Henderson daily dispatch. (Henderson, N.C.) 1914-1995, 1936-11-20
lO,QDHO UEDS Bay
ERYVVh = ~ WALTER S. MAS TERMAN 90
CHAPTER /


thick bushes that grew down right
to the edge of the lake. Crouch.
ing low among the tall bulrushes,
he looked furtively around.
A dank. unhealthy smell hung
over the shallow reedy waters, and
an evil mist, engendered by the
heat of the day and night cooling,
rose from the surface. A sombre
pile rose from the lake, the ancient
Abbey of Sewerage, silent and for
bidding.
The bright moonlight flooded
the water with a silvery rides
cence, like fairy glamor; but the
walls of the building in contrast
were in deep shadow. where the
full moon shone splendid and
serene above the roofs.
The man sank back among the
busiest would be madness to
cross the bright water until the
moon sank behind the gabled roof,
and, moreover, he had plenty of
time at his disposal.
He lit his pipe, and went
thoughtfully over his carefully
planned preparations. Every de-
tail had been worked out; he had
turned up at the village of Even
den, posing as an idle dilettante
artist searching for beauty spots,
and had been attracted by the
quiet grandeur of the Abbey. He
had put up at the Bull Inn, and
made friends with Hucks. the
landlord; and from that it had
been easy to strike up a friendship
with Colindale, the agent for the
estate, and obtain Sir Henry
Severinge's permission to paint the
Abbey.
The offer to rent cottage on
the estate had given him the OPP
portunity of prolonging his visit,
and an invitation to paint pic
ture of the central courtyard had
enabled him to become well &C
Quainted with the interior. He
chuckled as he recalled his meet
ing at the "Bull' with a real artist
who luckily had done all the talk
ing and had not asked to see his
pictures. He took from his pocket
a plan he had made of the place,
and studied it by the light of the
moon.
Opposite to the place where he
was sitting was the dining room,
and above that Sir Henry's bed
room suite. Away to the right, in
the tower above the gateway, was
Lady Severinge's sitting room, and
beyond that her bedroom. He
Rniled to himself; he had heard all
about this grouping Of rooms. The
square tower showed up gaunt and
black against the sky, with the
tiny fiagpole like pencil, only
used on special occasions-for Sir
Henry was most punctilious in
these matters.
The bridge, which alone con-
nected the Abbey with the
grounds, cast a shadow on the
water, breaking up the silvery
surface.
The small barred window oppo-
site, scarcely three feet above the
water, opened from a cellar-too
damp for use-Where old lumber
was stored. He had explored that
place, and had loosened the old
rusty bars from their sockets in
the crumbling stonework. Yes!
Everything was in order.
Out of the clear night a faint,
eerie, bell-like sound came to his
ears, and heavy frown clouded
his face. Reid knew that sound
only too well-Colonel Graham's
bloodhounds. He had seen them
at exercise; their horrible red
dened eyes and foaming heavy
joWls, and the fierce lifting of the
head when they found" and gave
tongue. He had considered that
danger, and had taken precautions.
They would find nothing of mis-
from which to draw a scent.
He had worked out his scheme.
First he would go to the chapel.
The jeweled cross was renowned
throughout the world, and there
were the gold candlesticks and
vessels. Sir Henry. with perverse
Indifference, had never allowed
them to be removed from tie
altar. After that there was the
valuable old family plate in the
safe. That matter had been neat
ly arranged. He had got the key
from the buffers room and taken
an impression. Now in his pocket
ne had a duplicate key. There
were several articles of value in
the study and dining room that he
would pick up on his way out.
A shadow crossed his face as
though a veil had been drawn, and
he saw that the moon had disap-
scared behind the bumped mass