Century Old

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 447, 31 August 1928, Page 5

Century Old

MrsOrmiston’s Birthday

CELEBRATION AT ONEHUNGA At the residence of her daughter, Mrs. J. M. West, of Onehunga, Mrs. Wm. Ormiston spent her 100th birthday happily yesterday with her many descendants and friends. The reception room was decorated with floral tributes from her many friends. A beautiful collection of 100 prize daffodils from Dr. W. Howard Thomas, of Onehunga, represented the past 100 years. Bouquets were also sent from the Women’s Christian Temperance Union, the Onehunga Methodist Christian Endeavour, the Methodist Ladies’ Guild, Epsom, and the girls of Smith and Caughey’s. About 100 telegrams of congratulation were received, including messages from London, Melbourne, Brisbane and the United States. The whole of Mrs. Ormiston's family were present with the exception of the Rev. W. A. Sinclair, of Epsom, who is in the South on business. An interesting relic of the past was a photograph of the late Mr. William Ormiston now in the possession of Miss Ball, of Onehunga. The late Mr. Ormiston had presented the portrait in IS6S to Miss Ball’s father, a colleague on the old Provincial Council.

gave Miss Woolley a big “good luck” cat as a mascot for her life in Australia. CAMRIDGE BRIDGE PARTY On Thursday evening Mr. and Mrs. Veale, of Cambridge, gave a delightful bridge party. The rooms were artistically decorated with bowls of beautiftil anemones. Mrs. Veale was wearing a black gown with oriental embroideries. Her guests were Mr. and Mrs. Moore, Mr. and Mrs. Max Garland, Mr. and Mrs. Munro, Mr. and Mrs. Hardy, Mr. and Mrs. W. Garland, Mrs. Willoughby-Horne, Mrs. Ross, Mrs. Goodwin, Mrs. Nixon, Mrs. Garland, senr., Miss Scanlon, Mr. Downey, Mr. L. Veale and Mr. Walson. Crole was quicker of thought and suggestion. *“I don’t think there is much doubt about that,” he remarked. “I fancy I can see the whole thing. Miss Merchison, acting on the principle that blood, after all, is thicker than water, somewhat relented last night after you two had been at Miss Apperley’s flat, and betook herself to her mother at Short’s. There, I should say, Mrs. Elphinstone let her daughter into whatever secret it is she’s guarding, and as a result —they made themselves scarce.” “Why?” asked Maythorne. Crole spread out his hands with a significant gesture. “I think Mrs. Elphinstone shot Mazaroff! ” he said. “So do I!” muttered Eccleshare. But at that—l suppose it was really for Sheila’s sake—l thought it high time to put in'a word myself. I had kept silence, not feeling qualified to speak in the presence of policemen and detectives, but I had been thinking and reflecting. “I think you’re both wrong,” said 1, looking from Crole to Eccleshare. “Mazaroff, as we know, was shot with Musgrave’s gun. How could Mrs. Elphinstone get hold of Musgrave’s gun? Musgrave’s gun was found on the spot.” But Maythorne shook his head. “We dbn’t know that Mazaroff was shot with Musgrave’s gun, Holt,” he said. “That's a stiff point. There were two shots fired that night—-the first heard by Dr. Eccleshare and Parslave; the second heard by old Hassendeane, some time later. We don’t know which shot killed Mazaroff, nor from what gun it was fired.” “If it was the second shot, just before ten, that killed Mazaroff,” I said, “then it wasn’t’ Mrs. Elphinstone who fired it. For Eccleshare and Parslave say that they saw her just after eight, and I for one am not satisfied that they saw her. They admit it was dark —they may have seen some woman who closely resembled her.” “No,” said Eccleshare; “we saw her.” “Besides,” I continued, “there’s another thing. Is it likely?- Is it probable? Why should Mrs. Elphinstone | shoot Mazaroff, or Merchison —her* i legal husband?” “Perhaps just because he was her legal husband,” remarked Crole, with a dry smile. “From what I’ve seen of her, I wouldn’t put it past Mrs. Elphinstone to do anything.” “This is murder,” I said. “Anyway, if Mrs. Elphinstone did this, and let out the secret to her daughter last night, I’m certain Miss Merchison wouldn’t aid and abet by further concealment.” “Are you, my lad?” retorted Crole.

“Well, then, all I can say is that you don’t know life, nor human nature — nor women. Now, I should say that’s precisely what Miss Merchison would do. As I’ve remarked before, blood’s thicker than water. Miss Merchison, a very impulsive young woman, no doubt felt very indignant with her mother about the will, and rushed off to return it to its rightful owner—in whom, my dear Holt, she feels a strong —very strong!—interest. But, if it came to this, that Mrs. Elphinstone was forced to confess to her daughter

that she is implicated in the actual murder, well, then, I make bold to say that Miss Merchison’s feelings as a daughter would assert themselves, and she’d do all in her power to help her parent. And I guess Maythorne agrees?” “Of course!” said Maythorne, halfcarelessly. “No doubt about it — human nature! Shouldn’t think much of Miss Merchison if she didn’t fight for her own mother! However, this is all talk —let's do something.” He I turned to Eccleshare. “I suppose

you’ll take Corkerdale’s tip and stop 1 here until you find out if your evi- ! dence, and Parslave’s, is wanted, doctor?” he suggested. “I suppose I’ll have to,” responded Eccleshare. “A week or two makes little difference, except that the man I’ve sold my practice to wants to come in. However, that can be arranged. Needs must, eh?” “1 think so,” answered Maythorne. “Well.” he continued, turning to Crcle and myself, “let’s get a move on.” (To be Continued)