Bridport, Beaminster, and Lyme Regis Telegram and Dorset, Somerset, and Devon Advertiser. — 1885-01-23 (Bridport, Dorset, England)

MYBTERIOUB MURDER.  Somewhere in the North Riding of Yorkshire is Darkburet Manor, the ancient residence of the Catholic family of Vanstone. Darkhurst has belonged to the Varuttones from t me immemoriaL When Owen Vanstone succeeded to the family property by the unexpectod death of an elder brother, no one had the faintest idea in what part of the globe he WllB to be found. After a few montes, however, spent in diligent search by private detective,, the new squire WBB discovered in a quiet and out of the way corner of Italy. He was a roving, good-for-nothing vagabond, this Owen, and nobody was much surprised to hear that, while in Italy, ha hail contracted a somewhat undesirable marriage with a daughter of the country. Some people said that she was the discarded wife of a rows nobleman, some alleged she maths daughter of a Calabrian innkeeper, while others want so far as to assert that she was the sifilemi head of a flourishing band of brigands. In due tits* the new heir and his mysterious bride arrived, but witbent the customary 'rejoicings, triumphal arches, and tinging of bells. Venstone had not improved by foreign travel. He looked • good 10 years older than his a_g-. which Mrs. Bell, the housekeeper, knew to be 33. His wife, of coarse, accompanied him, and there was an Italian maid and a cosmopolitan valet. The lady looked tired and cross, but she was certainly very handsome. The few county families in the neighbourhood of Darkburst celled upon the Vanstones. as in duty bound, but their civilities met with very little response. So far as the servants could judge, Vanstone and his wife were affectionate enough after their own fashion. She was marvellously beautiful, and he was sometimes almost extravagant in his devotion. Occasionally, however, there was • violent quarrel, passionate reproaches on his side being followed by outbursts of hysterical weeping on hers, and then for weeks together the two lived apart, speaking but rarely, and meeting on y at meal-times. It was about six months at ter Owen Vanstone bad coins to Darkhurst Cover-shooting was on, and ho had gone so far as to ask two or three friends to help him to slay the pheasants. Cords, the head-keeper, and his assistants had been anxiously watching the well-stocked preserves for weekly, determined that their master's first impression of the sport at Darkhuret should be a good one. Oae evening, early in October, Cords was strolling through the home cover, a quarter of a mile or so from the manor, when he caught sight of • dark form among the trees. The sturdy Yorkshireman at once thought of poachers, and crouched down in the underwood to get a nee look at the 'Vanier. He was a curious sort of poacher. He wore • slouched hat of a kind Cards had never seen, and was wrapped no in a long dark cloak, which left nothing of him visible except • pair of high oots. Cords did tr.t like the look of him at all, and at nee concluded that he must have felonious intentions upon either the pheasants or the plate. 'What art doing yore growled Cords, making a grab at the other's collar. The stranger drew back with oonmiderable agility and a muttered oath. The keeper, nothing daunted, advanced to effect a capture, but the other suddenly produced a long and very unpleasantlooking knife, brandished it in the keeper's eyes, and, as he Imitated an instant dived in the anderwood and disappeared. But pursuit in the gathering darkness was hopeless, and the keeper went on his way feeling exceedingly savage and eomewhat small. Another 200 yards, and the gamekeeper emerged on • long, straight drive leading to the manor. As he did so he started again, and instinctively clutched his stick, for straight in front of him was another figure. But • glum 'Milli" him that this time it was Mr. Vanstone, and not the black-ooated strangler. ' Good evening, sir,' said Cords, have you seen. anybody "t r 'No.' ' I met a qeeerlooking chap in there!, .4 poacher; *Why queerlooting I' asked Var TA he had a black cloak a soft hat, and' Nil Jost n _ a knife too.' You speakslowly -Is thought  Vanstane. i tall Le  on. ... mot a  111t1111