The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle. — 1885-11-28 (Stourbridge, West Midlands, England)

CHAPTER XXXII. JUDGMENT. GEORGE INGESTRE laughed grimly when lie heard Miss Wace and his daughter had left the house to look for Ross, and had not yet returned. He sat down to a solitary breakfast, and gave vent to his irritation by flinging an egg at Domingo's woolly head, because it was a trifle over-boiled. Then Maxall came down, and was proportionately astonished to see his guardian pouring out his coffee, and three empty seats all round; and still more astonished to hear where the occupants that should have been were gone. He lifted his dark brows with a look of intense disdain, and said lie thought it hard lines indeed when a fellow could not be out all night if he chose, without having all the women in the house running after him in the morning. "That's all very well; but I'll not have the boy out all night, Mr. Max., nor you either, while you are under my roof. Give me that cream ewer. Why, how your hand shakes !—drinking last night, eh ? " Maxall indignantly repelled the charge. Drinking, indeed! did his guardian mean to insinuate that he was in the habit of tetting drunk? George Ingestre chipped his egg all round, and then replied. "I tell you what it is, Maxall : you visit the Ingestre Arms' too often for your reputation; that is, if you want to keep one for sobriety. I've been told by several people that you do go there too often, and take too much brandy when you are there. Now. I don't want to be harsh with you What's that? Who's that at the door ? " A feeble scratching sound at the handle, like that of a child's grasp, unable to turn it. And then it opened, and Cleland came in, idiotic and staring, her face ghastly white, her clothes stained with blood. "Father, come and see him. Come with me and see him !" "Good Heavens! what is the matter with the child? There is blood on you. Cle--girl--blood, I  say ! " "Yes, be is all blood! Come and see; it's in the hall." He rushed past her, and Maxall shrank back into the furthermost corner of the room. Rushed on, what to see? Stretched on a gate, lifted from its hinges, and now laid on the floor, covered decently with cloths, save only his poor face, his boy Ross—something which • had scarcely the form of humanity now, so mangled was it with shot. " Dead ! dead!" was the dismal cry of those all round. No need to tell him that. The shock was too great. He staggered back, and without a word fell heavily to the ground. And there he lay, with the weeping and wailing of all the household round about him; with strange faces flocking in from the stables and grounds—farm labourers, neighbours, villagers, all horror-struck and filled with terror. There he lay, close to the body of his dead son, and utterly unheeded by all, save the woman who had quietly lifted his head into her lap as he lay there, and now wiped the cold sweat from his lips and brow. When George Ingestre opened his wild eyes they rested on hers. He muttered the dead boy's name, and then staggered to his feet. "Take me away, Catherine," he said; "lead me from this dreadful sight. 0 God! my son, my son! Dead—dead! Murdered for the in of his father! I see it all. I see God's hand in it. My boy! my boy ! " (To be continued.j  Wife: You don't tell me that Prof. X. has been struck dumb? Husband: Yes, last night. And he was master of seven languages. Wife: Is it possible? And was he struck dumb in all the seven? "Some people have got no feelia's of humanerty a tall," growled a disgusted tramp to his partner. " Whaes the row ?" asked the partner. " Wy, them durn people up at that house on the hill set the'r dog on me." "Is that all?" in a strong tone of disappointment. 'No, it aint." "What else did they do ?" 'W y, the durn hound hung on to my pants as I was trying ter git away, an I drug him down the bill, an I'm a bog if the whole family didn't git after me with clubs an things, bawling at every jump Bring back that dog! bring back that dog!' as if I was wanting to steal their clang cur. That's what makes me feel like going clean back on the Christian religion and whooping her UP for Bob Ingersoll."IV-ere/rant Traveller.