(ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.) THE OSSINGTON MYSTERY

Kaipara and Waitemata Echo, 12 June 1914, Page 7

(ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.) THE OSSINGTON MYSTERY

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

PART 11. ' c CHAPTER XVII.-^(Continned.) "That is strange, as they both be•^lieved they were favoured, and that one must win ; and either of them> was cs 4Ton:ec! a good match by mar- ' riageable ladies." "I did not^ care for either ol the £?•.' ntlemen." "You were simply amusing your~f. self, I suppose ?" "I wps passing the time. It is lonely about Ossington," she said, Vearily. A loud murmur of disapproval was heard in the court, but it'"appeared . to ma'c-e no impression on her. "That will do, Miss Lfitimer ; I 1 not troi'ble yon further." K^ith a quiet hauteur she turned '^jlfave the box, and was met by her uncle, who led her out of the court, his fine faws bearing an expression of strong disapproval at what his niece , had said. ! The photographs were then handed ; to the judge, and the jury inspected them. There were ten, as Miss Latinier had stated, besides the one taken from Lady Latimer's album, a nd the balf-burned one completed the dozen. \ The photographer who supplied them next gave evidence as to the number and the date on which Miss , Latimer received them, and his testimony corroborated hers. ! The next witness was Captain Ne- j ville, who gave his evidence in a manly, straightforward manner. He , was severely cross-questioned by the . prisoner's counsel as to where he was when he heard the shot fired, but no : new light was thrown on the affair, j This concluded the day's proceedings. The next morning when Mary Hirst was brought in, she looked worn and j tired, though very beautiful, and she ' was again accommodated with a j seat. My evidence was the first taken ' and cccupied some time. The dress was prcducfd, and the piece of print I ha:l found on the gate leading from the dene. It fitted exactly, and I , could see produced a feeling in court | unfavourable to the prisoner. { The next witness called wa» Wil- j liam Bell. "You were standing in your door, smoking, 'on the night of the murder ?" said the lawyer for the prosecution. | "I was, sir. It's a habit of mine \ on a cle?.r, fine night, when my j rhenm .tics will let me." "You live next door to the Hirsts, j do you not ?" j "I do, sir ; and my father and mo- j ther lived there before me." | A "You know the prisoner ?" "Bless me ! to be sure I do, and have done since she was a baby, ' poor !ps-s." I "You could rot be mistaken in ; her ?" ' "That I couldn't." ""■"■ "Did you hear any shot fired thlat night ?" "Yes, sir, as T was coming up the i path lading to my door." \ "What direction did it come from, Mr. Bell ?" "The lower part of the dene." "If it was the shot that killed his lor.'lsMp, would it have sounded in that direction ?" "It would, sir." "Now, had you to go In anG fill your pipe, or wps it lighted ?" "It was alight, but more, than half-smoked, and I stood in the doorv/ay till I'd finished it." "How long would that be?" "Perhaps a couple of minutes." "Did you see any one pass ?" "Not a soul." "Well, when your pipe was finished, v^hat did you do °" "I went in to fill it, but the baccyjar was empty, so I filled it out of tho box ; then I lighted my pipe, and .after it began to draw I went back to the door." "How long were you in the house, Mr. Bell ?" "I wasn't much less than five minutes, and I m iy have been longer." "After you returned to the door, did you see any one ?" "Yes, sir." "Who was it ?" "Mary Hirst," he said, reluctantly. "?7hich way was she coming ?" "She ' came ;Sp the narrow path that leads past their garden and ours." "Now, is there any way of■>. setting from that path into the dene ?" *"Tp be sure there is, sir. There's agate and a path down the bank." "How far is that part of the dene from the place where the murder was committed ?" "About five minutes' walk." \. "I<s it the same side of the stream, Mr. Bell ?" "No, sir." "How do you cross the stream ?" "Well, there's the stepping-stones, and two bridges." "Which way would any one otoss I who wished to meet Lord Bewley on * his homeward way ?" "By the further bridge." "Then the path by which Mars (Hirst /v/as coming was the nearest to that bridge ?" "No, it was nigher the other bridge." "What I mean is that it is the nearest way from Hirst's cottage to the further bridge ?" - "Yes, sir, it is." Here a plan of the dene was handed to the judge. "How wis she coming ? W.as she walking quietly, or did she seem excited ?"

"She was running fast, and never : 1 saw me." 1 "Had she ■ thing in her hand ?" i "I couldn';; v,^ 11, as she'd a large I shawl wrapp* d round her." j '•Can you tell us if the moon was 1 under a cloud any part of the time 1 you were at the door ?" ] "Yes, it was for about seven or i eight minutes ; but that was whila i I was in the housa filling my pipe." ] Counsel for the prosecution then i sat down, and the prisoner's, counsel 1 rose. "Was it anything unusual to see i the prisoner come from the dene at night ?" : "I shbuldn't like to say it was. i I've seen her come up that way times ■ and again." "Did you ever see her come quickly—or running, if you like, before ; that night ?" "Very often." . "Then there was nothiag unusual in her manner ?" The man hesitated. "Answer me, sir !" "Well, sir, it struck me as being different. In general, she looked round to see if any one was about ; I but that night she seemed all hurry I to get in." | "Did she usually come up that path ?" i "Sometimes she came one way, 'sometimes the other." ! "Very well. Now T want to ask you ! if you were in the house at the time how you know the moon went under ] a cloud ?" ! ! "Well, you see, my sister's that ! 1 careful, she won't burn oil when she can save it, and never lights the .. lamp on a moonlight night, but j draws the bli d up ; and the kitchen j | went dark while I was pottering \ round after the baccy, and it hinder:ed me ever so much." "You can go down, sir." The counsel for the prosecution hay- | ing no more witnesses, the defend- : ; ant's counsel intimated that he had j i two more, and Dr. Bernard was called. A quiet, gentlemanly man stepped into the box. "You are the proprietor of a prij vate asylum at Glenfile, in CumberI land ?" !"I am." i "Among your patients, have you Lady Alfred Neville, the widow of tbs late Lord Alfred Neville, and mother of C ftain the Honourable Horace Neville ?" j"I have." j "What forms do her delusions take, doctor ?" "Various forms." "Has she not displayed a strong ' enmity to the murdered lord ?" "She has ; but it has only shown j itself at intervals." ! "What would arouse it ?" i"A visit from her son. She had r mania that the young viscount was ! | keeping her son out of his rights." j "She has escaped several times, I j i believe ?" | | "Three times." "When was the last?" "On the 28th of last October." ! "The day before the murder ?" i "Yes." J I "Would 'It be possible for her to • procure any firearms in your establishment ?" . s j j "It would not." ! I "Does she appear sufficiently sane Ito purshase a revolver without the \ party selling it suspecting her condition ?" "She does not. I should consider I any one highly reprehensible who : sold her such a thing." | "Insane people are very crafty. Do j you not think she might be able to j deceive any one she came in contact with momentarilj ?" "I do not." "Suppose she had any firearms, do i j you ' thinki her mania would havo caused her to attempt the life of Lord Bewl-ey ?" i "It is possible she might." j "Where was she found ?" "At Mrs. Burton's farm." "Where is Mrs. Burton's farm ?" "In the dene." "How Ion? elapsed after the murE der before she was found ?" "Over a week." ' "Th^nk you. I need not trouble you further." Mrs. Burton was then called and stated, how Lady Alfred Neville had ■ arrived on the Sunday night, and that she missed her on the night of . the murder ; but she positively declared that Lady Alfred did not bring any weapon, and could not have got one at her blouse. She was • rigidly cross-questioned, but adhered to her statement. 1 This concluded her examination. I The counsel for the prosecution ' then rose, and said that by Captain ' Neville's orders every effort had been made to discover if the unfor--3 tunate lady had the smallest chance of securing a weapon by theft, or in i any way, and they found it was im--3 possible. CHAPTER XVIII. IS SHE GUILTY ? When I returned to the Hall that night, I felt very sad. I was almost | certain Mary Hirst would be convic- . j ted, and I knew she had been goadled into the ,-.ct —that was, if nhte was 3 | gnilty ; and in the face of the evi--1 dence I could not doubt it. I longed for thfc trial to be nver and get away. I had been succrssful > in- my work, but the success had i been very painful to me. It was one I thing to hand a cool, calculating : | villain over to justice, and another to be the means of nxir;r the crime 2 on a i beautiful and, I wa-; certain, 3 pure-minded girl, wh:> po ;si">l; f hal been nearly frenzied when she had done it. Ono niece of evid'n^e had clectrij fied me as much s the gen ;ral pub- • lie, and that w is Miss Latimcr'.-; adj mi:-*;i.-,.i o: Mary : first's visit to her lon the afternoon of the murder. T

had never liked the young lady, and her manner during the trial toad dis- ' gusted me, and I felt sure she hated Mary Hirst. However, her statement as to the time she gave Lord Bew- s ley the photograph had been made i before I told her it was in Mary : Hirst's possession, or I might have ■ doubted Its truth. But for that evidence Mary iHirst might have got off. However, that fixed the crime on her. On the strength of that statement I had arrested her. All that night, and the following ■ day—which was Sunday — my mind dwelt on it, until ? almost convinced myself I had made a mistake in arresting her. Determining to shake off , these morbid feelings, shortly after , tea —which I took at an early hour with the housekeeper—l started for a : long walk. , It was a clear, frosty evening, with a faint moon. After leaving the Hall I paused for a moment, hesitating ' which road to take ; then I decided to walk as far as Baton, a little seaport town some three miles from the Hall. It was a good level road, i and 1 enjoyed the exercise. On reachj ing the town I went towards the liti tie pier and-fish quay, and then wandered about, noticing the difference between the north-country folks and Londoners. Then, as the churches, 'began to i ! emptj, I walked leisurely homewards ! and I had gone quite halfway to the : Hall, when I heard quick steps bei hind me. Looking round, I. saw a j woman, dressed in black, walking I rapidly. In a minute she overtook me. ! "Good evening, Mr. Detective," she [ said, in a voice with a strong ' foreign accent. I turned quickly, and noticed she was a sallow-faced, dark-haired woman about forty, and distinctly a foreigner. I did not remember having i seen her before, but she evidently ; knew me. j"G o;l evening, madam," I replied, { wondering who she was. "Ah, you do not know me, I see. j Ah, but I am not what you call a public character, and monsieur is." "Indeed, if so, it is only in a very small way," I said, amused, yet wistful to know who she was. | "I think monsieur is one in a big ! way just now. It is something to ; have found out who murdered the ' young Lord Bewley. You wonder how ' I know you ? Well, then, I did see ' you leave the Grey House whfen you j called to see my young lady." J "You mean Miss Latimer ?" j "That is her. I mean my beautiful : young lady, who now lies very ill." ; 1 "111, is she ?" I exclaimed. "She j ; was well enough on Fridr-y, .and cave ■ her evidence clear enough to hangl ; that poor girl, or I'm mistaken." i "Yes, but the excitement and the : 1 badgering of thn lawyers was too '. much for her ; and then Sir T'hbmas, !he was displeased with her ;so she went to her room when she reached the Grey House, and told me her head w.as awful, and I must not let any one disturb her. So after geti ting her a cup of tea I left her, and ; when I saw her again, she was in '- bed very bad, her face all flushed, , and her eyes wild, and she begged jme not to leave her, and to suffer !no one to enter the room. But after a> while she got so 1 -aid I was obliged to let Lady Latimer know, and Sir Thomas sent for the doctor, and he ■ said she was very bad, ?.nd I had an ; awful night with her. Yesterday the doctor said it was brain fever, and ordered them to fetch a nurse from the infirmary in Troucastle, and when the ru:le woman came she ordered me to leave my lady in her hands, and Sir Thomas said the' same. So, as I had nothing to do, I have been to church, and I have said a prayer for my dear young ; lady's recovery." i "You have lived with the Lati- ■ mers a long time, I suppose ?" ' "I lived as maid with Miss Latimer's mamma before she was married. I was very young then. Then, • when she came to England, I came with her. Many years ago, when i Major Latimer and my lady died, it , was found that there was but little money left, so Sir Thomas arranged that Miss Blanche should live with them, and he said I could stay with her as maid. Sir Thomas is very ! proud of Miss Blanche's beauty, his . own daughter being blind, poor young lady." ; "Your young lady seems hard to i suit. Neither of the gentlemen be- : longing to the marquis's family were I favoured," I said. I"I was a leetle surprised when I [ read what she did say, monsieur ; i but then a young lady c >u\d not I disclose her feelings in public." "You think then', she was not so . indifferent as she professed to be ?" i "I cannot say, monsieur. Miss - Blanche was always hard to understand —much harder than her mamma, poor lady ! Still, I did think she loved the captain ; but I thought the young lord would win her. My ; lady thinks muah of land and^ titles, t monsieur." " "Well, it seems you were wrong." "It does. But tell me, monsieur, 3 will they hang that poor girl ?" - •"I do not know," I said gravely. \By this time we had reached tie ~ Hall. Something prompted me to of--1 fer to see hfcr home, as the roaJ wa-; 1 lonely. i "Th.'i.nk you. mor.siour," she said, r in a graiiiel tone. As wo walked on I tried to disi cover if shs; knew anything a-hbut the , tjmo the- photograph was given to his 1 lordshii.) ; but she either was quite 1 ignorant, or frvi^-nod to h?., and when we re r'w. Grr,- H<>-i.se T was no - wiser t'i:in- I h -<1 previously been. On returning to the Hall I retired - early to rest. The next morning I • w -.s up in go {-.''.'l time, and took one "of the first ti-.iins to Troneastlo. as

I wishc 1 to talk the matter over with Mr. Newton.

Punctuallj at ten the judge took i his seat on the bench, and the pri- ( soner was brought in. She looked ] deathly white, but appeared perfect- 1 ly composed, though the bright flush that now and again tinged her lovely face showed she was feeling her position keenly. ; The counsel for the prosecution \ < was the first to address the jury, and t '. in spite of the Court being crowded to excess, you could bave heard a j pin drop as he commenced : ( "My Lord, and Gentlemen of the Jury,—lt is my painful task to re- i call to your minds the circumstances I connected with this sad murder, and to enable you to form a just judgment, I will briefly recapitulate the details. On the 29th of October last, Viscount Bewley, left his home intending to call upon a young lady ' living about a mile distant. Before going out he intimated to his sister that if a proposal he wished to make | the lady was not favourably received ! it was possible he might proceed to Troncastle and spend the nighst with a friend there. He did not get the answer he desired, and, as the doctor had told them, was in a very bad temper when he left the Grey Kouse. After that he was seen by' | the gamekeeper, who testified that he j took the usual path home, after ar- j ranging for a day's shooting. It had been hinted that his lordship might have committed suicide, but the doctor's evidence proved that from the position of the wound it was impossible. The theory is that he was met and shot through the head. Now the place where the murder happened is j situated between two small streams ; j and just there the path, . which is j very narrow, curves. Taking into ac- j count the awkwardness of the place, and the trueness with which the bullet was sent on its deadlj errand, I contend, gentlemen, that the person ! i who fired it must have been tho- ; roughly acquainted with the place ; j also that it was his lordship's usual : way home. Now we are told that about a year and nine months ago '. Lord Bewley became acquainted with a beautiful girl, Mary Hirst, the I daughter of a woodman on his ! father's estate, and who now stands ; accused of this crime. This friend- ! ship ripened into love, and finally his ' lordship tried to induce the prisoner 'to leave home and live under his j care. Being a pure-minded girl she | rejected his offers, and, finding that |no inportunities prevailed, and, as ' -'lis letters show, being very deeply ; enamoured of her, he offered her imirj riage, which she accepted. But in jus- | tice to her, I must say I can see no ' single instance in which she tried to ; inveigle him into it ; she rather coni rented to his earnest pleading. The marriage took place at York, a nd the brief honeymoon was spent in that neightfourhoofl, after which they returned to their respective homes, the marriage being kept secret. After a short time his lordship's passion cooled, and he let his wife see that he was tired of her ; then, when Miss Latimer appeared, the attentions that he paid to her showed his wife still more plainly that his love had turned to indifference, If not tc hatred. Now, gentlemen, her letters show that she felt it keenly, and on that fatal day she called on Miss ; Latimer, disclosing her marriage, and ', imploring her to refuse Lord Bew-. ley's attentions. Miss Latimer has told us she considered it was a piece of impertinence for the prisoner to seek her, and doubtless let her see her opinions. We can, therefore, easily picture the poor rtfrl, ttalf frantic with jealousy, and irritated !by her rival, going home to brood over her wrongs. Now, it seems, be- . fore seeing Miss Latimer. she had ! placed some letters in r n old oak I tree, which served for th<-:r post-of- |. fice. In '' ise she pleaded -especially iin the lr.st, finding her fir t had not i even been removed —for b- .■ husband ]to meet her in the dene i bat night, j using strong threats of v ageance if ihe failed to complj wit": her re- ; quest. It appears that tho signal tc j inform him that letters ov/aited was j the placing of bra.nches across the , stream where the ste] ling-stones were, and that night the signal j, awaited him. But I w!U give you I some extracts from her list letter :■ " 'It will be well for jou to turn back to-night, when you find them; in your way, as, if you go on, I will have jny revenge—a revenge you will have goaded me into. If you do not meet me, T will take the bitterest revenge it is in my power to take.' "Now, what did she mean by 'the bitterest revenge she could take' ? Read in the lightt of what happened, it certainly appeared like a threat to take his lordship's life. It had been proved beyond doubt that she was in the dene at the time of the murder, a nd that she was seen to rush quickly home. A portion of print, which fitted the rent in her, dress, i had been found on a gate-post which she would have to pass in leaving the dene. Now, it being proved she was in the dene when the murder took place, and knowing the bitter, wronged feeling which existed in hier breast —a feeling no doubt increased by her interview with Miss Latimer— this, coupled with her thireats, makes it look dark against her. Finally, she was proved to have had in her j possession a photograph, which Miss ' I Latimer has declared on oatto —never ! i faltering when severely cross-examin--5 : ed—that she gave to Lord ( Bewley 1 just before he left her, and which he i placed in his breast-pocket. 1 "Now, if Miss Latimer was not mistaken, tho party who held that ' likeness must either have been the ' murderer or an accomplice. It has been artvucl that no woapon wan . found either in the dene or the home

of the Hirsts which could .criminate the prisoner ; but the weapon had not been found at all. I must now fcouch upon the evidence adduced to prove that the unfortunate Lady Alfred Neville was in the dene at the time of the murder. That she was there is not disputed, neither is her peculiar hatred of the young lord ; but you have heard Mrs. Burton declare on oath that the unhappy lady had no weapon in her possession, and, after the most careful inquiries no trace of her having, purchased one can be found. ; "Some of the papers, with that peculiar facilitj which they seem to ! possess for presenting distorted j views to the public, have insinuated j that an attempt had been made to hush up Lady Neville's escape from ! the asylum and presence in the local- j ity, hinting that the marquis would ; i not brook to have a member of the i family incriminated. This is not so. I Had the unhappy Lady Neville com- ! I mitted the murder, for her it could j i only mean closer confinement ; and j even the marquis could pardon her, knowing she was not responsible. But, gentlemen of the jury, thle prisoner a t the bar also bears the name of Neville, though she has not yet claimed it, and if. she is proved guilty of this crime, no matter how ' I great the provocation she has re- } j ceived —and that it was great I do ! I not deny—still, she knew what she was doing, and, if guilty, must suffer for it, and in her punishment a greater stain will fall on their an- j cieat name than if the crime could be traced to the witless, unfortunate Lady Neville. | "I contend that it is a case of j clear circumstantial evidence, in j which the lmks fit closely—so closely j that I do not see how any one can doubt her guilt. It is possible that my learned friend may urg,e that she was a girl of good principle, and, as 'such not likely to lose control of ! herself and commit so foul a deed. j I would only say that it is the high- : est who fall the lowest under sudden temptation. It is quite possible j ' Mary Hirst's purity of nature might | keep hler unsullied under the pressure | brought to bear by Lord Bewley, j and just as possible that, when his wife, she would, through her innate purity, resent any want of faithfulness on his part, and might be worked into such a frenzy that in • a moment of uncontrollable passion • she i fired the fatal shot. Gentlemen of the jury, it is hard to press this j charge against a young and beauti- ; ful girl, but the laws both of Gad j and man, demand that the shedder i of blood shall not go free. I now close by asking you "to consider tha ca?e impartially, and give such a verdict a# shall seem to you right and just." As he eat down I could see that his speech had told terribly against the prisoner in the opinion of the audience. She, poor girl, had sat the whole time leaning slightly forward, her hands clasped, and her eyes fixed on the counsel as he delivered his telling address. Once or twice I had seen a looki of wonder come into her eyes as she listened to him ; but throughout her demeanour had been quiet and attentive. When her counsel rose she looked eagerly at him, and it was easy to see she expected that he would prove her innocence. He was one of the . first barristers in the country, and had been retained at the suggestion of the marquis ; perhaps the knowledge that the murdered man's father would be glad if the unfortunate girl Was not convicted, gave additional zeal to his interest in the case. "My lord, and gentlemen of the jury," commenced the counsel for the defence, "my learned frie-d has endeavoured to prove, in his long and able speech, that, without doubt, the prisoner is guilty. He has tried to show you that, so far as circumstantial evidence can prove any one guilty, she is guilty. It is now my pleasing task to endeavour to show ' you that she is innocent. The crime for wMch the prisoner is arraigned 'is murder—murder of her own husband —and you are asked on circumstantial evidence to believe her guilty. Now, gentlemen, circumstantial evidence is always unsatisfactory. There have been more miscar- ■ riages of justice through it than anything ; but in this case it is particularly unsatisfactory, as the wea- ; pon, which would have been the . strongest and heaviest link in that . frail .chain, which my learned friend . thinks so complete, is missing.

"The links may fit, but they are very weak. Gentlemen of the jury, I repeat the whole of the evidence against the prisoner is weak. Now I, will proceed to analyse it.

"That the prisoner had just cause for jealousy with regard to her husband is beyond doubt ; but you and I, gentleraeu, may have experienced those pangs, and we did not commit murder ; and I hold that the motive knowing she was his lawful wife, was not sufficiently strong. Had he cast her off, as he apparently wished, she had her remedy — one which would have fully gratified any feelings of revenge. She could have asserted her rights to the marquis, and compel Lord Bewley to recognise her. And the threatf contained in those letters were intim.itious that if he did not accede re- *er wishes she would disclose the marriage to his father. Those threats have been made the most of ; hut they are easily explained, ami the letters throughout are the productions of a loving woman sorely tried, and longing to bring back the loved one to his allegiance. But they are not such letters as a woman with murder in her heart would have written. They are the passionate outbursts of a noble nature stung to the quicki, and not the carefully-worded epistles of a woman who must then have bee.;

planning the crime and securing the pistol ready for its deadly work. I admit the prisoner was in the dene at the time the shot was fired, and I am prepared with an explanation. You have heard that after Captain Neville left the Grey House the prisoner .called and confided the secret of her marriage to Miss Latimer. That lady declares the photograph shown in court was not then in the prisoner's possession. I contend that it was, but am unable to bring proof Mary Hirst having kept all her affairs secret, even from her mother, at Lord Bewley's request. However, I would like to point out ■ that Miss Latimer's evidence, as regarded the prisoner was given in a vindictive tone, and that there existed a strong reason for her dislike. From her conduct, it is fair to suppose that she only refused Captain Neville with the intention of accepting Lord Bewley and the title ; and when the prisoner disclosed the fact of her marriage to the viscount, Miss Latimer realised the truth of the old proverb, 'Between two stools you come to the ground'—which in her case would be anything but a comfortable position. Without positively impugning Miss Latimer's evidence on that point, I should like the jury to fully weigh their relationship, and determine, in the light of that, how far her evidence is l reliable. I must confess the whole of it made an unfavourable impression on me. There was a scorn, a contempt in speaking of the prisoner which her sad position should have secured her from, even from* her bitterest enemy—a contempt no womanly heart could have felt."

Here the court adjourned for luncheon, and poor Mary, looking more hopeful and brighter, was removed.

On taking their seats again, the prisoner was brought in, and her counsel resumed his speech.

"After the interview between Miss Latimer and the prisoner," he commenced, "she returned home, and I think few -of us who possess a heart can fail to pity the poor girl. Sneered at by.her rival, and treated with cruel indifference by her husband, how bitterly she suffered none may know. But after remaining a short time indoors, she left the house unknown to Jher parents, and taking the path past the gardens, descended into the dene. It was usual for her to meet Lord Bewley between the two bridges on the bank nearest to her home, and there she paced up and' down the whole length from one bridge to another, a distance of about a quarter of a mile. She had walked about for some time, and

was beginning to despair of his coming, when, as she was standing near the further bridge, she heard the quick-, sharp report of a pistol. Thinking it might be one of the gamekeepers, and not wishing to be seen, she began climbing tho bank in a slanting direction, and on reaching the top walked a few yards in the direction of her home, then stopped and looked round. As she did so she saw a tall, slender woman, in a lang dark cloak run swiftly across the bridge, and along a footpath up the bank, and through a field to the high road. The woman strue'e her as being a stranger, and very quick in her movements. Not attaching any importance to her appearance, and little suspecting her husband lay dead on the other side of that stream, she again descended into the dene, and renewed her weary walking. By this time the moon had gone under a cloud, and as.'she approached the bridge nearest her home, she heard a man's footstep on it, and advanced quickly in the hope that it might be her husband. She was going to utter his name, when a voice ■which she recognised as Captain Neville's, uttered an exclamation of annoyance as he flung the end of his cigar into the stream. Doomed to disappointment she resumed her walk for a few moments, then, sick at heart, and remembering her mother would chide her if her absence was discovered, she ran swiftly up the back part of the garden to her own home, as described by the man Bell.

To be Continued