Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1908-08-22 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

CHAPTER XI. Owen and Peggy had been married a fortnight. The wedding had been a brilliant affair, and the lovely bride was the envy of everyone. Ballyhama had been outdoing itself in hospitality, and now at last Mr Wade and Violet sat at breakfast alone. "They'll be home in a week, Vi; we must give them a welcome. Linch is to be grand, fireworks and all sorts." "I wish they were coming here," said Violet wistfully. 'Are you dull, darling, with the old dad?" he said, tenderly. "No, dad," she cried, brightening up and laughing. "Of course we both miss Peg. Are you dull with only Vi?" "Pert miss," he said, lovingly, "mimicking your old father!" "It's nice to be alone, dad," she said. "Don't let us have any visitors till Christmas." "Why, Vi, you're not ill I hope; well, well; a little rest, perhaps, is good for us all. We'll have a house patty at Christmas and give a ball!" Mr Wade's ideas of retrenching to pay him back had been banished by Owen'( entreating him, as he loved Peggy, never to allude in any way to any money transaction that had passed between thorn. But ho was possessed with some undefined idea ot general economy. He sold some of the timber on his estate; he had no intention of living on his son-in-law. There was plenty of stern stuff in James Wade; his weakness was hospitality; his door was always open, and all were welcome to his table. But pride now prompted him to curtail till next year, when he hoped to do better with his farming, and have money that was his own in halide. A gig drove up to the door. "That's from the Glen, dad," said Violet. In a moment a servant came in with a note for Violet She read it hastily, and passed it to her father. "I knew it, dad; I'll go at once," she said. The letter ran:—  "Honoured madam—MS Violct, excuse me for troubling you, but Larry is ill, near dying.. He says he wants to eee you. Father Faley says to me to send this at once; Larry is raving about having murdered Rialto. I think he's mad.— Yours respectfully-, "M. Rogers, of the Glen Hotel." "Why does he send for you, Vi?" said Mr Wade, when she came back with her hat on. "I'll go with you." "I suspected him, dad, and I think he guessed ft; George Turnbull will be eleaxed now." "Yes, but who doubted him?"  They drove smartly to the Glen, and were shown to a small room where Larry lay dying. Father Faley was there with pen, ink, and paper, on a small table. Larry's eyes shifted when Violet looked at him. "Lose no time," said Father Faley, as he shook h&ncle, "he is sinking fast; the doctor has just left."  "Good-morning, Larry," said Violet, "you sent for me.' • He stared etupidly. "You have something to say, Larry; don't be afraid," the said, gently.  "I done it," he whispered, hoarsely; "I caught her by the neck; he'd 'a done it if I didn't; curse him. She took it. off of me; she caught it in her two hands and tore it off of me." He held up his hands P.nd showed the bare left wriot; he still wore he red mitten on the other.  "State who you murdered," said Father Faley. "Her," he said--" Rialto." "Here put your name to this," said the priest. He tried to eign the paper, but bis hand fell helpless.  "-It's hid by the rock under a. sod; get it, bury' it with me," he caid; "I'm going; where's that paper?" He sat up suddenly; Father Foley put the pen into his hand, and he wrote his name IlowlY• They left him to las priest, and went  By