CHAPTER XVII.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 160, 10 July 1886, Page 8

CHAPTER XVII.

Jfo-vstords could adequately describe Clarence Ashworths horror and amazement as he .beheld the doctor, with that awful light in his*«yes, and that terrible weapon in his hand. The old man wa» transformed. The face, -which hitherto had been thac of an angel, wore thetfnalignant expression of a fiend. Brave, .and younp, and strong though Clarence Ashworth was, to save his life he could not have moved or .cried out at that moment. Fascinated by the eyes, of the man and the eyes ol tha serpent, Cl&rance lay gasping and powerless. As suddenly as he had opened the box, the doctor replaced the dagger and closed ■the ltd, then 1 he strode noiseletsly from the room and pulled the door eh,ut behind him. With the cold 3weat starting from every |»re. Clarence jjot out of bed ..and turned tip the light. He opened the door through which the doctor had made an exit a fasr minutes before, but he was^not m sight. He felt for the -key in his owe pocket ; it had not been touchedHe examined the box carefully, a«d found everyij&ing a 9 he bad } placed it himself. No, he could nob -have been dreaming. His imagination had pot played him false. All this was inexplicable. What should he do? He had no longer any doubt as to the identity of his midnight .visitor in the other room. Dr. Berisford could open the other box and get possession of the oilier dagger. Could it be ihat it was he who had used the blade to murder Frank ? Clarence shuddered at the thought. Sleep under t^at roof— for that night, at least was not to be thought of. He got up and dressed, and ac it was a beautiful, clear, cool night, he walked out through a window that opened on the piazza, and wandered beyond the grounds and in the direction of the Hanging |}ock. He was too much absorbed in his thought to notice anything going on about him. Had it not been for this, he might have seen two men following him from a safe distance, and holding whispered consultations about his conduct. He walked to the Hanging Rock, and, with hands upraised to *he stars, he stood on the spot where the body of hia brother was found, and cried out In agony: '* Oh, Frank • Frank ! what wrong did you ever do this man that he should murder you ?" All unconscious that his words were overheard, or that he was being followed, Clarence returned to the house and went to his own room. By this time he had become calmer Though he had found no clue to the awful mystery, he marked out his line of conduct. His horror for the father but intensified his love for Miriam, and for her sake, and for the family honour, which with him was so strong, he made up his mind to keep his secret from all the world till the day be died. This resolution cost him dearly, but he adhered to it under circumstances that would have broken every hampering pledge of a weaker nature. He met the family at breakfast next morning, and despite his effort to appear as if nothing unusual had happened, the doctor detected his wearied expression, and with a gentle anxiety he inquired as to the cause. Clarence assured him that his health was very good, and announced his purpose to go hunting that day to prove it. He watched the doctor during breakfast, ■wondering if this could be the being of the night before; wondering at the amusing hypocrisy of the man, and hoping in bis heart that this might be another of those rare cases where unconscious cerebration goes on in the walking moments, or acts are done in a state of somnambulism of which the normal mind retains no recollection. Clarence had come to Berisford Manor prepared to hunt. The doctor, who had been fond of sport, still kept a number of fine pointers, and selecting one of these the young man shouldered his gun and started for the hills. . It need not be said that his mind was not intent on the bagging of game. Out in the mountains he could think more deliberately of what so troubled him ; and, it should be added, he hoped to be able to find the dwelling of the hermit, whose appearance and conversation had so impressed him on a former occasion. The two men who followed Clarence Ashworth the night before were the detectives, Wilson Bly and John. Penfield. Through the stubborn persistency of the latter, the senior detective, against his own judgment, had been prevailed on to watch about the Manor that night. "Didn't I tell you," eaid John Penfield, "that Clarence Ashworth could not stay away from the scene of the tragedy ?" "I believe you did," replied Wilaon Bly. " It's my theory that such folks are fascinated, and can't help themselves. Now, I'll tell you another thing, Wilson." "What's that?" <( It's my belief that this fellow will visit the Hanging Rock within twenty -four hours ; the sooner he does so the stronger will' be my conviction of his guilt. Now, watch with me, and see if the rest of my prophecy don't come true." And Wilson Bly, not quite sure that his partner was not right, promised to watch with him for twenty-four hours. They saw Clarence Ashworth leaving the Manor about two o'clock in the morning, and John Penfield was elated. They hid in the shadow of the Hanging Rock, and they heard Clarence cry out in % voice of agony : " Oh, Frank, Frank ! What wrong did you ever do this man that he should murder you V They did not follow Clarence back to the Manor. They had scan and heard enough to satisfy them. " Let U8 go back to the village," aaid Wilson Bly, leading the way. " I'm in for that. We've done enough for one night But I say, Wilson," here John Penfield took his partner's arm. "Say on." "I'm not such a fool as you thought me. Come, be a man and confess that I am not." ' No, John ; you are not a fool at all." " Don't yon fcbink I am right ?" •• I'm afraid you are." "Afraid?" "Yes— afraid." " But why should you be afraid, Wilson ?" "Because 1 thought better things of this man." "Well, I didn't."

! "No ; you let Shirley Beneon prejudice ; you." 'I did nothing of the kind. lam old enough to judge for myself;; and I road this man like a book;" said John Penfield, greatly elated at what he considered his own phenomenal shrewdness. " I must confess that this young man's conduct is very strange and decidedly suspicious," said Wilson Bly, thoughtfully ; , -"yet there is nothing in it, so far, that. I would warrant our making an .arrest." Sl You think not ?" ■ -"I am sure of it. We muet wait." ••"I don't propose to wait very long, Wilson." •'•If you don' fc you'll spill all the fat in >the fire." -"I'll take the riak." •''.Well, what do you propose to do? But here owe are at the tavern. Don't answer till we got to our own room," When they reached their room, John Penfield said, in a hoarse wjrisper ; 44 So you want to know what I propose to do,?" 11 Yes. M " You'll confess that I've worked this lay by myself?" " Yes, Johu. I'm willing to give you all the credit so far. " " Then {I'll tell you what I intend to do. I'll watch again to-morrow night. Do you i understand?" " Very dearly. Goon." '* And if G'ftfence Ash worth shows up at the Hanging Rock as he did to-night, I'll arre3t him assure as my name 's John Penfield." '• Well, Jotm, I can't stop you j but, mark you, I protest against that course,"' said Wilson Bly, very positively " Aint 1 free, Wilson, to do as 1 please ?' "Out here? Yes." j " Then it pleases me to do thie very thing, ! and there aint no use in your trying to change me." "Very well, I won't try. Let us go to sleep." It being very late when they went to bed, it was correspondingly late when they got up next morning. j Reiterating his caution of the night before, Wilson Bly returned to the city of New York at noon to consult with his superiors. That afternoon Jobu Penfield and Shirley Bensen were closeted together at the inn tor several hours, and the detective, unable to keep his secret and his purpose to himself, told his delighted companion all he had learned and what he expected to do * Shirley Benson was elated, and he said, as he shook hands with John Penfield : " I'll be up bright and early in the morning John, to learn what luck you have." And Shirley Benson was up bright and early and down at the village, where everyone'else appeared to bo up and talking in excited groups on the street. A party, that had started at daylight for the hills to gather chestnuts, returned, in alarm, bringing with them the awful news that John Penfield lay dead in the shadow of the Hanging Koolc, with a dagger wound iD his heart.