Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-03-10

/ gether, more than once; in some way
Settle was mixed up in this affair and
was going to know how.
But had another notion-that San
derson and Hewitt had made their es-
cape through the old town hall and
the castle had no doubt. But where
did they go after getting away?
had seen how easily they could-un-
obServed-cross the river, take to the
woods beyond and gain the moors. But
where then? They had disappeared as
completely as If they had been disinte-
grated into so much duStl Were they
hiding at Starrick Priory?
That was another notion had got
after hearing where Settle, as Beckett.
lived, and getting Silverstein's deScrip-
ton OF the place. 1t was out-of-the-
way. Beckett lived alone There would,
doubtless, be ample opportunity for hid
ing two men. It seemed to me that If
l, myself, had been wanting to get
clear away from Barowsburgh, should
f1rSt have taken refuge in this wild
country, made my way through the
widest part of the hills to the other
side, met at some solitary trysting
place a trusty friend with a car, and
thence sped away to, say, Liverpool.
And 1t was my strong suspicion that
some such plan as that had been or
was being followed by the two missing
men.
1T was a glorious evening, that, and
those moors were a delight to cross
From setting foot on the moorland edge
until / had left at least five miles of
heather and twig behind me, never
saw roof or chimney. But, at last,
came to the edge of a deep ravine.
It fell right away from my very feet to
the spot where struck it, and one
quick glance into its depths showed me
the place sought.
Lest there should be any eyes watch
ing from that place dropped instantly
into the thick heather and took long
look at the house. 1t needed but one
glance to show me that this was just
to escape observation or, indeed, cap
ture, would be only too glad to turn.
Beneath me, as I faced due west, was
a deep ravine running north and south;
the southern extremity debouched on
Wraisdale; the northern terminated in
the hills. A wilder, more gloomy, sun
less place than that ravine have rarely
seen; 1t was so situated. and its sides
were so overhanging and precipitouS,
that the suns rays could only penetrate
its receSSeS when the sun itself was
due south, and then, of course, only for
a very short time. Its sides were thickly
covered with masses of pine and FIR:
here and there rock Jutted out; deep
down in the innermost receSses mar
row stream made its way toward the
river in the distance.
But it was not so much at this
ravine and its natural confguration that
I looked as at the pile of buildings
which rose on a spit of fiat land in
its very gloomiest part. knew that to
be Starrick Priory. 1t lay Immediately
beneath me; could almost have
dropped a stone on its roofs. And my
first thought of it was that this was the
most forlorn and deSolate place had
ever seen. It was a miserable, derelict
thing; more forlorn, think than is
the skeleton of a once brave ship found
rotting on some lonely coast. There
was a tower that had once been a
notable landmark, but it was now half
fallen; the nave of the church had
lost its roof; the transeptS were just
crumbled masses of masonry; here and
there tumbled and ShapeleSs heaps
marked where the conventual buildings
had stood.
MY impression was-and it was
strengthened when presently came to
closer quarters with it--that the farm
house had been built, with masonry
taken from the church and cloister,
very soon after the priory had been dis
solved and dismantled, for it looked as
decrepit rs the priory itself. Its build