(ALL RIGHTS RESERTERED.) THE OSSINGTON MYSTERY.

Kaipara and Waitemata Echo, 29 May 1914, Page 7

(ALL RIGHTS RESERTERED.) THE OSSINGTON MYSTERY.

By Hedley Richards, Author of "The Millionaire's Last Will," "Th« Day ** of Reckoning," etc., etc.

PART 9. • ' j CHAPTER XXlll.—(Continued.) ! "Then has her dislike to the vis-' count continued all these years ?" I asked. "I believe it has, sir ; but he can tell you better what they say of her at the asylum," she said, pointing to the man. "Yes," he said, "she hated him uncommon strong. I've heard the attendants say as she's mostly quiet and pleasant, but whenever her son comes to see her there a round and she goes on awful about his rights. Twice after he's been, she's given them^rthe slip and made her way here, and when he came to see her the week before the young viscount was killed, she was restless after he left, and they watched her close ; but she seemed to settle down quiet, and they thought there'd be no trouble. On Sunday morning, however, when the attendants went into her room, they found it was empty, and after they'd searched every place, the doctor sent us to find her. i We should have got here sooner, only j we followed a wrong clue, and. went to London, as we heard some one just like her had taken a ticket there, a nd we guessed she fancied the marquis and her son was there." '.'Did the doctor fear her attempting Lord Bewley's life ?" "I cannot say, sir. I only know the doctor said she wasn't safe to be at large." "When did you track her here ?" "We found we could hear nothing i of her in London, so came down here j and tracked her to Ossington ; and ! we guessed she was hiding here, but ! Mrs. Burton denied it." '"When did you get here?" "On Wednesday night, and saw the marquis and Captain Neville ; and they were in fine trouble, I can tell you. If we'd only been a day sooner, i you wouldn't have been sent for ; , they'd have tried to hush it up." i "Then you came after the inquest, j is that so ?" I "Yes, a few hours after ; and we've ! been staying a t Ossington .since." ; "How is it I have never seen you ■■ in the dene ?" \ "Because the marquis told us to keep out of your way, and I only watched here at night, except Saturday, when we were a little earlier, and then another chap watched us talking to the captain." "I suppose the marqiiis suspects that Lady Alfred has shot his son ?" "They don't seem to know what to think.'* "Now, Mrs. Burton," I said, looking fixedly at her, "are you prepared i to swear that Lady Alfred did not I bring any weapon ?" \ "I am, sir. lam not deceiving ! you. I will take my oath on it." "Well, sir,.if she didn't bring one, I'm pretty certain she didn't get one j about here. What we feared was that she had managed to get one before she came," said the man. "I can take my oath that she j brought no weapon," said Mrs. Bur- ] ton. "No, sir, she has not shot Lord Bewlej, I am quite certain ; but she has, as she says, been in at the death. Poor lady ! How it remisled me of the days when she used to bunt, to hear her use those words." "You mean that you think she has seen the shot fired ?" "Yes, sir, and been where she was not seen ; and you will see it will turn out to be a woman who did it, as she says." I sat thinking for some time, then said : "You had better take her back to the asylum, and I will see Captain Neville. If she is required, I shall know where to find her." "All right, sir. Then, with your leave, ma'am, I'll just peep in the room an<d see if she's all right, and then send Jim to telegraph for a female attendant." Mrs. Burton led the way to a room at the front of the house, and we followed. Pushing the door gently open, we looked in. On the couch lay the unfortunate lady in a heavy slumber, and as we watched her she said, faintly : "What had she to avenge ? I was called to do it." Then all was silent. j/'Poor soul !" said Mrs. Burton, tenderly, as we turned away. A few moments later I left the house, having cautioned her to keep the whole affair quiet. The man gave his mate directions to go at once to Ossington and telegraph ; then he returned indoors, while I wended my way to the Black Bull, and by the time 5 arrived there it was quite dusk. CHAPTER XIV. THE PHOTOGRAPH. About nine o'clock on the followingl morning' I found my way to the Hall. As I passed Mrs. Burton's farm I called to inquire ii Lady Alfred was still there, and was informed that she had not yet left ; but an attendant from the asylum had irrived, and the poor lady haJ welcomed her gladly, and seemed impatient to go home, as she called the refuge where she was placed. After hearing this I proceeded to the Hall. On arriving there I inquired if the marquis could see me, and after waiting a few minutes I was shown into the library, where he was, as usual, busy with his books. He received me pleasantly, s:iying he fca-d expected to see me ag-ain on

Saturday before I left the Hall. 'I had no information to give you, nay lord." "I suppose you have something to ; tell me now ? At least, your manner gives me that impression," he said, nervously. ; "You are right, my lord, I came to speak about that unfortunate lady, Lady Alfred Neville." When I uttered her name his face blanched. i "What about her ?" he asked, rai ther shortly. "Might it not be as well, my lord, if Captain Neville was a party to this conference ?" "If you desire it ;" and ringing the bell, he told the footman to tell the captain he wished to speak to hi«n. In a minute or two Captain Neville entered the room, 'and glanced quickly at me and then at his uncle. "Mr. Brown wishes you to hear what he has to say, Horace." "It is about Lady Alfred Neville," I said, quickly. When I named his mother, a grave, troubled look came into the captain's face, but he said nothing. "You are aware her ladyship has escaped from the asylum in which she was placed ?" The marquis bowed, and the captain said : "We are." "And that she has been found ? tf I said, in a questioning tone. | "Indeed we are not," said Capj tain Neville, quickly. "That is strange, because she was ■discovered yesterday, in the after- j noon." Just then a footman entered with a note. j "A man requested this might be delivered to you at once, sir," said he, as he handed it to the captain, who opened it, and, running his eye quickly over' it, he said : "This is from Smith. He just says i they found my poor mother yesterI day, and a female attendant having j arrived, they are taking her back at once, and he adds that he leaves the detective to explain all." "Where was she found ?" the marquis inquired. I Without further explanation I told them about the scene in the dene, i giving -all the details, and closing .by saying I left her in safetj with i Mrs. Burton. As I proceeded both ! gentlemen looked distressed and anxiI ous, and when I ceased speaking, the , ! marquis inquired if I attached any I importance to her ravings. ,"I hardly know how to view the I matter, my lord. If I could prove she had had a weapon in her possession, I should be obliged to arrest her, as it is certain she was out at the time of the murder, also that s^e 'viiew of it some hours before any one else. What she said to Mrs. , JSurton proves that ; but the testimony with regard to her not having a weapon inclines me to think she i did not commit the murder, but. was a witness of it." j Turning to the captain I said, I "How do you regard the matter, \ sir ?" I"I am disposed to think as you do. 'Of course, if my unfortunate mother shot my cousin, she will not be re- | sponsible for it, but I do not think s ;she has. I knew she had not got a weapon anywhere about here —those fellows have made such careful' inquiries. Our dread was lest she had ! j brought one with her, but Mrs. Burton's evidence seems to disprove - that." |"I think so. And now, my lord, I ' "must ask that neither you nor Captain Neville will remove Lady Alfred ■ i Neville from the asylum, where she $ has been so long, until this affair is sifted to the bottom." s "Most certainly we shall not," the | marquis said, decidedly. 3 "She will remain there," said the L captain, quickly. "Thank you, gentlemen." "That it will be intolerably pain- [ ful to both my nephew and self if Lady Neville is implicated in this , terrible affair, Ido not deny, but i Bhe is not responsible, and if it is L traced to her we must bear the trouble. Better so than that suspi- : cion should rest on an innocent per--3 son. At the same time, I admit 1 that h a d I known this poor ladj had i, escaped from the asylum, I should have had no attempt made to trace ! the murderer. I should have thought > it better to leave it in the hands of t the local police, and have done noj thing to stimulate them." t "I understand, my lord ; but I be- ; lieve I have a clue to the real murderer." 3 They both looked at me quickly, and I continued : "What Lady Alfred Neville uttered , in her ravings, inclines me to think I am on the right track." c "Good heavens !Do you suspect a p woman ?" asked the marquis, starti j led out of his usual calm manner. ) |"I prefer accusing no one at pre--3 sent, my lord. I have more to do, j J and when my case is complete, I will g j see your lordship. However, I think c you may rest assured Lady "Alfred Neville will come clearly out of this affair." He looked relieved. "I trust you are right, Mr. Brown. - However, the case is in your hands, ) i and you must do your duty." 3 "I shall endeavour, my lord." Then wishing the gentlemen good - morning, I left the Hall. It was still t tolerably early, so I resolved to go 1 jas far as Hirst's cottage, and see - j that Mary was still safe at hcme. I - j wanted to find the pistol before ac--2 ; cusing her. Sill, I did not want my : bird to fly away. ) iln a short time I reached the dene - ; and crossing the further bridge, I ~; climbed the bank and went along [ : the narrow path leading past the 3 , gardens, and soon reached the cot- . . ts/ge. Going quietlj along the path, ; I paused n&ar the kitchen window i j and looked in. The room appeared

tidy, and there were no signs of work. Neither could I see Mrs Hirst but close to the fire, which seemed to have burned low, stood Mary Hirst. She was holding something in her hand, at which she was looking attentively. All at once she threw it down as though stung, and stamped violently on it. Then, stooping down, she picked it up and flung, it into the grate. Taking the poker, she stirred the fire ; then going towards a door which I knew led into the cellar, she opened it and disappeared. Without a second's hesitation I ran swiftly past the window and into the cottage. Crossing the kitchen with rapid steps, I reached the fireplace. Something like a piece of cardboard lay on the fire, which was very low and the flames had only just touched one corner. liifting it off, I crushed it in my hand, at the same time throwing an old bill on the fire, which, being thin, at once caught. Then, with the same swift steps as before, I stole out of the house and along the path. As I passed the window I heard the cellar door pushed open. Quickening my steps, I soon reached the bank, which I descended rapidly. At the bottom I paused and walked leisurely. "She will find the piece of burnt paper, and will think it is this," I said, as I straightened the piece of card which I had crushed in my hand. As I looked, I started to see the beautiful face of Miss Blanche Latimer. It was a photograph mounted on card to place in an album. So it was the image of her rival which had aroused Mary's passion. But how had she become possessed of it ? Lord Bewley would hardly "give' bis lawful wife the portrait of the woman he desired to put in her place. Had she stolen it from him ? I wonj dered. Anyway, I should like to know when Miss Latimer gave it to Lord Bewlej, and I determined to see her that afternoon. In the meantime I would return to the inn to dine. On arriving there I hurried my good hostess to such a degree that she declared my dinner would be spoiled, and after a quick v meal I . started at once for the Grey House, goinjr through the dene, which was the nearest way. I passed Hirst's cottage, and looked to see if any one was about, but could see no one. i I then went a little way along the '■• I high road, and soon came to a stile ! | which I had been told led over the ! fields to the Grey House. After crosi sing a couple of fields, I saw in the ! next a big, rambling old place, built lof greystone. At the back I noticed I a large yard, while at each end the j \ house jutted into the field. j ■ Passing one end I came to the front', and observed a long strip of i lawn enclosed by iron railings, which I ; divided it from the field, and a path j which led to the front entrance. The j way I had come was simply a field j path ; but from the front qf the j house a broad road led over the ' fields, taking a winding course, and, ' ias far as I could judge, leading on to the road considerably aftove the i dene. It was evidently a private ', way, and would only be used by parties coming to the house or by carts employed on the farm land : about, which was let separate from the house. \ After pausing a minute to make these observations, I walked up the I path, and gave the door bell a pull. In a second or two the door was opened b5 a footman. I inquired if sWiss Blanche Latimer was in, and : would see me. He hesitated, then said she was in, but he was not sure fhat she would see me ; but if I would give him my card he would i inquire—at the same time showing me into a plain but comfortably- ! furnished room. I handed him my card, enclosed in an envelope,- which I had taken care to fasten, not wishing the household to kniow of my visit. He looked very much surprised, and when he returned to the room appeared even more so as he said : "Miss Blanche will you at once sir," and then left me. In another minute the door opened, .nd Miss Blanche Latimer entered. I had thought her beautiful the first time I saw her ; now I thought her still har as her cheeks ; were of a vivid carnation in place ;of the pallor I had noticed at the j inquest, and her eyes shone .with a j brilliancy I had never seen equalled. ! "You wished to see me ?" she said, ias she advanced, holding my card in her hand ; and I noticed her voice : had a hard ring in it. i "I did, Miss Latimer. I have a question to aski you. " "What is it 7" and her manner was j colfl and constrained. j In reply I drew her photograph ; out of an envelope, and holding it \ up, said : j "Can you remember to whom you gave that ?" • She started violently ; then in an instant regained control of herself, jas she said : , "Where did you find it?" • "First of all tell me how many of ■ tnese you have given away, and to ; whom you irave them." I "I only had them taken a month ago, and have but given two away, sir." i "To whom did you give them ?" j She hesitated, then said : ; "I gave one to my aunt, Lady I Latimer—the other to Lord Bewley." "Can you remember when you gave it to him ?" Again she hesitated, but after a second sho said, as though it cost her an effort : "I gave it to him the last tima I saw him." "The night he was trilled ?" I osk- , ed, ,

J "Yes. Why do you wish to know?" "Because it is a most important fact, I want you to be quite certain as to the date on which you gave it to Lord Bewley." "I am quite certain. After I had declined his offer of marriage, he ] begged I would give him that. He knew I had recently been photographed. I did not wish to give it, but when he pressed the matter I yielded, and as he bade me good-bye, he placed it in his breast pocket." "You have not the slightest doubt it was that evening ?" j | "Not the slightest. Do you think I am likely to forget the events of that day ?" and she shuddered. 1 "You never gave any one else one of them?^ "Never ; only my aunt and Lord 1 Bewley have had them. Lady Latimer's is in her album. This is the other, wherever you found it." "It was in Mary Hirst's possession," I said, gravely. She started, then said : "She must have got it from Lord | Bewley. I heard he had some infatuation for her ;" and her words | were scornfully uttered. "Lord Bewley never went to the j Hirsts that night ; and from the I time he left the gamekeeper's until I the sfalot was fired, there was no time to have an interview with her. Therefore, if you are quite certain you ' gave it to him that night, then Mary Hirst must have been with him at the time of the murder. Do you see the importance of your testimony" Mass Latimer ?" She turned deathly white, and clasped her hands nervously together as she said : "You suspect her V* "I do, poor girl ; but she has been sadly wronged." "She ought to have expected it t when she accepted the attentions of any one out of her own el-ass." And again there was a cold, hard i ring in her voice, and her nervousness disappeared. "Still, she has been wronged ; but if you are unshaken in your testimony, the case looks black for her." ' "I am quite certain on the point." And there was something in her manner that told me she had little sympathy with the poor girl. "You will be required to give evidence," I said, as I rose. "I shall be prepared," she said, slowly ; then she added in a hurried | manner : "Are you going to charge I her with the murder?" "I am. All the evidence points to her." "Do you think they will hang her ?" she asked, quickly. "I cannot say. There are many extenuating circumstances, but how far they will influence her fate I am unable to saj. However, I must do my duty." "Surely they would not hang a beautiful young girl ?" "It has been done. But you have seen her ?" I said, inquiringly. She flushed. "I saw her in the dene during the summer, and inquired from Lady Mary Neville who she was, and she told me her name. Afterwards I heard reports." "Reports have not dealt kindly with her, I believe. But I will not detain you longer, Miss Latimer. Only allow me to request you to keep our interview perfectly qjuietfor a day or two. If you hear Mary Hirst is arrested, then there is no necessity." "I suppose you will not charge her solely on my evidence ?" she asked, in a nervous manner. "Certa-'iiU not. Your evidence is the last link in the chain." "You have never suspected any one else ?"- she inquired. "I may have done," I replied. "Ah, I see ; you won't tell me. I suppose secrecy is part of your profession ? Only I heard rv.mours. Of course, it is no interest to me, but I was sorry to hear people talking about Captain Neville." "I think he is in no danger of being charged with the crim?. And now I will wish you good a ftevnoon, Miss Latimer." She touched the bell, and when the footman appeared, requested him to show me to tb.e door, an<l in a minute I had left the house, and was "speculating on the interview. To tell the truth, I had formed a very unfavourable bpxtiioD of Miss Blanche Latimer. "She has & deal of the tiger in her," I said to myself, "and if it had been Mary Hirst who was murdered1, I could have imagined her doing it, for I can see she hates her." Looking at my watch, I found by walking quj.^ly I could catch a train iat Old Bewley. Therefore, abandoning reflections, I started at a quick Pace, and just reached the station in time for the train to Troncastle. On arriving there I at once sought Mr. Newton, and .told him all I had discovered, and he agreed with me that it would be better to arrest Mary Hirst at once. I decided to take her ia custody the next morning when her father and brother were at work. As I rose to go, I said : "Can you send a couple of detecitives down ra a coach, as I shall want to see the marquis, and they could bring her to Troncastle. But be sure not to send Inspector Green." "Didn't he suit you ?" said Mr. Newton. "He is a big bungler." The chief constable smiled. "Green is clever in some ways, but too fiery. His Welsh blood makes j him hot and impulsive. I will send you two sharp fellows — Mason and Baker, r don't think there are better men in the force, for the experience they have had." "Very well ; " and with these words we parted. As I journeysd towards Br.vley, I felt quite heavy-hearted at the pros-

pect of arresting the poor girl, but I had no alternative. CHAPTER XV. ARRESTED. About ten o'clock the next morning I walked slowly along the high road leading to Helsdon. I had arranged with Mr. Newton to meet the coach containing thie detectives, about there, and having gone some distance, I was beginning to wonder what had delayed them, when I saw a coach coming quickly along the winding lane. j I waited until it drew near, and as I saw a little man put his head out of the window and look around, I guessed it contained the party I was looking for. I made a signal to the driver to stop. As I did so the man inside said : "Are you Mr. Brown ?" "That's my name, sir ; and you are" And I paused. "I'm Mason, and this is Mr. Baker," he said, pointing to a tall, thin, gentlemanly-looking man seated opposite to him. "All right, then ; I'll get in. But, cabby, drive slowly, and when I tap at the window, stop." "All right, sir," the driver said, as I stepped in. "How are you going to work it ?" asked Mr. Mason. "I intend stopping the cab a little this side of the cottage, and leaving you to follow a few yards behind, I shall enter the cottage and make sure she is there. If I find she is out I will come to the. door, when you had better return to the cab, ami I will either await her return or, if I frnd she will be absent long, rejoin you and make some fresh arrangement." After driving a short distance I tapped at the window ffor the driver to stop. "Remain here until we call you." Then turning to my companions, I said : "You will follow me in a few moments." "Very well," was the response, as I left them, arod proceeded to Hirst's cottage. On reaching it I saw that the door stood open as usual on a sunny morning. As I tapped on the door I heard some one moving about in the kitchen, and directly Mrs. Hirst appeared. She smiled when she saw me and said, pleasantly : "Come in, sir. I thought you must have gone home, as I hadn't seen you these few days back." I followed her into the kitchen. "We're rather busy to-day. I was outing yesterday, and Mary did nothing but dream about, I think. So she's baking to-day." I looked across the kitchen, and saw that the girl was standing by a table baking. As she kneaded the bread, dressed in a simple lilac print dress, with a neat linen collar at her throat, I tihiought how lovely she looked, in spite of her sorrowful expression. She raised her head a little as her mother spoke, but said nothing. * "Will you sit down, sir ?" eaid the mother. "No thank you, Mrs. Hirst. I have come on business this morning— business which concerns jour daughter," I repeated, in an emphatic tone. She looked surprised, and Mary fixed her eyes on me with a startled look. I crossed over to her, and laid my hand on her arm. "You will come with me. I am a detective." Her large blue eyes dilated with terror. "My God ! What have I done that you want me ?" she exclaimed, in a tone of anguish. "You are accused of the murder of Lord Bewley," I replied ; and drawing out the warrant — which Mason had brought — I read it, first cautioning her that anything she said might be used in evidence against her. As I proceeded, she drew her hands out of the dough, and, clasping them tightly, stood looking full at me, her face the picture of horror, while her form shook convulsively. Twice she tried to speak, but words refused to come after that first outcry. When I finished, her mother, who had hitherto appeared almost stunned, raised her head and said : j "It's not true, sir; our Mary never did that foul deed ;" and the tears ran down the woman's cheeks as she pleaded for her child. Then tottering ; towards her, she drew the girl to- . wards her, saying, . "Poor lass, I i know you're innocent." ! "Ay, innocent as a babe unborn," said Mary, as her head sank on her I mother's shoulder. Then raising it, j and turning to me, she said : "Do j you think I would have hurt a hair of his head ? He angered me, but I loved him truly, and God will prove my innocence." i I felt for them both, and knew the i sooner the parting was over the beti ter ;so I said, very quietly : | "This is not the place to prove I your innocence. Come with me cjuietI ly, and you will have a lair btear- | ing." I "To prove my innocence ! Oh, my I God, this is too much !To be ac- ! cused of murdering him !". and a ! low wail of pain escaped her, like that of an animal stricken to death. "Come, you are a sensible girl ; don't give way. It will only bring the neighbours in. You ha.d better 'go quietly. There is a coach waitin? ; " and going to the door I signalled to my assistants, who* stood near. "One of you tell the man to drive | here, and the ether wait about," I I said, ; and then I re-entered the kit- j chen. I The two women were still clinging ' to each other. I touched the mother j gently, saying : "Get her a jacket and hat." !

"You shan't take the bairn," she said, savagely. "If you must have somebody, I'll go." "That won't do. Come, l»e sensible. I don't want to use force ; but my duty is to arrest your daughter." "I'll get bail for her, if .you'll give me time," said the mother. "It could not be taken. She must appear before the magistrates first. Come, letter go quietly. If she is innocent she can prove it," I said, trying to speak hopefully. The girl roused herself. "I will go, mother. You will see my innocence will be made plain as the noonday sun. I feel it. AH the world will know that I never injured him." "I cannot let you go, bairn, to a prison. Good Lord ! never one of our folks crossed the doorstep of oriV. No, bairn, he shan't take you. Just you clear out of here !" she said, in an almost frenzied tone. "Don't compel me to use force," I said, gently, pitying them both. "I'm going, mother ;" and she unclasped her mother's arms. "Bat remember to tell.father and Tom that I am innocent. I've no blood on my hands—above all, not his. I would have laid down my life to save his. And to thinki it has come to this !" she wailed. Then trying to disengage herself from her mother, who had again clasped her closely, she said : "I'm ready." "Get her a jacket or cloak. She •will get her death of cold if she goes out like thiis." In a dazed, strange Vay, half-sav-age and half-bewildered the woman left the kitchen and went up stairs. The girl looked steadily at me. "I have not done it," she said, unfalteringly. "So much the better for you." "You believe I have ?" she said, in a sad voice. "The evidence against you is very strong." Then as her mother came in with a • hat, jacket, and warm shawl, she said no more, but began preparing to go. "I'm coming with you," said her mother, wrapping a shawl around her. "No, mother, you must stay, and tell my father and Tom. Don't let strangers tell them, and be sure to ■ say I'm innocent ; and as sure as there's a God above, it will be proved." "Eh, dear, I suppose I ought to tell them. God help us all !" sobbed her mother. "Good-bye, mother ; " and she kissed her fervently. "My poor, poor bairn!" murmured her mother. Then as the girl turned from her she tottered, and would have fallen had she not clasped a high-backed chair which stood near. Taking. Mars gently by the arm, I led her to the door. Close to it Mason was standing, and on the road in front the coach was waiting, and Baker held the door open. Mason glanced at her, and I saw was struck with her wonderful beauty. Still holding her by the arm, we advanced to the coach. Baker got in, and I assisted th& poor girl, who now looked deathly white. As she sank back on the seat, Mason got in, and I closed the door. She leaned forward. "You are coming ?" she said, in a quick tone. "I cannot," I replied, not caring to tell her I was going to search the cottage to see if I could find the i weapon. "I must see you before I'm tried." "I will see you as soon as possible." (To be Continued.)