The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1878-05-02

that Of my little daughter Sybel. who
accompanied us. We stopped on the
10th day of June, 49,, at Allonby's for
the night, and occupied adjoining rooms.
[ was tired and weak, and retired early.
Willoughby declared he distrusted our
host; but / smiled at the idea. Lord
John carried a leather bag filed with
guineas, and the innkeeper accidentally
entered his room as Willoughby placed It
under his pillow. Allonby begged par
don, and Willoughby got into bed, after
fastening the door. About 2 o'clock. I
heard heartrending moan. I tried to
rise, but for a moment could not do so.
Again that groan, and, dragging myself
to the door, I beheld Allonby carrying my
murdered friend down the stairs. The
blood was running freely from stab in
the breast, and his night-shirt was Grim
son with gore. With sort of horrible
fascination I crept on after the innkeep-
er. He went down-down-down into
the dungeon, and II followed him on.
/ saw them dig a grave in one corner of
this horrible room, and then, with his
wife's help, he threw the body into it.
Then they both went to work, and the
dirt fell with dull, heavy thud into the
grave. Finally it was done, and long
mound OF fresh earth lay heaped in the
corner. When it was done, I sank back
in the shadow Of the iron steps and
groaned, faint with horror. The guilty
couple glanced hastily around, but did
not see me, and they ran up the steps,
and I heard the door close with heavy
jar. Now, I have exhausted nay feeble
strength in attempting to open the great
door. / have screamed until the sound
Of my voice has become terror. The
pangs of thirst and hunger warn me that
il help does not arrive shortly I shall
become like that still, inanimate thing
beneath yonder heap of earth. I fear for
the fate of my child, and by the light Of
the fast-dying lamp I beseech and pray
you to whom this MS. May fall that you
leave no stone unturned to learn her fate.
and bring to justice Hugh Allonby and
his wife, whom I here solennly charge
with the murder of Lord John Willough-
by, of Willoughby Hall. Here, in my
living tomb, by the grave Of that MUIR
dered friend, [ bid the world last fare
WE'LL"
The journal dropped from Ormsby's
hand, and he sprung excitedly to his
feet.
"We must act, gentlemen, and that
Immediately. [ shall offer reward for
Allonby's arrest, and send kilograms to
Ashmorelands and Willoughby Hail."
"Be still r said Ned, putting his
hands to his head. 'sHere is Hugh AL
lonby's address; have him brought to
justice as soon as possible. The Baro-
nets daughter is living with them as
their own child; so it will not be diff.
cult to find her. In the meantime, the
widow Of the murdered Lord must be ap-
prised I am positive that Lady Ash
more did not survive the disappearance
OF her husband year. remember the
hue and cry made at the time"
Lady Willoughby arrived on the fifth
day, and with few friends went down
into that gloomy dungeon where so long
a time the murdered body of her hus-
band had slept that last sleep. Two
handsome collins contained all that was
left of those SO dear to the living.
The day that Sybel was reinstated in
the house of her fathers saw the inn
keeper and his guilty wife hanging on
the gallows. Retribution, though late,
had come to them at last.
i i *
A year later, and the old church bells
rang out a merry wedding peal, and
down its wide, old aisles fled a wedding
party. Standing where the broad
beams of the sun shone on them through
the stained-glass panes, and where from
the altar the sublime perfume of rare
flowers that carpeted their way filled the
air with fragrance, the white-haired
priest bound them together, and Sybel.
daughter of the Baronet of Ashmere
lands, became the wife of the bankers
heir.