Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1891-03-14
locked and barricaded the door as il

afraid; his hereditary calm of mind was
shaken, not so much with horror at
murderous deed, as with CONSERVATION
that his lifelong secret had been discov-
cred 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 back to the cave until
he had quite recovered his equanimity
that was out of the question. Even by
daylight he avoided the spot with holy
horror. Only in his dreams. which were
dark and troubled, did he visit ito
see the face of the murdered man in the
darkness, and the hand of the murdered
man pointing at him with cold, decay
ing finger.
The day after the murder he had been
greatly unsettled by visit from Tim
Linney, who demanded news of his
master, and said that he had not return
ed to the caravan all night. Tim seem
ed greatly troubled, but gave vent tono
very violent ebullitions Of grief. When
he was gone Matt sat by the fireside,
and looked long and keenly at William
Jones.
What are you staring att" cried he,
lidgeting uneasily under her gaze.
"Nowt," said Matt; II were only won
dering'
Then don't go wondering" exclaim-
ed the good man rather inconsistently.
. You mind your own business, and don't
be fool"
And he turned testify and gazed at
the fire. But Matt, whose eyes were
full of a curious light, was not to be
abashed.
Amt you well, William Jones" she
asked.
I'm we'll enough--I am"
Its queer, amt 1t, that the painter
chap never come homer
How should know" growled Will
liam. Maybe he's gone back to where
he come from"
"Or maybe he's drowned? Or maybe
summat else has happened to him"
suggested Matt.
Never mind him, my gal. He's all
right. never fear. And if he amt, it's
no affair O. yours, or mine neither. You
go along out and play"
Matt went out as directed. and it was
some hours before she returned. She
found her guardian seated in his old
place by the fire, looking at vacancy.
lie started violently as she entered. and
made a clutch at the rude piece of ships
iron which served as a poker.
BE it you. MattY lor', how you
startled me! / were-I were--taking a
doze."
I've been up yonder," said Matt.
"Up wheerg"
up to the painter chaps cart. lie
amt come back; and the man Is search
ing for him all up and down the place."
Fortunately it was very dark, so that
she could not see the expression of her
hearers face. She walked TO the fire.
place, and, taking box of lucifers from
q lodge, began to procure light, with
the view of igniting the rushlight dxed
to the table. But in moment William
blew out the match and snatched the
box from her.
What are you doin' OFF, he cried.
Wasting the matches, as if they cost
nowt. You'll come TO the workus afore
you're done.'
The days passed, and there was no
news of the absent man. Every day
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eyes were red, too, as if she had been
crying.
Whats the matter now?' demanded
William, who had left his usual seat
and was standing at the door.
"Nowt," said Matt, wiping her eyelids
with the back of her hand.
Don't you tell no lies. You've heerd
summat? Stop! What's that theer un-
der your army
All at once he had perceived that she
carried large roll OF something wrap
ped in brown paper. lie took 1t from
her and opened it nervously. 1t was
the crayon portrait of herself executed
by the defunct artist.
-Who gave you this here?' cried Will
liam Jones, trembling more than ever.
Tim
who's her
Him as come looking arter his mas
ter. The painter chap amt found; and
now Tins goin' away in the cart to tell
his friends. And he gave me this--my
pictur'; he gives me it to keep. His
master said l were to have it; and
mean to keep it now he's dead!"
William Jones handed back the pict-
ure, and seemed relieved, indeed, when
1t was out of his hands.
aDeady he muttered, not meeting
Mats eyes, but looking right out to
sea. who told you he were deadT'
Matt did not reply, but gazed at Will
liam so long and so significantly that
the good man, conscions other scrutiny,
turned and plunged into the darkness
of his dwelling.
An hour later loud voice summon
ed him forth. He went to the door,
and there was Monk Of Monkshurst. 1t
was the first time they had met since
they parted on the night of the murder.
Monk was dressed in a dark summer
suit. and looked unusually spick and
span.
Where's the girl?' he cried, after
whispered colloquy of some minutes.
Matt, where are your
In answer to the call Matt appeared
at the door. No sooner did she perceive
Monk than she trembled violently, and
went very pale.
Come here, Matt" he said, with an
insinuating smile. See! I've brought
something for you-something pretty
for you to wear"
As he spoke he drew from his waist
coat pocket small gold ring. set with
turquoise stones. But Matt still trem-
bled, and shrank away.
Il don't want it'll sha'n't wear it,
she cried.