The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1921-03-04
TODAY.S INSTALNIENT.

TODAY.S INSTAIAIENT.
 ''we were dashing along the smooth white country road with the long stretch of the Breads in front of us glimm mering in the red light of the seUting sun. From a grove upon our left l could already see the high chimneys and the flagstaff which
 marked the squire's dwelling.
 "'Nfy father made the fellow gar dener,' said my companion, and then, promoted to be butler. The house l seemed to be at his mercy, and he wandered about and did what he chose in it. The maids complained ned 1 language. Then dad raised their wages all round to reconGp ense them for the annoyance. The fellow would 1 take the boat and my fathers best gun and treat himself to little shoot ing trips. And all this with such a sneering, 1eering, insolent face that l twenty times over if he had been man of my own age. l tell you, Holmes, I have had to keep a tight ! hold upon myself all this time; and | now I am asking myself whether, if l I had let myself go a little more, might not have been a wiser man. ''WeIl, matters went from bad to | worse with us, and this animal Hud- | son became more and more intrusive, l until at last, his making some in l solent reply to my father in my | presence one day, took him by the | shoulders and turned him out of the room. He slunk away with a livid face and two venomous eyes which | uttered more threats than his tongue l could do. I don't know what pass | ed between the poor dad and him after that, but the dad came, to me | next day and asked me whether l would mind apologizing to Hudson I refused, as you can imagine, and | asked my father how he could allow such a wretch to take such liberties with himself and his household.
 "'Ah, my boy said he, it is all' very well to talk, but you don't know how | am placed. But you shall know, Victor I'll see that you shall know, come what may. You wouldn't believe harm of your poor old father would you, lad? He was was very 1 much moved, and shut himself up in the study all day, where could see through the window that he was | writing busily.
 aThat evening there came what semed to me to be a grand release, | for Hudson told us that he was going to leave us. He walked into the | dining-room as we sat after dinner, and announced his intention in the | thick voice of a half-drunken man. "'"Pye had enough of Norfolk, said he. "PI run down to Mr. Bed does in Hampshire. He'll be as glad l "s''You're not going away in an unkind spirit, Hudson, l hope,' said my father, with a tameness which made my blood boil.
 1 "'''Tve not had my 'pology,' said | he sulkily, glancing in my direction
 Victor, you will acknowledge | that you have used this worthy fel- loTw rather roughly" said the dad, i turning to me. l "On the contrary, I think that | we have both shown extraordinary patience toward him. I answered.
 '''"'Oh. you do, do you?" he snarl- ed. '-Very good, mate We'll see about that!''
 He slouched out of the room. ! and half an hour afterwards left the house. leaving my father in a state l of T1itiable nervousness Night after ] night I heard him pacing his room, and it was just as he was recovering l his confidence that the blow did at | last fall
 "'And how?' I asked eagerly.
 ''' Tn most extraordinary fashion. l A letter arrived for my father yester- | day evening, bearing the F'ordins- bridge postmark. My father read it, clapped both his hands to his head, and began running around the room | in little circles like a man who has been driven out of his senses. When I at last drew him down on to the sofa, his mouth and eyelids were all | puckered on one side, and I saw that he had a stroke pr. Fordham came over at once- We put him to bed; but the paralysis has spread, he has
 
 ness, and 1 think that we shah hardly find him alive.
 '''You horrify me, TrevorI' cried. l What then could have been in this letter to cause so dreadful a result?'
 '' Nothing There lies the inexpli- cable part of it. The message was absurd and trivial. Ah, my God, it is as I feared!'
 ''As he spoke we came round the curve of the avenue, and saw in the fading light that every blind in the house had been drawn down. As we dashed up to the door, my friends face convulsed with grief a gentle man in black emerged from it.
 When did it happen, doctor ?'' asked Trevor.
 l" ".Almost immediately after you left
 Did he recover consciousness ?'\ l tt For an instant before the end.' l Any message for me?'
 1 "'Only that the papers were in the back drawer of the Japanese cabi- net
 My friend ascended with the doc tor to the chamber of death, while remained in the study, turning the head, and feeling as sonrber as ever I had done in my life. What was the past of this Trevor, pugilist, traveller, and go1d-digger, and how had he placed himself in the power of this 1 acid-faced seaman? Why, too, should he faint at an allusion to the half 1 effaced initials upon his arm, and die of fright when he had a letter from I Fordingham? Then I remembered that Fordingham was in Hampshire and that this MT. Beddoes, whom the seaman had gone to visit and pre-