Silas Dennington's Money.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10661, 17 June 1912, Page 2

Silas Dennington's Money.

OUR SERIAL.)

CHAPTER IV.—Continued

"I'm afraid I'm out of Grant. Rather a comedown, isn't it? From millionaire to beggar in fifteen minutes! That peculiar shaped mole on his face clinched the argument. Strange I never noticed it before. But he was rarely clean or sober- at San Reno; ho knew his work, but developed a most infernal temper, and was too handy with his gum. Good Lord-"

He dropped into a chair and stared into the fire. His splendid dream was melting into thin air! "Better read the letter—Spider Webb's. Funny name." "Dick Webb, I've heard him called, and he was nickwamied Spider. Yes, let's see what he has to say." The letter was dated from Twenty Third Street, New York, and there was a good deal of it, all written in a round, flowing hand; clear, concise, and to the point. It was the old story —two men in love with the same girl," and the loser's ultimate revenge. Ho bribed the Indians to steal Silas Dennington's baby boy, and nobody guessed that Spider Webb had had a band en it then. In his younger days Silas had bean chosen the government as keeper at Cold Springs Station, and scores of the red raiders had fallen to his Spencer rifle. Kidnapping the child of their old enemy was a sweet retaliation.

After four years the child's dead body was sent to Silas Bennington, and it vras-only then that Spider Webb was known to be the instigator of the outrage. But lie ihad disappeared, and the child was dead, so there was an end of it —only for the bitter memory.

The shock 'had killed the mother. And now Webb had sprung his last mine. The dead boy wias not Dennington's at all. Dennington's son was active -and well-Hn the person of the young fellow known as Jake Murdoch. The proofs were ready in the hands of Webb, and he was prepared to produce half a dozen witnesses. He, "wouldn't make a penny out of the affair. He was only anxious to undo to some extent the wrong he had done, and to save exposure suggested that the money left by old Silas should be shared equally between young Silas, ! the son ; and Jack Dennington, the nephew. The letter concluded with, reference to a small brown mole on Jake Murddck's face. It was a Dennington birthmark, and there had never been a Dennington without it within, living memory. He Iliad heard Silas say so. Jack tossed the letter to Grantley, and watched his face while he read it.

"Well, what's your verdict?" he ; asked at last. | "You must sift this to the bottom." j "You think Jake Murdock is our cousin?" "I didn't say so." "But you think so, and so do I." Jack laughed wildly. "Its a bad'job for all of us." "What of itliis suggestion lalbout sharing the estate?" Grantley put out a feeler. "I hope I have not lost my sense of honour, Grant." "I beg your pardon, Jack; you are quite right. It would be impossible for us to touch a shilling of this money if it legally belongs to another man." I He finished with a regretful sigh. "It wouldn't 'have been so bad a month since—before we were going to do things. I feel it more on your account and Madge's than my own." "Nonsense, man! I am' quite well off in comparison if this fellow's story is true. I've got raj' profession, and the property. It won't h*rt Madge la bit. It's surprising what a woman will do when she really cares. We ought to have been married long sines in spite of Sir Peter. Madge ,would be happy in a fifty-pound a year villa. I know-it now. Do you really think Jake Murdock is like Uncle Silas? You heard what he said." "In build—yes, and his features are much like mine—when he's clean; especially the hair. But he has always led a disreputable life, and I fired him at San Reno to save the sheriff a job. He had killed a man in some drunken brawl, and it wasn't the first time he'd been mixed up in shooting affairs. We didn't want the odium of the thing at the ranch." Jack gathered together all the documents relating to his great business scheme, and put them out of sight. "How disappointed poor old Brown will be," he said. "Don't give in yet," protested his brother weakly. "I suppose you'll be off to New York in a day or two. I wish I could go too. I'll cable to outagents to meet you —Ackerman and Rust. They are reputable attorneys, and wall sift Mr Webb's story down to bed rock." . ■ , .

Jack opened a safe, and took out a bank-book.

"I've got two thousand three dreds pounds lyings Coults'—savingsfrom my allowance. That's mine at4ny rate. I'll go to town in the morning and draw the' money, book my passage to New York, and sail the day follow- j ing—Saturday." Prom several draw- j ers he fished the letters which lie bad received answering his financial advertisements, and threw them into the fire, saying grimly, "'Rogues and imposters, most of you!" then told Grantley that he was tired of everything, and wlas going to bed. The- brothers went to London together the next morning," but parted at Waterloo station.

by f, l. dacre, Author 'if ''Hold in Bondage," *'A Phantom of the Post," "Sir John's Heiress," "Tlic Shadow of Shame," "A Daughter of Mystery," eta.

"You will come to my'office later?" Grant ley asked.

"J don't know. I've got to see Brcwn' and several other people. I must ask everybody to suspend operalions for a while. Thou there's the banking business and the shipping offices. What do you think I ought to do for Brown ? He's worked very hard. Give him a hundred?"

I "As much us that?" I "I'm nob going to he mean. The ! poor chap's disappointment will I% e ; .awful. Ta ta, I'll phone you from i t : me to time." ' "Do." Grantley's eyes followed him almost sorrowfully. "Poor old Jack!" he reflected. "His first | thoughts are always for others." Ho"stuck in his chambers until two ' o'clock, then he went out and snatched a hasty lunch—a couple of sandwiches and a glass of beer. Work was altogether distasteful. He wondered how he was going to face Sir Peter with, the news. He knew that Madge wouldn't care for herself, but to her father it would he nothing short of a calamity. Phew! How bitterly cold it was.' There wns a biting northeast wind, and the sky was of that hard, steely blue which betokens a severe frost. Grantley hurried back to his office, but there were no tidings of Jack tintil four o'clock. He spoke over the phone from .a call office in the West End. "Had quite a chase to run Brown to earth, and although I've located him, I haven't had the all-important interview. , Shau't see him until five o'clock at Gatti's, as he was sent to Guildford this morning by his bank. I've transacted all the other business." "Will you come on here after finish* ihg with"Brown?" Grantley asked. "No; don't.wait for me, old chap. I'll -catch, 'the .six-forty trawi from Waterloo, certain." "Very, well"; I skill go home at once. X feel out of sorts.; got a heavy, , cold on me; shivery all day in front of. a big fire." x ' , l' "All right," , Grantley hung up the receiver. ■ locked his private desk, and prepared [to leave immediately. He felt wretched and depressed. Jack was going away the next day, and he was very fond of Jack. Everything was under a cloud. He telegraphed to his 1 chauffeur at the Court to meet a cer-, [ tain train at Ash field with the car. Ashfield was his horn© station. Ar- ' rived there, he jumped into the motor ' .and told the mian to drive to Sir Peter j Tempest's place. There was no earthly good in shilly-shallying, and he re- ! solved to out with the whole story 'forthwith. His fighting streak was ! fully aroused, and it was only fair to i Madge to tell her of another fixed de- ' tenmination, over which .'he had been I brooding the whole day. If good old 1 Jack had lost his fortune, Grantley was going to share Dennington Court with him, and this determination acted lik© a tonic <m his jaded brain. When the car pulled up at the -. 'Grange the sky was overcast, and ftakes of snow were eddying on the air. The wind had dropped, and I there was not a sound in the trees, j < 'Looks like a heavy fall, sir,'' warnj ed the chaffeur. ) "I won't be long, Tonks." ! Sir Peter met him in the hall, his face beaming. | "By Jove, Grant, you are a Heaven- ' sent blessing. I was just wondering what-1 should do with myself. Not 1 a soul has called the whole day. I suppose it's on account of the beastly .weather. Where's Jack? Busy in ' town, I suppose. Any news from him . for me ? I've been expecting to hear 1 from hini the blessed day long." ! "No. Where's Madge?" i "Oh, you lovers! Your idyllic attitude towards life gives an. old man a " chill. You'll find her in the library, ' up to her neck in writing paper. Some begging-letter business in connection | with the church. Parsons are clever at getting other people to do their (work. When vou've done billing and ' cooing, I'll play you a hundred up for a fiver. Just had the billiard table ironed. You'll stay to dinner, or I course?" i Grantley shook his head, .and hurried into the library, carefully closing the door after him.

"Hello, Matige." • She got up from tlie table af once, ia. glad smile in her eyes, and-lie embraced her with a pasion of a youth of five and twenty. "Grant, this is an Unexpected pleasure." She searched his face. "There's nothing wrong?" "J hardly know, Madge. Sit here beside me ; I want to talk to you." And then, without any preamble, ■■ lie told the news. He was a fluent talker, and had a picture in every sentence. Madge listened, and Jn her mind's eye she saw a ten-roomed villa, with a stjrip of garden, two w«meii servants, and jerhaps a .thousand a year. But there was 'happiness hefore heir, and discontent in the past. Always the gnawing fear of apprehension of what was going to 'happen next. Her father was so reckless and unreliable. (To he Continued).