The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1887-08-13 00:00:00

'My dear child,' he said, and she saw that the tears
were standing in his eyes. She had never quite
realised how dear Frank was to him or to herself till

now.
Bow good of you to come,' she said. •We hardly
expected you till to-morrow.'
'A could not rest; my dear;
.the.mattetk-hecolping
too grave to neglect. It is a more tangled skein than
ever.'
Yoq have heard all we have to tell you, then r

Yes.'
' How ?'
'I stopped at the police office as I came along, and
I have teen the boy. It was out of order and irregular,
but I was p•ivilegeO, I suppose.'
'and what do you think? I cannot believe that
Barney Grubb would hurt Frank.'
I could not have believed it a few days ago; now
lam puzzled. The boy evidently knows something.
One thing the po ice seem pretty sure of, and that is
that the man's going away was a blind—that he never
left the neighbourhood.'
Who says so?'
That I have not learned. He was seen by some-
one.'
I don't believe it,' Helen said. Whatever has
happened to poor Frank has been no doing of his. I
have not seen much of Barney Grubb, but I believe
him to be an honest man; and he had no grudge
against Frank.'
Thr re is evidence enough to arrest him, my dear,
and they will do it. Confronted with the boy, perhaps
someth ng may be got out of them.'
No one slept much at Fern Bank that night. Mrs.
Churchill placed a room at Mr. Jarvis's disposal, but
they sat talking far into the night, unable to think of
test. Helen had a few minutes alone with her guardian
before they finally retired to their rooms, and he asked
her about Madge, and how she was bearing the
terrible fear that was upon them all.
Poor child,' he said, when Helen had told him of
Madge's prostration and grief. It is all the sadder
ft r her that she seems to have no right to mourn as
we do. Will she speak of it to her mother now, do
you think?'
I fancy not. She seems to feel as though she had
done something very wicked in spite of her happiness.
There would have to be such a lot of explanttion ; it
had better remain as it is, She broke
down and covered her face with her hands. She had
been going to say, 'till Frank comes back to speak for
himseif,' but the words died on her lips; she could
not speak his name with unfaltering accents, and she
sobbed for a moment unrestrainedly.
We won't despair yet,' he said, quietly. Madge
is right, perhap,, not to speak now. There will be
Verify of time by-and-bye. We will sleep on our
troubles' Helen. We may have need of all our
strength to-morrow. Frank may have met with some
terrible accident, and we may have to nurse him back
to health and strength. Heaven grant it is nothing
worse.' _

I seem to be losing all hope,' Helen said. She was
worn out. Now, with the advent of some one to lean
on, as it were, she had broken down and cried as if
her heart were breaking. She went to bed as she was
bidden, feeling that she could not close her eyes, and
fell into a deep sleep almost before she knew her head
was on the pillow. Nature was merciful, and came to
her relief, giving her the uourage and strength to face
another day.
Meanwhile the police were busy. Barney's hut was
being watched, but Barney was not there; he was only
out in the wood trying to catch a Certain oddly-marked
rabbit that had been coveted by Jack for many a long
day; but of course his absence was construed into
meaning something. Had the men in search of him
known it, they passed within a few feet of him in
their exploration of the neighbourhood of the old
shaft, and be bestowed some not very complimentary
observations upon them for the noise they made as
they rustled about and startled the wild things in the
wood out of their wits by their untimely visit.
Jack's father had been to the station as a matter of
duty now that his son was in trouble, but sorely
against his will; he had seen his son and given him a
piece of his mind about his present position and his
general wickedness, and he had solemnly sworn that be
had seen Barney Grubb in the wood on the night of
the disappearance of Mr. Hatherleigh. He had not
only seen him, but spoken to him, and he was quite
sober at the time, he declared.
I had not had anything but a mug of ale.' he said
with virtuous indignation, when someone hinted that
he might have been drunk and so fancied a resem-
blance to the absent Barney. I never was soberer in
my life, and I spoke to him. He was slinking by as if
he didn't walk% to be seen, and he spoke to me back
again very surly like; he wasn't best pleased that I
saw hm. I could see that he was up to something.'
Up to somthing ! Up to murder, if Donovan's state-
ment was correct. The police had found terrible evi-
dence that Frank Hatherleigh had also been in the
wood on the same night; a cane with a silver top and
his monogram engraved on it was left amongst the
bracken round Girton's Hole, and there were marks of
trampling f( et, and a scrap of cloth with a button
attached to it, that had evidently been torn away
from the coat in the struggle. Helen Ramsay knew the
cloth and the button when the scrap was shown to her,
it was part of a coat she had rallied Frank on wearing
many a time; it was somewhat eccentric looking, and
the buttons were peculiar; it had been made at Hill-
ford, and the tailor was ready to swear to his materials
and his work.