CHAPTER XIV. CLUB GOSSIP.

Waikato Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2221, 2 October 1886, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XIV. CLUB GOSSIP.

Herbert Morant, with his things nearly packed, including that valuable clock with an alarum, is casting a cursory eye round his rooms to make sure that nothing is forgotten, when there is a tap at the door followed by the entrance of Mrs Marriott with a telegram. It was from Phil Soames, and ran as follows :—: — ■" Sorry to put you off but cannot receive you at present, particular by post." Mr Morant read the telegram attentively, and then observed in a moralising mood, ' This is in accordance with the ordering «of things by a, perverse providence. No .sooner do I plaat the ladder that tends "to fortune and turn to collect my effects than the malignant fairy whose glass the butler neglected to fill on the occasion of the festival of my christening, cuts up rough and kicks it down. Phil Soames,' continued the ever sanguine Morant, ' told me the ball was at my foot ; they always do tell you that, bat what's the good when you're not good at the game and don't understand a drop kick. But old Phil, I know him so well, he'd have kicked off the ball, and I should have had nothing to do but to run after it. Well, there's nothing for it but to await tJhe arrival of the post, and in the meantime man must dine, and in the case of a fellow holding my * high -resolve,' improve his mind afterwards, but whether that shall be done by the pursuit of whißt, billiards, or dramatic representation accident must determine.' The next morning brought Mr Morant a letter from Soamea. It was as follows :— ••Dear Herbert,— I am sorry to put you off, but the sad tragedy that has befallen Bauinborough must be my excuse. It has cast a temporary gloom over the -whole town, and many of us who knew loved John Fossdyke feel it deeply. I bave known him for the last fourteen •.vetrH, f rom a b °y in short> He waS a ■great friend of all my family, and we inexpressibly grieved when the news came of his sad fate. As soon as we have a little got over the shock you must come as arranged. For the present adieu. Ever yours, ••Philip Soames.' <<PS.— The papers will give you all *the details of the Bunbury murder,^ and spare me the pain of relating them. To say that Mr Morant sat up in bed after reading this epistle would faintly characterise that young gentleman s movements. He bounced out of bed and dashed in his sitting-room in search of

the morning paper. A great murder always exercises a curious fascination upon the public, and that fascination is increased when we are connected, however faintly, with the ciinie. Mr Morant's intimate friend on this occasion had been an intimate friend of the murdered man. Mr Herbert Morant is destined to find himself more intimately connected with the crime than that ; another minute and the columns ot the Standard will disclose to him that the supposed murderer is the father of the girl he wishes to marry. Morant tore the paper open, glanced his eye rapidly over its pages, and for a little time failed to discover what he sought. 'Ha! here it is, he exclaimed, as •' Mysterious Murder at Bunbury ' % met his gaze, and he proceeded to peruse the account with no little interest. The murder had taken place on the Tuesday night presumably, though it was not till Wednesday afternoon that it had been discovered. It was now Friday morning, so the papers by this had obtained very detailed accounts of the crimp, and the writer for the Standard had told his story in very dramatic fashion. But, when .after reading all the preliminaries with which we are already acquainted. Morant came to this pity line, "On the Tuesday the friend of No. 11 appeared in the person of John Fossdyke, a gentleman well-known in Bunbury, and asked for Mr Foxborough.' He dropped the paper with a cry pf horror ; then he took heart. Foxborough might not be a common name, but there were doubtless more Foxboroughs than one in the world. He picked up the pappr and read on ; the particulars of the murder were told clearly and faithfully ; but the last paragraph bore a later date than the remainder of the report, and had evidently been transmitted by telegraph. "I have just heard that evidence has been discovered this day in Baumborouoh which would appear to indicate that Mr James Foxborough, the well-known lessee of the Syringa Music Hall, is the Mr Foxborough who was staying at the Hopbine.' Once more he dropped the paper, and remained staring int> vacancy. Was it possible that the man he knew, Nid's father, could have risen in the night and deliberately slain his guest ? It was too horrible. A more deliberate murder apparently had never been committed, and whatever the motive might have been it was as yet perfectly unfathomable. Not the slightest suggestion was made by the correspondent of the paper as to the cause of the crime, and the more he thought of it the more bewildered Herbert Morant became. He read that account over and over again in the intervals of dressing ; the ghastly story had a weird fascinatiou for him. He felt already growing upon him that morbid feeling which makes all other things seem tame in comparison with the solution of a mystery of tins kind. There are always a small proportion of imaginative people who are held spellbound by the contemplation of a gruat enme. For the time being- they think ot nothing else, they read all the papers for fear the slightest detail should escape them, they build ingenious theories concerning the affair with more or less cleverness in pioportion to their reasoning capabilities, and the proportion of educated people who understand what is actually evidence is surprisingly small. His breakfast finished, Herbert Morant went down to his club. He wanted to see what the other papers might have to say about it ; to hear what mankind were saying about this Bnnbury murder. The papers varied little in their accounts, some of course were rather more meagre than others, but the leading journals were all pretty much in accordance with the story he had first road. With humanity it was different. Not only had men much to say and said it, but they improved knowledge, and enumerated theories which made poor Herbert stand aghast. "Good Lord, sir, there's not much to bo. astonished at,' said old Sir Cranbury Pye, a wicked old man who had been about town for half a century or thereabouts. "Know all about that fellow Foxborough, real name Ikey Soloman, begun lite in the prize ring, in the last days of that noble institution, clever light-weight, but couldn't be trusted, more often on the cross than the square. When that pillar ot the constitution, the P. R , came to an end, Ikey started a silver he!l at the East End, got on and went round the races, Brighton, Doncaster, you know, a little chicken hot, as well as cold chicken for supper ; found that game rather drying up so went into the music- hall- line, and started the Syringa. Good little chap Ikey, don't know whether he struck the other fellow, not proved yet anyhow, but don't suppose Ikey would stick at murder as a matter of bufeine3S, any more thau he would at crossing a fight or queering a flat." The whole of which farrago was listened to and accepted by some of the younger members of " the Theatine" with much reverence and interest, Sir Cranbury having no more knowledge of James Foxborough than he had of the Emperor of China. Never read a more conclusive case in my life," grunted old Major Borrobosh ; ' 'poor fellow didn't want watch or money, of course. Papers of some kind ; deeds very likely. vVhat did they quarrel about ? Something of that sort, of couse — this fellow Fossdyke, you see, wouldn't give 'em up. Foxborough goes at night to steal 'em, means having 'em somehow — the other fellow wakes. Foxborouch gives him a dig in the ribs with his dagger, bones the papers, locks the door, and slopes next morning plain as a pikestaff. What say, hey? Premediated, hey ? No, no, not premeditated " 'Look here, you fellows needn't go bellowing it about you know, 1 said Lacquers, ♦ but I heard all about it from a fellow who has got a friend who corresponds with a chap down at Baumborough. The fellow Foxborough had a daughter who went as nursery governess to John Fossdyke. Fossdyke brought her to grief, and her father killed Fossdyke out of revenge. That's the real story of the affair.' Pleasant all this for poor Herbert Morrant, whose chivalrous disposition led him strongly to stand up for his new friends, but he hadn't knocked about London the last half-dozen years without acquiring some knowledge of the world, and that warned him that to confront club gossip was like tilting at windmills in these days. Even in the old duelling days and credited with wielding a rcadly pistol to curb the tongue of one of our great monachal caravansaries was hopeless. To attempt it in these times would be ridiculous. Then the young man could but acknowledge to himself that he knew next to nothing of Foxborough. Of Mrs Foxborough and Nid, yes, that was different ; but Herbert was aware that consummate scoundrels before now had been blessed with charming feminine belongings. He felt very miserable as he walked out of the Theatino ; true, he believed very little of all these rumours he had heard, but there was no getting away from the fact that James Foxborough stood in imminent danger of being charged with murder, and, guilty or not guilty, that must occasion infinite agony to the girl he loved and her mother, and Herbert was very fond of Mrs Foxborough, as well as Nid, although not quite in the same proportion. At 1 st it occurred to Herbert he would walk out to Tapton Cottage and inquire

after its inmates— if possible, see them. It would show, at all exents, both his sympathy and disbelief in the charge, and having come to this resolution he stepped out manfully, and without further vacillation, in the direction of Regent's Park. That the papers should so soon have got at the connection beetween James Foxborough and the Syringa was due chiefly to Mr Totterdell. That garrulous old gentleman having once parted with his hardly kept secret through!; it was as well to derive as much enjoyment as possible from it, and to that end confidentially showed the music hall bill and confided the story of how ho came by it to every friend or acquaintance he came across. To Mr Totterdell Baumborough owned the knowledge that the eminent Sergeant Usher had spent a day in their midst, and according to Mr Totterdell the Sergeant had admitted that but for his asaistence he would not yet have been on the track of the murder. As he neared Tapton Cottage, Herbert Morant's feet imperceptibly lagged. It was not that he faltered for one moment in his purpose, he longed to express his deep sympathy with them in their anguish, his utter disbelief in Mr Foxborough being capable of the atrocious crime ascribed to him 5 but what was he to say to these stricken woman ? Words are so weak and come so unreadily to our lips on these occassions of bitter sorrow, especially, perhaps, to men. However, if his place had slackened, Morant had still held steadily on and consequently was how within a few yards of the cottage. Suddenly bin eye iell mechanically upon a shabbily dressed man who was lounging slowly along on the other side of the road at a place that implied, at all events, time was no object to him. Morant took little notice of him ; the man had merely attracted his gaze, not caught his attention, and all street strollers, or as the French would term it fanciers, know what that distinction is. With a nervous hand Morant knocked and the answering damsel he noticed was not the parlour- maid who usually officiated in that respect. She was a servant he knew, though, well enough, being Mrs Foxborongh's own maid ; and in answer to his inquiry she replied that her mistress was at home, btit saw no one. The girl's face was grave enough, and she seemed to think there was no more to be said. 1 But Jenny,' pleaded Mnrant, ' I think she would see me ; at all events take my name in like a good girl.' arid mindful of snndry douceurs tha* had fallen to her lot since Mr Morant hud become a visitor at Tapton Cottage, she thought well perhaps missus might make- an exception in his favour ; at all events, if ho would wait s.he would go and pes. After some delay, Jenny returned with the information that Mrs Foxborough would see Mr Morint, and marshalled Mm to tho drawiug-room forthwith. Mrs Foxborough came forward to tnest him with head erect and a dignity of manner ho had ne7er seen in her before. ' You havo heard, of course, Mr Morant,' she said, extending her hand, lof the shame that has come upon us. Shame ! What am I saying ? Scandalous, scurrilous accusation that will bring more shame upon those that make it. But you have heard the infamous charge launched at my husband? This it is to live in a free country and enjoy the benefits of civilisation ; where a ribald pre'-s can even state such slander as this without fear of pmns or penalties.' ' Mrs Fo'xboroujjh, I only heard of this terrible charge this morning, and have come at once to assure you of my utter disbelief in in, and to <^k if there is auy possible use I can bo (u you ' 'Ah ! I thought, you would stand by us, Mr Morant,' she replied, in alijrhtly softened tones. ' You have met my dear husband, and know that he was iuc ipable of wilfully injuring" any human beinv, much more of vsuch a crimo as this ' 'It is impossible of oouive, hut wh m is ho? Does he know of tho h«M-« ii»l.allegation agpinst him ? Surely so'm> >'i<> ought to be informed of it at onje-tu come forward and refute it at onee 1 replied Morant, hurriedly. 'I don't, go by what the papers say, but surely if hn did ask this Mr Fossdyke to dine with him at the Hopbine he had best come forward and tell his plain story of the whole business.' ' I never heard him mention the name of Fossdyke in my life,' replied Mrs Foxborough, as she sank into a chair. Then it. is very possible that he is not the Mr Foxborough who stayed at, tho Hopbine. Havo you written to him ? ' No, I cannot. I don't know exactly where he is. We never correspond much when he is away. Tho last letter I had from him was from a place called Blackford.' 4 Great heavens ! Why, that is no great distance from Bunbury.' ' Indeed! But what has that to do with it? 1 retorted Mrs Foxborough, rearing- her head proudly. 'I don't know; nothing I nuppose,' rejoined Herbert, no little discomposed. 1 No, it is perhaps a little unfortunate that I do not know lus address, but it can matter very little. The papers must ere thin have told him of the infamy they have dared to lay at his door, and I am expecting a telegram every, moment to say that he is at Bunbury.' ♦ Ah, that would bo most]) satisfactory. How does Nid bear it ?' ' Well, poor child, it was impossiblo to keep it from her, or- els-? I would have done ; but I reflected she was sure to learn it in tho course of two or three days, and thought she'd best hear it from me. Indeed, it was quite a chance she did not see it in the paper before I did. She's terribly knocked down. There is very little of the Roman maiden about Nid I fear,' said Mrs Foxborough with a faint smile.' ' May I see her ?' ' No, I think not to-day. My doors are closed to everyone, but I mean ro make (in exception in your favour, Mr Morant. You have offered to serve me. I wonder whether you will undertake the first thing I ask you to do for me?' 'Certainly, Mrs Foxborough;' exclaimed the young man, eagerly. 1 Well, listen. The inquest commenced to-day, and will. I am told, extend over to-morrow. Will you go down and bring me a faithful account of the proceedings? 1 and even proud and plucky Mrs Foxborough's lips trembled a little us she spoke. ' They have summoned) Ellen. You see she did not open the door for you. What they can want with her I have no idea. And more, Mr Moi.ant, we are a marked house. We are under survpillance. A spy lurks opposite our gate night and day to watch who comes and goe-«. You may not have noticed him, but he was there, and it is quite possible that you also may find yourself dogged on account of your visit hero.' 1 It'll perhaps be bad for the dogger if I do.' replied Moraut, with no little savage elation at the idea of t'iking it out of someone. ' I will do your errand willingly, Mrs Foxborough, and be off to Bunbury by to-night's train. I even thank you for trusting me with it, nol so much as a mark of your friendship as for the relief it is that I am doing something to aid you in this terrible triaJ. Give my love to Nid, and now I'll wi*h you goodbye, trusting 1 to bring you back good news from Bunbury to-morrow night.' As Herbert Morant left the cottage he be-

came conscious of that same lounging individual upon whom his eye had before mechanically rested, now apparently leisurely pursuing 1 his way towards the West End, and at once awoke to the fact that this man was keeping watch and ward over Mrs Foxborough's house. At first he thought the man's intention was te follow him, apd Morant only waited to convince himself of this to turn pretty fiercely upon his attendant, but or 6 they had gone three hundred yards, the Shabbily - dressed one turned back again, and it was clear that watching Tapton Cottaga was his sole business. As Herbert Morant walked home he could not bub reflect that the accumulation of evidence aguin&fc Mr Foxborough certainly was awkward. That ho should be iv tho neighbourhood of Bunbury, as confessedly by his wife he was at. the time of tho murder, that somebody 6f liis name should have invited the unfor.tfiuate Fossdyko to dinner at tho Hopbine,\ind that he, Foxborough, was btill not to be hoard of, constituted a malignant construction of facts that might suffioo to oast suspicion upon any oue ho circumstanced. Of course, he would mm tlio papers, and then naturally would ippo.ir ut the inquest and give an account of hiumelf, and there would be an end of tho whole business as far as ho was concerned. But Morant could not help reflecting gravely how very easy it may bo for a mun to f .ill under the shadow of crime, when circumstances could s>o array themselves against one as they had. against James Foxborough.