PHILIP PENFOLD.

Manawatu Standard, Volume IV, Issue 240, 6 September 1884, Page 1 (Supplement)

PHILIP PENFOLD.

By FRANK MORLEY.

CHAPTEB VIII.

It was a cold raw morning about the middle of Jane, 'w'heh two men, m heavy ulsters, walked through the Treasury Gardens m the direction of Fitzroy. It was drizzling slightly as they left Collins Street ; butit was evidently the last of the available moisture m the atmosphere, for, before they had got half-down the avenue of elms, under which gleam the statues of Diana, and Venus, and sundry other celebrities of the Greek mythology, the heavy pall which covered the city up to that time, had cleared off and there was every indication of it being clear and frosty. " You are quite sure the time fixed was two , o'clock, Phil ? '.' said Herbert Fairleigh. "Yes, I heard Borlace mention the time distinctly." " Then we have quite half-an -hour to wait.". ■ 'fit; will take us all that time to arrange our plans ; as we will have to make a reconnaissance of the position, and j«ost ourselves at the probable point of attack." " Well, here we are. You have the latchkey." Philip and Herbert let themselves m very quietly, and closed the door noiselessly after them. ' There were three possible modes of obtaining an entrance to the Priory. A burglar could come m the front way by cutting .but a pane of glass and lifting the window after pushing back the latch ; or he could get m through the kitchen by the same procedure; or, finally, there was another way. At the back of the house, a sort of gangway or flight of steps ran up alongside of the Jritchen, which projected out from the main building. This flight of steps led on to a sort of balcony, from whioh opened the bath-room atone end, and a, conservatory at the other. Between the two was a door "opening on the balcony from the main building. To gain | access to this staircase, a wall nine feet high had to be scaledj and, as a consequence, this door was very seldom locked. Indeed during the summer it was 'generally left wide open all night for ventilation. The wall we have mentioned started flush with the southern wall of the, priory, being m fact a continuation of it ;%ind, after turning at right angles, made another returning right angle and ran into the northern wall of the building, being here also 'flush with it. The court-yard was thus an oblong, surrounded by a nine feet wall, which was a continuation* of the sides of the house. The back door, from which the foot of the staircase was only about thirty feet, led into the courtyard, and, being left the least bit ajar, commanded a view of the whole of it. It was decided that Herbert should remain m the drawing-room on the watch for any attempt to enter m that direction and that Philip should station himself at the back door. In order to communicate with each other without making any noise which might disturb the burglar, or alarm the household before the capture was effected, Philip held one end of a long piece of string, the other end being m Herbert's hand. Two Bharp pulls were to indicate 'the position of the burglar ; and upon the receipt of this signal Philip and Herbert were to join each other. " Let him get fairly m," said Herbert, " and it will be our lookout to see that he is made a prisoner." While these preparations are being made at the " Priory " we must return once more to the " Cave of Adullam." Here Captain Borlace and Sharky (for that was the name of bis pal, but whether the sobriquet was bestowed upon him on account of his bloodthirsty propensities, or whether it was simply on account of the size of his mouth has never been satisfactorily established) were making their final preparations for the robbery. " What are you putting into that bag ?" said the captain to Sharky. " Only a knuckle-duster, my rorty pal, and a jemmy, and a neddy, and — " " Cheese it, then, you blooming fool 1" said tlie captain angrily, " what do I want these for when I'm going to work the sneak on a nammow's crib?" Then the captain continued, dropping his thieves' slang, whioh, to tell the truth, he did not know much about. "I only want the skeleton keys so that lean go quietly, into eveuy room m» the house. I know every hole and corner of the place as I used to lodge there twenty years ago. If any of the young ladies wake I shall be very polite and tell them they need not be alarmed ; but they must hand over their jewellery and

valuables. You will stop outside as the 'crow' to see that lam not disturbed ; it will be your duty to takej the bag, when I have filled it, and hand it over to the • fence,' as usual. "Nuf ced!" growled Sharky, "let's pad the hoof as soon a3 yoHlike. I want to collar some rhino, for I haven't seen aflateh-a dunop since I scooped m a thick un, by playing the fawney-rig on a flat." After whioh valuable piede of information, the confederates left the Cave of Adullam, and made their way m the direction of the "Priory." Philip and Herbert had been stationed at their respective posts about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, when the former felt. two sharp pulls on the string m his hand, and" ijh~- Ci mediately joined his uncle. The door- was held slightly ajar, and they could see a man draw himself up quietly from the outside on to the top of the wall. He did not stay there a moment, but dropped down inside immediately, and lay quie^y a second or two, as if listening for any Unusual . sound. Then he rose and walked swiftly but carefully m the .direction, of the stair-case. He stopped for a moment to listen again, and then went up the stairs three steps at a time. When he arrived at the balcony, he remained again perfectly still for fully three minutes, and then Philip and Herbert could hear the door opening aninch at a time. " Now uncle," whispered Herbert, " you go to the foot of the stairs at the end of the passage, and I'll go to the staircase m the ', yard. We will ;both sneak up quietly and • nail him without any fuss whatever." This was agreed upon. When Herbert got to the top of the staircase and. opened the door, he saw the burglar standing m the little room, into which the door ojpened, and instantly grappled with him. The burglar closed with Herbert immediately, and he "was evidently a I man of considerable strength and activity. Herbert made a clutch at the burglar's throat ; but a grasp of iron was on his wrist, and he found himself struggling to hold his ground, against an antagonist who seemed to know quite aa much about wrestling as he did himself. Then the struggle commenced . again, and Herbert took a better grip of his opponent with the intention of using a trick df his own invention, the result of which woulfl 1 be that unless his antagonist knew the counter move, he would be inevitably hurled on the broad of his back. This has taken longer to narrate than it actually took m action ; but short and severe although the struggle was, Herbert could not help wondering what had become of his uncle. Not that he wished him to interfere ; for he felt rather pleased m tackling the fellow himself, and m finding that he was a foeman worthy of his steel ; but yet it wasn't like uncle Phil to leave a mate m the lurch. Then, he thought to himself, "he has turned the wrong way m the dark at the top of the stairs ; but I'll settle this fellow strong as he is." Thereupon he put m practice the new dodge of his own invention ; whereupon he was much surprised to feel the counter move, which brought them both to a stata of absolute imtnovableness, and to hear a whisper from his antagonist. " Good God! Bertie is that you." Philip and Herbert, who had been silently and breathlessly struggling with each other, each under the impression that he had got hold of the burglar, now separated and looked anxiously round for that individual. He was nowhere to be seen ! The two men looked at each other m the dim light with amazement. ' "I'll swear he did not go out at that door," said Herbert, " for I had my eye on it all the time." " And I'll take my • Davy ' he did not go out of that one," said Philip, " for a similar reason." " He must be m the room yet," continued Herbert, striking a match. " Hullo 1 what's this ? Why, here's a door leading up a staircase into a garret or on to the roof." Herbert sprang up the stairs and presently cried out to his uncle: " Here, uncle, quick ; lend a hand or the man'll be killed 1" Philip followed Herbert up the ladder m time to see him stepping cautiously out upon the roof. Further on, and half-way down the tiles, elingingfor dear life to their slippery surface, was the would-be burglar. He was making frantic but futile efforts to stay his progress ; inch by inch he was slipping down, and every moment seemed to accelerate his speed. He had evidently intended to make for the pipe which led from the spouting to the ground. But he had miscalculated the steepness of the tiles and their slippery condition as a result of the frost after the slight drizzle already mentioned. Instead of being, able to go down at his own rate, he found that he was perfectly helpless. But he only found this out after he had let go hie! hold of the ridge, and he was now about three feet down and slipping, slipping, clipping with a slow but inexorable movement like one of the glaciers formed on the Andes or the; Alps, whose motion is as irresistible as it is' imperceptible. When the wretched man saw, Herbert stepping out on to the roof he turned his face towards him, and said m a despairing whisper, "For God's sake give me something to hold on by! the roof is like glass! quick! quick!" Herbert went out on the ridge of the roof I as quickly as possible. He had to go on his hands and knees, for the tiles were like ice, and the least slip, if he had attempted to walk, would hurl him like an avalanche over* the roof and land him a mangled corpse on the pavement below. At last he got opposite Borlace, who had by this time slipped down still further. Herbert lay down flat on the ridge, and by hanging his legs over the other slope of the roof he was able to stretch down his hand towards the gradually disappearing burglar. "Put up your hand as far as you can," said Herbert, " and I'll catch hold of you and pull you up." "I daren't move a muscle ! " groaned Borlace. "As long as I remain perfectly still I move very slowly. . . . Ah! I'm off now faster. Help ! help 1 " Then supplications to his Maker, mingled with groans and muttered curses, came lip from the crouching object now slipping down too fast to be arrested. At last, with a wild yell and a volley of imprecations and curses which made the hearers' hair stand on end, the miserable man shot over the roof, and a dull thud upon the flags outside told Philip and Herbert that all was over. We need not go into particulars about the inquest, which was duly held upon the remains of Captain Borlaee. Suffice it to saythat a coroner's inquiry was held upon the body of a man found dead outside the walls of the 'Priory.' How he came there nobody knew. The post mortem showed that his death had been instantaneous. His neck was broken, and the face was unrecognisable. How the body came to be m the position' -it was remains one of those profound mysteries which occasionally exercise the public mind for a few days and then are forgotten. Who- I ever he was, he was evidently not of much ; account as a citizen ; for, m carefully; con- ' cealed but handy receptacles m his clothes, were found skeleton keys, and various other indications which, to the trained observation of the talented officers of the deteotive force',; proved conclusively that he was a burglar. There was an ingenious hypothesis advanced by deteotive Palmer that the deceased; had met his death m attempting to climb tlie water-pipe fr-om the roof of^the Priory. How far this was consistent with the evidence m not very clear ; but it is certainly more feasible than the opinion of one of the jury* men, that he had fallen from a balloon.

Burglars don't generally go up m balloons when they are on the burgle ; so the foreman of the jury rewarded the acute author of this idea by telling him that he was a ballooming ass. This facetious remark of the; foreman immediately put the jury into the- best of humors with themselves and the corpse and everybody else. One juryman went so far as to say that it was " woth five bob to be on a jury, by gosh it was ; it was as good as a play — and then it was so jolly cheap 1" At 'this the jury laughed m a somewhat vacant manner; and after some further consideration they brought m a verdict " That the i body of the deceased, name unknown, met: its death by a catastrophe." The coroner pointed out that the body of the deceased couldn't meet its death, as it wasn't a 'body' untfl it was dead. He pointed out to the enlightened jury the difference between a corpus mortuust a dead body, and a corpus viviis, a living body. Whereupon the jury rethjed* and -after some further ■ deliberation returned with the satisfactory verdict that a corpus mortuuß, unknown, had met its death by a corpus vivus falling from somewhere, alsojunknown. The coroner was fain to accept'this verdict after licking it into shape ; but -he absolutely refused to add a rider which one iof the most intelligent looking of the jury, wished to add, to the effect, namely: "That the jury is of opinion that when corpkses pivwes is walking about' there shouldn't bo no waterspouts !" The coroner looked at this man keenly for a moment, as if he thought of committing him for contempt ; but when he saw that his suggestion of a; rider was meant m good faith, and that he was simply, as he explained, ?'Doin' his dooty by the unfort'nate diseased," he concluded to let the matter pass, and dismissed the 'jury with a high compliment to their sagacity and conscientiousness.

CHAPTER IX.

" Whom do you think is coming up to-night from Melbourne, Marie?" asked Mrs. Fairleigh, as she finished reading a letter just received by the post. " I'm sure I don't know," said Marie Browning, absently, as she continued the perusal of a lefcter to herself, with an expression on her beautiful faoe indicative of the utmost astonishment. " It's Herbert ! " continued Mrs. Fairleigh, m a tone which signified : " Now what do you think of that?" . ■ . But Marie was too muoh absorbed m her own affairs to express surprise at. anything, or even to affect a decent amount of interest m the communication. So she simply said : "Indeed!" " Yes, my dear," pursued Mrs. Fairleigh, vivaciously; "but, good gracious, child! what is the matter ?" " Oh, nothing ; " then Marie fell sobbing into ithe arms of the elder lady, crying : "Poor mamma! what tfhe must have buffered'!" •...:..-• "Yes, Marie, dear, I know all about it; and your poor mamma has borne all her sorrows and troubles alone. She' did not even share them with me, her Oldest friend." " But if mamma had only told me, I could have helped her and sympathised with her." "It is better as it is, Marie. If you had known, all this time, that you were living undeir an assumed name, and that the man who 'should have been your dearest friend and protector — who was your father, and should have been your guardian — was your bitterest enemy and persesutor, the load ' would have been too heavy for your young I life." " Where did he— where did papa die ? " j asked Marie, with an effort. This question put Mrs. Fairleigh into somewhat of a dilemma. It is a question m ethics whether, under any circumstances, it is permissible to tell a lie, and Mrs. Fairleigh was certainly not profoundly read m the Metaphysic of Ethio3; but still she had a vague idea that Where it was manifestly harmful to blurt out the literal truth, and where, on the other hand, a discreet evasion was a clear gain to humanity, it was justifiable to hide unpleasant facts under a garb of graceful fiction. So, instead of saying that Captain Borlace was killed under the harrowing circumstances of which we are cognisant, she simply said thai he died some time ago, and that he died abroad. " You will now, of course, assume your real name of Marie Borlace, and yoar mamma also will take her own name." " People will think it very strange." " It; will be a nine days' wonder, my dear ; 'but ypu are among frienis.;- you have done nothing to be ashamed of. Those who .know your mamma and her story cannot fail to sympathise with her ; and those who don't know her will think very little about it." ! In the evening the buggy which the groom I had driven over to the railway station returned, and Herbert Fairleigh burst into the room like a tornado. But he suddenly Btopped when he saw Marie. " I thought you were alone, mother," he said, after. a mutual salutation had been exchanged between Marie and himself ; " but Miss Borlace and I have met before, when she chapjjily saved me from a watery grave," continued Herbert, as he took Marie's hand m his and kept it there for the smallest fraction of a moment. He would have liked to have taken her m his arms but he durst not. As for Marie, she did not recognise m the handsome and faultlessly dressed young gentleman before her the hero of the episode at 'Point Lonsdale. I " When was Iso fortunate as to act the part of rescuer of drowning adventurers ? " asked Marie. ! "Have you so soon forgotten that scene which will ever remain impressed upon my memory. You were away ' out on the rooks ;' the tide was coming m ; I went to give you .warning and, if need, assistance." '-'H Oh, yes! now I recollect; and you fell into one of those nasty deep holes," cried Marie, eagerly. « . "Yes, and you pulled me out by the nape of tlie heck, Mke a drowning puppy." " Indeedjl never touched you. I screamed, was going to your assistance; but before I got near the place you were out ; and then I ran for the shore — and then a roller caught you— and I thought you would be drowned — and oh ! Mr. Fairleigh, I did not have an opportunity of thanking you for your kindness." " That is of no consequence, Miss Borlace ; lam amply rewarded by finding you here, and learning from your own lips that you were more struck with the serious than with the ludicrous aspect of the adventure," " When do you expect your uaole up, Bertie," enquired Mrs. Fairleigh. " I don't know, mother, he is very ill." I " Good Heavens, child 1 what is the matter?" "Oh! nothing very serious, mother ; only a slight affection of the heart." ;"^And do you call that nothing?" ex--olaimed Mrs. Fairleigh, as she dropped her knitting. " Who is attending him ? " " Cupid, mother," gravely remarked Herbert. ;_ " Oh, you naughty boy ! " and Mrs. Fairleigh returned placidly to her knitting. Next day Mrs. Fairleigh wrote a long letter to her old friend, asking her to come up to , Berengaria and to stay as long as she could. The following week Mrs. Borlace and Philip arrive, and the old house at Berengaria puts on an unusually gay and festive appearance. There axe riding parties, and driving parties, and shooting parties. Mrs. Borlaoe takes

out her sketch book, and -Philip accompanies her to all the most picturesque and beautiful ; scenes. Herbert and Marie generally go their own -way. It is a question which of ! the two couples are the handsomest ; but it can be hardly a question which are the happiest. Herbert and Marie .are fall of the passionate ardour of, youth, and love is> suppqsed to be only consistent with' youths' and passion. But the love winch Katf 1 survived years of separation, and shines ites' brightly m the noonday of jute, asi.ifc; (did m the sparkling dewdrops of its gorgeous mornI ing, is truer and deeper,"! or It has stood the test-and come put .; r jn ';) ii a 3 ■After they were married Herbert went to live at St. Kilda. Philip, after a tour on the continent, settled down at Berengaria! ) Mrs. Fairleigh lives sometimes, with her son. : am};; sometimes with her brother. . '. '...' --—I Herbert is rising rapidly m his profession, and is looked upon as one of the future leaders of the bar; Philip mayjbe seonVag usual occasionally cutting thistles on Berengaria, but he is not so much: given to these harmless little' eccentricities as of yore. There ace a lot of youthful Penfolds running about Berengaria how ; and sometimes duribg the holidays when Herbert?s eldest sonJottinW" up to Berengaria he and the heix* oiißerfenJJ garia practice the famous trick, i^ wrestlings d whidh Herbert' tried so 'successfully on' his. ' uncle.' ' 0?HBBi»b: '" ' i:(i: f !:) -"'^