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

King Country Chronicle, Volume IV, Issue 283, 6 August 1910, Page 4

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

(All Rights Reserved.)

By HEDLEY RICHARDS,

Author cf "Out of Darkness," '' A Day of Reckoning," Etc. PART 22. "By Jove, old Scalpet's room ! The old beggar sat there when hj( called me to account. What did i 1 matter to him how Bridget got into the water ? But I had to go, al' through a woman. But my lac knows how to manage things. Ha : fca ! Mr. Jack is blamed for tht missing girl ! A good joke !" an< Jevcns laughed uproariously. John Thompson sat up erect. "You'd better go," he said. Jerojs still laughed ; then his merriment turned into anger. "You order me to go, you silly eld fool ? Why, I've only to shake the life out of you, and my lad woulc Le master of Witton House. I wonder if I should ?" and he advanced a ste;.\

Betty flew to the bell, but before she rer.ched it he seized her arm.

"To-' would, would you? Now, d n't ccream, or I'll do for old Mcney'ags,; and I don't want to finish him of! yet. There'll be Jake Brady to pay oS for saying my lad pushed the woman down the quarry. 111 settle all scores when John Smith, junior, kicks the prison dust oS his feet."

Jevons stopped suddenly, and a look of horror came into his face.

"The gibbering idiot ! Why has he come after me ? My God, how the Ik rse plunged and snorted ! He didn't like the job, and he's a gibbering idiot. Stop it, or" ■ And Jevors swung his fist frantically, and as he let go of her arm Betty rushed to the bell. As he did. sc Jevons sprang through the window, rushing across the garden, through the courtyard, past old Anthony, who gazed at him with eyes of horrified recognition. "John Jevons, as sure as I live !" he muttered. 1676.

CHAPTER XXVIII. A moment later Giles and a nurse rushed into the room, and the latter glanced quickly towards the couch where the invalid, looking ghastly, had raised himself from his pillows. "Shut and fasten that window,, Giles ; and in future when I am in this room I will have Towser to kesp watch," he said, in a resolute tone. -

"Yes, sir. Shall I bring him in at once ?" ■

His master nodded, and the nurse asked Thompson to send a footman with the brandy, and after she had given him a little, the -nurse sat down beside the couch, telling Betty her father had better try to sleep. ": v o ; I must have some questions answered first ;" and as Dr. Barnes entered the room, Thompson said: "I'm glad -you've come, doctor you can help to make things plain." Ha ] f an hour later, when Betty and he left the room, her father l-n-.w all that had happened during his illness'.

"Is he safe ? That man may return, s':e asked.

"Quite safe. Towser would not on'y give the alarm, but he would make the man glad to get away without being worried to death. I hen there are the two nurses. He must always have two people with him now, and, of course, the servants are on the alert. Still, Miss Betty, it's not a bad thing the man di'd come, as he has opened your father's eyes. I'm to telegraph to Coates to come to-morrow and bring the will your father made the day of the accident. Now I suppose you want to go and tell Mr. Jack the o d ne.' s. I saw him before I saw i'our father. If I'd had any idea of what was happening, I should ha e come to him at once." "It was awful to hear the man

talk nd Betty shuddered, then her arc brightened as she turned the irn.lle cf the drawing-room door and entered.

"I say, B;tty, what a row Tower has l.een making ! I didn't now ho was allowed in the house," said Jack, who was reclining on a couch near the open window. ' He's gone to protect my father. Listen and Betty told what had happened. Jack listened in amazement.

"It seems to me both father and son are bad lots ; but it's rough on your father, hearing all this just now."

" Yes ; but, Jack, he knows he's wronged you, and he said he was glad he hadn't been able to send you away, as he should have done if you'd been -here the day Thwaites came with the letter that made you out to be such a wretch. Just before I left the room my father said : " ' Tell Jack I hope he will soon be well and strong ; that I shall want his help and Dr. Barnes is telegraphing to Mr. Coates to come in the morning and bring that horrid will, which means that my father is going to make another." ' I shall be quite satisfied if he destroys the one. All would then be yours, which it ought to be, though, of course, being such a great heiress, you might send me to the rightabout," he said, smiling. "You deserve to be dismissed at once for making such a speech ; but really, Jack, 1 am glad my father knows the truth about John Smith Do you think he did push the woman into the quarry ?" she asked, in a lower tone. "I don't know what to think. She would warn him that the people at

the inn would miss ner, ana i snoulc have thought that would have re strained him." "Very likely he thought he coule throw suspicion on you, said Betty. "Very likely. But let us forget him, and talk about something plea santer," said Jack. An hour later one of the nurse; told her that a clerk in Mr. Coates'i office had wired .saying the lawyoi had been summoned to France to hi: brother's deathbed, and the will wai locked up." "Did Mr. Coates's brother live ir France ?" exclaimed Betty. "He was spending his holidaj there, and has been taken so seriously ill that there is no hope of his recovery. I think your father is annoyed that the clerk cannot get the will He says he has a horror oi t»v( wills being in existence at the sann time, so he has decided to wait un till Mr. Coates return ; and as he if really out of danger, it doesn't mat ter. And, of course, that man Je

vons will not be able to injure hin: if he wished. Two nurses and Tow ser will be a match for him." "Doesn't it seem awful to think hi has to be guarded in his owi home ?" said Betty.

" Yes. Riches don't always en sure comfort. I suggested thai your father should communicate witl the police, but he said Jevons hac been drunk. There was nothing real ly to charge him with, except enter ing the house, and as he was scarcely responsible for his actions, h< would be dismissed with a caution But don't be uneasy, Miss Betty,' said the nurse, as she turned away. At the time that Jevons was ai Witton House Jessie was sitting ir an easy-chair near the open window in her bedroom. She had been unconscious a day or two, and as her memory returned, the longing tc see her husband had retarded hei recovery ; but she had forced herself to take nourishment, as she wanted to get strong. Grannie hac' answered her questions, telling her that John Smith had been committed for trial at the .icsizcs, and during the hours of weakness the poor girl had been tortured with a great fear that her husband might not be able to prove his innocence. She never doubted him, but what would the jury who tried him think ? And Jessie shuddered at the awful thoughts that rose in her mind. Once or twice she had given grannie to understand that as soon as she was strong enough she should go to Middleham Gaol and see her husband.,- but the old dame had been very cross, telling her it would be oetter for her to keep away—that her going would only do him harm. Jessie had listened in silence ; but her determination to see John was analtereel, and this afternoon she decided the time had come to carry :>ut her resolve. Grannie, who bad been very busy, had laid down in :ier own room to rest, and the girl tnew that meant she would sleep for two or three hours.

Rising, Jessie went to a cupboard and took out a dark serge dress and i nurse's cloak and bonnet, and liav.ng dressed herself in them, she got i pair of blue spectacles out of a Irawer. Then she altered the arrangement of her hair, dragging it jff her face, and with the spectacles Dn she thought there was little danger of recognition. It was the dress .n which she had travelled to York .vhen she first left home, and she lad not been knownbut then it lad been late at night, now it was afternoon. Just then the clock struck four, and remembering that' ;he train left PiUbriuge at five, Jessie went, as qufrAly as her weakness allowed acror; the kitchen and jut of the house. Fearing that gravidic would see her, she hurried across the field in the opposite direction :o the moor ; then she p&v.sed, pantng for breath as coon as she had mounted the stile aa.i war? safely ,n the next field. After a minute or two she went forward. She knew :he way well, and as she walked her mind dwelt on the meeting with her msband, and she wondered if grannie A-as right, and he would be vexed with her tor going. Well, if he was, she couldn't help it. She must see him and know from him if he would be able to clear himself. Her' leart would break if she had to stay at the cottage and think of what might be. The very sight of him would dispel some of the terror. She had crossed three fields and was just entering a wood which led on to the high road, and as she shut the gate behind her and went slowly—she was beginning to feel tired —along the narrow, grassy path, she did not notice a man who was coming towards her. For a second he stood looking at her,, surprise, uncertainty, then recognition in his gaze, and going forward with quick steps he stopped in front of her, saying, "Jessie, my loss !"

A cry escaped the girl, and she would have rushed past him ; but Thwaites laid one band on her arm, and with the other he removed the spectacles. "Where have you been lass, and why are you dressed up in disguise ? What have you done that you are afraid of folks seeing you ?" he said, sternly. She clasped her hands imploringly. "Oh, father, let me go !" she i. leaded. Ke had taken in the wan, sad face ; evidently she had been ill. Well, he had got her, and she should not escape him, whether she wished or not. She should go back to the shelter of his home.

"Let me go," she repeated, trying to free herself.

He gripped her arm more firmly. "Mo, you don't go. You're going home with me. I'd like to know where you've been ; but that's as yor." choose. About the other you've nc choice. I shall take you back home and I'll keep you in safety this time, my lass," he said, grimly. "Oh, father, I cannot come back

Let me go ?" and her voice told that tears were not far off.

"Lass, I'd sooner kill you than let you go. I know the man's safe now —the mnn who led you wrong. But Micro's all the more danger of you travelling the downward path, and I'll save you in spite of yourself."

' I've not been ied wrong by any mnn," si;e said ; and there was a change in her voice that betrayed her a 11,-; pi*. "Ilien why did you go off on the fly ? Why are you tricked up like this ?" and he pointed with the spectacles to her bonnet. "I cannot tell you," she said in a low tone. "No, I don't think you can ; so you're coming home with me. Now turn round," he said." "I won't. I will go to my husband and she burst into tears as she spoke. A look of fierce anger came into his face. "Don't call the m m 1V;'..,, you know that man's not your husband." She raised her eves to bis.

"No wife ! What do you think I am, then ?" and there was indignation in her tone.

"Don't ask that, lass. But a I'iusl:and doesn't hide his wife in a corner and let folks make free with her gocd name," said Thwaites, bitterly.

"Nc-t if the man's above her, if it would do him harm if the truth was kno.vn? There, I've told you, and he'll never forgive me !" she said, with a little gasp. "Is it the truth that you are tellng me, lass ?" and his voice was hoarse with emotion.

She didn't answer him, but drew a thin leather case from the bosom of her dress, and, taking a paper out of it, she put it in his hand. Thwaites read it carefully. "So you are his wife ?" he said, as he returnc-d it. "Yes. Grannie knew all about it, hut he would not let me tell you." Then she remembered her errand. "Father, you must let me go. I shall be late for the train at Pillbridge, and I want to see my husIraneh Grannie wouldn't agree to me. going-, so I slipped out while she was asleep." "Does he want to see you ?" asksd lliwaites. "Oh, he must ! But I have . not heard from him since he was arrested. I've been ill, or I should have gone to see him before. It nearly irives me crazy to think oE him in prison. And —and he may not be able to prove his innocence, though I knoAv he is innocent ; and—and I want to tell him that, and comfort aim."

Thwaites spoke gently. He was still holding her arm. '"Jessie, lass, I don't think your husband will want to see you, and you're not fit to go. You look as though you ought to be in bed. Now, just you let me take you back to grannie's, and I promise you that his inn:c:nee shall be made plain. The trial comes on next week, and when I've been in the witness-box they'll let him walk out of the court a free man."

She looked intently at him. "What will you say ?" she asked, n a whisper. "I shall tell the truth—that I know ne had no hand in the woman's leat.h ; that she was holding to the railings, when they gave way, and she fell into the quarry. I saw it." "You knew this, and you let them take him to prison ?" she said, in a -one of horror. "Yes, and I'd have let them hang riim if you hadn't proved you were ais wife. But I'll save him now."

CHAPTER XXIX. NATHAN THWAITES IN THE WIT-NESS-BOX.

"You'll save him ; I shall tell him jo. Oh, let me go, or I shall miss the train !"

"You are not going to Middleham —it weald kill yo.u. If you go, I won't speak," said Thwaites, who had a shrewd idea that her husband would not want to see her, and he knew that a very little disappointment and she would be seriously ill.

"You are cruel and wicked!" she said ; then she swayed, and but for lis hold of her would have fallen. Thwaites put his arm tenderly "ound her, and as the faintness pass:d off he led her to where the trunk of a tree lay on the ground. "Sit you do,vn, Jessie, my lass, and remember I'm advising you for your on good when I say go l>§.ck to the cottage and leave me prove your husband's innocence. Jake Brady, the man whose evidence would have hanged him, only saw Smith at the quarry, while I saw what happened. Jake Braely seems to have a spite against him. It was he who told me I'd made a mistake —that it was Mr. John, not Mr. Jack Smith who'd been your lover."

"Jake Brady ! I never heard the name. What is he like ?" asked Jessie, roused to interest when she knew the man was a witness against her husband. (To be Continued.)