AN UNCONSCIOUS CRIME; OR, THE BERISFORD TRAGEDY. A STORY OF TWO HINDOO DAGGERS. By Major Alfred Rochefort. CHAPTER VII. THE HERMIT'S GLEN.

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 156, 29 May 1886, Page 6

AN UNCONSCIOUS CRIME; OR, THE BERISFORD TRAGEDY. A STORY OF TWO HINDOO DAGGERS. By Major Alfred Rochefort. CHAPTER VII. THE HERMIT'S GLEN.

The next morning Shirley Benson and detective John Penfield, both well mounted on the former's horses, rode into the mountains. The trail to The Hermit's Glen led under the Hanging Rock, in the shadow of which Frank Ash worth's body had been found. This place had become a great resort for the villagers and for the curious round about, who flocked thither, drawn by the fascination which the horrible exerts over some minds, and it may be th&t many thought they could find on the ground a clue to the all-abaorbing mystery. The interest of the people in the place had been intensified of late by the well-authentj-cated report that the gho3t of the murdered man had been seen wandering about the scene of his taking off One gentleman of culture, and not given to superstition, stoutly declared and maintained that he was returning to his home about an hour before daylight, when he saw a tall figure clad in white gliding about the trail, and vanishing on a nearer apapproach. The same thing was seen by others at different times, so tbat now the superstitious kept away from the Hanging Rock in the daytime, and the boldest hesitated about going there at night. " What do you thinkof these ghost storiep, John?" asked Shirley, as he and the detective turned their horses mountainward from the Hanging Rock. John Penfield held down his head and looked very serious for some seconds, then he gazed into Shirley's eyes and said : " Will you promise not to think me a fool if I give you my experience ? " I should try to knock the man down who even hinted in my presence' that you were a fool," said Shirley. "And you will further agree not to repeat to a soul what I shall tell you about this ?" "I pledge you my word and honour as to that, John,' said Shirley, reaching out his hand to prove his sincerity. "Well, I heard this ghost story, and it puzzled me," John Penfield began. "I spoke about it to Bly, aad he said it was some person with plenty of time on his hands, and no heart under his vest, trying to fool the villagers." " Wilson Bly is as matter-of-fact as they make him," said Shirley. " I didn't quite agree with him ; but he's so shrewd that I didn't care to tell him how I felt about it, for he never lets up if he gets the laugh on a fellow," continued John Penfield. •• So I made up my mind to do a little private work without letting him know anything about it." " Thought you'd go it on your own hook, eh ?" from Shirley. " Yes, that's it. Well, night before last, just as the clock down in the t&vern parlour struck one, I got up, dressed quietly, and slipped out of the house like a shadow." "Were you armed?" asked Shirley, throwing his hand back on" his own hip to make sure his pistol was there. " You bet 1 was," said Penfield, with emphasis. " Well, I made my way up to the Hanging Rock ; and though I am thought to have as much nerve as any man in the profession, I'll confess to you what I wouldn't confess to Bly, or to any oneelse on the force. I was downright nervous." ' Should think you ( would be. But keep right on. You've got my curiosity warmed up to the boiling point." "JuBt as I reached the Hanging Rook, the half moon was setting over yonder crest, but it threw enough light into the recess for me to see every object at the distance of a hundred feet, or even twice that distance, distinctly. I stopped and looked carefully around, and I was about to turn away, satisfied that there was nothing unusual in sight, when, what do you suppose I saw ?" "I really can't imagine," replied Shirley, now deeply absorbed in the detective's story, , •' Well, I saw, right between me and the rock, and aB distinctly as 1 see you sitting in that house, the figure of a tall man rising right up from the earth. I was so taken by surprise at the Buddenriess of this that I could neither speak nor, move. 5 ' "This is amassing!" exclaimed Shirley Benson, • , ; . : , ," 11 By the moonlight/ the man's face looked as pale and stern as death, and in his uplifted right hand he carried something that gilittered like the blade? of a dagger or the 'burnished barrel of a pistol.'* , , < t u , > ••By Jove, that was trying^" said Shirley V What did you do then ?*.--* r >. „ * - - "'.My, courage; and.myj skf-possessionre-ttraed.at;ono9i ar»d,J|^^jf £vemauiea

where I was, a conflict would be inevitable* I also saw that if 1 attempted to touch the man he would kill me, and that I didn't want, nor; did I want to place myself in the position of a murdered by killing a man that I had deliberately sought out." "No, that would be bad ; but didn't you speak to him . ?" "Yes. I called to him again and again ; but he paid no more heed to me than if I was a 9tick, orhe was as deaf as the Hanging Rock." • * "Then what did' you do?" " There was nothing left me but to make tracks back to the village ; and so I beat a retreat in quick order, as the soldiers say. That's my experience, Mr Benson. What do you think of it ?'' "It ia the most remarkable thing I ever heard," said Shirley.' 4| Are you going, to lot things rest in that way ?" " Well, no. My curiosity is excited, and I propose to look into thiß thing clear down to the bottom ; but I want you to keep my purpose to yourself, for I know Bly wouldn't like it if he knew of my owling about without his orders." - • Shirley Benson promised to respect the young detective's wishes, and, a 9 by this time the trail had become narrow, steep, and rocky, they dismounted and led their horses along the narrow defile that at every step grew darker and more forbidding. They had been travelling for nearly three hours, and they were about to turn back, confident that they had come in the wrong direction, when their spirits were revived at hearing the deep baying of a bloodhound in their front. "I am not afraid of dogs. There's some one living in these bills, after all," said John Penfield. " Let ua keep on." They rode down through a gorge, their horses' feet splashing along the bed of a brook that flowed from bank to bank ; and after three hundred yardß they came to a beautiful little valley, above which, like a defensive wall, the mountains rose into the sky. On the banks of the brook, and near the centre of tne valley, they saw a column of blue smoke rising up straight as a palm till it reached the upper currents of air, when it spread out into an airy capitol tl This must be the Hermit's Glen," said John Penfield, reining in hie horse and looking about him, whlie the droning of myriads of bees gave a drowsiness to the balmy air. "Yes," added Shirley Benson, "and there is the Hermit himeelf. Strange taste the old fellow has ; but if one must live alone, I don't think a snugger place could be hit on than this. Hark ! He is calling back the dog and motioning us to come on." They could pee the tall form of The Jooke standing outside the rambling, vine-covered log cabin and beckoning them to approach. They urged their horses into a quick walk, and dismounted as the Hermit drew near with extended hands. "I bid you both welcome," he said, " though I presume your coming is due to curiosity rather than interest." John Penfield was about to declare that it was interest, and nothing but interest, that brought them to the Glen, but Shirley Benson defeated this purpose by speaking first. " We are not voluntary visitors," he aaid. " The truth of it is, my friend, Mr Penfield, and myself— my name is Benson -started off early this morning to explore the mountains. We loat our way, and about a half hour since we chanced upon a trail that led hither " "Did it not— the trail— also lead in the opposite direction?" asked The Jooke ; and, though he spoke in a quiet tone, there was that in a glance of his dark eyes that told plainer than any words he did not believe Shirley Benson. Shirley was about to explain why he had turned to the left instead of the right, "when wo came upon the trail," buc tht Hermit saved him another lie by saying : "Your horses will be the better for real and fodder ; and as it is near mid-day, and the mountain air is a great provocative oi hunger, doubtless you will both enjoy a dinner. Put your horses under yonder shed : you will find plenty of hay near by, and ] will get something to eat." They obeyed this suggestion as if they were soldiers and the order was given by a superior officer, When they returned to the cabin thf Hermit called to them from a little out kitchen. "Goto my sitting-room; that's it. I'll have dinner ready in a few minutes." This, too, they obeyed, as if it were at order. The sitting-room took up the whole oi one of the cluster of cabins. There were skins on the floor, and rifles, pistols, swords, and daggers of varied make and nationality decorated the walls. There were a number of rude book -cases standing about, and their solid content* told that the Hermit was a man of rare and varied learning. There were works in Latin and Greek, as well as in many of the modern European languages; and one case was filled with delicate scientific instruments, the object ol which even Shirley Benson did not understand. While the young men were looking about this curious apartment and making wondering comments, the Hermit appeared with a large birch bark tray, which he placed on a table in the centre of the room. Broiled trout, sweet white bread, honey, fresh milk, and wild strawberriesconstituted the luncheon to which the young men sat down. They were left to themselves. They came to question The Jocke, but now they shrank from such familiarity, and returned to Willowemoc as they came. On the way back to the village Shirley Benson and John Penfield let their horees go on as they 'chose, while they discussed The Jooke and his romantic surroundings. " I've' seen too much of this world," said John Penfield, as they rode back through the defile that formed the only visible outlet to the glen, "to think that The Jooke's an ordinary hermit." " Why, John," laughed Shirley Benson, "you talk as if you had no end of experience with hermits." " Then I don't talk as I wish to be understood; for_ though I've heard and read of hermits, this is the first one I've ever seen ; but, as I said, he's no ordinary looking man." - ' - " He's a mighty fine-looking fellow," said Shirley. " Yes, all that; and a great deal more. That man is a born and bred gentleman ; and if he hasn't been a soldier in his time, then I'm no judge of human nature • and the men on the force say human nature is one of my strong points." l " " Don't you think it's funny, John, that a man, evidently a gentleman by birth and education, should want to live oufc here?" said Shirley. "Very funny, indeed; 'Who owns the land hereabout ?" "It all belongs to the Berisford estate, I believe."" * , . " And this man squatted on it years ago ?" " That is.the story. You see, the doctor is a very generous man, aud he would deed the land-to the ' Hermit if he thought it would make him 'happy." >''>„,' ._■ ■ ; 'I Then,; after during^ which he seemed to be forming a question :. r , ; v , .

"Don't you think, John, that men who bury themselves like this. hermit has done , are generally guilty of some great crime?" John Ponfield was about to Bay that the Hermit reminded him of the ghost he had seen near the Hanging Bock ; but Shirley's question gave a good, excuse for changing his mind. " No,'; he Baid. " From the little I know of hermits, they are religious cranks, or fellows that have been pretty badly crossed in love. It's so unnatural for a man to live alone that as soon as it's known he's a hermit he becomes an object of curiosity, and every one flocks to see him. Now, if he was a criminal wanting to escape, that would be a bad dodge. I know that the very best place for a man to hide is right in the heart of a busy city. " They discussed the Hermit and the recent murder all the way back to the village> without getting any light on either. Perhaps when people get light they cease to discuss. At 'the stables Shirley Benson found Hans Munn ready to take charge of the two saddle-horses. " Anything strange happened since I left, Hans ?" asked Shirley, with the wish to say something rather than any hope for information. "Lots of strange news," replied Hans.. " Oop ad de house dere hafe some visitors goonied." " Visitors 1" repeated Shirley, turning back. "Fes -two oaf 'em.!' ( To be Continued. )