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

King Country Chronicle, Volume IV, Issue 275, 9 July 1910, Page 4

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

(All nights Reserved.)

Ey HEDLBY RICHARDS,

i-ullur cf "Out of Darkness," "A Day of Reckoning," Etc.

PART 14. Jessie would make a charming misIrcss. After all, he wasn't -sorry that he'd promised to marry her. He had to be in York on Wednesday, but he wouldn't stay long, and he ; wo"ld take, care that no one knew he was leaving Witton. He would return en the Saturday. . Of course, if Thompson died, he would return at once. Grannie would let , him kvow. If he died before Wednesday, all the tetter. His whole future bung on the old man's.death ; and with -a rcst':ss movement Smith left the room and went upstairs, intending to ass how he was. Just as he 'reached the corridor in which Thompson s'ept a girl rushed out of a doorway and ran pausing at the room in which the invalid lay on the door of which she tapped loi:d;y. ■ ' , Smiih felt sure something was wren:-, and as he paused with his hair 1 , on-"the handle of a door, he rncensciously turned it. As the Co r oieicd slightly, he glanced in, ■and saw it was a very large dress-in--re ora. Instinctively he guessed it was the one used by the master of the house. At the same time he heard the housekeeper exclaim :

Miss Betty's fainted. Poor dear ! Just run downstairs for some brandy, and I'll go to her, but I d:r;n't leave the master above a minute."

Smith stepped into the dressingroon, closing the door, then when the maid had ran past, followed by the housekeeper in more leisurely faction,, he crossed -the room, and opened a door that he knew 'would Lead into the chamber where . the master of the house unconscious. They had said ■he was very ill—in danger ; now he had the chance of 33eing for himself, and he stepped into the room, leaving the door open behind him, so that he could beat a hasty retreat. Oh a massive brass Ledstcad lay the invalid, so still lhat he might have been dead. Smith went quietly to the bedside arid looked at the deathly face on the pillow. "Would the doctors be able to do anything" for him ? Would he get better ?" he wondered, as he stood there gazing at him. If Thompson lied all would Jbe well with him—tie would be an enormously rich aian ; but if Thompson rose from that b:d it was probable that jverythin? would be changed. Smith looked down at the marble face, and s.s he looked he asked himself if it would be murder to make it impossible for him to alter his will. He was nearly dead ; there was very little life* in him." As he thought thus his hand moved gently forward, and was laid on the lipa of the' unconscious man. At the same time he raised; his eyes and glanced at a long mirror that was fixed to 'the wall facing the bed, and he saw ;hc housekeeper, standing just within the doorway. In an instant he removed h's hand, stepping quickly through *the doorway into the dress-ing-room, then on to the landing, and very soon he reached his own room. Sinking into a chair, he asked himself : "Had the housekeeper seen? Did she know what he was attempting to do ?" CHAPTER XVIII. ON THE QUARRY ROAD. A week had passed since the master of Witton House was brought dome unconscious—a week in which Dr. Barnes and a doctor from Midileham had fought a battle with Death, and the grim monster, who liases such heavy toll, had retreated .ound a~ corner, where he lurked ; jut there was hope -that he would e t eaten oft the field. The doctor Icom Londcn, who had paid his third iit - the preceding day, and left Tuition by an early" train that niornn-\ . hail told the'm they might i: ope th it th.3 sufferer would,recover. He ha 1 a grand constitution, and there was. reason to think lie would get better. Betty and Jack had received the new 3 w.th de'ight ; but, John Smith though h 3 tried to hide his chagrin, was greatly troubled. The thought of what it might mean if Thompson ri-e from his sick bed, keen of wit and able to look into things, still oppressed him as he lounged on a chair under an oak , tree- oq the lawn.: ''-. 1 . -- v

his marriage with Jessie be discovered ?" So far everything had. been very satisfactory. Up had borrowed Lord Houston's car; His lordship had called day by day -to how injured man was progressing,'" and Smith -had asked bjin' for the loan; A of. his - car for a clay x>r ttxy, as he\ wished to explore; the country. H e had gone in it "to Yorkj: and after the marriage—but not' until dusk—Jessie and he had started on .the return journey. She had? worn spectacles and a nurse's uniform, that made her look'as'un; li-re herself as possible. Avoiding Witton, he had taken a road that tfound round by the quarry, but a mile Lc'ore they reached it Jessie had got out of the car, and in the darkness —there was no moon—crossed several fields, finally reaching her grannie's cottage about midnight, while Smith had gone on to Witton House, where the car had been put in the stable. Yes, so far all had gone well—no one suspected the missing girl was at the cottage ; but now if Thompson recovered thj

Dutlook would be difierent. The housekeeper had : never alluded to it, but he couldn't rid himself of the impression that she had seen his hand placed over the mouth of the unconscious man. Certainly the sick room had never been left for a moment. The staff of nurses had been increased —there were two for the day and two for the night—and besides these the only people allowed to enter were Betty and the housekeeper. Such rigid guardianship meant something. Of course, he could deny any statement the housekeeper made. She had no proof. If only Jack was out of the way Thompson would be less disposed tc believe evil of him ; -but Jack, was the favourite, and once the old man began to be suspicious there was no telling what he might find out.

At that moment the sound of a man's voice, rough and uneducated, was heard, saying : "I'm sorry to trouble you," sir, but there s a lad of mine nigh his end, and he says there's something he must* tell you before he goes." . - ' Something he wants to tell me ? I don't think e know your! son," Jack answered.

"' No, sir ; but he knows you by sight, and once or twice while he's teen; ill—it's typhoid he's got—he's said; ' I've something to tell Mr. Jack when I'm better—something as I ought to have told before ; ' but I didn't like going up to the house, and I thought I'd be seeing him.' And last night, when he was bad, he made me promise I'd ask you to see him. He said I was to tell you that he'd feel he'd, wronged you un-. less he told you. what was on his mind."

"I'll come. ;Where do; you live ?" said Jack.

"In the quarry cottages, about half a mile beyond the quarry. My name's Hutchinson ; the lad's called Ned." "All right ; I'll be there about three o'clock, without fail. I suppose the road past the quarry is the nearest ?"•• '■' Yes, low road." "Very good. Tell him I'll come." "lhank you, sir:. I don't know what's on his mind, but he's set on seeing you,;" and Smith heard them leave the room. Jack had evidently gone with the man to the door. Smith clenched his fists as he wondered if the dying lad had seen him with Jessie—if he kn3w of their frequent meetings. Was that what he wanted to tell Jack ? It was well known that the latter was thought to te responsible for the girl's disappearance. If only the lad would die before Jack got there ! But there was no such luck. Jack would hear the tale, and probably be able to prove his innocence, unless—and Smith's thoughts flew to the loose boulder of stone that overhung the lower road. Jack would pass under it, and what was to hinder him being above ? A very slight push, and the life that was so dangerous to him would be ended ! Smith asked himself could he give that push ? It would be deliberate murder, whereas when he had tried to shorten Thompson's days he had acted on the impulse of the moment.

It was strange had never once thought of that, loose boulder until qow, when some fiend had brought It to his memory. JTor a second Smith hesitated, then he told himself it would be so much better •if Jack was out Qf the way, and that ;eforc 'he reached the Quarry Cotsages his death would seal the lad's Yes, hs wbuld give the very :light push that was needed, and Jack's days would l:e ended. Of :ourse he must ta!*e care that le was not suspected. He must leave ;he hous? before Jack dil, and wait 'or him to pass. No, ho wouldn't pass—Jack would lie there ! Smith ;hought it all out. Afterwards he would make his way quickly into the town, then walk as far c.s V/earside Hall. He would profess he wanted to borrow Jim's motor-car; it would enable him to prorc that he aad • been in the opposite direction in that afternoon: 1 "-.-■'

"Do you think Jim Galder would tend me his car to-morrow ?"" he asked Betty, pausing on his way to the door.

"I don't know," she answered, soldly.

"Well, to can but refuse. I'll walk over and ask him," he said as he left the room; and shortly aftor he left the house without being noticed. ■ '-

He made his way through the garden into the pine wood, and struck across the fields in the direction of the path above the quarty. Looking round, he saw there was no one in sight,. and sitting down beside the bojildgr,.that was. even more insecure than it had appeared when be last saw .it, he took out his watch and saw that it was twenty minutes to three. .

Jack was usually punctual ; there would not be long to wait. But he must not him or any one. else coming along the-lower, road seo him ; ..and Smith stretched himself on the ground, his hands grasping the boulder, while he kept hip eyes fixed on the'road below. The minutes seemed t» pass slowly: He didn't like what he was go- : ;ng to do, but Jack's life stood between him and security—the certainty of being Thompson's heir—therefore it would have to be sacrificed. At last—it had seemed like an eternity—be saw the man of whom he had been thinking, and Smith drew a deep" breath as he watched him come ; nearer and nearer. Then he raised himself on his knees and look•cd below. The time had come ! He gave a strong push, and the rock slipped forward. There was a sound of falling earth, then a 'great crash, and as he rose to his feet a hand was laid on his shoulder, and Jim -Gelder said :

"What the d—l did you do that for?"

Smith was equal to the emergency. "Do what ?" he asked, in a voice

that, in spite of himself, was hoarse

"Hurl that rock over. If any one was on the path below, you'v.e killed them."

"I didn't hurl it. I was leaning against it, and it fell. You must be seeing double, Mr. Jim Gclder," he said, trying to speak as usual. "You are telling a lie, and you know it. What did you send that boulder crashing down for? By Jove, if there should have been any one on the path !" and Jim began to descend.

Smith stood watching, debating whether he should follow, then he decided it-would be safer to brave it out. Of course, Geldcr would accuse him of having killed. Jack, but he would deny having done anything but lean against the piece of rock, and there was no proof to the contrary. It would be one man's word against the other. Thinking this, Smith hurried after Gelde'r, and a moment later he.heard him exclaim: "You there ! So it was intended to-send you to Kingdom-Come." "I'd a narrow escape. I stopped to get what looked like a piece of white heather, or I should -have been crushed to death," he hoard Jack say ; and Smith knew that ho had placed himself in a perilous position for nothing. "That is what he meant you to be," said Jim as his feet touched the road ; then he turned and pointeel to Smith. Jack looked round. ■ ■ "I don't understand," he said. "'Then I'll put it straight. I was crossing the moor, and I saw a man lying flat on the ground, kind of griping that boulder. I happened to know it was loose'. I was on my way to the quarry to tell the foreman about it, and I wondered what the chap was after, so I came quick" ly on. Then he peered down below, and got on his knees, and I saw him push the stone. A less push would have done it, and over it went, just as I reached him. I wondered what he was after. Now I know ; and if I were you, in future I'd give the fellow a wide berth. You see you missed your mark, Mr. Would-be-murderer," said Jim, as Smith stepped on to the road,.

"You've been drinking,'' he said* quietly. , ..

"A drunken man couldn't down that hillside as I did, you cut," replied Jim, indignantly; "All right. I don't know jthat it matters to me what you think," said 1 Smith as he turned away. "Pool that I was not to look around before I tried to move the stone !" he thought, as he -climbed the hill. , "'. . .

-"He was going to murder you," said Jim as he gazed after the retreating form. "Yes, I suppose it's been a sort of providence that I have escaped," Jack answered, looking at the huge block of stone. '''lt would have pounded a fellow pretty well to pulp," he added. "Your best friends wouldn't have known you, I guess. Did that fellow snow you were coming this way ?" "I cannot say. He may have done [t looks as though he did. By the way, I shall be late for my appointment. It's three o'clock now," said Jack.

-"Where are you going ?" "As far as^ the Quarry Cottages. A lying lad lias something to tell me." . ••■* '• ■ '.'.•"...

"I'll walk as far as the cottages with you. I needn't come in, you mow ; biit I've a sort of feeling I'd like to see you safe off this road." Jack laughed. "Come along," he said; and they walked briskly on. "In a short time they reached the ;ottages, and Jack inquired from'a woman which was Hutchinson's.

"That one. They're letting the blinds down. The poor lad's just jot away," she answered. -. * '''Got away!" repeated Jack. ' ".She means he's dead. That's how the people about here speak of ieath," Jim answered! "She means he's dead. That's how the people about here speak of leath," Jim explainedFor; a moment Jack hesitated, then lie said :

"I'd better let the people know I have kept my promise ;" and he went towards the cottage Vwith the drawn blinds. The door was slightly ajar, and as he .knocked, the.man Twho had that- morning been' at Wjtton House appeared. • • v "You're too late, sir. He's: dead," he said, gravely. An accident made me a little late. I'm sorry," Jack replied.

"So am I, sir. But I'd no idea he was so near his end. There was ar change while I was out this morning. He was kind of -unconscious when. I got back, and he was like that till, about a quarter to three, when he .opened his eyes and asked for you. Then before I could answer him he gave a sort of gasp and tried to speak, I just caught the words." 'Tell him ; I' saw'— — Then his eyes closed, and in a minute or. two all was oyer." bo Continued). .