THE NOVELIST. [Published by Special Arrangement.] LINK BY LINK.

Otago Witness, Issue 2814, 19 February 1908, Page 71

THE NOVELIST. [Published by Special Arrangement.] LINK BY LINK.

By BEAD OX HILL

Author of '"The. Kiss of the Enemy," "The Sentence of the Court," ''The Ocean King Mystery," "Millions of Mischief," '"The One Who Saw," etc., etc.

[CorTRIGHT.]

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

CHAPTERS I and If.— Norman Blytho returns to his native village of Monkswood, and is welcomed by John Benjafield, landlord of the Blythe Arms. Hie eldest son of Sir Bevj'3 B'ythe, of Monkswcod Chase, the young man is heir only to the empty tit.c, having been disinherited by his father in favour of his «tcp-brother, Paul. Now Norman has com© home wealthy. He inquires after Mildred Harden, his step-sister's governess. Despite the late hour and the advice of the innkeeper, he decides to visit tLe Chase chat night. The scene changes to the interior of Monkswood Chase. Sir Bevys, in a state of semi-intoxication, warns his son Paul not to b« too attentive to Miss Harden, aa he proposes to make her Lady Blythe •when his second wife, who is insane, dies. Shortly afterwards Sir Bevys Blythe is found tnurdered Paul says that -when he came into the room he found Misa Harden there, «nd the window open.

CHAPTER, III.—A CONSPIRACY OF

SILENCE.

BJj?<£g?Soi. HE news of the tragedy at Rj^r>«'v Monkswood Chase "reached W-^i^'%^ John Benjafield as early as {P^J^feV 6 o'clock in the morning, fci^sxvT'i Arms weie thrown open for |gf^S£p the business of the day. It ' being tue custom of the innkeeper to rise before his two

servants, no one wai the wiser ihni ba had kept vigil in the barparlour all night for one who never came ; and his fir^t sensation on hearing a garbled version of the terrible occurrence was one of rel.ef that it rested with lum alone w hether or no Norman's presence in the village should be revealed.

The story told by the doctor' 6 groom •was to the effect that Sir Bevys Blythe had been discovered in the dining room appaiently brained by a blow from a lieavy decanter ; that Mr Paul Blythe had found Miss Haidfn an the room, and tint one of the French windows »tood open. In consequence of the latter fact, as as the household had collected us scattered wits a search had been instituted in the giounds, but entirely vithout results-'. Though the open window suggested that the gruesome deed might be ■the work of some intruder from outside. jio trace of any 6uch intruder was forthcoming. John Benjafield breathed a silent thanksgiving, and inquired what the people at the Chase were saying. " They are gabbling a lot about the governess," replied the groom, as he put down his empty tankard. •' Only because she was in the room, and hadn't Taised any alarm irhen. Mr Paul went an and found her alone with the body," the man hastened to add, perceiving the gathering frown on the landlord's brow. " They are a pack of silly fools .' Miss Harden' wouldn't hurt a fly," Benjafield --terted with * staunchness vhich the

next moment he regretted. If he held a brief it was not for his foster -son's sweetheart, genuine a 6 was hie doubt of her capacity for such a clime. "I allow that if she did it at all, she did it in self-defence," 6aid the groom, who was a shrewd young tellow. "We all know that Sir Bevys was a holy terror when he was in drink — or at all times, for the matter of that. Well, so long, Mr Benjafield. I've been up all night, so I'll go and get a snoo/e for a spell." This eaily customer having departed, John Benjafic.'d had leioure to think over the catastrophe that luul befallen. His servants wcie down now, so while they dusted and swept he wept and leincd in the fiont dooiw.vv. ■watching thp blue smoke wreaths horn newly-kindled fires use above the cottages, across the [>reen.

The question which lie put t-o himself, and winch he would havo given all lie poswsed to bo ablo to answer, was: Had Sir Be\\s met his death as the dnect insult of Norman's reappearance at Monk*v.)fd. or would that dread occurrence have happened anyhow ? That Ins foster-son had cognisance of

the ciime, and that his failure to return to the inn was due to it, seemed only too probable; but that tlio baronet had fallen by the 3'oung n>an s hand John Benjafield found it hard to believe. Whatever provocation he might hn\e received, the innkeeper assured hiiTFelf that Norman was too gentle a spirit to have struck a fatal blow with intention.

Yet that there were circumstances likely to involve him in suspicion was to be interred fr-cm his unaccountable flight, and Benjafield could form no guess a 6 to what those circumstances could be. The fact that Mildred Harden had been found with thd body, and was in consequence herself under suspicion, did not tend to dimmish his uneasiness, for it permitted the conjecture that there might have been a quarrel between father and son, of which she was the subject of contention.

" Whatever happened, it looks as if she was in the room at the time." Benjafield told himself. "In which case she would krow what part, if any, my boy took m the bad business."

Pursuing the same tTain of thought, the old man argued that the open window pointed to Norman being implicated in the night's work. He had quitted the inn avowedly to go to the Chase, but he had e\ident!y not approached the house by the front door, nor was his advent known to the servants, or such an important item would certainly have been included in the information of the doctor's groom. If Norman had reached the Chase at all, and had gained access to his, father, it mu6t have been by some unseen route which had enabled him to vanish from the scene without his visit being noised abroad. That route could only have been the French window.

But though he had undoubtedly not been seen by the general household, there was no assurance that Mildred Harden had not seen him. John Benjafield, as the confidant of his foster-son, was aware of the tender passages between the two young people, and there was no doubt in his mind but that the girl ■nould bite her tongue out rather than divulge anything to her lover's detriment. It was more than possible — nay, it was probable, that she held the secret of Norman's, part in tn e tragedy. Having arrived at this conclusion, Benjafield retired into the inn, and partook of breakfast in a calmer frame of mind. He had decided to see Mildred Harden at the earliest opportunity, and find out how much she really knew. He would then be guided by what she said as to whether he disclosed' to her that Norman was in England, and had called at the inn. If he deemed it advisable to do so he was assured of her alliance in Norman's interest.

But the day wore on without Beniafield being able to hit on any plan for bringing about the interview. To seek it by going up to the Cha^e and asking for Mildied was obviously impossible. In all probability there were already sharp eyes and ears at work there, endeavouring to trace out the author of the crime, and such an unwonted visit would be sure to excite remark. Nor was honest John able to leave the inn for any length of time, for the Blythe Arms wa6 doing a roaring trade that day. The bar parlour and the taproom were crowded with thirsty customers, all pruned with different rumours, of which the only one that could be \erified was tliat the inquest would be held on the afternoon of the morrow.

As it was growing dark, however, Benjafield chanced to look out of the window during a lull in the rush of business, and he saw a trim, well-poised female figure enter one of the cottages on the other 6ide of the green. His opportunity had come unexpectedly. The cottage was that of the parish clerk, whose daughter was a seamstress, and the figure was that of Mildred Haiden. The governess had evidently come on an errand connected with the demand for mourning garments at the Chase. Calling one of his servants co mind the bar, Benjafield slipped out into the gloaming, and, walking at his quickest pace, made his way beyond the confines of the village to the junction of the highway with the cross road leading to the great house. There he •waited for Mildred's return, and so long had he to wait that when she came it was quite dark, and it -was only by her smartlytripping footfall that he knew that it was 6he. So much the better. The darkness favoured him, for he wanted no witnesses to that meeting.

When she arrived opposite he stepped out from the roadside, and the girl uttering an exclamation of alarm, he hastened to reassure her by announcing himself. The revelation evoked a sad little laugh.

"I'm glad it's you, Mr Benjafield ; I was afraid you might be a detective bent on shadowing, or perhaps arresting, me. Up the Chase I JWVve that I am

regaided as a murderess." said Mildred, accommodating her pace to the old man's slower steps. "That is absurd,"' Benj.ifield replied, regretting that he could not see her face. "I am not so sure of that,"' said the girl, with a hard ring in her naturally eweet voice. "Appearances aic all against me, you see, Mr Benjafield. I—lI — 1 was found in that awful loom.''

The innkeeper coughed nervously. "I wanted to ask you about that — for — for a reason." he stammered. "Did you see anyone else in the room. Miss Harden, besides Sir Bevjs? Someone who would have come through that open window they tell of? Someone w hose name you and I wouldn't let anyone drag from us for worlds, yet a name that we botli lovp? '

He laid his hand implorinaly on Mildicd's sleeve, ard she halted and faced him in the dark road. Benjafield heard her breath come f.ist. "You mean Norman?" she murmured in an awed whisper. "How 7 could I have seen him when he is thousands of miles away?"' "You "may trubt me," Benjafield urged simply.

"That I know light well." the girl answered him. "But I pledge you my word that I have not set eyes on Norman Blythe or heard his voice for two long years. I cannot understand why you should suggest "' "Because he was here in Monkswood last night ; because he left the Blythe Arms at half-past 10 to go to the Chase," Benjafield interrupted her. And in a few words he described the young man's unexpected appearance and the conversation that had passed between them, dwelling on the significance of his faihne to return. Mildred heard him to the end in silence, and then a sigh that was almost a sob escaped her.

" This makes it harder still," was her 6trange plaint.

"You mean that you can only avoid the suspicion that has fallen on you at our dear one's expense — by giving information of his having been at Monkswood," said Benjafield, purposely misunderstanding her. "I would rather die than do anything of the kind," the girl replied hotly. "You ought not to hint that I would, even if — if I believed that Norman had killed that vile creature."

The innkeeper heard her shudder, and was about to explain that he had thrown out the suggestion as a bait to obtain -i confirmation of her loyalty when she broke out : "You dear old iran ! It is quite right of you to take Norman's part and defend him — even against me But. oh, lam so unhappy, Mr Beujafield. I don't know which way to turn ; and this news about Norman makes it woisc — far worse. I had hoped, if openly accused, to rely for my defence on thnt open window. Now I dare not do that for fear of injuring Norman : in fact. I have a mind to admit that I opered it myself."

"Did you do so?" Benjafield made inquiry. "N-o," came the reluctant answer.

"See here. Miss Harden. lam your friend only in a lesser degree than my foster-son's." said the innkeeper earnestly. "Won't you tell me exactly what happened last night so far as you ?re aware."

The girl seemed to hesitate, but finally she yielded. "I was sitting with Katie Blythe in the small drawing room." she said. "Suddenly Paul came in and announced that Sir Bevys wanted to see ne on a business matter. Knowing his usual condition at tint hour. I was loth to go, but a penniless dependent cannot afford to offend her employer. I went to the dining loom, and there lay Sir Bevvs in a pool of blood on the floor, the window being open. I was trying to asrertain if he was really dead when Paul Blythe enteicd, and showed thnt he suspected me. The wretch was ba«e enough to take advantage of mv position by offerina to let me go and say nothing of having found me there if I would asspnt to his miserable advances. My answer was to ring the bell for help." "Did he aUudeto the window being open?'' "Oh, yes : he said it was shut when he '?ft the loom to go and fetch me. and he hinted that I ba(T s *of>encd it myself — to give the false impression that eomeoiip had entered that way."

John Benjafield did not say so. but tint explanation had aheady occurred to him in his mental effort to hold Norman guiltless. He siahod at the dead'o* k that confronted him — the clashing of vital interests both dear to his honest old heart.

"What we must do, missy, is to wait and see what crops up at the inquest," he said presently. "In the meanwhile we must keep as still as the grave about Norman having been at Monkswood yesterday, believing, as we do. that he has some good motive for staying away."

"Yes, yes. a thousand times. I ngiee to that,'' Mildred assented eageily.

So they parted, these two champions of the absent man; but Benjafield, wending his way back to the inn. was assailed with doubts as to the durability of this conspiracy of silen-ce. He foiesaw that if the dark storm-cloud hovering over Mildred Hardens devoted head should break in a hostile verdict at the inquest nothing would restrain Norman Blythe from coming out into the open and telling his share in the scciet of tho night.

CHAPTER IV.— THE LADY AT THE CORNER TABLE.

Though not two hundied yaids from the roar of Piccadilly Circus, a chastened calm ac of an oasis in London's mighty turmoil prevailed within the precincts of the Hotel Ducal. Once under the archway into the great quadrangle you seemed to have left behind the myriad sights and sounds of the metropolis and to have passed into a region of cloistered peace.

Not that there wa. 1 any trace of monastic asceticism about the frequenters of the palatial establishment, in which scenes of naiety and iuxurk»»- ojatertainment were

daily and nightly enacted. It was only that the guests who stayed at the Ducal and the votaries of Lucullus who pati-o-nised its gorgeous restaurant were of the class that takes it pleasures, not s.idly, but with a due regard to the covenances -ohile in public. Wicked they might be, some of them, but noisy they ■were not.

On the evening following that on which Sir Bevys Blythe met his death in the dining room of Monkswood Chase, 40 miles away, the restauiant was full of dineis, most of them people well known in the West End. The brilliant toilettes of the women, the shaded electric lights, ,the silent service of the well-trained waiters, the subdued hum of conversation, blurred, but not drowned, by the soft playing of a palm-hidden orchestra — all these dainty sights and sounds constituted that acme of the ait of dining which had made the Hotel Ducal the Mecca of wealthy epicures.

At a corner table, laid with only two covers, a lady was dining alone. The vacant chair was tilted forward, as though to denote that the place was engaged, but as the solitary occupant of the table had made some progress with her meal it was reasonable to surmise that she wa6 either on the most intimate terms or else entirely unacquainted with the late arrival. She was a handsome blonde, of elegantly voluptuous figure and doubtful age, though even tlie sternest of feminine critics would not have given her more than fiom eight-and-twenty to thirty years. Splendidly gowned in one of Paquin's choicest "creations,"' cut low so as to dispTay to the best advantage a pair of beautiful ivoiy shoulders, the fair diner seemed unconscious of the notice she attiacted.

At a neighbouring table, which the exigencies of a Doric pillar caused to be set at a little distance, a well-groomed man was playing the host to an eaglefaced~ old gentleman, whose keen eyes had been coldly appraising the charms of the lndy at the corner table. There was a likeness between these two diners which bespoke them father and son, and such indeed was the case. The elder of the two was Lord Croysdale, a distinguished militiry peer ; the younger was the Honourable Kenrick Herriot. his only son, and heir to veiy little besides the empty honours won by his >iire.

Mr Herriot's shrewd, actor-like face, innocent of any moustache, testified that wherever he sought fame it was not on the battlefields of his country. As a mat ter of fact, he held a berth in the department of the Home Secietary. and supplemented his official duties by pui suing a hobby that had become almost an obsession to him. Alwaj san enthusiastic student of human nature, he had further specialised his studies, till he was. perhaps, the most enlightened expert in criminology in the kingdom. In mystery cases which baffled the acumen of Scotland Yard his advice w;is not infrequently sought and acted on by the Public Prosecutor himself.

He followed Lord Croysdale's glances with an amused smile. "You mustn't lose your hcait in that direction, father," he said in a tone of banter.

"I shou'd have to lose my head first," the old soldier growled. " She gives me the impression of a sleek, beautiful tigress, and I was. just thinking that if I were a youngster I should take care to steer clear of her claws. You know everything and everybody, Ken. Who is she?"

'"She is a celebrity in her way." Kenrick Herriot answered, slowly. "I 'have not the pleasure of her acquaintance, but she is a certain Madame Gloria Carrington, and she carries on the lucrative business of a fashionable palmist and crystalgazer in Xew Bond street. But By Jove ' no ; it cannot be."

He had broken off at sight of a tall, well-set-up young man in immaculate evening clothes, who was making his way along the crowded restaurant towards the coiner table, where he took the reserved seat. The newcomer merely glanced at Madame Carrington, and then, without paying any fuither attention to her, surrendered himself to the ministrations of an obsequious waiter. Having given his orders he opened and commenced to search eagerly the columns of an evening paper which he had brought with him. His fair vis-a-vis watched him with a. curl of her full upper lip. and with a shght shrug pioceeded with her dinner. Kenrick Heriiot al?o watched him for a minute, and then spoke to his oun waiter

'"Do you know that gentleman's name?" he ask<?d in a low tone.

"He is a Mr Hector Dallas, sir." replied the man, bending down to answer. " Been staying in the hotel for a few days, sir. Just back from the Cape, and reputed very rich."

Herriot nodded, and turned to satisfy the mute inquiry in his father's eyes. "I thought that fellow was an old chum of mine of whom l'\ c lost 6ight for a year or two, but I find that I was mistaken," he- explained.

But for all that he continued to take an interest in the young man, who had now thrown aside the newspaper, and was devoting himself mechanically and with but poor appetite to the viands before him. His preoccupation was evident, almost amounting; to moodines*. Herriot thought. The latter wa6 not surprised when Mr Dallas pr&sently beckoned his waiter and quite audibly bade him ascertain if the extra-special Globe was out. and if so to piocure him a copy. Herriot immediately, but in a whisper, told his waiter to do a like service for himself.

It was some little time before the papers were brought, Mr Dallas receiving his first. Herriot, unobtrusively watching lum. observed that he turned to a column on the middle page, and, having just looked at it, consigned the whole newssheet to the same fate as the previous edition. In noting thie Herriot incidentally perceived that Madame Carrington'a fine eyes had also been scrutinising the young mans quickly-terminated eagerness for a particular item of "latest intelligence. " " Perhaps he was keen about the result of some ra* «," v^s Her riot's silent com-

ment. "If so I should certainly not imagine from his appearance that he has backed a winner. What a marvellous resemblance it is!"

But when his own paper was brought to him a minute later, and he turned t-o the same column, he pursed his lips in an unuttered whistle at eight of the blacklettered headline. He had been too busy to read the earlier edition of the evening papers that day, and what he now saw there was news indeed. He mastered' the paragraph, however, very briefly, and without allowing Lord Croy&dale to divine that for some twenty seconds it held him spell-bound.

The grim old warrior was paying very little attention to his filial host for the moment, being engaged in once more observing the brilliant woman, who, in spite of his adverse opinion, seemed to have a 6ort of repellent fascination for lum.

Look, Ken 1 D.ushed if she isn't making up t-o that chap you thought you knew, he whispered. "The bold hussy." Kenrick Heinot carefully folded up the newspaper and placed it in the breast pocket of his dress toat as he let his gaze stray for a moment to the corner? table. Lord Croysdale's statement was true enough. The beautiful exponent of the cheiromantic art was leaning lightly forward, and speaking to the morose young man opposite her.

Possibly they are acquainted »fter all," said Herriot. affecting to smother a yawn indicative of a boredom he was far from feeling. I don't think so." retorted his lordship, with a snap of his jaw. And il there was a man in England who could snap his jaws conclusively it was Genera! lx>rd Crovsdale.

Here comes the coffee and liqueurs," said Herriot, and with a violent wrench' he changed the subject to one of his father's Afghan campaigns — a subject that never failed to draw. But while h« listened to the thrice-told tale of derring* do against the tribesmen he did not cease to watch covertly the corner table. Ha would have given a gocd deal if the couple there had only spoken as loudly as where Mr Hector Dallas ordered his extra-special Uiobe.

They converged, however, in undertones," and if Heiriot had overheard tho lady's introductory remark he could noil have made much of it, though it would have refuted his casual suggestion of a. previous acquaintance.

"It is not my usual practice to addres3 perfect sti angers, but would you mind telling me if you ha\ c recently returned! from South Africa?" Gloria Carringtonf asked, looking across the table with a bewitching smile. Dallas started, and returned the look' with something of fear in his face. *'That> is certainly true,'' he replied, "though' you will pardon me if "'

"If you can see, how it is any :oncern( of mine." Gloria caught him up with vu silvery little laugh. "In one way, of course, it does not concern me at' all ;; that is to say from the personal standpoint. But scientifically the question and your courteous answer to it are ta me of the greatest interest. I have been trying to test my powers, and the experiment has come off to my entire satisfaction."

The young man smiled rather wanly at this naive confession. Some subtle charm seemed to spring from the lovely apparition opposite and to take him out of the brooding preoccupation that had had him in its grip. "I am glad to hare bepn of i:?e ttf you, but for the life of me I cannot sco how." he replied

Madame's jewelled hand had been lying, lightly clenched, alongside the dessert plate, on which were the remain* of a scarcely touched poach She now, opened her fi^t. disclosing in the pink* palm a small bill of crystal.

"That is what told me the secret," she responded, drawing Palhts't, attention to the miniature globe with a flash from her eloquent eyes. "It is a nnal'er talisman than the one which I ha\e used hitherto, and I wished to prove its efficacy on an unwitting subject." Dallas stared in open-mouth wonder, and then, being no fool, he reflected that it would have been quite easy foX this ravishing ereituie to have learned! something about him at the bureau of the hotel. Her words implied that she was a professional charlatan of some kind.. Probably 6he was playing foi a rich gieenhorn client, or, it might be, for a gratuitous advertisement.

"If that little ball can tell you sa much, the larger one must dnulge somg curious truths,"' he said lightly. The incredulous ring in his voice did) not pass unnoticed. "The larger globa which I have at horn? works wonders ;' nothing is hidden from it," said thic modern seer in a Paris frock, unmasking the whole batteiy of her charms, ana compelling a return of the intensity of her gaze. "But," she continued, dropping her voice to a whisper barely hear<l across the flower-decked table, you must, not despise this little friend which I have tried on you. It has told me y<^ another secret — pour interest in the murO* der of Sir Bevys Blythe at Monkswooi? Chase last night."

(To be continued )

Quito a number of Thames residents journeyed to Kiritiri to attend the Mormon Conference, which has been proceeding- for , tho past few days in a big tent, where ' Maoris assembled a-nd were addressed in' their own. tongue by a lady, while Euro*., peans took their seats in the ohiirah. where a special service was conducted by tat elders. The church accommodation vrvi. inefficient.

The British Army Council has come £5 the conclusion that the brick which was fired from the signal gun at Defensible Barracks, Pembroke, on July 7, was placed in the gun by children. The brick smashed the door of a house a quarter of a mile away, the ocoupier's daughter escaping bj a few moments only.

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