CHAPTER XXXII.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 285, 28 July 1888, Page 4

CHAPTER XXXII.

STAXD AND DELIVER. It was somewhere about the middle of December, but the evening was unusually warm and pleasant for the season, the sky had a soft spring-like lustie, and a great white moon hung overhead, Hooding all the golden Sussex downs with silver splendour. A gentleman in a light buggy, with a little thoroughbi'ed mare in harness, drove rapidly along the high road that skirted (/lie Kentish border. He was a very handsome man, in the prime of manhood, tall and strong, with a fair Saxon face, and a pair of the brightest and mo&t humorous brown eyes that one meets with in a lifetime. This gentleman was Sir Bayard Brompton, the last living relative and the prospective heir of the queer old Countess of Mortlake, But Sir Bayard did not trouble himself about the countess or her wealth. He was very prond, very improvident, and passionately devoted to hib ait. So long as he could pursue his travels, and sketch amid the glaciers, or float upon the sunny bosom of the Danube, dreaming over some wondrous creation, the dowager countess and her wealth and titles might go to any tortunate personage she choso to make her heir — Sir Bayard was nob concerned. Vet his purse was Hglu enough at times, but his vagabond style of living required veiy little outlaj , and he always mauaeed to get alonj, and to preserve the appearance of a gentleman. He was just back from India, and, tiding over the Sussex downs in the winter moonlight, his thoughts were full of a journey to Egypt, which he propo&ed making a^ hoon as he could scrape enough together to defray his moderate expenses. Sir Bayaid did not fancy counting up pounds and shillings, and est' mating the cost of one's annual bread and butter, and hib handsome brows were knit, and his eyes a trifle moody, as he summed us his modest income, and ti ied to see hi& way clear to make the journey upon which his heart was set. He dropped the lems on his mare's neck and suitered her to trot along at her own will. All at once a daik figure shot up at hei head, and a strong hand grasped her reins close at the bit. The little mare had fine mettle, and she made a vigorous bound to free herself, but the dark hand held the bridle like a vice. 'Stand and doliver !' ciied a voice in the moonlit silence. Sir Bayard broke into a musical laugh. He was a man keenly appreciative of anything like fun, and reciclessly fearleso and careless of his own safety, • Stand and doliver what ?' ho replied ; 'my gloves and hand kei chief '!' 1 Your purse !' ' I have none !' ' Then your life !' A swift and sudden blow, fiom some heavy weapon, brought the mare down upon her haunches, and in the ne\t breath Sir Bayard was dragged headlong from his seat. But he regained his feet in an instant, and grappled the enemy who had at tacked him, determined to sell his life dearly. For live minutes, perhaps, a deadly struggle ensued, and the baronet succeeded in getting his enemy down and planting his knee on his breast. ' Now, you scoundrel, 3 he panted, ' who are you and what do you want ?' The dark face of the antagonist looked up in the moonlight, full of deadly determination; heutteied no respon.se, but he struggled intensely, and finally succeeded in freeing his left arm. "With a stealthy movement he drew a slender dagger horn his bosom. One moment he qimeicdand flashed in the moonlight, and then a swift and cowardly blow drove it hilting between Sir Bayard's shouldois. He uttered a gasping ciy, and rolled over, hi.s face, awfully white and corpsohke, upturned to the starlit sky. The muiderer regained his feet, and giasping the weapon, diew it out, vwiim and iceking with the baronet's lire-blood, and to be sure of his work, he dro\e it in again, inflicting another murderous wound. He stood then an instant, looking down upon hib victim in fiendish exultation. No sound escaped his lip v , no sign of life stirred his white face. 'Sir Bayard BrompLon, I think you'ie done for,' ejaculated Leonaid, his wicked teeth gleaming under his thick beaid. ' My colonel may go to the ball to-morrow night, and I may live in hope of ten thousand pounds.' The moon swept under a cloud, and far down the winding road came a fai it sound of approaching wheels. The colonel's valet uttered n suppressed oath, and catching up the prostrate and bleeding form in his wiry arms, he deposited it on the floor of the buggy. The mare was on her feet by this time, with distended eyes and panting nostrils. Ho sprang to the seat and grasped the reins fiercely, and the little thoroughbred shot off like the wind. On and on, over tho rolling rfowns, past the wide-spreading hop-fields, the colonel's valet went, with that rigid form and awful face lying at his tcet, in the shimmer of the winter moonlight. At last ho drew rein in front of a pile of ancient ruins, the remains of some old convent or priory. Leaping from his seat, | ho proceeded very coolly to rifle the dead baronet's pockets ; then he laiscd him in his arms and made his way through heaps of rubbish and ivy, into the old building. The hall led downward into a gloomy dungeon, by a flight of precipitous steps. Leonard lowered his burden to the topmost one of these, and then gave it a gentle impetus with his foot. Down it went, like a log, rolling from one step to another, and striking at last upon the stone floor below. There was a sudden clash and rustle of wings, a dismal cry from a great owl, and then all was again silent, silent as the heart of the murdered baronet who lay below. Leonard showed hit gleaming teeth In the moonlight, and rubbed his hands softly together. 'Done for, Sir Bayard,' he muttered; ' you'll not come back to claim the fortune now.' Then returning to the buggy, he turned the mare's head in the direction of London, and drove for his life. (To be Continued.)