The citizen., 1897-06-11
.OnIv a Missing NJ"
GGGGG GGGGGs

conveyed to me news that considerably
shocked me. My old friend and client,
Sir Douglas Renwood, was dead, and
the letter announcing the sad intelli-
oence was from his nephew, and ran
thus:
60 Cottage, Staines, June 1.-Dear Mr..
ceary: l have to inform you of the sad
death Of my uncle. He passed away at ten
o,clock last night. 1t was all terribly sud
Gen. He caught violent chill last week,
which developed into Inflammation of the
lungs, We sent for DR.. Holmes, the leading
Doctor here, but he could do no good, and
tbe end came last evening.
~ write to you because think it desira-
ible that you, as the leading family adviser,
Should come down here at once to arrange
Tor the funeral, and also to go into other
matters connected with my poor uncles
eS'a''' MARK RENwooD."
"Aha!" said l to myself, as 1 con-
'cluded the reading of the letter, "the
lotber matters which Mr.. Mark refers
Ito are closely connected to himself.
he is the next of kin. Douglas died
unmarried. This means 10000 year
to my young friend"
l then proceeded to continue my
work of opening the morning letters,
and, finding that there was nothing of
urgent Importance therein, 1 deter
mined to act on Mark Renwood's sug-
pestion and go down to Staines with
out delay.
I sent for my head clerk and told
him of my intention, bidding him also
to find out when there was train from
TIo eoo,,
information that could catch a good
one at 1890, and 1 accordingly drove to
Kensington and collected what l re-
ouired for the journey, and an hour
later was seated in a first-class car
riage on my way to Staines.
had announced my coming by tele-
graph from Paddington, and I was
therefore not surprised to find young
Renwood waiting for me when alight-
ed.
He was tall, thin young man, with
strong aquiline features and small, gray
eyes. had known him since he was at
Eton, and he held out his hand to me
with a cordial smile.
81 am delighted to see you come so
soon. Mr.. Geary," he said, speaking in
hearty tone, "but 1 wish you had
come on more joyous business. This is
q sad affair, indeed"
sad enough" rejoined, 'and yet we
must all die some day or other-else
where would the young ones come in?"
The cottage was about half a mile
from the station, and our journey took
us along the river bank. AS we passed
the boathouse on the slope, he said, in
low voice:
This is the spot where my poor uncle
contracted the chill which caused his
end. He and were walking along this
path one evening, when we heard cry
for help, and the next moment child's
head appeared above the water. 1, of
course, would have plunged in, but, as
you have perhaps noticed, am suffer-
ing from temporary sprain, and could
not swim an inch. My uncle, knowing
this, threw off his coat, and, swimming
to the spot where the child was fast
sinking, rescued it just as the young
ster came up for the third time"
This DR.. Holiness" queried, "was
he really good man?"
81 believe he is the best doctor in
these parts. Had known things were
so serious l would have wired to town
for our own man, but never dreamed
that such was the case"
Poor old gentleman" 1 said. "And
he was to have been married soon, was
he not?"
"Yes. That is the oldest part of the
business. He looked forward so much
to giving up the state of bachelordom
in which he had lived, and now-well,
Eit's no use talking of the past"
! "All the same," l could not help re-
marking, dryly, sit is not such ter
rible thing for you that this marriage
did not take place. Had it done so
there might have been an heir to the
estate, who would have cut you out most
completely"
He looked up with hasty glance.
"0h, Mr.. Geary," he said, II cannot
think of things like that at time like
this. My uncle was father TO me,
and better than many fathers. am
well-nigh stunned by the blow-money
matters just now seem to me very
small, indeed"
well, WELL" said, somewhat testify,
"we cannot do without money, whether
we think of it or not. But here we are
at - cottage, for, suppose, this is
the place."
This is the place." he answered.
Come in"
l followed him into the cottage and
up the stairs, until we came to the
room where the dead baronet lay.
| went slowly toward the bed on
which my poor old friend and client
rested, and. drawing aside the sheet
which covered the dead face, took a
last long look on the features knew
SO we'll.
l was reused from my reflections by
the entrance of young Renwood, who
came up to the bedside and pulled out
his cigar case, several papers dropping
from his pocket at the time.
Have a cigar!" he said, as stopped
pick up the papers, and then, seeing
shade of annoyance that / could not
1nceal cross my face at the thought
smoking at such time and in such
place, he said, hastily: perhaps we'd
tier not smoke, though; it's hardly
cent in q room with death in it,"
His sudden glow of proper feeling did
It impress me and merely handed
1hn the papers he had dropped in 81