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

King Country Chronicle, Volume IV, Issue 282, 3 August 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. TART 21. At last—when Jessie was in bedgrannie, who was skilled in the use of simple medicines, made her a cooling draught, then sat down by the bedside to think what it would be brst to do. Finally she decided to give the girl cooling and soothing medicine, keep the room dark, and let her have absolute quiet. If these had not the desired effect, she would send for Dr. Barnes ; but she hoped Lt would not be necessary. So long as Jessie improved steadily, if slowly, she need not trouble ; in fact, a slow recovery would be better under the circumstances. It would allow time for events to shape themselves, and Jessie in bed would be easier to manage than if she had been strong and well. By the time the old woman left the bedroom she was half inclined to think that the sudden attack of faintness was due to an overruling Providence. When Mrs. Thwaites reached home she found her husband was just going out. "I_ didn't know as you were going preaching to-night," she said. V-'l'm not ; I got old Surbiton to take the appointment. I've done preaching and praying, iass. I'm going to the devil," he said, grimly.

She stood watching him as lie went down the path and shut the gate sharply.

"He's worse than ever he was since Jessie went. I wish he didn't talk like that ;" and she sighed. Nathan Thwaites walked quickly into the town, and on reaching the main street he turned into a newsagent's and asked for the "Middleham Echo," only to be told there was not one left, ' I could have sold double the number, not but what I did order fifty more, expecting there'd be a run on 'em. You see, every one wants to know the result of the inquiry before the magistrates today," said the man. "'You mean about the old quarry affair ?" said Thwaites.

" Yes ; there's nothing else talked about. Mr. John Smith has been sent for trial at the 'assizes. It's just three weeks to them." " Sent for trial !" repeated Thwaites ; and his voice was husky, '•Yes. Smart, that young lawyer, appeared for him. He cross-question-ed Jake Brady pretty stiffly, asked if he hadn't a spite against the prisoner on account of a thrashing he had received at his hands. Jake denied it stoutly ; but the lawyer said he should be prepared to bring a witness who would prove it. Meanwhile the prisoner reserved his defence. Opinion in the town .is divided : some folks think Mr. Smith guilty, others that this Jake Brady has a spite against him. My own opinion is that he's speaking the truth. When he gave his evidence at the inquest, he seemed to just see all he described."

Thwaites left the shop abruptly. He had gqt to know what he want: ed, • and as he walked down the street he asked himself if he was satisfied now he knew that the man «whom lie believed to be guilty of. taking Jessie from her home-=was to stand his trial for murder. Juat then two men passed him, and hj? heard one of them eay :

"He'll swing for it, and serve him right." Thwaites stood still, and, lifting his cap, he passed his hand across his trow. John Smith would swing for the murder of the woman whose tody had been found in the quarry, he mused, and he. knew itj was nq murder. Surely, if Smith was hanged, he (Thwaites) would be a murderer. Yes, he wouldn't shirk the truth —he would be as surely a murderer as if he shot him dead. Well, he was willing to go through life, knowing he bore the brand of Cain, for the sake of being revenged on this man ; and he walked resolutely forward.

Suddenly he remembered what the prisoner's lawyer had said about Jake, that he had a spite against Smith., If this was true, then the tale he had told about seeing him with Jessie might be an invention.

At that moment he saw Jake coming towards him, and Thwaites paused as they came abreast, saying, sternly : "So it seems you'd your own ends to serve when you told that story about the quarry pit, and I suppose it was the same when you made up tfeat tale about seeing Smith with my girl ?'' and a-5 he spoke he watched the man's face. "I told the truth about what I saw at the quarry, and it's true I saw your girl with him," Jake answered, quickly" and without confusion.

"Then it's a lie about you having a spite against Smith ?" " P'r'ars I have, and p'r'aps I Haven't, but I told the truth, and I don't think you're in love with the, nan," said Jake, with a short laugh, Th'.vaites turned away abruptly.

"In love with him ! Heaven, how [ hate him ! And he shall take his chance. I won't tell what I saw. My poor little Jessie, you shall be avenged. I'd suffer the torments of hell through the remainder of my life to pay him off. If I only knew where she was, the poor little lass !" and he sighed. 'Glad to meet you, Mr Thwaites ;" and a burly farmer paused in front of him, saying : 'ijl've been to your

house, and your wife said you wore out. I want to know if you'll come to Thorpe next month and preach our harvest sermons for us ? You are the most acceptable local preacher we have."

"No, sir ; I won't preach for you. I'll never preach again. I've turned my tack on such things. I'm going to the devil at a smart pace,;" and Thwaites turned on his heel.

The farmer stood gazing after him, his face expressing amazement and horror.

"I believe he's off his head," he muttered.

CHAPTER XXVII. THE STRANGE VISITOR. "Miss Betty, Dr. Barnes said you jould s>e the master, hut I was to explain a bit first," said Mrs. Gibbon, the housekeeper. Betty looked alarmed. "Is he so very much altered?" she said, in a faltering tone. "No, miss ; he's getting to look quite himself. When you see him you'll wonder why the doctor has kept you out of the room so long ; but the fact was he daren't let it be known the master was getting better until he was strong enough tc take things in hand ; but now Mr. John Smith is out of Jhe house, it's different."

"What do you mean ?" asked Betty, bewildered by the woman's words.

"Well, Miss Betty, it wasn't safe for the master to leave his room or for it to be known he was getting better until all could he explained to iim, and he'd destroyed the will he made in Mr. Smith's favour. Now he's left the house, the master will be able to come downstairs in a few days." "Will you tell me what you mean?" ?aid Betty, impatiently ; and Mrs. Gibbon told her how she had seen John Smith trying to suffocate her father. "It was the mirror that saved him, miss," she concluded by saying.

Betty shuddered. "What an awfully wicked man he is ! I've tried to think he wasn't guilty of that poor woman's death, but I'm afraid he is. By the way, is the doctor going to tell my father what you have told me ?"

"Not just yet, Miss Betty. He wants the master to get a little stronger before he tells him, and he doesn't wish him to hear about Mr. John Smith's arrest or that Mr. Jack was shot. Of course, Dr. Barnes said if he asked questions they'd better try to put him off —but so far the master hasn't asked anything except how you were, and he knows you are going to see him to-day.

Half an hour later Betty saw hei father. He was very kind, though she fancied he avoided asking questions ; but she wept downstairs happy in the knowledge that he was recovering, and that Jack also would soon be about, when "her fathei would learn that he had been deceived, and her lover received into favour again.

Two days later the master of Witton House came dqwnstaira, having previously told" Mrs, Gibbon that she had better inform Mr. Jack that he did not wish to see him until he was stronger ; and the housekeeper knowing he was not to be upset about anything, did not tell him that Mr. Jack was an invalid, whe had been confined to his room unti! the previous day, when he had appeared in the drawing-room.' Thompson had decided that until he was stronger he would use a room overlooking the garden. It had been his wife's sitting-room, and was at the end cf the house, one window looking jnto the fields and the -other into the garden ; and as he lay on the couch there, Betty had some trouble to restrain herself from telling him all that had happened since he set out on that ill-fated, drive tc Middleham.

At the very time that Thompsor came downstairs a man was sitting in the best parlour of the Hare anc Hounds—a tall, thin man, with irongrey hair and a spotted red face, that told he indulged too freely ir drink —and as he sat near the open window a table stood at his elbow, on which was a bottle of brandy and a jug of water. He had only come to Witton the previovs night, but he seemed inter' ested in the inhabitants, judging from the questions he put to the maid who brought his meals upsta'rs. Sipping his brandy and watei —there was very little of the latter —with an air of enjoyment, he started as a cackling laugh fell on his ears, followed by % urst oi unintelligible gibberish, The stranger put his head a'little way out of the window, and saw two men' standing near the door—one a fine, hale old man, the other a big, elderly man, with a vacant look in his eyes, and as he opened his mouth the same halfformed words ran one into another. '"Come in, Charley, and have a drink. "It's a hot day," said the other man, kindly,; and the stranger drew his head in, his face wearing a queer expression, and he dashed a lot more brandy into the tumble!'. Presently he rang the bell, and told the waiter that he wanted a couple oi bottles of the best champagne, and he would be glad if tin; landlord would bring it, as, he wanted to speak to him.

A minute or two later the landlord appeared, and as he put the bottles, on the table the piti-anger said : "There's been a queer, heathenish noise down below, landlord. Whc was making it ?" "Sorry you've been disturbed, sir. They call the man Charley Dykes,; he's an idiot." "I shouldn't have thought you had men of his class hanging about. An inferior pub is more his sort." "Well, sir, you're right there ; but I always let Charley come here, and I never mind giving him a glass, poor fellow. I've a sort of feeling that if J. hadn't kept a scoundrel

about the place for my own convenience, when he would have left the town if I hadn't given him a job poor Charley would have been as right in his mind as I am. You see, sir, I kept a groom as had a grudge against him, and one day they met, and Charley struck him with the whip. The fellow was riding a fiery horse;, and he rode poor Charley down and let the horse trample on him cruelly. At the time it was thought it was an accident, but a dozen years after a man who had seen it all—he was a lad at the time and afraid to speak—told the truth. Listen ! There he is, poor fellow, a gibbering idiot, and it's all the fault of that man Jevons. My missis says God will punish him for it before he dies."

The stranger opened one of the bottles of champagne, and emotied a glass at a flraught.

"'You can send me another bottle up, landlord. It won't lvr't me ; I'm well seasoned,': he en'.tl, ;.s he saw the former looked uneasy. "A gibbering idiot ! And who's going to punish the man who did it ! Ha, ha !" and he laughed uneasily. Very soon the three bottles of champagne were empty and the brandy bottle hadn't a drain left in it, and, well seasoned or not, the drink mounted to his head.

"I'll go and see the old -boy and have a talk with him," he muttered, as he got on his feet and put a soft felt hat on. Then, walking none too steadily, he went downstaits and out of the house.

Locomotion was not a very easy matter at first, but before he had gone the length of the main street his gait became steadier ; but his head grew more muddled, and he was possessed by one idea —he would go to see the master of Witton House. At the side of the house he turned along a narrow lane that led to the stables, and, like one who knew his «vay, he opened a door leading into the courtyard. A big dog in a kennel barked loudly, but the man went leisurely across the yard, muttering to himself. Opening another door, he passed into the garden. The window of the room, in which the master of the house was lying on a couch opened like a door, and it was standing half open. The stranger turned at once towards it, and a moment later he stood in the room.

Betty, who was sitting on a low :hair near her father, sprang to her feet, and Thompson raised himself on his elbow, regarding the intruder with angry surprise. "Hello, old boy ! You've altered since I saw you, and you're a bigger man than you were in those days. Surely you haven't forgotten a chap you tried to do sach a good turn!" said the man with a jollity born of drink. "Who a_ret you ?" said Thompson, {ooking keenly at the man, whom he saw had been drinking, while Betty wondered whether it would not be wiser to ring the bell. "Who am I ? That's a nice question, when my son has been living here ever so long ! I'm John Smith, father of your heir—the man who'll be master here before longthough you don't look as though you were going to move on just yet unless you get a gentle help. Sometimes it's necessary. You see the lad wants your money." John Thompson regarded the speaker with interest. " Yes,; and, between you and me, I'm glad I changed my name. It wouldn't have done for John Jevons to cqrne into Witton. You were a bit hard on me about that girl. If you'd had your way, I shouldn't have been here, and young John wouldn't have been born, so you'd have had to make the other beggar your heir. Don't you see ?" and the man laughed.

"John Jevons !" The name took Thompson back to the past. He remembered a man with a cunning defiant face —a man who had been tried for his life and acquitted, a born scoundrel, who had done more mischief when he came out of prison. "So you changed your name to Smith ?" he said, calmly. "Yes ( ; and there were two of us. One married the cousin, one the sister. Sort us out, Mr. Moneybags '." Betty looked at her father, then glanced towards the bell. He shook his head.

"Did you marry my sister ?" asked Thompson, in a slow, deliberate tone, hoping that the man, in his drunken state, would reveal the truth. "Ha, ha ! You want to know. Of Course I did. Mr. Thompson, of Witton House." Then he drew nearer to Betty, saying : "So you won't marry my lad ; you're in love with the other John Smith—the man who's out of the running ? You're a fool—a pretty fool—and he's another. My lad's a wide-awake chap, and he'll be master here before long. Old Moneybags will have to hurry up, or he'll get a gentle shove into the other country." Jevons paused and looked round ; then he said ; (To !)0 Continued.)