Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1899-08-05 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

CHAPTER 11. A A rATIC/013 OIRCrIVITANCE.  Crowhurst Hall preaented a sombre appearance as Robert Graham walked up the carriage way I leading to the side entrance of tbe old-fashioned house. All the blinds were drawn closely down. They were white, and the eight of them appalled him. What a great silencer is death! All was quiet, monotonously still, save for the bleating of the sheep in the adjacent pastures and the trilling of a few birds remaining in the true. These sounds were gladly welcome. The only thing in nature which seemed to speak of death Was the soughing of the wind in the trees, which with their leafy tongues ;seemed to have lent themselves ' to sad refrain. Robert had not gone alone. His father would not listen to his entreaty that he should return ' home without him. They encountered the head I gardener. who looked like a man who had just lost his but friend—it was the look of a mother who had jut loot by death her angel babe—of the wife bending over the dead form of her husband. It partook also of a kind of horror which, not very marked, but mingling with a sincere sorrow, showed itself as an outward expression of extreme regret scarcely met with in the most tender natures. Hey yer heerd," he said, addressing Robert Graham, "We hey lost the good old man!" and tears began to couree down his large bony face. "He wax a good friend to me, lie continued, without waiting for an answer. "Ay, to ivery. body. But I'll Mayer believe he did it hisself.' "Did what?" exclaimed Robert. "Committed suicide," replied the servant. "That's what they may." "Good heavens! It is impossible!" Robert stood awhile before he ventured to enter the house. His father bad already entered; he WU the family solicitor. Robert's attention was attracted to a youth who stool some fifty yards away across the wide lawn. His was a tall, slim figure, and Robert noticed him emerge from be. hind clump of trees, and then disappear again as it he were playing hide and seek with some imaginary person. Robert began to take a mental inventory of the youth. and he felt pity for his abject appearance,. When the youth saw he was the object of such marked attention he stepped once more into the shadow of the trees. Robert thought the act suspicious, and drew the attention of the gardener to the circumstance. It was such a singular thing that a young fellow who must have measured full rix feet in his etockinge should shrink from the gaze of a comparative stranger. Robert had never seen Miriam's cousin before. But the next moment the young man walked leisurely out from behind the trees, per- I ceiving. perhaps, that he had caused the attention of the gardener and James to be concentrate-I on his actions. "Oh, that is Sir John's nephew—his heir. He is now Sir Thomas." "Oh, that is Miriam's cousin?" " Yell. He's a disgrace to the family, sir-that's wot he is. He was disgraced at college. , and he's led a life of dissipation since he left it. Poor Sir John has been sorely troubled wi' him at times. Only the other night he turned up and told a pitiful tale to the baronet about his poverty and his debts' and his need of resources —ay. that's wot he called it. Thomas,' says the baronet, 'you shall not have another penny. When I die you will have my title. I cannot I withhold that. But I'll take good care you don't get my money. I'll have my will altered I this week! That's what Sir John told me, too, sir. There wee a mightly row. The old baronet did storm. I'll tell you, and I think he had good , reason. And for this to occur on Miss Miriam's wedding-day is too horful to oontemplate!" "Oh!" exclaimed Robert. " I shall send for a detective, if I think it is necessary. I suspect him somehow. He is acting strangely, if not guiltily. Anyhow, we'll see!" He then entered the hall. Sir John's widow was bearing her great trial with fortitude; but Miriam was ill, and great fears were held regard- I ing her condition. "Who is the tall younge gentleman walking in the ground just now, your ladyship? I've been told that he is the successor of Sir John." Yea, you have been correctly informed, Robert. lam more than mortified that the grand old hall, the birthplace and heritage of such a noble man as Sir John should pees into such unworthy hands." "It may not!" said Robert. suggeCively. "What is that you say" asked Lady Craytheme, in tones of surprise. "I say it may not pus into his hands." repeated ftobert. "What reasons have you for that opinion." "Never mind, your ladyship. I'll keep that to myself at present. Only I suspect that nephew of yours. Ile is guilty of some evil thing, I can plainly sec that. He was dodging behind trees just now, and only came out of obscurity , when he •saw he was the object of my attention. I am going to send for a detective. There's no harm in it, if nothing come. of it. But I cannot !believe that Sir John took his own life. Oh. nu! He was not that kind of man at all. Made lof different stuff to that. And if h. did not, I ROMP one must have murdered hirer'  replied Lady Crsythorne. "It is enly too evident that my husband took his life. for lie left behind him a letter -a letter written when he must hare been mad. Sir John must hare had temporary attack of insanity. My head whirls Excuse me, I must attend to Miriam. You can do a: you think beat, Robert," said her Ladyship, and withdrew.