Yes. I have decided to make my will at once." "Father, don't do it. I'm sure you'll regret it. Wait till Jack comes home," she said, in a tone of entreaty.

•Her earnestness vexed him. He began to fear that she loved Jack, and it made him more determined. "You need not say any more, Betty. My mind is made up;" and he left the room, crossing the hall quickly. She followed him to the door and watched him get into'the ' dog-cart and take the reins from the groom, and as he drove off she thought: "X hope the horse will cast- a shoe, or some little accident happen that will prevent him reaching Middleham to-day. Jack said he shouldn't be long, and to-morrow or even today-, he might return." *♦**♦* "I've come to make my will," said Thompson as he shook hands with "the lawyer. "Without really knowing which man is your sister's son x !" replied Mr. Coates, in a questioning tone, wondering if his client had obtained some information of which he was ignorant. ''"Yes." The answer was quick and decided. Without another word the lawyer teok a sheet of paper, "I suppose Mr. Jack is .the fortunate man ?" he said as he dipped his pen in the ink. The words roused Thompson's slumbering ire. "Not a penny of my money shall tie have. I leave fifty thousand pounds to Betty, but there must be a clause to the effect that if she marries Jack she hasn't a penny. Then there's a list of legacies' to the servants and a few of the principal men at the mine and quarry. All the rest goes to John Smith." Mr. Coates laid down his pen and looked at his, client in amazement, <'This is a strange will, Mr, Thompson," he said, Thompson nodded,

•'l've a gqod reason for what I'm dping. It's not a nice story, but I'll tell you ;" and he repeated what Thwaites had told him, and the evidence of the letter. The lawyer listened attentively. "It doesn't look as-though there >vas much reason • to doubt Mr. Jack's guilt, but I- don't believe he is thi man to do a thing of -that kind, and my advice is don't act hastily." 'You're judging from his face and. manner, but evidence qf his own. letter condemns him, and he shall never have a penny of my money,"* '"Why riot leave all to your daughter?" said Coateg, •iWhy should I? A girl cannot manage things ; she would be overwhelmed with the responsibility." "Not with good advisers, and Miss Betty is clever. Candidly, Mr. Thompson, I /'don't like Mr. John Smith.and I should be sorry to know that when you go he will take your place. The man who dpes- so will have great influence for good .or evil." Jphn Thompson leaned forward, and spoke decidedly : "Coates, I don't -'want advice. , I'd made up my mind when I came here. This is a list of the people who are to have legacies ; the amount follows the name. Now I want you .tc make a draft of the" will while I'm here. You needn't bother about e lot of legal phraseology—but I want know ypu've gqt it right." The. lawyer drgw a, piece of parch: ment to him arid began writing. Now . and again. h,e glanced at the papei |witbT the list; of legacies. He was a ' fluick writer, and he followed his ■ client's wish to write it as simpjjj as possible, At last he laid down his peri anc began reading aloud what b® ha# written. f'That will dq," said Thompson. Mr, Coateg glared at him ; then b(

arid: "Mr. Thompson, have you realised that if Miss Betty cares for Mr. Jack this will means spoiling her life or making her penniless?" ' (To be Continued.) 1672. "I know what I'm doing. I'm making it almost, impossible for her to marry him. He' won't want her when he knows she's a pauper;" and Thompson spoke bitterly. "Very well. I wilt have this copled, and let you know when it is ready to be signed." His client rose, then he looked, down at the sheet of paper on the table.

"I" sign that.' One never knows what may happen, and I'm not going to chance Betty getting my money and marrying that scamp. When you've . copied it and put all the big phrases in that you lawyers like, this can be destroyed." "Very well. I'll send for two of my clerks to witness it," he paid as he touched the bell. Ten minutes later Thompson left the office, and was soon driving homewards. He didn't feel quite sc well satisfied with' his afternoon's work as be had expected. Somehow Jack's face, with the honest, merry, blue eyes, would keep obtruding itself.

"Was it possible there had been a mistake? ' But his own better condemned him. Perhaps, he had been a little hasty in making that will, but he could alter it if he saw reason to change his opinion. It wasn't like a death-bed will. There was plenty of time." Buried in his own thoughts, he had not noticed the noise .made by a motor coming towards them. If he had' it wouldn't have disturbed him, as he was on the right side of the road ; then as the horse and trap turned a corner, the motor turned, too, suddenly, catching the wheel of the trap, and both Thompson and the groom were shot out. ** Whatever have I done ?" exclaimed a lady who was cowering down in the car, while her companion sprang out. "'You'll be lucky if you haven't killed any one," he said, as he saw the groom—who had fallen sideways on the grassy bank—was getting on his feet.

"Go to your ' horse ; I'll, see to your master," said the young fellow, going to where John Thompson lay, white, and motionless. he dead ?" asked the lady, in a terrified tone. ,Nk I don't think so ; but it's a bad case." Then he went to the groom, asking his master's name. "Mr. Thompson, of Witton House, sir." ' At that moment a couple of labourers came' out of the field. -"We'll take him home in the car; you can follow," said the . young man. < Then, with the help of the labourers, Thompson was lifted into the car, the lady taking- her place beside bim and. supporting the motionless form. Ten minutes later the car stopped at the of Witton House and the young man got out, hurriedly explaining to Giles what had happened. While he was talking, Betty, who had heard the car stop, and thought it was Jim Gelder, came forward in time to hear the words: "You'd better tell his wife what has happened." "Bless you, there's only Miss Betty, sir, and how I'm to tell" "What is it, Giles?" The butler turned as though he had been shot, and the stranger stepped into the hall. "There's been an accident. I'm sorry to say the car caused it." VMy father! Is h 3 killed ?" she asked, clasping her hands tightly. "My God, I hope not ; but it's a bad accident. He had better be brought in and a. doctor" "Giles, send a couple of footmen to help in moving your master, and tell the housekeeper to get his bed ready," said Br, Barnes, in a tone pf quiet authority, "Ob, doctor, I am so thankful to see you !" Betty exclaimed. '"l'm glad I happened to be passing. I saw there was something wrong. You must go and help get the bed ready, Miss Betty," he said; and she flew upstairs to her father's room. Ten, minutes later she came slowly downstairs. The doctor had sent, her away while he examined her father. ' "I waited to see-you, Miss Thompson," said the'young man who had brought her father home, > "This ia jmy card, if yqn want me," he, aaidli slowly. * "Were you driving ?" she asked, in a- low tone. "No; I foolishly; cousin, Lady Mary Sheen, driye ; but I understood she knew how. I shall never forgive myself," he said. . - She tried to speak calmly.,' * "It was an accident, but it's very' terrible;" and her voice shook.. He turned ,away to, .'. hide his emotion., , " <* You know where to find me ;"\ and hastening, from the house, he stepped into the car, <I don't think I'll ever drive again," said the woman. "I-know you'll never drive my car again.' I only hope you won't be tried for manslaughter,'" he said. ' 'You're a brute, Percy !" He didn't reply ; he was thinking of the misery in Betty's face, Then he turned, to se§ a, tall young man enter the gate and pass into the porch of Witton Houre. «'I wonder if he's her brother?" he. thought as he drove away,' Betty stood quite still after he had gone, She didn't blame bim. It was a, woman's carelessness, -bat \t was very terrible, Then she gI«V. ced at .the,' card., and read 5 " &Qrt Houston^Houston Castle/* So, he"yr«B the new Lord Houston, |t stranger in the neighbourhood. The opening of t&« etas floor mack

fter turn round, then she ran forward with outstretched hands, crying :

"Jack, you've come too late ! He may die, then he will never know the truth !" - ■

CHAPTER XVI

Jack looked at her in amazement-: "What's wrong, Betty? Who may die ?" he asked, quickly, as he grasped her hand firmly. "My father. A motor-car ran into the cart. They've brought him home unconscious ; the doctor is with him now." Jack looked really distressed. "I hope it's nothing serious," he said, gravely. "He looked like death, and I cannot forgive myself because as I watched him drive away I hoped the horse would cast a shoe or some little accident happen, and then this happened." Hr regarded her in amazement. "Why did you want something to happen?" he asked. "I didn't want him to get to Middleham to-day. I hoped he wouldn't make his will till he'd seen you, and you'd had a chance to explain." It was all Dutch to Jack; he couldn't comprehend what she meant. "A chance to explain what. Betty?" Then seeing she looked. uncomfortable, he said : "Let's gc into the drawing-room, and you can explain. Now, Betty, what is it ?" he asked as he drew a Chair close to the little one in which she was seated. For a moment she hesitated, then she made up her mind that he would have to know with what he ■ was charged. V "Do you know a girl named; Jessie Thwaites ?" she asked ;. and; hie ; look told her at once that he did ; not recognise the name. "No. Who is Bhe?" •"Her father is overman at the lead mine, and he came on Saturday to, tell my father that she had disappeared—that he had discovered she had gone to meet you in London.'' "What ? The man must- be mad!" exclaimed Jack. Betty shook her head. "No; he was right enough. He brought a letter for my father to read. ~ One of the men had found it. It was your writing and signed, with your name. In the letter you arranged to meet .her in London." > •"It's a lie ! I don't know the girl," said Jack, hotly. "I knew it was, but my father and Thwaites both believe you wrote the letter, and" Then Betty stopped abruptly. "It's a base lie i: Have you got the letter ?" / ~ "No; TnTfraftes wouldn't let my father keep' it.' He said another man had- seen you with r tfie igirl; on thequarry path.'* "The quarry path! I've only been there once, I believe." Then he stopped suddenly. "I remember now. I was exploring, and didn't know, which of two ways to take, when I saw a pretty girl apparently waiting for some one. She'd a~ big mastiff with her. She directed me to Witton House. She was not only ' pretty, but spoke in a refined tone. I wonder if she was Miss Thwaites ?" "I expect she was, and some one* Has seen you speaking to her. But the letter?" she said. "You don't believe I wrote it, Betty ?" he asked, reproachfully. : Tm sure you didn't. Perhaps it's . not right to say it, but I've won* lered if John Smith knew her." Jack started. t "By Jove! I've just remembered that I met him a few yards further on. He was in a great hurry, and scowled when he saw me." Betty laid her hand on Jack's arm as she said : • / "He's written that letter and imitated your writing and signed your same, I've had; that idea from the time my father told me about it."

"I'm, afraid he must have done it. t knew he was a bad lot, but I didn't think he :was vile enough to* do sueh a base trick. But I'll find out the truth; then when my uncle is better he will know I am not guilty." "But, Jack, he went into Middleham to make his will, and he was going to make John Smith his heir; whether he was his sister's son or not. John' Smith was 'to have all but what he left to me." Jack did not look nearly so much troubled at this .information as he had done at hearing that he was blamed for the disappearance Thwaites's daughter, "Look here- Betty : I've never felt at all sure, that I should .be 'your father's heir. I won't say I shouldn't like some day to take his place when his life is done, but I dope that won't be yet awhile. Still, the thing that would really trouble me is that a fellow like Smith should come after your father. Perhaps he's left all to you, which is what] he ought to do." "No, my farther wouldn't do that, Mid. I'm afraid the will is made. Oh, Jack; it will be hateful; if John Smith gets to know about the will. He'll.-act- as though, be was master here," said Betty, (To .bo Continued).