The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1886-11-20 00:00:00

•
•
. - -
. '
- • , ----- _ . - . _ , - _
. . _ „ _

is the least probability of his recovery—promise me
this."

"Certainly."
"Mind, don't wait to bring the tidings back your-
self," she continued. "I have urgent reasons for de-
siring it."
"Reasons! -Upon my word, Beryl, I can hardly
understand you," said the rector, who was beginning
to feel a little perplexed about his ward's frequent
changes of manner and queer excitability. "Of
course, it's very natural that you should be shocked
at such an occurrence, and anxious for news; but
the lad's fate can hardly be of such vital interest to
you as your manner seems to show."
"It is—it is, I tell you," she replied, with frenzied
eagerness, and clutching his coat-sleeve nervously.
"You must promise me that I shall have word of his
exact condition as soon as you have seen the doctor."
"Of course I will, if you are really so anxious about
it,' said Mr. Atherstone, thinking inly that Beryl was
slightly exacting, and then leaving her to make his
way down to the little hovel where Jack Blogg ly
dying.
" Dying ! Yes, there could be no inanner of doubt
about that—not at once, perhaps—he might even
linger for several days before the last dread change
of all, but never more would he wake to consciousness
in this life. -
Beryl did not return to her aunt and cousins, but
made her way again to the woman between whom
and her Self there existed so incomprehensible an
intimacy, and in low, broken accents told her wl.at
she had heard. _ .

Strangely enough, Mrs. Dalton did not show the
least astonishment at the news.

"It is very unfortunate," she said, in her driest
tones. "Have you made any arrangements ?"
"Why do you speak to me like that ?" hissed Beryl,
her eyes all ablaze, and turning fiercely on the womAn
who had so strange an influence over her. "Merciful
Powers! if there be any for such a wretch as I, what
will be the end of all this P
It was some time before Mrs. Dalton could calm
her; not, indeed, until a message arrived from the
Rookery that Jack Blogg was still in a state of coma,
from which there was not the slightest possibility, the
doctor said, of recovery.
But this was all that could be said to anyone. For
the rest, poor Jack was as completely dead to this
world as though he lay beneath the turf in the church-
yard. Mr. Atherstone despatched a messenger to
Birmingham with instructions to make enquires of
the police there as to the whereabouts of the boYs
uncle; and in the meantime a detective had bocn
ttlegraphed for from Scotland Yard, arriving at Athor-
stone Grange late in the afternoon, and being taken
to the scene of the crime at once.
He could make nothing of it, he frankly confessed.
"You see, sir," he said to Mr. Atherstone, who ac-
companied him, "the first we want to lay our hands
upon in a case of this kind Is a motive. I can't
gather any. The lad seems to have had no enemies
though, of course there must be one s3mewhere ; but
the thing is, it is no common one. I shall have to
stay about here for a eay or two, and see what I can
pick up. Perhaps when Mr. Statman makes his ap-
pearance he may be able to assist me."
The event, as a matter of course, created no little
sensation in the neighbourhood, and before James
Statman was found and brought back to the dying
boy, newspaper reporters and catch-penny illustrators
of sensational periodicals had flocked to the scene
from far and wide, sketching it either in long-winded
paragraphs or execrable woodcuts, according to their
vocation, from every point of view. The police were
busy, too, searching every inch of ground about the
spot where Jack Blogg had been discovered, till not a
square yard was left uninvestigated.

But all to no purpose.
Not a trace remained by which the perpetrator of
the outrage might be brought to justice. There was
no signs of any struggle, though, from the direction
of the wounds, the boy must have been attacked in
front. _

One thing the detective did not tell Mr. Atherstone.
On leaving the Rookery he had been followed by the
doctor who had been called in to attend Jack Blogg.
The detective said nothing till they were out of sight
of the hovel, but then turned sharply to his com-
panion.
"Now, sir," he said. "I can listen to you, if you
please."
"How do you know I have anything to say ?" asked
the doctor.
"I could see it in your face," was the quiet reply.
"We have to pay as much attention to looks as words
in our line, or there'd be no getting on. You know
something."
"Do I?"
"Or you suspect something. It's all the same
thing."
"Not quite. However, it's no use beating about
the bush. I have found out something that I can
make neither head nor tail of. Perhaps you may be
more successful."
"That depends upon what it is, and where it came
from."
"This is what it is," replied the doctor, putting
something into his hand, which the detective looked
at very curiously. "And it came from that poor lad's
clenched fingers. He held it so tightly that I had
great difficulty in getting it out of his clutch.
" H'm. You didn't show it to anyone else.'
"No, nor mentioned anything of the matter. I
thought you would be better able to judge what use
could be made of it."

_
"Quite right, sir," said the detective. "Many a
case spoiled by too much talk. If I might advise you
now I should say nothing at all of this yet awhile.
"Certainly not. Do you think you will be able to
make anything of it ?"
"Well, that depends," replied the other, looking
rather dubiously at what he held. "It's not so bad,
as far as it goes; whether it can be pieced remains to
be seen. I shall do my hest, you may be sure."
"I hope it will lead to a discovery."
"Maybe it will. I don't despair. Not that I can
quite see my way, even now. He's quite a lad—not
up to anything of this sort, I should have thought.
However it's a beginning."
"Only a beginning ?"
"That we may see the end of when the boy
speaks."
The doctor looked grave.

"That will never lie, I am afraid."
" Ah! well, then, when somebody speaks for him.
Likely enough Mr. Jem Statman may give us the
other end of the clue."

CHAPTER L.