Island’s Thorne

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 562, 15 January 1929, Page 5

Island’s Thorne

(Published by Special Arrangement) (Serial Story)

_ *■ BY

FRANCIS VIPOND

As she was about to sit down again there was a stir at the door, and Neil Fraser came elbowing his way through the excited crowd, closely followed by a thickset, swarthy man, with a large black moustache carefully waxed into a beautiful point at each end. CHAPTER XXIII.—LIGHT ON THE TRAGEDY. Wroule was now whispering to the coroner, and at a word from him "Max Boswell” was called upon to stand up and give evidence. There was a moment’s pause, then the man who had entered with Colonel Fraser stepped forward to the witness stand; all necks were craning and ears were strained to hear what he had to say. “Gentlemen,” he began, in a loud, theatrical voice—“l am Max Boswell, proprietor of Boswell’s Imperial Circus and Menagerie.” All at once he evinced signs of nervous disturbance, and became very upset. They waited until he had recovered himself, and was able to go on. “As you may have seen,” he resumed. “those of you who have been into Nidchester lately, we were visiting this famous town and giving our wonderful performances there. On Thursday morning we were proceeding to go south into Lancashire, and following our usual custom, for we do not like main or high roads, they are too exciting for the animals, and our vans take a deal of room, we chose the quieter byways. We are

an imposing procession when we are on the move. It takes two traction engines to get us along, and they ate awkward things when there is much traffic; then the children will follow us, and it all makes it better for us to go by the quieter ways. We chose the road this trip that runs along under the mountain the other side of Thorne water. There is a bad piece of road just at the head of the lake, and one of the traction engines got. the blooming hump and struck work, so we had to halt and do some repairs. A deuce of a time they took us, too; the engine was fast in the mud, and finally we had to stay there all night. . In the evening one of my keepers cximes to me in a mighty stew and tells me as how the baboon had got his cage door open and gone off on a little jaunt of his own. The chap was all of a twitter, for it had happened once before, and X had tola him then what the result would be should he be careless enough to let it occur again. Chinko, though as clever as sin, was not the sort of beast one would choose -to let go roaming tile countryside on his own. He is quiet enough as a rule, but at times, and especially if he is interfered with, he has a nasty temper, i daresay some of you ladies and gentlemen have seen our performing baboon, Chinko. He’s a fair wonder, and the posters with him on are the best drawers we have. Never fails to attract, he doesn’t. Well, we got the wind up no end over his disappearance, and we scoured that howling wilderness of mountain, moor and wood till it was too dark for us to go on, and there wasn't no sign nor sight of Chinko nowheres. We rested a while, then. As soon as the j moon rose, we were off hunting round ■ again; still, we couldn't find the brute. I AVe were all cursing and blasphem- ■ ing, for we knew that there was i likely to be bad trouble for the lot of us with that devil loose; and I was thinking of the damages as I would likely be called upon to pay. It was souring enough. And then it began to come day. As it grows light Master Chinko sailed into the camp as if the whole show belonged to him. I’m dashed if he wasn’t togged out in a suit of the most swagger pink pyjamas. Silk they was, and brand new; and he'd got the pockets stuffed full of hothouse peaches and plums. He loved fruit. It was a weakness of his. and he could never resist it, he couldn’t; so he'd been aburgling somebody’s glass houses, we thought, and the sooner we got out of the neighbourhood before the peelers came inquiring round for us the better. Puffing Billy was feeling more like himself by this time, so we got up full

steam ahead and off we went. Very early this morning comes a gent, in a motor-car after us; this gent, here, and after a long talk with me he insists on bringing me back here with him, to tell what I knows about <l’inko. It seems a man has been killed, and as though that darned baboon had done it.' 1-Ie was behaving queer like, and we was all of us afraid of him. So I gave orders for him to be shot before 1 left the show. I won’t keep a beast that has killed somebody, that. I won’t. If it had been his keeper it would have been another matter but this here is worse, and though he was the best paying thing I possessed and I stand to lose all round, he’s shot and done for by this time.” Mr. Boswell mopped his face and sat down. The coroner rose to his feet, and surveyed the silent crowd. “I think Mr. Boswell’s evidence quite solves the mystery of the way in which Mr. Thorne met his death,” he said. “The baboon must have come round the head of the lake through the woods to Island’s Thorne, and there, seeing the light in Mr. Ormandy’s room (for did you not say that his light was left on? turning to the valet, who assented), he climbed up the wistaria and explored the place. Very likely he was hungry, and was looking for something to eat. He must have pulled down the rack of whips and stolen the rifle. I # have heard that firearms have a strange attraction for these strange creatures.” “He had a rifle of his own in the show,” from Mr. Boswell. “All! and probably clothes, too.” "Lovely pink tights, with silver spangles, of which he was no end proud.” “Then no wonder the pink silk pyjamas should catch his fancy. I saw the beast perform one night at Nidchester, and he wore a gaudy suit, out of which he got in and out himself, so he would know how to dress himself ; and doubtless with the rifle he thought he was going to give his usual performance. But the setting was strange, and so he swung out on to the wistaria again, and the next scene of action must have been the library, where he was attracted by the dish of fruit. No doubt he entered and tried to help himself to the delicacies he loved, and Mr. Thorne endeavoured to drive him away, upon which he flew into a rage and killed him. The twisted rifle barrel tells us this, for no mail would have the strength to turn it and twist it as has been done, and I believe these creatures are abnormally strong. Then Lucca knocked at the door. Here again the performance comes in, for someone knocked during the ‘turn,’ and that was the singal for the baboon to retire; so he collected what he could of the fruit and escaped out of the window, and so back in the morning to the camp on the other side of the lake. I do not think you will have any difficulty in arriving at your verdict, gentlemen of the jury.” Nor had they. They withdrew for a short time to compare notes and consult. and when they gave their verdict they were unanimous. “AVe find that Mr. Thorne was killed by an escaped baboon, which entered his room by climbing the wistaria. AVe should like to add that in our opinion Mr. Boswell, the owner of the animal, has shown a very proper spirit in

having the creature destroyed, as he tells us he has doue, and we commend him for it.” “That is very satisfactory as far as it goes,” said AVroule to Neil Fraser, as they walked down the drive together. “The question now is, where is Ormandy, and what is the meaning of his disappeareuee? 1 am sorry to confess that I feel like Katherine, that he has met with some accident, or that there has been foul play: he may not have been able to face things, and have done away with himself. That is a contingency for which we must be prepared. He was not a strong character, and he might not be able to go on with the knowledge that had come to him. I say, Fraser, what on earth put Chinko into your head? It was a great notion.” “The way the rifle barrel was twisted,” replied Neil quietly “I once saw a man drop his rifle out in Africa; a baboon was near, aud the brute grabbed hold of it and twisted it up iu a similar manner with its hands. That gave me the idea; then I had seen the posters advertising Chinko and his wonderful powers of strength, so I motored to Nidchester yesterday afternoon, and when I found the show had gone on somewhere else I felt somehow I was on the right scent and followed. Nothing is too impossible when a thing like convicting the wrong man is at stake. I tracked the show down at a village about 20 miles from here, and when I put a few questions Boswell made no bones about telling me all he knew of Chinko’s little escapade. He is a very decent man, and proposed coming back with me to tell his own story himself. I shall make it my business to see that he is properly compensated for the loss he has sustained. As regards Ormandy, the police are out searching the bog for him. His footsteps, of course, are not visible on the hard ground, but beyond the wood, where' the hog begins, the ground is soft, and the trail left by his nailed shooting boots can be plainly seen. I saw them myself before going off after Boswell, but had not time to go on, as I had to appear at the inquest. There is an old wall, and he must have stopped by it, probably to light a cigarette, for there is a used match or two about; he may even have sat on the wail and smoked for a while, it looks rather as if some one had been drubbing their heels into the ground, as one might when thinking out a difficult problem. are stumped after that, however, for there are no footsteps beyond the wall, and none returning on this side either, only a few prints left by some animal, I should say a baboon. The way round the lake head to the spot where the caravans halted branches off, you remember, about a hundred yards further on than the wall. It used to be a pack-horse road in the old days.” “Hugh cannot be lost in the bog.” said Wroule. “It is dry after the long spell of drought we have had. and it will bear a man almost anywhere; in fact, I have never in my life seen it as it as at present. Listen! Yes, someone is . shouting. nook! It is that policeman; h"> wants us too. I think we had better go back and see what is up.” Mackey met them as they hurriedly retraced their steps. “Mr. Ormandy has been found,” he said. "Fie is d -a, and he is another victim killed by that infernal ape. His body was lying in a great clump of

bog myrtle. Of course, it can only be surmise, but our theory is that lie was sitting on the wall, and .he creature, fresh from his encounter with Mr. Thorne, and full of the lust for blood, seized him from behind and.crushed him to death in its terrible embrace, for his ribs are squashed in, and he must have died at once without knowing even what it was that was attacking him. Poor Boswell is in ail awful way about this fresh discovery. I think he "would like to shoot the keeper, owing to whose carelessness the beast got loose. I wish he not that it would do much good now.” Fraser and Wroule gazed at each other in horror. CHAPTER XXIV. —THE FUNERAL. In the churchyard of the little old church in the village of Thornes- a great crowd of people from all the countryside was gathered to pay the last respect to the strange man who had reigned for so long over his wide acres. Many there were, too, who had felt sincere liking to Hugh Ormandy, the man who had always had a word of cheery greeting for his neighbours of all classes. Sydney,

tall, slender in her black garb, stood with Lord Francis and Lady Susan, trying to ignore the curious and sympathetic glances cast at her by the silent, awed throng. Neil Fraser, after a brief word of greeting, had rejoined his father, and Sydney wondered why he had so obviously withdrawn himself from her side; it almost seemed to the girl that he was deliberately avoiding her, and a pang shot through her heart; this quiet, strong, honest man had come to mean very much to her, and his thoughtful consideration and care for her had touched her greatly. Surely he could not in any way blame her for the tragedy of the ruin of Hugh Ormandy’s life and the altered will? John Wroule stood apart, beside him a woman heavily veiled, a figure instinct with the dignity of a great sorrow. Her eyes, hidden by her veil, were hard and dry a§> she listened to the solemn words of the funeral service, and a great bitterness filled her heart. Before her she could only see a life of loneliness and regret for what had happened. Sydney had been very kind, but she could not, at present at any rate, endure the accepted friendship from the girl who had ousted Hugh from Island’s Thorne, who would now be I the mistress where she herself had ! once hoped to reign. Katherine Or | mandy realised that though her love | for Hugh had been killed, a great pi T > | and understanding had taken its ; place for the dead man. She knew, as no one except old John Thorn* , and Wroule perhaps, had done, the weakness which had been the flaw oi a sweet nature, and she felt, as the solemn words, “Earth to earth, ’ floated across to her on the clear, still aiv

1 a full and complete forgiveness for , all that he had made her suffer. “I must leave this place,” she 2 thought, as the two coffins were lowered into the vault; “I cannot endure I, the loneliness of it now*.” As though he felt something of . what was in her mind, Wroule drew . j her hand within his arm with a s i gentle pressure, and she felt com* * | forted. Jack Wroule was her friend ! at any rate; there was healing to her ! : sore heart in the knowledge. I As soon as the service was over { Katherine hastily made her way out 1 of the churchyard, and set off toward t . | home to escape the crowd flocking s j toward the inn, where refreshments were provided according to the cusb j tom. As she reached the gate lead- ;; ing to the steep track to Park Head » | she paused and held out her hand to 1 Wroule, who had walked beside her iu b i thoughtful silence, f (To be concluded. ) r j