Island’s Thorne

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 560, 12 January 1929, Page 17

Island’s Thorne

(Serial Story)

(Published by Special Arrangement)

BY

FRANCIS VIPOND

“Katherine,” said Wroule, all the severity gone from his voice, and a deep tenderness taking its place. “I have something to tell you which I fear will shock you deeply. There were terrible doings last night at Islands Thorne; Mr. Thorne was found foully murdered. Hugh is suspected of the crime, because he wa3 the last person to see his uncle alive, and he has brought suspicion upon himself by disappearing. That is why I have come to you, to you his wife, to ask you if you can tell me where he is.”

Katherine clutched at the lichencovered wall to steady herself. Her legs shook beneath her, and for the moment she was so overcome that she could not speak. “I know nothing about it,” she managed to say at last. “I have not seen Hugh for several days. He does not come here often now. Jack, oh Jack! Do they really think he is a murderer? It is too horrible.”

“I do not suppose for an instant that h® is guilty.” Wroule did his best to soothe her. “But appearances are against him, and it is very /foolish of jj lni to have taken himself off as he jas done. A warrant has been*issued for his arrest; oh, there is no question hut that he has made matters blacker f . or by behaving in this way. h Katharine, I want you to tell me how you ever came to be so foolish as to marry him secretly as you have ,one * instead of getting Mr. Thorne’s consent?’*

J J' as a great mistake.” She * ok her head so that he could not “if i e trage( *y of her admission. ... a H happ (;ne( j so easily, as such . lngs will. When I first came here e saw a great deal of one another, ugh began coming first on business c unected with the transfer of the ou were here, too, Jack, out that, as doubtless you rememm*‘ Then the obvious happened; we 1 111I 11 * ove with one another. No j:. e ever made love to me before e Hu Sh did; he was so passionate, off oVer * helming, he quite carried me fn i * e et, and the best of us are when the love fever has us in th f Ue * c hes. We knew only too well at Mr. Thorne would never counoance our marriage and that it would l Q all Hugh s prospects, and' that Th W ° u hi never succeed to Island’s awhich was the height of his coition, and for which he was ready _ Make any sacrifice, but he wanted bv’ * 00 .’ * n those days, and he thought a Httle skilful management that , have both of us. So I lis- ' i° him, and let myself be per- ‘ h Gd against my better judgment, in Wf,nr to a remote little spot Scotland and were married. W e

settled that the marriage should be our secret till Mr. Thorne died. And now —well, there is no disguising the fact —it is palpable to the whole world —Hugh is tired of me. His passion has burnt itself out, and here we are tied to each other we are paying pretty teavily for our folly. Oh, you need not fear,” as she saw a light blaze up in the man’s eyes. “He is quite kind to me and friendly, but I can feel that the old feeling has gone. I realise it more and more each time I see him.” Slov/ tears rose in her eyes, and Wroule looked away hurriedly. An almost uncontrollable longning possessed him to take her in his arms and comfort her as he felt confident he could. He pitied her from the bottom of his heart; but he was bitter, too, for from the first time he had seen her he had loved her in a way that Hugh Ormandy was quite incapable of loving any woman, but she had turned away from him and refused to listen. “It is a dreadful position for you, he said at length. “I learned of your marriage quite by chance this moi nlng. For your sake, dear, I think it had better be made public at once. You see the police will ferret it out, for thev will inquire into eveiything they can about Hugh, and we cannot hope to keep this from them. They are sure to want to know why he came here so much, and what he was doing. I think a clean breast is the only course for you to take.. If you will give me permission I will see to it for you; you shall be spared all the pain and' trouble it is possible to spare you.” - . “Do as you think best, she said in U dull, flat voice. “Nothing seems to matter any more. Jack. Shall I have to appear at the inquest! “Not. if I can help it,” he answered, "But I may not be able to prevent vour being called. All you will have to do will be to swear that you know nothing of Hugh’s whereabouts. If thev have managed to trace him, I do not suppose that you will he called, hut it is best to be prepared. “Thank you,” she said. lou are being very good to me.” Then she almost broke down. I know j ou will help me In any way you can He took her hand and held it for an instant Neither of them spoke, but

she felt the silent sympathy, and it gave her strength. “And Miss Thorne” she asked. “What of her?” “I have not seen her,” returned Wroule. “Neil Fraser walked down with me from Island’s Thorne, and he was going to break the ghastly news to her .while I came to tell you. It will be a terrible shock for her, poor girl, for not only had she and Hugh become very friendly, but it will very materially affect her prospects I fear. I wish her mother was here.” “Yes,” Katherine considered a moment. “But she is a plucky woman, and even though her coming here has made a great difference to me, I cannot help liking her. Oh, it was her coming that finally weaned Hugh’s love from me. You need not protest, Jack. I was prepared, for the great change had come before, and I knew that the next woman would complete the isolation.” She was smiling now, a very' bitter, twisted smile, and Wroule realised with a flash of intuijtion that Hugh had killed this woman’s love for him as surely as if she had told him so by word of mouth. The knowledge made his heart beat fast and blood surge through his veins, but he managed to control his voice, and spoke in his ordinary, kind, level voice. "We —Neil Fraser and I—do not think it possible that Hugh is guilty,” he said. “Fraser is off on some clue of his own, which he hopes to verify, and be in a position to lay before us all at the Inquest to-morrow. He is a slow chap, but very sure, and he must have some very good grounds to go on, or he would not be wasting his time collecting details. He is not the man to be led away by idle fancies, I am pinning my faith on him. Now you must try not to brood over this horror, Katherine; we shall all want to be as alert and clear-headed as we can be if we are to bring things to a successful issue, and if you hear anything of or from Hugh (it is possible he may try to communicate with you) you must let me or Mackey, the police superintendent in charge of things at Island's Thorne, know at once. Hugh is only doing himself more harm by staying out of the way like this.” "Yes, I quite see that,” replied Katherine. “Jack, I am beginning to have a ghastly tear that something must have happened to him too. If he is in trouble it is so strange for him not to have come to me, or at least sent me some word. He is not the man to fight out difficulties alone, and I am his wife.”

“That is true,” said Wroule. “The same thought came to me, and sent me to you. I made sure I should find him with you. Now, dear, I must go; there is much to be done and set in motion. You shall hear from me at once' if there is anything worth hearing.” She held out her hand. “Thank you, Jack,” she said simply. “You are very good and much, much kinder than I deserve. I am more grateful to you than I can tell you for the way you have come yourself and broken the news to me; it would have been so much worse to have heard it from the servants or the villagers

when it becomes generally known. Tell me one thing before you go. Hugh thought Mr. Thorne was going to alter his will; do you know if he has done so? I was so afraid that might make trouble between them, especially if he did anything that seriously affected Hugh and his prospects.” “Mr. Thorne had the new will all ready drawn up, and he was going to sign it to-day,” answered Wroule. “This will have to be made public at the inquest, so there is no reason why I should not tell you now. I am betraying no trust. He had left Island’s Thorne to Hugh on condition that he married Sydney Thorne within a year of his death. If Hugh failed to carry out this condition, everything went to Miss Thorne save £IO,OOO which was to come to Hugh, and some few legacies to servants.” Katherine’s face blanched. “Did Hugh know this?” she asked quickly.

“There is reason to believe that Mr. Thorne told him last night just before the murder took place.” The man spoke guardedly, watching the result produced by his words. “He had all the papers relating to these matters spread out before him when Lucca took the tray into the library, and Hugh was with him then.” “That will tell against Hugh,” said Katherine, and the look of trouble deepened on her face. “Lucca hates Hugh. He has done from the very first. Why, I do not know, but Hugh has told me over and over again how antagonistic the man has been. He will not spare him now he has a chance like this of harming him.” “There is one thing,” said Wroule. “The old will was even more unfavourable to you and Hugh than the new one that was awaiting signatures. Under it, if Hugh married without Mr. Thorne’s consent, he came in for nothing at all. I will come and see you again this afternoon if I can, Katherine, and tell you how things are going.” He wrung her hand and walked quickly away. He could not - )trust himself to stay longer with her. She watched him wistfully as he vanished round a bend in the rough farm road. Then, with d mournful sigh, she turned again and resumed her interrupted work among her bees. CHAPTER XXI.—BAD NEWS Neil Fraser went slowly toward Sydney, who stood waiting for him, a gracious, smiling woman, sweet and fair to look upon, the one and only woman in the world to him, the only woman who had even stirred the desire in him to have a wife. He pulled himself together now, and told himself for the hundredth time that Miss Thorne of Island’s Thorne was not for the likes of him. He, the keeper’s son, millionaire though he was, could not aspire to her hand, and she was fast falling in love with her cousin, if ij. were not an already accomplished fact. He had watched Sydney and her cousin very closely, and he, in his ignorance of women, did not think that

Wroule was right in his opinion that the girl did not love Hugh; he mistook her simple friendship for the greater passion, and he expected that directly the cloud which hung over Hugh was removed they would be married. He had made up his mind to dedicate himself and his own love to her service, and though he knew that Hugh was thoroughly unworthy of her love, if she wanted him, she should have him or he would know the reason why. “I am aft-aid I have kept you waiting,” he began as she came toward him. “I am sorry, Miss Thorne, very sorry, but something has occurred, and I have to be the bearer of bad tidings.” His maimer was very gentle, the gentleness only possible to the very strong man, big in both body and mind. She raised her eyes to his, and what she read brought the rich colour flooding to her face. Her heart sang a joyous little song; she knew suddenly that this man loved her, and with an equally stunning self-knowledge the the truth was borne in upon her that she lovfed him.

“What is it?” she asked, steadying her voice with an effort. “Mrs. Fraser told me you had gone over to Island’s Thorne, that you had been sent for. I thought perhaps it was something to do with the fishing; I know Hugh had some plans that he wanted to suggest to you. Is anything wrong—my grandfather—is he ill?” “He is dead,” he told her. “He was murdered in the library last night, and by some idiotic mistake the police have jumped to the conclusion that Hugh killed him." “Oh!” She stifled down her cry of dismay. “That is quite absurd. Hugh is incapable of such a thing. But, Colonel Fraser, what a ghastly tale altogether; is it really true? I cannot believe it, it is too horrible. Tell me it is all a mistake.”

“I only wish I could,” he returned. “But unfortunatetly it is only too true. You must not worry over Hugh; there is not a doubt but that he will be able to clear himself. We are all doing our best to help him.” “I am sure of that,” she replied. “You would always do your best for anyone in trouble. Whera is Hugh? Can Igo and see him? I am sure he must want comforting.” Fraser looked concerned. “The worst of the whole matter is,” he said, “that nobody knows where Hugh is. He has taken himself off somewhere, and cannot be found. It is a mqst foolish action on his part, and I cannot think what urged him to do such a thing. It is very ill-advised. I think it is his going off like this that has turned suspicion on to him. Lord Francis Croft told me to give you a message from him. He is sending Lady Greenthwaite over for you, and she is/to take you back to Underbank. It will be better for you to be there till this mystery is cleared up. He thought you would like to -be with them.”

“It is very kind of him,” said Sydney. “I expect I had better go back with Lady Greenthwaite for a few

days, at any rate, as she is kind enough to come for me, but I w'ould really much rather stay here. I should be quite all right tvith your mother; I feel so much more at home here than I do at Underbank.”

“I am glad to hear you say that,” said Neil, in a low voice that thrilled. “Well, you must do as you like. Hulloa! Here is Jowny Wilson. I wonder what he wants. He is one of the characters of Thornes, over SO, and still quite the most eminent poacher in the neighbourhood.” A little old man, with a crumpled, whimsical, chubby face, opened the gate and came toward them. He lifted a tattered cap politely to Sydney, and waited.

“This is Miss Thorne, Jowny,” said Neil.

“Proud to meet ye, mem,” said the old man. “Me and yer fadder was friends lang syne. He was a great sportsman whatever. We’s a’ reet glad to ha’e ye among us. Neil, man, I want a word wi’ ye. I ha’e just heard down to t' Thorne Arms that t’ owd lad oop at Island’s Thorne has been done to death. Is it the true word” “Yes,” returned Neil.- "It is true enough, I am sorry to say.” “I thowt it must be, went on Jowny complacently. “For they were laitin’ (looking for) lads to sit on Crowner’s jury for inquest .o-morrow I mun ha’e a bit chat wi’ yon Crowner at inquest myself.”

Neil’s quiet eyes suddeny became very keen.

“What do you know about it.” he asked sharply. “I was oot i’ a boat fishin’ on t’ lake last neet,” returned the old man, well pleased to have an audience to whom to tell his tale, “and I seen something that was a bit queer. So I thowt I’d happen tell tne foak .at inquest aboot it. I eoom to see what ye think on it, Neil.”

“What did you see” demanded Fraser, in a voice that would not stand any trifling. Sydney stood beside him

listening in intent silence. They both felt that they might be on the track of a valuable lue to the solution of the mystery- It was quite Immaterial to all three that Jowny had obviously been poaching on Thornewater. where fishing between 9 p.m. and 6 a.m. was strictly illegal.

“1 was workin’ t’ otter/’ said Jowny, “in t* bay, close under Island’s Thorne, in yon spot where nsh lies o’ neets; t’ moon was as bright as day. I cast my e’en ower t’ house, and I seen a man coom oot o’ oopstairs windy and climb doon t* girt wisteria that’s a’ ower t’ hoose on t’ lake side. It was t* windy first fra’ t’ end o’ t’ hoose.”

“That is one of the window's of the library,” said Neil in a hurried aside to Sydney, who nodded. “Yes, Jowny, what sort of r man was it? Could you see him plainly?” “Aye,” said Jowny. “That could I. I seen him right enow; it was just as light as day, I’m after tailin’ yer, wi’ a great full moon. An’ a proper queer lad he were an’ a’. He don’t belong to these parts. I’ve never set een on him afore, but I would knaw him again. He all dark, that he were, wi’ some strange, ootlandish claes on him. Sort o’ bright pink colour they were.*’

Neil looked hard at the old man. wrondering if his brain was giving at last.

“Bright pink!” he echoed. “You had not been spending a happy evening at the Thorne Arms, now, had you, Jowny?” “I had not.” Jowny’s dignity was hurt. “I’d had nobbut yan (one) glass o’ t’ stuff they calls beer these days, and that wouldna’ harm a man no more nor a glass o’ water. I’m tellin’ year I seed yon pink man coom doon't t’ westeria and leg it alc,ng terrace intil wood. Ye ken weel eno’ where it is, where t’ow r d bridle path w r ent that rins throught t’ girt bog, and roond t’ lake head. There was a track yon road to Park Head w’hen I w'as a bit laddie, but naebody gaes yon way the noo. It is a queer carry on to see two lads gae by that owd track i* yan neet, I’m thinkin.’ ”

“Two lads,” said Neil. “Come Jowny, who was the other. You have only told us of the pink man so far. What else did you see?”

“Why,” returned Mr. Wilson, plainly charmed at the attention his communications w’ere receiving. “Some half hoor—yes, I knaw it must hae been a good half hoor, for I heard stable clock chime t’ quarter twice—afore t’ pink lad went his way. Well, as I were savin’, half an hoor afore I seen some yan come round t* hoose oot o’ t’ lil* (little) door, and gang that same road through t’ old bridle way.” He paused, and looked craftily at Neil: there was something almost cunning in his face. “And did you know wha that was?” said Neil. “Was it a stranger too?” “Na, na!” Jowny chuckled. “I knawed him weel thing, Mr. Ormandy. going eoortin’. I seen him agoin’ many a neet afore.” (To be continued.!