(ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.) THE OSSINGTON MYSTERY.

Kaipara and Waitemata Echo, 3 July 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 14. XXII.-(Continued. "I have been wondering how your Patient is," I said, as he sat down. He shook his head sadly. • "Going fast, and it is better so than that she should live. But/1 will tell you all. She slept heavily until nearly eight o'clock, when she awoke and I saw at once she was perfectly conscious. The fever bad left her, but she was fearfully weak. She looked at me, then at the nurse, and beckioned me to her. I bent over her and she whispered, 'Send her away,' —Pointing to the nurse, only one of being in the room. I told her T^ leave us, and Miss Blanche again signed to me to come near, and whispered, 'I have been very ill.' I nodded. 'Shall I die ?' she asked, fearfully. Thinking it better she should know the truth, I replied, 'I fear there is little hope of your recovery.' She lay quiet for a moment or two, with her eyes closed, and I could see a struggle was taking place in her mind ; then she whispered, 'Is it a matter of hours?' 'You may live a day or so, but I thtink that will be the longest.' A look of terror came into her eyes, and in a second she asked, 'Have I said anything strange ?' 'Yes, my dear young lady, you did.' I could not be harsh with the poor girl on 'her death-bed," -he said. "It would he needless cruelty ; hut go on, doctor." "Again I* saw the look of terror, and placing her thin hand on mine, ,she whispered faintly, 'You truly believe I have no chance of recovery ?* 'I do ; I tell you so before Heaven ; and if you have wronged any one, I Smpiore you to confess.' She then lay perfectly -quiet, and I feared she had fainted ; but I saw her lips moving, so I gave her some brandy and water. About a- quarter of an hour passed, and only the workings of her face, which ast times were almost! convulsive, betrayed her consciousness. Then - she motioned to me to come near, and bade me tell lieu uncle to come to her at once and bring pen and paper. I called the nurse and ' despatched . her with a written message to Sir Thomas. I then gave the poor girl a stimulating draught. When Sir Thomas entered I pitied him from the bottom of my heart, for he has always been both proud and fond of his niece, whom he has treated as a daughter. In the first look he gave her I saw she knew her secret was known to him.'? The doctor paused. "It seemed to nerve her, and as he bent over her she whispered, 'I see you know it, but you must write it down ; then the innocent will not suffer. * She then faintly whispered a confession, which fully clears Mary Hirjst. Her voice was so weak, in spite of the brandy and water I gave taer, that once or twice I feared she wonM not be able to .finish her tale, and Sir Thomas had to place his ear dose to her lips, then write and again bend over her to* catch the words. When it was finished Sir Thomas thought it .would be better tqi have it attested by two persons, and I was going to call one .of the nurses when she raised her hand to stop me, and uttered the word 'Marie.' We understood she wished her maid to witness her confession, and therefore II sent/ for her. After she came, I raised poor Miss Blanche in my arms '" and she feebly traced her name below the confession. Then we signed it, and Sir Thomas folded it up' and placed it in his pocket. Afterwards he toM the maid to go, and asked me to leave him with his niece. In about a quarter of an hour he called me, • and as we left the room I saw his face was full of emotion, but she appeared calmer and more peaceful. As I entered she said, 'Marie.' 'Do you wish her to remain with you ?' I asked, bending my head to catch the faint whisper. She nodded her head, saying, 'Marie —not strangers !' I, . sent for her maid again, and told ! the nurses to leave her in her charge, with the exception of giving her the little food she could take. When I left the room, Marie was seated by her poor young mistress, murmuring prayers on her behalf." "It is a sad affair, doctor ; in fact ,it has been from first to last one of the most painful tragedies it • has been my lot to be mixed up in." "You are right, and that young scamp of a lord did more mischief in his short life than most men do in twice the time. All the same, he was a pleasant fellow to talk to, but he had no stability, sir." "Can I see the confession ?" I inquired, after a piause. "I do not think Sir Thomas intends showing it you while his niece lives, unless her life is t prolonged beyond what we expect, and I would not press Mm. It is safe in his keeping, for he is an honourable, just man —a true English gentleman." "I am willing to wait a short time," I said ; "bait it is a week yesterday since Mary Hirst was sentenced, and unless the sentence was commuted, the execution was to take place next Saturday." "There is plenty of time, sir ; hut before another day dawns this poor j girl will have gone to,; her account." j "I will wait a short time ; but remember, sir, each day prolongs Mary Hirst's agony." "You are right ; still I say wait." I agreed, and shortlj after the doctor left-, roe to no and see his other

patients, saying he should return in the afternoon. About five o'clock he returned, but I did not see him, neither had I seen Sir Thomas during the day. A little after eight, as I was seated by the fire reading, the doctor entered. Something in his face told me all was over. He came and stood opposite me. "You can see justice- done now," he said, quietly. "Then she is dead ?" "She died as the clock struck the hour of eight. All day she has been sinking, and had not spoken for an hour before she breathed her last. Her farewell words were addressed to her uncle, , who has been with her since five o'clock. About seven, after lying quiet for a long time, she said, 'He pardoned His own murderers, and He will pardon me.' Then she added, 'I was mad when I did itmad with passion, uncle.' The words came very faint and at long intervals, but I believe they have comforted Sir Thomas. There was no struggle at the last —she just grew weaker and weaker, until her breath went ; a nd looking at what would have taken place had she recovered, I feel thankful her life is ended." "So do I." "Well, good night, Mr. Brown, and |if you and I meet again, I hope it j will be under happier circumstances, j sir ;" and shaking my hand heartily he left me. The next morning I paid a visit to the chamber of death, where Blanche Latimer lay in all her qUieenly beauty, now touched with the majesty of death. There was no trouble in her face, no sign of the terrible days and nights through which she had passed. All was peace, and as I looked at her, I hoped that the guilty, weary spirit had found rest. As I turned to leave the chamber, the French maid approached ; her. eyes were heavy with weeping. She looked reproachfully at me. "You cannot harm her now." "I am glad it is so," I said. "The legend has proved true, you see." I made no reply, and passed out of the room. Soon after I had an interview with Sir Thomas, and at its conclusion he left the written confession in my hands, saying it was his intention, after I had read it, to at once forward it to the Home Secretary, and as I listened I decided at the same time to send an account of the finding, of the bullet and earring. Opening the paper, I read it 'carefully. ■ * In it Miss Blanche Latimer stated that on the afternoon prior to the murder she was visited by Captain Neville, who made her an offer of marriage, and that she refused him against the dictates of her own heart, which pleaded for him ; but she was ambitious, and desirous of becoming a marchioness. • The captain had only just left her when Mary Hirst came with the tale of her marriage ,to Lord Bewley, and showed her the photograph she had given his lordship a few days before, which in some way Mary Hirst had got from him. They had a stormy interview, the young lady owning she had treated the poor girl with bitter contempt. A short time after her departure, and while Miss Latimer was full of bitter ..anger against Lord Bewley, he appeared, and at once asked her to be his wife. She refused him scornfully, but did not tell. him that she was aware of his previous marriage. He pressed the matter, which vexed her still more, and at last she almost bade him leave her. Before going he told her she had used him shamefully, and he would never believe in a woman again, but would give his life to hunting, shooting, and racing, and have done with women altogether. She answered him scornfully, advising him to begin at once. He replied that he would. The next day should be a jolly one in the woods. He would go at once to the gamekeeper's, and arrange for . a day's shooting. .In violent anger they parted. After he had gone she picked up a letter which he had evidently dropped. It was directed to Maryt Hirst, and contained an appeal, to her to conceal the marriage for ever, and leave him free to wed Miss Latimer ;in which case he would have given ■ her a large sum of money ■ —paid, in fact, any price to be free. Mad at the thought of the false position in which he would have placed her, writhing to think that : for him she had cast away her hap- , piness and refused the captain, she ' fetched her uncle's revolver, and dis- : I guising herself in a long black cloak j and a large hat, hastened to the ' dene, resolved to revenge herself and place Captain Neville in his cousin's .' place, and hoping he would then re- I new his attentions. She knew the \ path Lord Bewley would take on leaving the gamekeeper's, and crouching behind the thorn bush, waited for his coming. In a few minutes he came along quickly, and she shot him through the brain. Feeling sure he was dead she fled homewards across the bridge, as described by Mary Hirst, and up the bank and over the fields, entering the Grey House •by the back door, as she had left it. Unobserved, she returned to her bed room, which she had securely locked before she went out. Had not her maid been away, she could not have managed I it so easily. As soon as the deed was done, she repented of it, but resolved j to carry matters with a high hand. The discovery that she had lost her earring was a terrible blow to her. She dare not go to the dene to look for it, or mention her loss, for fear it should lead to detection. When she found the jewel was not discovered, she breathed freely, and when Mary Hirst was arrested she resolved to do her utmost to fix the crime on her. It seems she had been sharp enough to know that if she staid Lord Bew-

\ ley only received the photograph | when he left her just before his death it would fasten the crime on her rival. Thinking the poor girl^s conviction would secure her from suspicion, and hating her intensely, she perjured herself. But strong as we^e her nerves, the horror and remorse she suffered were more than she could bear. Then came a few words imploring forgiveness from the marquis and Mary Hirst. I saw it was duly signed and attested. | "So the Ossington Mystery is at last solved," I said, laying the document down. CHAPTER XXIII. A TRIUMPHANT HOME-COMING. After a short conversation with Sir Thomas Latimer, in which he informed me that his niece's funeral, which would be strictly private, was fixed for the next day, as he was anxious she should be buried before her confession became public, I left the Grey House for ever, glad to escape from the horrible associations connected with it. I proceeded at once to the Hall, and on reaching it found the marquis, as usual, in the library. He rose as I entered. j "You have come at last, Mr. ] Brown. I have been wishing to know . how you were acting." i"I could not leave the Grey House j sooner, my lord. Now my presence is I not needed. She who is guilty of I your son's murder has gone to anf swer to her Maker for that sin." j "What !Is she dead ?" exclaimed ; the marquis. "She died last night, and I am • thankful it has ended so." | "Was she guilty, do you think ?" ,"I had proof of her guilt, my lord. The bullet, fitted Sir Thomas Lati- • mer's pistol ; but her confession has put it beyond doubt." : "She confessed !" he said, in some | surprise. ! "She did, my lord. That has been ! the one bright touch in the last few ' awful days." Then I gave him the details. When I had finished speaking, his lordship, who had listened sadly to my account, said, in a solemn tone : " 'Vengeance is mine ; I will repay, saith the Lord.' She has passed out of our hands, and I deeply sympathise with Sir Thomas in the humiliating grief he will feel." After a pause he said : "You will see that poor' girl at once. Go to the prison, tell her I sent you, and that she will soon be free." "I will, my lord. I intended going, and am glad your wishes coincide with mine." Shortly after this I started for Troncastle, and as soon as I arrived in the city, at once proceeded to the gaol where Mary Hirst was confined, and having requested an interview with the governor, I confided to him the story of Miss Blanche Latimer's confession. He was perfectly astounded, but saw at once that Mar'yi Hirst must be innocent, and gladly consented to my having an interview with her. Being conducted to her cell, the door was unfastened and I entered. As I did so, she turned quickly, and on seeing me the colour rushed into her hitherto pale face, while an excited look took the place of the sad expression, as she said : "Have you come to tell me my innocence is proved ?" ' For a minute I could not answer, not knowing how best to tell my good news. "I see, you have only come to say good-bye," she said, in a tone of heart-broken disappointment. "But I do not bear you any malice, for you only did your duty." "I have brought you good news, so don't lose heart," I said, in a significant tone. . Her face flushed quickly again, and her whole appearance changed as she said : "You have some proof of my innocence ?" "I have a very strong proof, and one which cannot be disputed." "Thank Heaven !" she murmured. "The guilty person has confessed, and that confession is now on its way to the Home Secretary, and in a few days you will be free." A look of ineffable joy illuminated her face as she said : "I knew Heaven would not let the in-focent suffer. I knew He would see ; justice done." ; Then she burst into a flood of ! tears, while her form shook convul- : sively. j I did not try to calm her. I knew jit was better to let Nature have her ; way ;so I waited patiently while she .; sobbed and uttered exclamations of thankfulness. j After a time she became calmer, ! and, turning to me, inquired, in a low voice : "Who did it ?" "M.iss Blanche Latimer," I replied. She neither started nor expressed surprise, and something in her manner told me she had suspected her. "You are not surprised ?" I said. "No. I thought it was her." "You did ? If you had any proof, why did you not speak ?" I said, a trifle impatiently. "I had no proof, but I suspected her. Something in the' figure and j movements of the woman I saw cross I the bridge .reminded me of her ; then | I knew how mad she was when she i found he had deceived her. The only puzzle to me was that she had not shot me instead." After a pause, she said : "Will they hang her ?" "She is beyond all earthly punishment. She confessed on her deathbed. To-morrow she will be buried." A look of horror and surprise came into Mary Hirst's face, as she said : "Tell me all about it." In as few words -.as possible I told her the history of the last week or

i so. /Thin, bidding her good-bye, and i , telling her she would soon be in her v I father's cottage again, I left her. - j I next saw Mr. Newton, and weds- - j cided not to make the confession pub--3 . lie until Miss Blanche Latimer was ? j buried. Scarcely had she been in her i | grave a couple of hours, however, 1 j when the newsboys in the streets of - .Troncastle and neighbouring towns 1 , and villages were crying : DYING 'CONFESSION OF THE MURDERESS OF LORD BEWLEY. ; INNOCENCE OF MARY HIRST. Papers were sold in thousands, and again the Dene Tragedy was on every one's tongue. The next day Mary Hirst was set at liberty, and to escape observation was driven quietly home, a message being despatched to her parents, to whom I had imparted the joyful news the evening before, when I had advised them not to go to the prison. !On hearing she was corning, they [ informed their neighbours, and the news spread like wild-fire to New and Old Bewley and Ossington, so that ' when the coach was heard approaching the crowds of people who were standing about raised a mighty cheer. Then several of the men rushed for- " ; ward, and unharnessing the horse, i they drew the coach towards her cot- . tage home, while the country folks, [ who lined the road and banks of the ' dene, cheered again and again, until the surroundings echoed with the glad sound. 'In a few minutes she was clasped in her mother's arms, and drawing her into the cottage, her father shut 1 the door, and once again Mary Hirst . was safe in her father's house. After I another loud hurrah for truth and justice, the people dispersed. ; I had found a quiet nook where ' | unobserved I could see and hear all, ( I but when the people began to move '11 hastened towards the Hall, not , wishing to be seen by any of them. \■■ When I reached the Hall I was told the marquis wished to see me at 1 once, and going to the library, I re- ! ceived a warm greeting from his ' lordship. I told him of the scene,. I • had just witnessed, and he appeared i pleased. After a minute he said : [ i "So you leave us to-morrow, Mr. Brown ?" "Yes, my lord, my work here is mow done." J "You have done it well, sir ;in a i gentlemanly, considerate manner, it : has been a difficult task. I did not offer a reward ; but it is my wish to make you a small present ;" and he handed me a beautiful watch and chain. There was a short inscription on , the watch saying by whom it was given as a token of esteem. While I ; was admiring it his lordship placed a cheque in my hand, and as my eye rested on it I saw it was for one . hundred pounds. j "This is too much, my lord. I shall be glad to accept the watch, . but the money I ought not to take ( ' Think of the blunder I made in ar- . resting the wrong person. I have not ( deserved this reward, and it would be presumption on my part to take it." "I think you have e-arned it ; and :as for the mistake, if you erred, so did the judge and jury. Come, oblige ime by accepting it." j Seeing his lordship wished me to j take it, I put the cheque in my pocket. i "Do you know, my lord, this affair i will cause me never again to have : the same faith in circumstantial evi- [ dence." j 'Tarn not surprised at that. And now, Mr. Brown, I wish you to see Mary Hirst before you leave here, ! and make her the following offer : j Tell her I say if she will leave her j own people I will place her in a first- ' j class school in the south of '^England | under an assumed name. After she ! has spent three years thera, I will receive her into my own family as my son's widow, and, of course, | making suitable provision for her. I ; i believe this is the best' offer I can ! make her. At present she is not fitted '■ for her position, but I feel sure she is capable of rising. She has shown herself a noble girl, and when educated will adorn any-position. I have j only one condition to make, and it is this : That within six months her I family go abroad. I will furnish them ' with capital to buy and stock, a farm in any of the colonies. It would be unpleasant when she came to re- ! side at the Hall if they were still in I the neighbourhood." ,; !"I will tell her what you say, my lord, and I may as well go at once." j I saw he was pleased, so I started immediately. When I reached the Hirsts' cottage the door was opened jin answer to my knock by Mrs Hirst, i The good lady hardly knew how to regard me, whether as friend or foe. Bidding me step in, she closed the door, then led the way into the kitchen. At a round table near the fire !,Mary Hirst, her father, and brother were seated. On it stood the teathings, and the remains of cake and jam. They had just finished their tea which I could see had been something of a feast, in honour of Mary's return. She jumped up, and, holding j out her hand, said : "I am glad you have come to say good-bye." Then, glancing at ber : father and brother, said : "Don't look so unkind at him. Mr1. Brown only did his duty, and I've never disliked him, even when I dreaded . him the most. And I do believe you were sorry to have to arrest me ?" she said, questioningly. "Indeed, I was. And now, my good ' friends, I have a message from the marquis." | And I told them what his lordship ' offered to do for Mary, and the one ! condition annexed. lAs I finished speaking they all I looked at Mary, who was standing by the fireside. Her face, which had , become much thinner while she was

1 in priscn, had acquired" a "sw'2et, p"a----r tient look I had* ever seen in it before she left home, a:vd there was a - refinement born of suffering which - added to her wonderful beauty. A' 3 bright flush was on her cheeks, lendr ing additional charm, "Well, Mary, bairn, what? do you I say ?" asked her mother. ; She fixed her eyes on me with a sad smile, as she said : "Tell the marquis I am very much obliged for his kind offer ; but the time has gone by when I cared to be made a lady. Six months ago I ' r would have jumped at the chance of an education, which would have fitted me to mate with him. I longed to be more like the ladies he met ; t but he's in his grave ; and what am ' I to the marquis or his family that they should have me among them ? ' I should only remind them of their : great trouble. The great world does not want me, and such an education i as his lordship offers would.be of no [ , use to me. You will thank his lord- . j ship, but say I will not intrude on '| them." k j "Then do you purpose living here as you have done ?" I inquired. She hesitated. "If I could choose, I would give \j my life to nursing the sick. Is there , | not some place where you can be I ft1 trained for that kind of work?" | "There is ; but would you not re- ] ; gret your choice ? You are very young and very beautiful." "Eh, Mary, bairn, stay with us," i said her mother. i ; j She looked wistful, but did not re- ! '. '•■ Ply, and her father said : ' j "Mother, the bairn's gone a step ; beyond you or me. Young as she is, I she's outgrown us, . and would never ! be content here. Let her live her life ias she wants." ~ | "Mother, if you wish it, I will '. j stay ; but I have been very near ' j death—stood face to face with it in ' { an awful form—and it seems to me .as if I ought to try and do some ' , good with the life that has been , j snatched from the grave. You know, '|if I stayed here, I' might fret after [ j him, and get sullen and discontented, ' as I did before I left you." "Let her go her own way," said ' I her father. | I "Then choose for yourself, bairn," i sighed the mother. J "Would you like the marquis to' . , place you in a training institution ' | for nurses ?"• I inquired. j "If he would do so, I should be ' j very glad." ' I "I am sure he will. And now about | the going abroad, Mr. Hirst'?". "My duty's to the marquis, and if j he will allow us to remain here, wc '. j shall never presume on any connec- ' j tion Mary may have with him, but I , 'shall be his faithful servant, as I [ ! have always been." "That is your wish ?" : "It is, sir." "Eh, we don't want to go to any foreign parts," said Mrs. Hirst. "I will tell the marquis what you say ; " and, with a /few farewell ' words, I turned to leave the house, when Mary called : "Mr. Brown, tell the marquis I will take a new name when I leave here. I will neither use my own nor | j his son's ; " and her voice faltered ■ as she uttered the last words. I qonveyed their answers to the ' marquis, and he consented to the ! Hirsts remaining in their cottage, j and promised to take steps at once I for Mary to be placed in such an institution as she desired. The next morning I left Ossington, with the assurance that if I had In some sense blundered, I had quite satisfied the marquis. I was received j well by my chief, who I saw recog- ' nised that it had been a difficult case, and he was pleased to say he did not consider me at all to blame in arresting the wrong party, the circumstantial evidence being so strong. Since then a year has passed, and the other day I saw in a paper, among weddings recorded, that of , "Captain Horace Neville, to the Lady . Marj4 Neville, only daughter bof the Marquis of Troncastle." Mary Hirst is now a nurse in a London hospital, and few are more patient and skilful. She is beautiful as ever, and her face is losing the sad look it acquired during the awful experiences through which she passed I often see Her, and she always appears pleased to meet me, and I have a hope, which daily grows stronger,' | that some time in th e future she-wav be induced to once again enter the marriage state. I do not expect she will love me with the passionate fervour she gave the young viscount, but I think I see signs of a steady abiding affection j growing towards me, which will f u ii y satisfy) me. In.fact, prosaic middleaged man as I am, I love her so much that' the prililege of her friendship is of more value to -me than the utmost devotion of any other woman. - THE END. After peeling onions rub a stick of celery over the hands, and the unpleasant clinging smell will at once disappear. To make a tough steak tender rub the meat on both sides with a mixture of equal parts of vinegar and olive oil, and leave it to stand an hour or longer before cooking. Charlottenburg, the fashionable western suburb of Berlin, is known as the "widows' town." At the last census no fewer than . 14,543 widows were registered as residing within its boundaries. This is very'nearly half of the total surplus of women over men that is to bevfound in tbe town —29,240. In no other town in Germany can such a proportionate sur- I plus of the female sex be found. The : number of widowers is extraordinarily small in proportion, being only 2,358. ' ;