CHAPTER lI.—AT MONKSWOOD CHASE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2813, 12 February 1908, Page 71

CHAPTER lI.— AT MONKSWOOD CHASE.

A grand old Tudor pile, standing on the borderland where the sonibie pines of Surrey yield pride of place to the leafy ooppices of Hampshire, Monkswood Chase turned its gabled front towards the orave west -n md. It occupied a plateau at the upper end of a sloping valley, through which a mile of road approached it fiom the village, the first half running through fertile corn fields, and the last half traversing the green, tree-studded expanse of the private park.

It was a house of vast size and many windows, of odd little turrets and quaint weather vanes. In the broad light of day a ciitical stranger would have noticed a certain air of neglect about the grounds and gardens — not the unavoidable sort that springs from lestricted means, but the general untidiness of careless extravagance. A host of servants were kept, indoors and out, but the results were not commensui ate with their numbers — for the good reason that these retainers "had not the incentive of their master's supervision ard appreciation.

The only department of the establishment which enjoyed the doubtful benefit of Sir Bevys Blythe's personal attention was the well-stocked cellar. His flowerborders and shrubberies were nothing to him, but his bins of vintage port and his pipes of liqueur brandy were very near his beait.

On the evening when Norman made his appearance at the Bhthe Arms the baronet sat. according to his custom, in the oak-panelled diningroom, devoting the last hours of the day to self-degradation To avoid being the anachronism he was he ought to have been born a century sooner, for by 10 o'clock he had begun to make inroads on the second of an array of cob-webbed black bottles that the butler had left to reinforce the long since exhausted decanter of port. A heavily-built man of nearly 60, with the remains of original good looks, almost obliterated by chronic dissipation, Sir Bevys bore but a faint resemblance 111 1 the returned wanderer. Still less was his likeness to be traced in the sallowcomplexioned, furfive-eyed younger son who 6at close to him at the end of the long table. Paul Blythe was popularly supposed to take after his mother, the fourth-rate actress who had jumped at the chance of marrying this amazing baronet, and whose ill-balanced mind had broken down under the strain of pitting her temper against one more ungoverned still.

Pir Bevys drained his glass, refilled it, and cast a sidelong scowl at his son's thin, nervous fingers fidgetting with a pair of nut-crackers.

"I'll he shot if I didn't make a mistake in. chucking out Xorinan in your favour," he scowled in thick alcoholic tones. "At least, he was a man, and not a sneaking, finnicking, sly-tongued rascal, without the pluck to show what he is after."

"My poor half-brother was certainly not an adept in the art of finesse," replied Paul, with an unpleasant laugh. "But what have I done to deserve sucb a rhapsody of abuse?"

"It isn't what you've done, because you haven't done it and never will," the baronet retorted, glaring with the

fixed stare that told' the younger man that ferocity would soon give place to maudlin incoherence. "It is what you'd like to do if you had the chance, jou gibbering ape."

"I cannot be expected to put it 'ight unless you are a little more explicit as to what's wrong," was the sullen rejoinder. "'Splishit? Yes, I*ll be 'splishit with you," Sir Bevys snarled, working himself lapidly into a frenzy. "You're carrying on the same as Norman did, making sheep's eyes at the pretty little baggage that teaches your sister. I won't have it, I tell you. If it ain't stopped I'll serve you the same as I served him, and alter my will again."

Paul Blythe suddenly changed his manner to one of extreme deference. "You would do me a great injustice, sir, if you pursued that course for the reason you mention." he said.

"Purshuiiig a course!" the half-intoxi-cated man mocked him. "Do you mean to deny that you have been pestering the girl and running after her and driving her into the sulks, so that she'll give notice and leave the 'Chase' before — before I'm ready, egad?"

"I am not conscious of having made myself offensive to Miss Harden, though — I confess to admiring her," the young man replied, watching his father out of the corner of his eye, for Sir Bevys nad turned from him to replenish his gla^-s. The 6ly obsequiousness had momentarily disarmed the ferocity of the baronet.

"Then .you admiie a dev'lish handsome woman, my £on. and one I'll trouble you to let alone in future." he roared, sipping his wine and leering evilh*. "I don't use long words and mince 'em like you : but here is the straight logic of it. I gave Norman a stepmother, and by heaven! I'm going to give you one, too. as soon as that shrieking lunatic upstairs peers out and leaves me free."

Paul Blythe's 6allow face turned a ghastly hue, but he had his tongue under control now. Even the brutal reference to his own mother left flam outwardly unmoved. "The Lady you propose to honour is Miss Harden?" he said, very quietly. "That's who- it is," the baTon-et chuckled. "And see here, Paul. I'm in a mood to amuse myself to-night. Jrust to prove that you're meaning to knuckle under you cut along and send the minx down to me now. Tell her I want to have a parley-vouß about Katie's French accent." And. he leered at his son wickedly again. The outrageous command met with no immediate response, Paul staring with dull eyes at his father as though in doubt whether he was serious.

Sir Bevys himself soon put that beyond question. Thrusting his inflamed face forward, he half rose in his chair. "Will you do my bidding?" he thundered. Paul pushed his own chair from the table and rose slowly. "Certainly, sir, if you will have it so," he said, drawing a long breath.

About the time that Paul Blythe rose from the table in the dining room the occupants of .the servants' hall were finishing supper. The housekeeper, the butler, and a blue-chinned, hawk-faced man 'n a 'black morning coat sat apart from the inferiors, conversing in undertones which the housemaids and liveried footmen in vain tried to overhear. The person in the plain coat was Caspar fciturge, the mental attendant, who, in conjunction with a female assistant, had charge of the deranged Lady Blythe. The poor woman's crazy sayings and doings were a source of unfailing interest below stairs — an interest which Mr Spurge wais alt particular pains not to gratify. Even to his more 'familiar associates, Mrs Milsom, the housekeeper, and Mr Jarred, the butler, he maintained a professional reserve about their mistress's malady, as, indeed, he did about everything else, foT reticence was the most marked characteristic of the capable, hawk-faced minister to a mind diseased.

An electric gong, nxed high on the wall, struck three notes in quick succession — loudly imperative, almost menacing. With a significant glance at his companions Caspar Sturge rose and quietly left the apartment. With his departure tongues were unloosed and conjecture ran fast and furious, till Mrs Mikoin, proud of her superior knowledge, checked it with the voice of authority. "Not so much noise, please, espeeia'V as you are all wrong," was her reproof to the climax of a scullery-maid's suggestion that Chewier, the female attendant, was being attacked by the patient. " Her ladyship is not violent to-night, Mr Sturge was telling vs — only contrary." '"I expect Mr Sturge will mesmerise her into keeping quiet ; he always gives me the creeps as if he could do a bit in that line," said a frivolous scull ery-m aid. "Pity he doesn't try it on the old m"nn then," sniggered a young footman in livery. "Sir Bevys is in one of hisi tantrum's to-night ; didn't you think so, Mr Jarred, when we were" waiting ait dinner?"

The butler was a slow-thinking man, and he had to ponder his reply. Not being able to come to any conclusion he fell back upon his dignity. "It would ill become one in my position to discuss our employer with the likes of you," he said with a pomposity that caused an exchange of nods and winks among the underlings. "Well, I noticed it, anyhow," replied the irrepressible footman, William Stubbs by name, pursuing the subject. "I caught him looking at Mr Paul once or twice as thougih he'd eat him, and his language to me when I wasn't quick enough to suit him tvith one of the entrees was something awful. By Jingo, there lie is again ! What can he want nowi''

Stiufobs rose hurriedly, for his exclamation had been caused by the prolonged ringing of the daning-room bell, and it was Ins doity to answer it. Buttoning bis striped waistcoat and. straightening his tie as he went, 'he made his way along the corridor that ran from the offices to the reception rooms, and with a. lively

fear of his master's tenrDer he Tan as fa# as the baize door into the entrance hall.Crossing the latter at a more sober pacey he saw that the door of the dining room. Wias open — an unusual circumstance till the baronet had either etaggered or been carried from his potations up to bed.

A moment later the footman entered; th© noble apartment, to find that the circumstances were indeed unusual. His first impression of the abnormal was thati one of the French windows stood open, and that theTe appeared to be no one in the room. But that was quickly followed by his perception of a strange grouping of familiar figures whioh had for the moment been hidden by the table and its snowy cloth.

Sir Bevys lay on the floor, close to the chair that he had occupied at dinner, and bending over him were Paul Blythe and a girl of striking beauty. On seeing tho footman they both stood erect, the girl glaincing at Paul, aiS though expecting him to take the initiative ; but, the young man remaining silent, she spoke. Your master has be^n murdered, Wil* liam." she paid in a strained voice. "Run back «,nd alarm the hoiise. Send Jarred and Mrs Milsom here at once, and 'eb a) groom, go for Doctor Wilson and th© policeman."

"Whoever did it?" cried ,Rtubbs, talo« ing a step forward to gratify his curiosity^ but fallinor back instantly before the grue* some sicht.

Paul Blvthe scowled, as though cons scious that the footman was aware thati he and his father had Jwen left alone to-ge-theT, and that oe was,' therefore, liable! to be asked that question by more im> portant people. "How can I tell?" he said defiantly... "I wasn't in the room when it was dowev I""on>lv know that I came in and foundj Miss Harden here, and tliat window open." "That is perfectly true." said the girl,drawing herself ut) and regarding tho speaker with cold diedain.

(To be continued.)