Movelist. A TERRIBLE LEGACY.

Waikato Times, Volume XXIII, Issue 1890, 16 August 1884, Page 1 (Supplement)

Movelist. A TERRIBLE LEGACY.

A STORY OF ENGLISH AND AUSTRA-

LIAN LIFE

By GROSVENOR BUNSTER. Autuob of " John Hobton's Waiid ; " " Tni; Way of tub World ; " " Abel Biudley ;' ! "Blood Will Tell," &a., &c.

CHAPTER IX. (continued.) the confedebate's plot,

Dubing the voyage home in the mail steamer, Edmonds developed a new trait in his character —he began to drink heavily. The crimes weighing upon his soul, the tension of his mind during the short Australian career, and the firm belief that the blood of Fowler, in addition to that of Sir Ralph Falkland, stained his hands, had their effect at last, even upon his callous conscience. The forced inaction on board the steamer maddened him, and he sought relief in the bottle. A man of unbridled passions, the habit grew upon him rapidly, until it thoroughly mastered him: and the caution he had formerly displayed in

the execution of his schemes became changed to a mad, unreasoning, monomanical craving for revenge on all bearing the name of Falkland.

After his return to London, Edmonds took lodgings in a street off the Strand; and set to work to ascertain all he oould concerning Falkland. Going down to Devonshire on a reconnoitcring expedition, he heard, to his great surprise, that the young baronet was in Australia, and the date of Sir Frederick's departure enabled him to guess correctly its cause. He chuckled with savage glee as he reflected that the shot he had fired at midnight in the Australian bush had removed the only witness of Sir Ralph's murder; and as he pondered over Falkland's fruitless mission, a diabolical idea entered his brain.

He was seated in his lonely lodgings when ho idea first came to him. Copious draughts of brandy had only sufficed to stimulate his devilish imagination ; and as he realised the force of his sudden idea, he laughed in a perect frenzy of delight. "Hal ha I" he ejaculated, "brandy for inspiration! 'Twill bo glorious I Let him return, as he must do shortly, baffled and downcast. And when he goes to Devonshire, to seek a little consolation in the caresses of his betrothed—ha 1 ha!—he will find her dead! Dead—and then he will visit her grave. Then I will watch him, and with a bullet through his brain end the accursed race 1" t The scheme which was conceived in the delirium of intoxicated frenzy was matured when the morning brought sobriety. And thus the strong will ef the man was manifest. Liquor was with him at this time a passion. * Ho suffered the tortures of the damned until he had satisfied his intense craving for the fiery draught. But his insatiable revenge was a sweeter, dearer passion; and as he pondered over the matter, and realised the fact that a sacrifice must be made one way or the other, he sprang from his bed, and swore—he, the blasphemous homicide, dared to appeal to his Maker to register his fiendish oath—that, so help his God, no intoxicating drink should pass his lips until the last of the Falklands had become a thing of the past. And he kept his oath—so far as refraining from drink was concerned. Sternly and resolutely he denied himself the indulgence ; though sleepless nights, unstrung nerves, and trembling limbs betokened the agony it cost him. But at length .Nature reasserted her sway—he had gained the victory. Then he set about the accomplishment of his fell purpose. "

He had ascertained that Colonel and Mrs. Cotton had taken up their residence at Falkland Court during Sir Frederick's absence, in preference to removing Rose to their own house. As the former body servant of Sir Balph, Edwards had acquired a knowledge of every window, passage, and apartment in the mansion, and he exulted at the thought of the deadly use to which that knowledge could be turned. Admittance once gained, he reflected, ho could easily discover where the different inmates slept. One blow with a dagger, when the right apartment was reached, and Falkland's happiness would be for ever wrecked. Then he bethought him of a dealer in old curiosities, living near the Adelphi, in whose window he had Eeen a long, keen Venetian stiletto, just the weapon he required. Ho went at once to the shop, and purchased the article. Beturning home to complete his arrangements, he jostled against a man turning the corner of Adam-street. An angry exclamation was checked on either side to an ejaculation of surprise as the men recognised each other. "Edmonds!" " Johnson I" " The very man I want," said Edmonds. " Come with me." He seized Johnson by the arm, and walked rapidly towards his lodgings. Arrived there, he produced liquor and a glass. " Drink," he said. " I cannot joia you; I will explain why presently. What have you heen doing since I left England ? Your share of the plunder from Steel has not done you much good, judging from your present appearance." Truly, it had not. The five thousand pounds, obtained by the ingenious ci-devant Baron, had vanished at the gaming-table and in debauchery; leaving its former possesor a bloated, ragged, desperate ruffian. * Edmonds listened to Johnson's tale with great inward satisfaction. At last he said abruptly: 11 Do you want to earn a thousand pounds ? "

..."Do I?" replied Johnßon. "Do I look ~~e it ? " I'd murder forty people to have tn e handling of that amount once more."

" You needn't murder anybody for it," replied Edmonds—" that is, unless resistance is offered, and we have to fight for it. Listen to me. I have, as you know, plenty of money. I will give you a thousand pounds if you will join me in one night's work. I will speak plainly. lam going down to Devonshire, to murder a girl. She lives in a house of which I know every nook and cranny. My purpose is to enter at midnight, find her chamber, and stab her to the heart. No hand but mine shall strike that blow, or my vengeance would be robbed of half its sweetness. But I want you to stand by me; and if any alarm is given, keep the alarmists at bay until the deed is done. Will you do it? " Johnson, with a frightful oath vowed to join him. " That is well," said Edmonds ; " and now to fix the time. We will go down to Exeter to,-morrow, and make all arrangements as we go. Of course we must be disguised. If things are favorable, we will hire a couple of fast saddle-horses, ride over to the Court, and accomplish our object. The horses can be left outside the house, in a place of concealment with which I am well acquainted. If all is right, we can be back at the station in time for the last train to London. If there is a fight for it, and only one escapes, he must make a dash for the horses, pistol one to avoid pursuit, and do his best on the other. If I am taken, and you escape, you will have the cheque beforehand. That yon can cash and disappear before anything is known —I shall never peach. If the contrary happens to be the case, I rely upon you in the same manner for secresy. Now you know the whole scheme. Stay, the girl I intend to kill is the betrothed of young Falkland, to ruin whom you did that little business down in Yorkshire."

A long conversation ensued between the two ruffians, in the course of which Johnson owned that he was both penniless and homeless, a state of things his appearance sufficiently indicated. Edmonds took him to a dealer in slop clothes, and purchased for himself and Johnson suits of black and other clerical attire. Then they visited a hairdressers, and underwent a metamorphosis suitable to their new dress. " This is a rum start," said Johnson, with an oath and a loud laugh, after they had returned to Edmonds' lodgings and tried on their disguises. A couple of lambs, ain't we?" "It's wolf's work we're after," said Edmonds. " You may as well stay hero tonight. I'll give orders for supper, and you will find the liquor in that cupboard. But don't take too much. Steady hands and strong nerves will be wanted to-morrow night!" CHAPTER X. THE TUKSUIT. The day before the meeting between Edmonds and Johnson, Mr. Romeo Guffles sat before a bright fire in the Albany Chambers, with an open book on his knees. The book was one of that romantic individual's favorite " blood-curdlers " —being indeed no less a work than "The Sydney Scalp Seekers"—a fiction much admired in reading circles at home. It is true that the author—evolving his ideas of Australia from the depths of his moral consciousness, as the German did his description of a camel—had made the aborigines talk, think, and act precisely like Fenimore Cooper's equally impossible Red Indians. He had also pictured Sydney as a stockaded frontier town, surrounded by dense forests, and painted, howling savages; had treated his readers to bison hunts on the Murray in summer time, and otherwise manifested his supreme knowledge of the " fifth quarter of the world." But it passed muster with the gullible British public, seeing that it bore the mint-mark of an eminent publishing firm in London.

" Dreadful creatures ! " soliloquised Mr. Guffles, as he finished the last page with a sigh of regret. "Poor Sir Frederick—what he must be suffering among those savages 1 It's two mails since a letter came—l hope his scalp doesn't decorate the wigwam of some Sydney warrior. Or perhaps he's fallen in love with some bright-eyed forest maiden—another case of Inkle and Yarico. Only for the danger, I wish I had gone. There must be some regular genuine sensations out there."

Mr. Guffles must have been a very exorbitant man if he wished for a greater sensation than he experienced when, just as he had finished his soliloquy, the door was thrown open, and Falkland entered, followed by Curzon, Fowler, and the detective, while the grinning face of Tom Grist brought up the rear.

" Angels and ministers of grace—l mean welcome, Sir Frederick, welcome from the land of bandits and ferocities 1" exclaimed Mr. Guffles, with eyes distended to their fullest extent.

" Don't be a fool, Guffles," said Falkland, smiling. " Help this young man in with the luggage, and then take this telegram to the office. It is to go immediately. Take this young fellow with you when you go—he is an Australian, and London sights will amuse him."

Mr. Guffles, assisted by Tom Grist, went to the cab. The romantic Romeo could not keep his eyes off Tom. "Me daelp you carry him portmanteau, twiggy vous ?" said Mr. Guffles, who muttered to himself, " Why, he ain't very red for an Indian. I suppose he understands English." " This is one of their foreign flunkeys I've heard new chums talk about," soliloquised Tom. " Well, I never did try to talk their lingo, but I dare say I can." With this reflection, he replied: " S'pose you grabbee that handle, matee; shovee it up soee on my shoulder; me walkee him along all same piecey feather, you sabee." "That's done it," thought Tom, with conscious pride at the success of his efforts, as Guffles complied with the request. " I could always talk to the Chinese cook on station better nor anyone else; and it's plain all these foreign chaps has the same yabber." The luggage was soon brought in, and then Mr. Guffles, beckoning to Tom, said, V You comee now, me take you see what you stare at—auch funny tings." " What are you talking that gibberish for ?" asked Falkland, angrily turning round; while the detective, who instantly realised the situation, burst into a roar of laughter. "Beg pardon, Sir Frederick," said Mr. Guffles, mincingly, " but this Australian—hem—this Australian Indian only speaks broken English, and so—"

This was too much for the rest of the party, who burst into perfect fits of laughter; Tom Grist louder than any. /■' "Why, confound you," said Falkland, when he could speak; "the Australian Indian, as you call him, speaks English as well as yourself—better, perhaps." "I beg the—hem—young man's pardon," said Guffles,." I took him for a child of the forest; and really, he does speak very gueerly, begging yours, Sir Frederick." ' " And hang me if I "didn't take you for a Frenohy, and spoke the lingo to accommodate you I" replied Tom. "There, there, go along—both of you—there will be a better understanding between you when you dome back," said Falkland. Mr.'Guffles led the way, followed by Tom, who pulled out his pipe and lit it as he along.

" Dear me, this is awful," said the refined Mr. Guffles. " Are there any Btreets in Australia, young man ?" " One or two," replied Tom, composedly. " And do the people there—the civilised people, I mean—smoke pipes in them ?" continued Mr. Guffles.

Tom stared at him for a moment, then winked. " I'm not on, mate," he said, " you don't get a rise out of me." Compelled to endure the infliction, Mr. Guffles turned the conversation.

" I suppose you were taught English' at an early age ? " he asked. " Pretty fair," replied Tom. "Somewhere about when I learnt to speak. They didn't try it on before, you see, because they fanoied it might be waste of time." " Then your father was not a warrior—perhaps, a great man among his people—and you were not born in the forest and cradled by a squaw, I suppose?" said Mr. Guffles, his romance fast departing.

"I was born on the Hawkesbury," said Tom. "As to nay father being a great man, and a warrior, as you call it, he stood six foot four in his socks, and could belt any chap on the river. As .to cradling, mate, I never took a turn at the diggings. I was brought dp on a station."

Mr. Guffles' ideas had by this time received a severe shock. But he resolved to mako one more effort, and so he said: " Are you partial to firewater ? " "Do you mean rum ? " asked Tom. " No, I can't say I am; but I could tackle a pint of stringy if it was in my way now." Ascertaining that "stringy" was colonial for beer, Mr. Guffles forthwith entered a tavern and ordered a pint, contenting himself with a glass of sherry. Tom insisted on " shouting " another, and this had the effect of rendering Mr. Gufflea so loquacious that he soon put Tom in possession of his crude notions respecting Australia. The keynote once given, the mischievous stockman treated his nevf friend to such an astounding mixture of romance and reality, of the Banguinary kind, that Guffles was in a state of gasping admiration ail the evening, and went to bed to enjoy what ho was wont to style " a delicious nightmare." Next day Tom was sent to the station with Guffles for the remainder of the luggage, and returned in a high state of excitement. " I've seen him, boss, I've seen him 1" he exclaimed, rushing into the room where Falkland and his friends were seated. The detective was out, renewing his acquaintance with his old tutor, John Forrester. " Seen whom ? " asked Fowler.

" The new chum tramp I" returned Tom. " The chap as come to Nundle the night Mr. Curzon was shot. Such a lark 1 He was with another chap, and he and his mate was both dressed like parsons, with black rigs-out and white chokers. But I spotted him right off, and dodged him. When I heard him speak, I was sure of him." "And what did he say—where is he?" asked Falkland, on whom Tom Grist's excitement had produced a similar effect. " Why, I should say he is far enough off by this time," replied Tom. "It was this way, you see. While we—Guffles and me—was coming along on the cab from that railway station—Waterloo Bridge you call it, I think —I saw this cove's ugly mug. He was walking along that street that's about as long as George-street and Parramatta-stroet' put together." " You mean the Strand," said Fowler. " Go on, never mind description." " Well, I jumped off the box, and followed close behind 'em," continued Tom. " They didn't notice me, why should they? Then the swagman as was turns to his mate and says, ' We've got half-an-hour to catch the Paddington train. To - morrow morning Falkland's intended bride will be the bride of death.' Then I jumped into a cab, and came here like a redshank.";

Falkland turned white,.to the lips, and was about to rush out of the room, when Fowler seized his arm.

"Becalm," he said, "be calm, and leave your friends to act. Tom, fetch a fast cab immediately—or two rather. Promise the men a sovereign each if they use their best speed. Mr. Curzon, stay with your friend. I will have all ready by the time the cabs come."

When Tom returned with the vehicles, Fowler had a heap of cloaks and rugs ready, and a small case under his arm.

"Jump in," he said, to Falkland, "Mr. Ouizon, you follow with Tom. We can talk when we reach the station."

Av/ay whirled the cabs, at a pace far above that allowed by the regulations. " Never mind your number being taken," Fowler shouted through the little trap in the roof to the driver. " A ten pound note will cover all. I will give you twenty. Drive as fast as you can—it is a case of lifo and death," Various futile "efforts were made by-aston-ished policemen to arrest their progress, but in vain. At length the panting horses drew up in front of the station, and the party sprang out Falkland and Fowler immediately rushed into the telegraph office, followed by Curzon and Tom Grist.

"A form, quick," said Falkland to the clerk.

"Where is the message for, Sir," asked the clerk.

" Exeter, quick, man, I say," and Falkland stamped his foot in his impatience. " Very sorry, sir," replied the clerk, with exasperating coolness ; " but you can get no message through to-night. There's been an accident to the wires, and it will take some hours to find it out and repair it, for there has been a very heavy fall of snow down the line."

" Where is the station-master ? " asked Fowler, seeing that Falkland was utterly overcome by thi3 last blow. "I must see him immediately." The official was brought, and Fowler explained that a murder had been planned, and that in the absence of any warning being sent by telegram, a dreadful catastrophe must ensue.

" Very sorry, sir," replied the man, " but I j don't see what can be done, I can't grant a special train, without authorisation from a director. And by Jove, Sir, here oomes one." A portly gentleman bustled up to the station-" master, with an air of importance. " Beg pardon, Sir George," said the official," but these gentlemen are in a dreadful predicament." And he related the'circumstances.

" Dear me, dear me," exclaimed the director, " shocking, shocking I The only thing you can do is to hire a special train, and that will be expensive, fifty pounds at least.". " I will give fifty times the amount to reach Falkland Court to-night," exclaimed Falkland, vehemently. " Eh, what 1 Falkland Court i Why, bless me, who is it they are going to murder at Falkland Court ? "

"My cousin Bose," said Falkland, in a choking voice, " my dear, dear Rose, and I, great Heaven, stand here helpless as a child I " " Calm yourself, Sir Frederick, all will be exclaimed Fowler, soothingly. " Sir Frederick, v is it possible you are the nephew of my poor old friend Ralph?" said the director. "'To be sure, of course you are; I recognise the likeness. Here,' Thomas, a special train directly, and tell them to send the best and most careful men in the shed with it." -

The kind-hearted old gentleman bustled about, and the magic of his presence proved very effective. In half-an-hour a powerful engine and tender, drawing one carriage, started off at a speed of fifty miles an hour., ' Fowler looked at his watoh, : and made a mental calculation. ... •

"It will be a near thing," he said. "If we oan keep up this pace we shall reaoh Exeter a few minutes after the train in which those scoundrels are. Let us hope for the best." He unlocked the case which he carried, and took out several revolvers. Handing one to each of the party, he said, " There is no time for trifling now. Shoot him like a dog if he offers the least resistance." Falkland said nothing, but there was a glitter in his eyes as he grasped the weapon and thrust it into his breast pocket that spoke volumes.

Tom Grist quietly tucked the revolver into his belt, and winked. " I swore I'd fetch that raddle-faced chap," he muttered to himself, " and if it comes to shooting I rather think I'll be among 'em." Curzon, who still wore his arm in a sling, had insisted on accompanying them ; and he, too, mentally avowed to do his be3t if it came to a struggle. v The journey was a very silent one, for, with the exception of Tom Grist, each man was haunted by a dreadful fear, which he shrank from disclosing, that they might be too late after all.

Tom Grist looked out of the window, the view being a novel one to him. There had been a very heavy fall of snow, and the country was one sheet of white. The roofs of the houses as they dashed through the stations and towns on the route were heavily laden with snow. The trees in the open looked like sheeted ghosts looming through the murky night. The monotonous rattle of the engine, the regular clank of the piston rod, gradually died away in Tom's ears as he sank back in a slumber, from which he was not roused until the train stopped. Then he found that they had arrived at their destination, and got out to hear Falkland excitedly questioning the stationmaster.

"In half-an-hour ago, sir. Tour special had to slacken the last fifty miles, for the fresh fall has almost blocked the line. Horses ? Well, I daresay you can get them at the Bull. George, run up and order saddle horses—for how many ?—four saddle horses immediately. The gentlemen will bo there before they are ready. Bad weather for travelling, sir." Hurrying to the Bull, they learnt that only three horses were available; the remaining two having been engaged by two persons who arrived in the regular down train. Not a word was spoken as they waited. An awful sense of an.'impending calamity overhung the whole party. It seemed tacitly understood that Curzon, as the least useful of the party, owing to his useless arm, should remain behind. He grasped his friend s hand as the horses were brought out, and said in a low voice, " God bless you, my dear Falkland ; may you be in time I " On, on, fetlock deep in snow they dashed, the steam from the horses enveloping them in a haze. The glare from the snow gave sufficient light to show the road, oven if Falkland had not known it so well. Tom Grist kept a few paces in the rear—not that he was worse mounted or inferior in horsemanship to companions. On the contrary, it was his infinite superiority in both respects that dictated the course he was pursuing. Falkland and Fowler dashed along at the top of their speed ; up hill and down dale alike.

It's no good talking to them chap 3, seeing the state of mind they're in," said Tom to himself. " But if them mokes ain't bußt afore they gets to the end of their journey call me a new chum. Now, this ain't a bad bit of stuff I've got across, and I've nursed him up the pinches. It strikes me that when we gets that long avenue the swell cove as own 3 it spoke about, I shall spreadeagle 'em." Tom's anticipation proved correct. When they reached the lodge the horses of Falkland and Fowler were thoroughly blown. Both shouted as loud as they could, and the lodgekeeper, half asleep, put his head out of the window to ask what was the matter.

While Falkland was calling to him to open the gate, there was a rush, a dark form rose in the air, and with a shout of "Follow my leader,'.' Tom Grist had cleared the park walls, and was tearing up the avenue, taking all he knew out of his horse now that the road lay clear before him. Pulling up the animal at the flight of stone steps, his quick eye detected an open window. Drawing his revolver, he entered through the opening, and walked cautiously across the room. Trained by his long experience in the bush, Tom's sight was like a cat's, aud listening intently for any sound, he crept noiselessly in the direction of the grand staircase. As he stole along he heard the faint sound of approaching horses. Then he knew that his friend 3 were" at hand, and cocking the revolver, he proceeded, muttering, " I've got the lead, and I'll keep it. They're here, or the window wouldn't be open. I'll have the first shot for the honor of Australia. And if I don't put a set like a new chum's bundle on that raddle-faced chap, may I never skin another 'possum 1" (To be Continued.)