HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Times, 1896-02-21, Page 2'11111, ''` 1 NWIAM. TIMES, FEBRUARY 't , "(1,.
,1 i 1IIlliil I{�Ih i;;,;,,,dUIIIIIII .1141"
ea the young emu e p,oG .= seen
-blackened, for he did not find what he
sought. Then he took the light from
the wall, and held it close to Brinkley's
eyes.
Satisfied that he did not breathe, he
climbed up the path and rejoined his
troubling companion. They passed out
of the place, hurriedly replacing the
trap -floor, and piled on eau(' and stones.
"There!" said Monk, with a wild smile
on 'his deadly pale face. "He won't
trouble either of us again. Come,
comer
And he strode hastily away, followed
by William Jones, leaving the young
:nan of the aravan in the subterranean
tomb.
CHAPTER XIII.
wuaneet JONES IS SERIOUS,
The :wo men walked togeeth.er through
g
the dar]c..e,s as far as the door of Wil-
liam Jones's hut; then they parted. .Air.
Monk struck across the sandhills to-
wards'bis own home, while Jones enter-
ed the door of his cabin.
He world fain have found that cabin
empty, for the memory of the last scene
in the cave was still upon him, and
made flim as nervous as a child. But
the old man was there, and wide awake,
and evidently pleased at his son's return.
"Where have you been, William,
dear?" said he. The question was inno-
cent enough in itself, but it was full of
hidden meaning for William Jones.
"Where have I been?" he repeated;
"at work to be sure!"
The tone of his reply startled the old
man. He looked up, and saw to his
amazement that William was as white
as a ghost, and trembled violently.
"What's the matter, William, dear?"
he asked, eagerly. "Have you seen a
wreck, my. son?"
"No, I ain't," responded his son, vio-
lently; "and look ye now, old 'un, you
jest be quiet, and let me alone, that's
all!"
The old man, knowing his son's tem-
per, did as he was told, and William
continued to potter aimlessly about the
room. He was certainly trembling very
much, and was almost overcome with a
nen-el: nees for which he himself could
not account. 'Por he was no coward.
To get possesv$'on of a prize on the high
seas he wouldhhave faced a storm which
might well nnrlke brave leen tremble,
not to mention that he knew that lie
had on more than one occasion humane-
ly hastened the end of the sbiewrecked
sailors whom he had found a .'.ik pillaged
on the shore. After there acts he had
been able to sleep the sleep of virtue
without being haunted by dead men's
eyes. But now the caro was different.
He had not to Ileal with a victim with-
out friends, a man whose body, de-
scribed as that of a " shipwrecked
mariner," could be buried and forgotten
•
In all probability
there would this time be a hue and cry,
and William Jones trembled lest his
share in the ghastly business might ulti-
mately be discovered.
True, he was not actually the culprit,
and a:), even at the worst, he might
escape the gallows; but to a man of his
sensitive and affectionate nature the
thought of transportation was not pleas-
ant. It was this that made him nervous
—thi.j that made him start
and tremble
0
at every sound.
Presently a thought struck him.
"Where's Matt?" he ?sked.
"Don't know, William, dear; she ain't
been here for hours and hours. Maybe
she's on the shore."
"Maybe she is—I'll go and have a
look," returned William.
It must not be supposed for a moment
that William Jones had become afflicted
with a sudden and tender interest in
Matt—he merely wanted to get quit of
the cabin, that was all, and he saw in
this a reasonable excuse for walking out
alone. He accordingly made his escape,
and went wandering off along the shore.
It was ten o'clock whet he returned;
he was still pale,' and •drenched to the
skin. Tile old an•was dozing beside
the fire, and aloe.
Whore
s Mk
as eel William
again.
Afn t you seen her, William dear?
Well, she ain't here."
Wi11nem Jones did look a little uneasy
this time, and it is but clue to him to
confess that his uneasiness was caused
by Matt's prolonged absence. Erratic
as she was in her movements, .she had
not been accustomed to staying out so
late, especially on a night when the rain
was pouring, and not a glimmer of star
or moon was to be seen.
"Wonder what she's a-doitn of?" said
William; suppose I'd best wait up for
her. Ilere, old man, you go to bed, d'ye
hear—you ain't 'wanted anyhow."
The old man accordingly went to bed.,
and William sat up to await Matt's re-
turn, He sat beside the hearth, looked
into the smoldering fire, and listened to
thexaitt as it poured down steadily upon
the roof. Occasionally he got tip and
went to the door; he could see nothing,
but Ti'F"•'•'-el d he patter of the falling
rate, and cad; :Love, dreary moan of the
troubled sea.
Hour aftee passed, and Matt did
not come, 'm Jones began to doze
by the rc;---ii. _ ..:.e sunk into a heavy
1.
11e awoke with a start, and found that
it was broad daylight. The fire was out,
the rain had ceased to fall, and the
morning sun was creeping en at the
windows, He looked around, and saw
that he was still alone. He went into
Matt's room --it was empty. She had
not returned.
Ile was now filled with vague uneasi-
ness. He made up a bit of fire and was
ebout to issue forth again in search of
the truant, when all further trouble was
cared hill—the door opened and Matt
herself appeared.
She seemed almost as much disturbed
as William Jones himself, Her face
was very pale, her hair wild, her dress
in great disurcler. She started on seeing
hill, theen assuming a devil-may-care
look, she lounged in.
-You're up early, William Jones," elle
said.
"Yes, I ant up early," he replied,
gruffly; "'cause why?—'cause I ain't
been to bed. And vhere lreve you been?
—jest you tell met t."
"Why—I'veof cense, en -
turned
ut, :
tutrned the girl deflautly,
"That won't do, Matt," returned Wit.
liam Jones, "Cone, you'll jest tell me
Rrhere you've l e tiet You ain't been out
all night for nothing."
The girl gave him a look half of defi-
ance, half of curiosity; then she threw
herself down, rather than sat, upon a
chair.
"I am tired, 1 ail," she said, "and.
hungry and cold 1"
Pill you tell me where you've been,
Matt?" cried. William Jones, trembling
with suspicious alarm.
"'Course I will, if you keep quiet,"
said the girl in answer. "There ain't
mucin to tell neither. ,I were away along
to Pencroes when the heavy rain carne
on, then I lay down behind a haystack
and fell asleep, and when I woke up it
was daylight and I come home."
William Jones looked at her stead-
fastly and long; then as if satisfied, he
turned away. About an hour later he
left his hut and walked along the shore,
straining his eyes seaward. But instead
of looking steadfastly; at one spot, as his
custom was,- he paused now and again
'to gaze uneasily about him. At every
sound he starn2tt and tnri:ed pale. In
truth, he was becoming a veritable cow-
ard—afraid almost of the sound of his
own footsteps on the sand.
"Be it yon. matt? Ler', now yrau. Beat, res Geo+toed,. and. Tim pulled`
startled. in I were—I were•--takiag. a:
doze."
"I'ye been . u yonder," said Matt-
"Up
att_
" ,,
U where?"
to the painter chap's cart.. He
ain't conte back; and the man is search -
no for Ilial, all up and down the place,"
Fortutlately it was very dark, ss,tlhat
She could not see the expression of her
hearer's face. She walked to the fire-
place, and, taking a box of luciferr.from.
a ledge, bootie to procure a light,. with.
the view of igniting the rushlight fixed
to the table. But in a moment William q
blew out the match, and. snatched, the
box from her.
What are ycel Join' of?" 'tura cried.
"Westing the matches, as if they. cost
nowt. You'll come to the worll;us afore
you're done,"
The days passed, and there was no
news of the absent man. Every day
Matt went a to the Caravan to make in -
gullies. At last, one afternoon, she re-
turned, looking .greatly Troubled" her
eyes were red, tog, as if she had Abeen
eying,
l 'WVlhat's the matter nowt" demanded
William, who had left bis usual seat and
was standing at the door.
"Nowt," said Matt, wiping her eye.
lids with the baclfof her hand, +
"Dont you tollaio lies. You've heerd
summit? Stop It What's that there
under your arm ?"
All at once he 11 d perceived that she
carried a large rol of something wrap-
ped in. paper. H took b o 0 itf•
. own a o from
n 1 P
her and opened it nervously. It was the
crayon portrait of hersti1t executed by
the defunct artist,
"'Who gave you this here?" cried Wil•
.tall ,Tones, troubling more than eyes,
Tan',
"Who's ho?"
"Him as come looking arter his mas-
ter. The painter chap ain't found; and
now Tim's goin' away in the cart to tell
his friends. And ale give nee this—ivy
pictur'; he give pct me to keep. His
master said I were to have it; and I
mean to keep it note lee's dead 1"
William Jones banded back the pic-
ture, and seemed ielieved, indeed, when
it was out of his hands..
"Dead?" he muttered, not meeting
Matt's eyes, but. looking right out to
sea, "Who told you he were dead?.'
•
Matt did not reply, but gazed at Wil-
liam so significantly that the man, con-
seious of her .scrutiny, turned and
plunged into the darkness of his dwell-
ing.
An hour latera loud voice summoned
him forth. He vent to the door, and
there was Monk, f Monkhuust. It was
the first time they= had met since they
parted on the Bight of tho murder.
Monk was dressed in a dark summer
suit, and looked unusually spick and.
span.
"Where's the girl?" lie cried, after a
whispered colloquy of some minutes.
"Matt, where aro you?"
In answer to fho call Matt appeared
at the door. No sooner cid she perceive
Monk than she trembled violently and
grew very pale.
"Come here, Matt," he said, with an
insinuating senile. "See! I've brought
something for you—something pretty
for you to wear."
As he spoke he drew from his waist-
coat pocket a shall geld ring, set with
turquois stones. But Matt still trembled,
and shrunk away)
"I don't want it! I shan't wear it,"
she cried. '
"Nonsense, Matt' said Monk. "`Why,
it's a ring fit forge lady. Come, let me
put it on your finger."
So great seemed. her agitation, so deep
her dread of hitt., that she could not
stir; so that whe
p.
" Has your ni'wter.• returned ? I ant
informed than lie hays been missing tor
some days."
Tim shool..his heath very dolefully..
"No, sir; sorra sight have I seen of
him for three days and three nights.
I'm going back wilt the baste and fie
house, to tell his Allende the bad; news.
May be it's.lna]dng fun of me he is,. and
I'll find himsomewhores on the road,"
", I.lope Ion will," said Monk, aym-
patiheticailee. "I think—hu u --.it is
mite pee:able- lie hat, as you suggest,
waadereel homeward. Good•day,• to
yon,"
So saying,. Monk turned off leg the
gate which they lied just reached, and
redo away up: the avenue.
Tian looked after him till h;+; isap-
peered. Then the same curious; change
came over him' which had come over
Matt after she had been listening to the
colloquy between Monk and. William.
Jones..
He laughed!
CHAPTER XIV.
TUE CAIi•AVAN DISAPPEARS.
Several days passed away, during
which William Jones showed a strange
and significant affection for his own fire-
side. He went ouf a little in the sun-
light; but directly night came ho locked
and barricaded the: door as if against
thieves, and declined, San any induce-
ment, to cross the threshold. Even had
a three -decker gone ashore in the neigh-
borhood he would have thought twice
before issuing forth into the dreaded
darkness.
For William Jones was genuinely
afraid; his hereditary calm of mind was
shaken, not so much with terror at a
murderous deed, as with consternation
that' his life-long secret had been discov-
ered by one man, and might, sooner or
later, be discovered by others. He did
not put implicit faith even in Monk; it
was his nature to trust nobody where
money was concerned.
As to returning umr
cave nb back to the
c ve until
he hadqt to if equanimity,
his egnanillui..y ,
that was out of the question. Even by
daylight ke avoided the spot with a
holy horror. Only in his dreams. which
were dark and troubled, did he visit it—
to see the face of the murdered man in
the darkness, and the hand of the mur-
dered man pointing at him with cold,
decaying finger.
The day aftee the murder he had been
greatly unsettled by a visit from Tim
Linney, who demanded news of his mas-
ter and said that he had not returned to
the Caravan all night. Tim seemed
greatly troubled, but gave vent to no
very violent ebullitions of grief. When
he was gone Matt sat by the fireside and
looked long and keenly at William
Jones.
"'What at?"
� hay ar
e on staring
cried he,
fidgeting uneasily under her gaze,
"Nowt," said Matt; "I were only
wondering "---
• " Then don't go wondering," exclaim -
eel the good man, rather incorlwnst.iently,
" You mind your own business, and
don't be a.fool!" And he turned testily
and gazed at the fire, But Matt, whose
eyes were full of a curious light, was
not to be abashed.
"Ain t you well, William Jones?" she
asked.
" I';n well enough—I ren,"
" It's guear, ain't it; that the painter
chap never conte home?"
" slow should I kuc w?" growled Wfl-
liam. " May be he's gone back to where
he come from."
" Or may be ho's drownded? Or may
be suinmat else has happened to him?"
suggested Matt.
• ".Never you alind him, my gal. He's
all right, never fear.And if he ain't,
it's no affairs o' yours, or •mine neither.
You go along out unlet platy."
Matt went out bet directed, and it was
some hours bacon she returned. She
found her gua dfan seated in his old
Hplace by the fire,. looking at Vacancy.
e started violently as she entered, and
made a clutch etythe rude piece of ship's
iron wh,ali serV ,, a Pekee
•
•
s
Monk r
he approached laugh-
ing, and caught ler round the waist, he of
slipped the rin l on her finger before
she could resist. But it only remained
there a moment:, With a quick, sharp s
cry, she tore i4self free, and, taking
the ring off, thr w it right away from
her upon the sand. Then, with a wild f
gesture of fear and loathing, she rushed c
into the cottage.
William Jones walked over and pick- n
ed. upthe e
while
Monk stood ring,o E
scowling darkly after the fugitive. h
"What the devil ails the girl?" cried
the latter, with a fierce oath, pocketing
the present. a
" 1 dunno. She's never been the same g
ince—since the painter chap went a
missing. I'm afeerecl he turned the s
gal's head." a
"He'll turn no more heads," muttered
.: under his breath. He, added
aloud and with decision, "There must b
) an end to this. She must be mar- d
led to me at once."
"Do you mean it, master? When you i
spoke on it fust I thought you was jok- s
ing.Then you were a fool for your pains. a
he is old enough and bold enough 8
and vixenish enough; but I'll tante her.
tell you there el t,mui•
must be no more t dela
Iy mind's made up, and I'll wait no A
anger."
Sinking their voices they continued to f
alk together for some time. Now Matt t
was crouching cldee to the threshold,
nud had hoard. every word a the above c
onversation, and 'much that followed c
t. When Monk walked away and dis- pl
ppearedl, leaving.'Vi)illiam Jones cumin- i
ant at the broken gate, she suddenly re- e
sual screams through the back sli
etween the cave and the Devil's Cal-
ron.
Trembling, with perspiration stand -
ng in great beads on this face, he
earchecl tike cave for the corpse of the
murdered man, expecting to find it well
dvanced in decomposition. Strange to
ay, however, it lead disappeared.
1Villiam. Jones was at once relieved
nd alarmed -*relieved because lie
AN
I
CHAP E.1 r XV.
A. ItR!DAL PAI:TT AI. D A LITTLE SURPRISE,
A week passed alt*ay. The shadow of
the Caravan au no longer fell on the green
meadow by the kite, and the straggling
pops Cation of Abergly n, unsuspicious of
foul play, had already forgotten both
the Caravan and the owner.
And if facts wtiro to ldo taken into
consideration in estimating
• he
t extent
of her neemory, >r1�Iatt, too, had for-
gotten. It was eor'i.mon talk now that
she; the graimnarl ss castaway, the neg-
'.eted protege of William Jones, was to
be inarrie(1 to the"master of the great
house! Nay,the er daywas fixed;
Y
and that very day, u, only two eu;nriges
distant; and Mo , of Monldhurat, had
in his pocket a special license; which he
had procured., at a+�n expenditure of five
pounds, from London.
Doubtless, in ally more populous lo-
cality, the affair eould have occasioned
no little scandal, and many ominous
shakings of the head, but the inhabi-
tants were few and far between, and
had little or no time for idle gossiping.
Tho coast -guardsmen and their wives
were the only individuals who exhibit-
ed any interest, :and even their excite-
ment was faint and evanescent, like the
movcunents of a fish in a shallow and
ut 1Vl.el?S0inC j ool,
But id r:.'_',,• extraordinary part of
the whole affair was the conduct of
Matt herself. Apparently quite cured
of her former repugnance to a union
with Monk, she made no objection what-
ener to the prefor'mance of the cere-
mony, and laughed merrily when she
was informed that the clay was fixed.
Monk, in his grim, taciturn way, was
jubilant. • Ho came to and fro constant-
ly, and a aumed the manners of a lover.
Had he been lest; bent on one particu-
lar object, two things might have struck
him as ciu•ious f-(1) That Matt, though
she had consented to marry him, stead-
fastly refu ed to wear his ri �g er to ace
cept any other peecents ; paid she still
shrunk, with preeistent and ill -disguised
dislike from his caresses.
• It was now lato in the month of Aug-
ust and the weather was broken by
trottblous winds and a fretful moon.
For several weet-s William Jones, in
his mortal tenor, had refrained froi'n
visiting the cave; he had never set his
oot therin, indeed since the night of
he ai a�;sination. At last he could bear
he snepense no longer. Suppose some
no else had discosered. this treasure, and
•obbed him? Suppose some subtcrran-
an change had obliterated- the land-
iarks or submerged the cavern! Sup-
pose a thousand dreadful things! Tired
miserable supposition,'Wiliiamn deter-
mined. despite his terror, to make sure.
So late ole windy and rainy night he
tole forth with his unlit lantern and
fought his way in. the teeth of half a
gills to the familiar place, which ho
cute., however, with some little diffi-
ulty. He was neither superstitious nor
maginative, but throughout the jour.
ey he was a prey to nameless terrors.
very
g
nit f wind o went through h 1 '
bhis
eart like a knife; overy sound of wind
or sea made the salve heart stop and lis -
en. Only supreme greed and miserly
nxiety led hien on. But at last he
aired the cave, within which there was
sound as of clashing legions, clarions
hrieking, drums beating, all the storm
nd stress of the awful waters clashing
n the cliffs without, and boiling with
S1
I
1
t
a
c
i
a
.saved a horrible experience ;
arnhed because he could not account
or the disappearance. A little reficc-
ion, however, suggested that one of
those tidal waves so common on the
oast might have arisen well up into the
avern, washed away the body from its
lace on the shingle and carried it away
1 the direction of the Caldron. "In
rhich ease," he reflected, "the coast -
wird chaps would find it some day
along the rocks or on the shore and
think it had been drowned. in the way of
atur'."
Satisfied that everything else Was un-
istnrbed, he retired as hastily as pos•
ible, sealed up the entrance to the
event, and ran hastily home.
Tho morning of the marriage calve—a
no sunny morning. An open dog -cart
elonging g to Monk, and driven by one
f his servants, stood at William Jones's
ocr, anti close to it a light country
art, borrowed by Willlain Jones hinl-
elf from a neighboring farmer, Tho
aputlation, Consisting of an aged coast-
uardsman, two coast-guardsilnen's
vives, and half a dozen dejected ellild-
ei1,. crowded in front of the cottage.
The bridegroom, attired in dl?cent
black, with a flower in leis buttonhole,
toed waiting impatiently in the garden,
appealed. l
Curiously enough all her excitement a
had deaarted. Instead of weeping and
protesting, she looked at William Jones
—and laughed,
Monk had left his horse at the coat- it
guard station, Remounting lie rode s
rapidly away through the sand -hills in e
the direction of t..e, lake, As ho ap-
proached the spot of the old encamp- fi
anent, he sate that the Caravan had b
gene.
}Ie rode oil thoughtfltlly till he gained el.
the highway, when he put his hors. into c
a rapid trot. Jost before ►.e gained. the s
gate and avenue near to which he had
first c,neountercct Buinitley, he s;.w the g
Caravan1 before him on t1"s+ dusty road.
Ho hesitated for a moment; then hut -
ries rapidly forward, au(t arriving close
to the vehicle, saw the Irishman's head
too';iu<c round atria from the 'driver's '
Despite the festive eaeasiont be had a
gloomlyg and lhang•dog;•ap eaxai'zce Pre-
sently there enlarged front the door
William Jones attired in a drowned seat
maze* suit several sizes; to a for o large
hill., end wearing aehilnnsy--pot hat and
a white rosette. Loaning,. en. his ern;
was Matt, dressed in a dress, of blue silk,
newly made for Igor,• out of damaged
materials supplied,. by Jones, by one of:
the utast-guard women,,, a light straw•
hat with blue ribbons to match.. and a
light lace shawl. Behind this pair hob-,
blodbWilliaxn Jones's father, whose cos,-
tuniie was nautical,. like his son's, but
mote damaged, sad wb,o also sported ar
chimney -pot hat and a white rosette,
The crowd gave a feeble cheer. Matt
leaked round 811(1 smiled, but mingled
with her smile tlierewasa kind of vague
anxiety and ospeetation.
It was arranged that Monk should
drive Matt in, the dog cart, while Wil-
liam Jones an(1 his father followed in
the commoner vehicle, At Pencroes,
where the ceremony was to be pertolnn-
ed, they were to meet with one Mr.
Peuarvon, a country squire and kindred
spirit of Moult's, who had promised to
be "best man."
Monk took the reins, while Matt got
in a.ud. seated. herself beside him, the
groom getting up behind; and away
they went aksig the sand -choked. road,
followed by Jones and his father,
The day was bright and merry, but
Matt never thought of the old proverb;
"Merry is the brute that the aun shines
on;" she was too busy examining the
prospect on every side. All at once, as
the bridal procession wound round the
! edge of the lonely lake, she uttered a
cry of delight, There, standing in its
old place be, the lakeside, was the Cara.
• Vail
, Monk looked pale—there was solne-
thing ghostly in the reapiear:!nce even
of this inanimate object. He was a
.lean of strong nerve, however, mune
speedily smiled at his own fears.
As they approached the spot they saw
Tim standing near the vehicle In convev-
sation with two strange gentlemen—one
a little man in black broadcloth, tbe.
other a tall, broad -shouldered fellow
wearing a light overcoat and a wide-
awake hat. Directly tho procession ap•
preached, this group separated, and its
three members walked severally to the
road, he with the wideawake hat stand-
ing right in the center of the meld quiet-
ly smoking a cigar; i
As the dog -curt came up he held urs
his hand. Unable to proceed without
running him down, Monk pulled up
angrily.
'What is it ? Why doyou block the
road ?" he cried fiercely.
"Excuse lie, governor," returned the
other coolly. `t11Ir. Monk, of ..looks
htust, I believe'"
"That's my nave."
"Sorry to trouble you on such a clay,•
but I should like a few wards with
myou.ai'ii"
ecl!
" I cannot stay—I aim going to be
"
So I heard," said the man, lifting
hie hat, and bowing with a grin to Matt,
" Glad to see yott' miss. How do you
do ? But the fact is, Mr. Monti, m••
bueiness won't keep. Be good enough
to step this way."
Ful: of some unaccountable forebod-
ing, inspired pertly by the stranger's
suave yet determined manner, partly by
the reappearance of the Caravan, Monk
alighted, and followed the other across
the grass to the : chic) vicinity of the
house on wheels. The little elderly
man followed, and the plan who had
first spoken event through the ceremony
of introduction.
" This is Mr. Monk, sir. Mr. Monk,
this gentleman is Mr. Lightwood, of the
firm of Lightwood & Lightwood, solici-
tors, Chester."
"And you—who the devil aro you ?"
demanded Monk, with his old savag-
ee e.
My name is Marshall, Christian name,
John, though my friends call. sue Jack,"
S11SW,fr .:.r• uclle) Willi airy mlpu-
denr• •. r,tn Marshall, governor of
the detective force,"
.►Lowe may wont pale indeed. But re-
covering himself he cc: ,aide I know
neither of you. I wanted ,you that I
Owasut eviinth ihaste.t!" What do ;.you event ?
•
The little man now took up the con-
versation, speaking in a prim, business-
like voice, and ,occasionally referring to
a large note hook which he carried.
"Mr. Monk, you are, I am informed.
the sole heir male of the late Colonel
Monk, your cousin by the father's side,
who was supposed to have died in the
year 1882."
"Yes, that's tine. What then ?"
"On the report, of his death, his name
being included in. an official liet of offi-
cers tinsel and wounded in action, and
It being
un.cestoo1 that he died without
mut
lawful issue, you laid claim to the de-
mesne of Monkhtirst, ieh Chelshire, and
that of the same name in Anglesea.
Your claim was recognized and in 1885
you took possession,"
"Well, have you detained me to hear
only what I already knew?"
"Pardon me, I. have not finished, I
have now to infortia you that you inher-
ited louder a nei;'sconception—first, be-
cause Colonel Monk was harried and
had issue ; second, because he did not die
in Indiae., but reached the shores of Eng-
land, where he p rished in the shipwreck
of the vessel Trinidad' 011 Christmas
day, 1864."
Monk wths livid.. At this inoinient
Jones, whr; had been watching the sane
from a distane•o, eaalie over, painting and
perspiring in ill -concealed terror.
"Ler', Mr. Monk, what's the Matter?
Look ye now, we shall bo late for the
wedding."
As lie spoke Marshall, the detective,
clapped lum playfully on the shoulder,
"flow Wye dog. William Joules? I've
often heard of yogi, and wished to know
you. Pray stop Mhere yen are. I'll
talk to you presently,
"I don't know what you mean," Monk
tlow said, with dogged desperation,
".•alt, nit Ibiil tixnnarole, 11:8. Light -
wad, or whatever yeuu' !s;
Lain
scentsltoieu me1uy y eeons.n's ll ala 8111Uhear„ ho is,. g. If
tell
ilea "
"Itisthat?(laughter„' said, the+sneu, quietly,
"Ile never;untrled, and he newer had
to daughter,"
"«Itis daughtex, an in•nt twelve or
fna teen montl;s old, stifled troy England
With hili, was sllipwreoks d. with MM..
but saved by as special Ilrovidenco; and
has since been.living in this, place raider'
the name of MaJon" ~ °
"Your iute.lclottd 1>l:•eside, you know,"
added Marshall, with, an insinuating
smile, "Hullo, where is the young;
;idyl"
Monk looped round, towards the ilea,
cart and on every side, but Matt wee
nowhere to be seen.
"I see her go into that their cant,"
said Willitnn Jones,
"Call her," cried Monk. "I'll stay no
longer Here, Listen to me, you two.
Whether you are telling truth or lies,
that girl is going ta be my wife -1 have
her guardians consent, and she herself,
I may tell you, fully appreciates the
honor I am doing her,"
"Indeed!". said Mr. Lightwoo sant.=
Mg. "ITnfortunately I, as Miss Monk's
legal adviser, must have a say in the
.natter. Doubtless this marriage would
be a very pretty arrangement for keep-
ing the late Col. Monk's foitiliio and
property in your possession, Vitt I can-
not conscientiously approve of the
young lady's marriage to an assassin,"
"An assassin?—what—what do
of
mean?" gasped Monk, staggering as if
from a blow.
"Tell him, Mr. Marshall."
"All right, sir. ' Well, you see, Mr.
Monk, of Monkhuret," continued the
detective, e uiml3 yet playfully, "you're
accused ofmaang
away with—mtu'der-
ing, in fact—a young gentleman who
came to Aber;glyn a few weeks ago in 1A
that little house on wheels; and this
nice friend of yours" (here he again
slapped William Jones on tho shoulder)
"is accused of being your accomplice,"
"No, no. I never done it! I'm inno-
cent, I all," cried William Jones, "Tell
'em, Mr. Monk, tell 'ern—I'd nowt to do
with it."
"Silence, you fool," said the other ;
then he added, turning on his accusers,
"You aro a couple of madmen, I think!
I know nothing of the young man, you
speak of. I have heard that he is mune.,
ing,.that is all; but there is he evidence
ths�t any hare: has co:ale to hint, for his
body has not been found."
H
William Jones, and nudged him in the
ere Marshall tinned with a wink to it
ribs.
! "Don't yon think now," he asked, "it
might be worth while looking for it in
that little underground parlor of yours,
down alongside the sea?"
William Jones uttered a despairing
groan, and fell on, his knees. ,
"I'm ruined 1" he cried. "0 Mr, Monk,
it's your: loin~! Lord help me! They
knows everything."
"Curse yon, hold your tongue," said
Monk, with a look of mad contempt and
hatred. • "These men are only playing
upon your fears, but they cannot fl•ig1u1 •.
an me."
"No," remarked the detective, light-
in L'.",`oigar which had
g' b , voile out. •'I
think we span oven manage that in
time."
• As he spoke he carelessly, and es if
inadvertently, drew out a pair of steel •
handcuffs, which he looked at reflect- .r.
ively, threw up and caught underhand
in the air.
"You accuse ale of assassination ?"
said Monk, trembling violently. "1
waru you to beware, for I will not sumer
such accusations without seeking re-
dress. If you have any proof of the
truth of your preposterous chsrge, pro-
duce it."
At this moment Matt, looking bright
as sunshine, leaped out of tiie caravan.
"There is my proof," said Marshall.
"Miss Monk, this amiable bridlegroom
of yours denies being concerned in
harming Mr. Charles Brinkley. Is he:
. telling the truth?"
Watt's face darkened, and sh.e lgo,1.#,g'
at Monk with eyes of cordial d rt
tion
`No," she said, "he's lying."
"Matt," cried Monk, fiercely, "taile
care."
"He's lying," she repeatednot heed-
ing hint "I see him i o it with myown
two eyes, and I see William ,zones help-
ing him and looking on; they thought -
that no one was nigh, but I was, I was
hiding behind thein sacks and barrels in
the cave."
de * * * *
Monk now felt that the game was al-
most up, for he was beset on every side,
and the very gronncl seemed opening
under his feet. The wretched Jones, in
a state bordering crll frenzy, remained
on his ltlhec,s wailing over his ruin. Tho
two strangers, Li
w
oed
and. Marshall,
looped on as ca1111 but interested spec-
tators. Matt, having delivered .her
hometbrust of accusation, stood and
ga
fiaze.(.nce, into plonk's face with cool. de- .
"It is a plot!" Monk cried, presently;
"a11 infamous plot to ruin lie! • You
have been tampering, I see, with this
wild girl, whom you foolishly suppose
kin to lie by blood. Arrest me, if you
pleaso—I emit not take the trouble to
resist, for I am perfectly innocent in
tilts matter,"
He added, while they looked at one
another as if soinewllat puzzled:
As to the girl's relationship with my
dead cousin, the very idea is absurd.
Where are the proofs of her birth-
right ?"
" Here," said a quiet Voice.
Monk tinned his eyes and started
back in wonder, while William Jonesh
shrieked and fell forward on his face.
Standing before them in the sunshine
was the reality of the semblance of—
.the murdered young roan of the Cara-
van!•
4
A
CHAPTER XVL
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