CHAPTER VI.—PAUL IS KIND.

Otago Witness, Issue 2815, 26 February 1908, Page 71

CHAPTER VI.— PAUL IS KIND.

dad in sombre black, Paul Blythe paced to and, fro in the long library at Monkswood Chase. Though less than 40 hours had passed since some unknown ally of the King of Terrors had made him master of the house and «11 its. broad lands, he> had aged five years in appearance during the interval. In the bright morning, sunlight -that, streamed through the oriel window his always sallow complexion had taken a ghastly .hue, and there were dark circles round hie eyes.

that told of two sleepless nights. He consulted his watch, comparing it for the fourth time in half an hour with the great oak clock between the bookshelves. "In six hours the inquest will be over," he muttered. "Black as it looks against her, I don't believe there's anything to justify, a hostile verdict. To a great extent it will depend on the foreman of the jury — and on the tone of my evidence. That shall be the right shade, with a bias in "her favour, I will guarantee ; but it will look black — black ac night, to the rustic mind anyhow." Paul laughed mirthlessly, and resumed his pacing. His brain was packed to bursting with many things; broadly, with a sense of novelty, and, in detail, with regret for the hard-drinking, loud-swear-ing, vicious old man who was gone, with pride in his new freedom of possession, with a savage anger that the existence of ■an elder half-brother somewhere in the wilds debarred- him from assuming the title, and above all with a consuming passion for Mildred Harden. Then came a tap- at the door, and Caspar Sturge, mad Lady Blythe's male attendant, stepped noiselessly into the .room, bowing respectfully to the new master of the household. This man's movements were always of the- gliding, snake-like order, but- to-day his method of locomotion was more than usually" reminiscent of a shadowy ghost. Not otherwise, foT 'he was a sinewy fellow enough, reckoning him physically, despite his leanness. The type of which good swordsmen are made. "Can I have a, few words with you, sir, on, a matter of importance?" he began in the hushed tones customary in a honse of mourning. * " What ' is it? ' Is my mother in one of her paroxysms, again.? If so, I cannot be bothered about it just now 1 . You are ,paid to look lafter her, yon know," said Paul petulantly. " Quite so, sir. I should not have disturbed you about her ladyship, who is in one of her best moods 'this morning," replied the attendant with extreme deference. "Itis in connection with the murder, sir. Something has- accidentally come to my knowledge which may have a bearing on it, and I felt it my duty to inform you of it before — before informing the police." Paul checked his restless pacing, and stared at the other helplessly. Sturge returned the look steadily, though Behind the respectful sympathy in his deep-set eyes there lurked a suggestion of hidden meaning. The new master of the Chase saw that subtle hint in the background, and strove as he had never striven for anything before to put a ' name ' to it. Was it menace? Surely not, for what could this soft-footed attendant on his mother hay« to threaten him with? Was it the -scrutiny of a. man anxious to ascertain if the information he desired to impart- had been already communicated? This view eeemed more likely, and when Sturge broke silence, af^er waiting in vain for Paul to speak, that view seemed to be correct. " Are you? aware, sir, that your half'brother, Mr Norman Blythe, is. in England?" Sturge's question was uttered hardly above a whisper. It aroused Paul from that curious e4,u]><yr 7 anct in t2*e> cry of acafcoruelxnate.ia'fc that it called forth there was a certain frawtic eagerness — almost the eagerness of relief. -- . " Good heavens ! — no !" • Paul exclaimed, and moistening his dry lips, he demanded in more cautious tones, " 4.re you sure of what you say?" "In my own mind. l am positively certain, sir, though, of course, one is liable to mistake," Sturge replied 1 glibly. , "It was like this, sir. Yesterday you were good enough to give m& a. few hours' leave to run up to 'London on 'my own affairs. Her ladyship's affliction having commenced after "Mr Norman's departure from Monkswood, I never saw him here ; but there are photographs of him" about, and I am consequently familiar with his ap- ! pearanoe. Late in the afternoon of yesterday I wat^-in the aieigbbouxhood of Piccadilly, and I- noticed a gentleman 'who was the very spit, of your half-brother, sir, passing into the courtyard' of the Hotel Ducal. lam very eory ii I exceededmy duty, but I went, to ! the hotel bureau and inspected the register. There was no such name on the books. I then went into all the public rooms of thef hotel, but ' the gentleman I had noticed was not in any of them, the inferentee being that he was stayirfg in- the hotel under a false name and had >gcme to his own room." During this recitation Paul Blythe had ! been gradually growing calmer, and by the time it was finished he waß again i — more composed, indeed, than he had been before the advent of Caspar Sturge I with this remarkable news. When he I spoke next it was in the judicial tone of | an employer who is not 6ure whether he ought not to be angry with an- over-zealous servant. " I imagine that you would not have taken all that trouble if it had /lot been for the — ah — sad occurrence here the night before last," he said, resuming his perambulation. "To put it plainly, you had heard of my father's quarrel with my halfbrother, and you played the detective with the notion of casting suspicion on Mr Norman Blythe?" Caspar Sturge listened with an air of injured rectitude. '* I confess that I was interested in Mr Norman Blythe, not because of the murder, but from motives which ought to commend themselves to you, sir," he- replied."Rightly or wrongly, I regarded your half-brother as an outcast from the family to jrhich I devote my ' services, and I thought you ought to know of his return." PauLa gratification was undisguised. "That being so, it> is impossible to blame .you, Sturge," he said. "But you spoke just now of going to -the police with this tale of yours. I beg you. to do notliing of the kind. It is quite likely that you were mistaken in the peasant you saw, but if not the scandal of an exposure

would be unbearable. I would rather— < rather "

Rather forego the title, sir?" Sturgi helped him out softly. A purple flush spread to the other's forehead at the insidious suggestion that if Norman were convicted and hanged th« baronetcy would be his. This hawkfaced man, with something in his eyesi that belied his extreme deference, had! put his finger, delicately but surely, on. the missing gem needed to make his new. crown complete. The Chase, it is true* •was his, but to be Sir Paul Blythe, of the Chase, would enhance his inheritance a hundredfold. / ' Yes, even forego the title," he said, avoiding the __ steady bnt unobtrusive scrutiny to which he felt himself subjected. "Then if that is your attitude, sir, you may rely on my respecting your .wishes, and on my not breathing a word of this; to a soul," replied the tall mental attendant, and bowing respectfully he made his noiseless exit. But outside in the corridor he turnedf and smiled an inscrutable smile at the door.

*'lour game, my dear Mr Paul, is our. game — up to" a certain point," he muttered under his breath. " I shall watch your play up to that point with a, very deep and sympaithetic interest, but when it is reached and passed— well, then the fun of the fair will begin 1 ." The 6ix hours which dragged so slowly for Paul Blythe passed at last, and tae inquest being over he found himself back in the library again. On this occasion he had with him Mr Car'beard, the lawyer of the Blythets, who had come down fron* London to watioh the interests of the family. "Miss Harden ought to be very grateful to you," he was saying, as lie stood up, to take his leave. "If it had not been for your omission of that point you Bad told) me you could Taise as to her delay in alarming the house the verdict would! scarcely have been an open one. Your\ omission and the obvious partisanship of the foreman of the jury — the landlord of f-the" Blythe Arms, isn't he?— alone saved! \ he" from being found guilty." "I couldn't put a rope round a girl's neck," replied Paul, with a magnanimous air. "Besides," he added, forcing hia reluctant eyes to meet the, lawyer's shrewd! ones, "it isn't clear to my mind that j she did it. She may have opened the ' window to someone efse, who entered and] killed my father." "In which case she would have beenf an accessory • before the fact, if she ad< mitted the • intruder with that object,4 returned Mr Carbeard, " regarding tli« young man with a prizzled look. "But she might have admitted romeona quite innocently, say at my father's request ;' or my father might have opened! the window" himself during my ,absence from the room? " hazarded Paul. The lawyer was sure now that he was being pumped — pumped also in the interests of the governess, of whose guilt! Paul had seemed more than half con r ' vinced at his first interview with him; on the previous day. What could have; induced bis client to change so quickly} from an accuser to a. chanipion of- thef beautiful girl who had given her evidence! go defiantly only an hour ago. "My dear sir, it is just tlie doubt raised! by those .questions that prevailed witbJ the jury and caused them, to give an! open verdict," Mr Carbeard replied. "Iti will be foT the police to wipe those doubts off the slate, and if I am not mistaken! the inspector who has the oase in hand! means business. He is newly promoted,' and with his spurs to win I do not thinjd that he will be as kind to Miss Harden! as you have been. Well, I must be offi to catch my train, but you will apprise! me of any new developments." They shook hands, Paul accompanying] the lawyer to the door of the library.; There Mr Carbeard stopped, as though) struck by an after-thought-"By the way, I was quite forgetting, • he said. "YourV half-brother ought to bd informed" that he has inherited the empty\ right to call himself Sir Norman. Have you his address? " "I have not heard of or from him smca he weni abroad," was the reply. Carbeard i having finally departed, Paul' Blythe walked to one of the windows and! gazed with unseeing eyes "out over the; park. The, inquest had" been held in thei audit-room at the Chase, and some ofi the jurymen who had dallied for refreshments in the servants' hall were streaming down the avenue. The fly that was taking the lawyer to the station/^waa lumbering away from the portico. Paul! waited until the last moving object had ceased to claim his unconscious -attention and then turned aw"ay from the window, and rang the bell. , * "See if Miss Harden is in the bouse< and, if so. inform her that I shall b^ obliged if she will spare me a few minutes here in the library," he said to the sep« vant who answered the summons. » (To be continued.) • i