Our Serial Story.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2610, 18 September 1909, Page 1 (Supplement)

Our Serial Story.

By Fergus Hume.

CHAPTER 111

“GIVE A DOG A BAD NAME—.” When the proprietor of the “Midnight Sun” requested his editor to send a smart journalist to Bruntlea, to report on the beauties of the place, and dilate on the same in the paper, he little knew what sort of an article would appear in print. In fact, he need not have troubled—as it appeared later—about going to the expense of employing one of the “Midnight Sun’s” staff, for next day every newspaper in London had reporters all over the place, prepared to advertise Bruntlea for nothing. On the night. of, the murder Wain was tho sole member of the Fourth Estate in the dull little suburb: but next afternoon there were at least fifty. That same evening (Bruntlea leaped into fame, and by the end of the week it was known sensationally throughout the length and breadth of the three kingdoms. But all this time Wain did not put pen to paper. Of course, as a journalist, he was keen upon sending in a flaming article as written by an evo-witness; but in the first place Ben-Ezra could scarcely be pre-judgcd in his own newspaper, and; in the second Wain was not satisfied —after hearing the Jew’s defence—that the man was as guilty as appeared at first. Being a cautious man by reason of foreign travel and the tumbling in and out cf many scrapes, Wain concluded to wait events, having Napoleon’s opinion as regards the value of time. Lying in bed the next day, he drank the tea which lie had ordered, and considered the statement made by Ben-Ezra to Inspector Quill. That the officer had treated the whole statement as a lie was no business of Wain’s. “Sir Giles Dove”—this was the statement, as far as Wain’s brain could recall details heard by a weary man—- “ Sir Giles Dove wished to buy Tanbuck Hall from me, as a family seat. He offered a good price twelve months ago, but, for reasons which I don’t feel called upon to explain, I declined to sell. Sir Giles, being a pertinacious man, only became the more determined to buy, and I refused to deal with him. For eleven months he pestered me with offers, and finally, because he could not get what he wanted, became my deadly enemy and spread scandalous reports about me.” “What were the reports?” Inspector Quill had asked. “Anyone in Bruntlea will tel] you,” Ben-Ezra had replied. “However, I took no notice of ill talk, as we Jews are used to harsh judgments. Then last week Sir Giles wrote requesting me to receive him at Tanbuck Hall on Wednesday evening at seven o’clock, as he had something particular to tell me. I received him, hoping to ask him to hold his scandalous tongue. He then told me that ho knew something about my past which frivould not like to be known, and stated that unless I eold him Tanbtick Hall at his own price he would make things so hot foxmo that I would have to leave Bruntlea.”

At this point Wain recollected that Ben-Ezra had refused to explain the particular scandal which tho deceased hoped to spread unless he got his own way. The Jew kept closely to the point, which was to explain his innocence. He declared that Sir Giles left him shortly after eight o’clock., swearing to ruin him. Ben-Ezra —as he stated—then closed the French window, out of which Sir Giles had stepped on to the terrace, and, leaving the drawingroom still lighted up, had gone to his study at the back of the house. “I was there for at least half-an-hour,” went on the Jew, so far as Wain remembered, “and then heard a shot, apparently coming from the direction of the drawing-room. I ran hastily back, but found the room empty and the windows still closed. As I ran I heard two other shots. I went to the French window and opened it, only to find Sir Giles lying dead and a revolver, which I saw to be mine, placed beside him. I picked up the revolver, after ascertaining that Sir Giles was dead, and while holding it and wondering who had used it, I heard voice-:. I called out for help at once, and Mr Wain came up the steps along with Dawkins, the policeman, whem I know. That is all I have to say.” And, as Wain reflected, that Avas all the Jew did say or would say, although Inspector Quill plied him with questions. Beyond a constant reiteration that he was innocent and did not know who had killed his enemy, Ben-Ezra wo\ild cay nothing. Quill, therefore, • took him in charge and marched him to tho police station. While the master of Hie- Hall passed the night in a cell, the great mansion Avas looked after by four constables, who took care that none of the three Avomen living therein should leave the place. As for , Wain, after he had explained why he came to be with Dawkins, and had given his card and address, ho AA r as permitted to return to the Princess Hotel. Xoav he Avas considering the facts of the strange case. In recalling the soliloquy of the dead man when in. the avenue, Wain was certain that he did not expect to be murdered' by the Joav, although he had

q —— 1 "The Jew’s House,” |

Author of the “ Mystery of a Hansom Cab, ” “ The Yellow Holly, ” “ Tho Mandarin’s Fan, ” “ The Sealed Message, ” etc., etc., etc. •J* (All Bights Deserved) "S' A

muttered something about Ben-Ezra having been ready to kill him when reminded of the shady past. Besides, if Sir Giles had been afraid that BenEzra’s temper would get the better of him, he certainly would not have gone back to the Hall. Of course, lie might have so exasperated Ben-Ezra that the Jew might have shot him in blind rage. But in that case the man would not have been such a fool as to be found holding the very weapon with which the crime had been committed. Between the time of hearing their voices, and the arrival of Wain and Dawkins, there was plenty of time to fling away the incriminating weapon.

Moreover, were,. Ben-Ezra• guilty, he assuredly would not have tried to weave a rope for his own hanging by stating that he alone had the key- of the gates, small and large. Finally, seeing that Ben-Ezra could have secured the silence of Sir Giles about his past and have made a profit on selling Tanbuck Hall, it was ridiculous to think that he would close the old millionaire’s mouth by death. From what Wain had seen of his employer, he judged the Jew to be a singularly level-headed man, who did not act rashly. Yet what could have been more rash than to have shot a man he was known to dislike, on the very threshold of his home? That is, if Tanbuck Hall could be called BenEzra’s borne, which Wain doubted. So far as he could learn,, the Jew kept it as a kind of show place, and, although he paid weekly visits to* it, certainly did not live there.

But, however much Wain might doubt the guilt of Ben-Ezra, tins hard facts of the case were undeniable. The Jew had been found standing over tho corpse with a revolver in his band. Three shots had been heard, and three chambers of the revolver proved to be empty. Moreover. Sir Giles and BenEzra were bitter enemies, and, by the Jexv’s own confession, the dead man knew of something likely to prejudice him still further in the eyes of the world, which >be had threatened to make public! tJTho evidence—as Wain admitted to himself—was dead against the Hebrew. ■ The sole thing to be done, if Wain wished to prove his faint belief —and it was faint—that the Jew was innocent, was to go out and learn all he could of the usurer’s past life. After a good breakfast, the journalist sallied forth in quest of information, and found that the fog of the previous night had rolled up like a curtain to reveal the beauties of Bruntlea. Otic of those •sudden changes in the weather, characteristic of England, had taken place, and where there had been greyness and mist and gloom was now blue skies, bright, sunshine, and balmy air. But the unfortunate Jew, who would have enjoyed the change as much as Wain did, was in a prison cell, while his name was being vilified in street and house. Many people openly rejoiced over the catastrophe which had overtaken their declared enemy, and few seemed to think of the bereaved Dove family, whose head had suddenly and violently been removed. All that day Wain travelled from pothouse to market, from market to shop, from! shop to various street corners, until lie fetched up at the police station. That he drank more liquor than his stomach approved of mattered very little, in the face of the wonderful information ho acquired, for Wain knew how strong drink oils the hinges of the tongue. But in this especial instance alcoholic bribery was scarcely necessary, as everyone was ready to expose BenEzra’s rascalities. These were many and deliberate. The Jew was looked upon as a sort cf paund-of-flesh Shy lock in the suburb he had created, and was regarded more, as a vampire than as a benefactor. It seemed, from tho veracious tales of the inhabitants, that Ben-Ezra had appeared from nowhere thirty years before, and had been received in the then village* in anything but an amiable manner. The unsophisticated villagers, said tradition, did not approve of Jews, being too good Christians to do so. Ben-Ezra, it was rumored, canqe from some outlahdisli country beyond the Channel. It was certain, at least, that he could scarcely speak tho Queen’s English, and, moreover, was an ugly black-visaged creature, made to be the sport of putty-complexioned beings. He brought a pretty girl' with him, whom he declared to be his sister, but as she was foreign, also, the villagex-s treated her as badly as they did her brother. “We’d ha’ tarred an’ feathered ’em both,” said an aged survival from the original Bruntlea, to Wain, “but that General Ashton got soft on them beastly furrein folk. He lived at Tanbuck Hall, did tho General, and was our squire, as his family had bin there for hundreds of years. But, the Genera], he horse-whipped them as wanted to chuck tho furreiners front/ the village, and gave ’en i a cottage on his land, where they pigged it for a year.” “And then?” asked Wain, wondering at the prejudice against two unfortunate creatures, who apparently had done nothing harmful. "Then Benjamin—we allays called the Jew Benjamin, though he clipped the name hisself,” explained the an-

cient; “well, sir, Benjamin took his sister away, as she couldn’t go into tho villago without being stoned—and sarvo her right for being a furrein Hebrew. In two years Benjamin/ come back 1 without her, and set up an office to lend money.” “You tolerated him then,” observed Wain, sarcastically. “Being useful to us, we did,” admitted the oldest inhabitant, simply. “There wasn’t much money about in them days, nigh on thirty years ago. Benjamin, he lent money out on interest, and sold up them asj couldn’t pay. In fifteen years he held nearly all tho land hereabouts, and none of us dare say words, he having us under his thumb, as you might say.” “Retribution,” rmittered Wain; then asked aloud, “Bruntlea is only fifteen years old, I understand.” “Aye, the new town, that is, sir. When Benjamin got tho land, he advertised the place in them Lunnon papers, and built! shops and villas and such like. Folk came to live here, and”—the aged man' waved his hand to the four quarters of the world — “well, you see what’s come of Benjamin’s roguery, sir.” Wain protested. “He seems to have been more a benefactor to tho district than a rogue. Ho has made your rustic desert to bloom like a rose, and has joined you to London. To BenEzra is due this flourishing community.”

“We didn’t want no flourishing,” grunted the ancient, “being content with what us had. Nearly all the villagers as I can remember have died out, and these Lunnon clerks have took dieir places. Benjamin’s the .king of this here place, sir, and we ain’t free Englishmen any longer. Blast him, say I, an’ may he swing for the dog he is.”

“Come! come! you are too hard on tho man. W’hat he did was in the way of legitimate business.” “Swindlin’ and crushing his betters,” growled the other savagely, “an’ an evil-hearted Jew at that, sir. If you heard the story of how ho ruined General Ashton, now —” “Tell it to me.” /

“Not I, sir, as my dinner’s waiting, and I be too old to go wi’out food. But I will say as General Ashton saved Ills life and by way of repayment he sucked the old Squire’s blood, and ruined the family.” The'ancient retreated to hobble home to dinner, but threw a senteixce over his shoulder, “Ask anyone about the Jew’s house.”

Wain puzzled over this cryptic remark. He had seen the three rooms inhabited by Ben-Ezra, which were over a shop in the High-street. One room was a bed-room, one a sitting and diningroom, and the third was his offi-

cial sanctum, wherein he conducted his large business. But these three rooms, individually or collectively, could scarcely be called the Jew’s House, so Wain asked the question several times during the afternoon. Finally he received an answer, but did not get it easily. Even though Ben-Ezra was in prison and in danger of his life, everyone appeared to be afraid to say too much. The Jew was vilified on general grounds, but few people seemed anxious to be over-explicit. Wain gathered that most of the Bruntlea inhabitants were in Ben-Ezra’s power, and so felt that it behoved them! to be cautious. Tlie outcry against tho man was general, but those who stated facts were iew*and far between, perhaps because they thought that Ben-Ezra would win, and, when free, court them for libel. However, Wain discovered one free and jovial soul who did not owe money to the Shylock of Bruntlea, and who was therefore ready to speak his mind. "The Jew’s house,” he repeated, from behind his counter —lie was a booksello r —“we call Tanbuck Hall the Jew’s house, sir. Old Benjamin ruined General Ashton to get that house and land, lie’s had it; for 15 years, and Keeps a housekeeper and two servants to look after it, besides a gardener to trim; up tho grounds. But lie never lives there, and only goes once a week to see that all is in order,;“Rather useless expense,” hinted Wain, puzzled. , “You may well say so, sir. The Hall is eating its head off, so to speak, and old Benjamin is thrifty as a rule. But for some reason he keeps up Tanbuck Hall like the gentleman’s establishment it used to be. He won’t even let it, though he could make much money by doing so. Then again all the land, acres and acres, is lying waste in the centre of the town, as yon may say.' But old Benjamin never builds and never sells, and never does anything, save keep it up and inspect it once a week. We call it the Jew’s House,” ended the bookseller, “though no Jew lives there.” “But Ben Ezra’s reason for behaving in this eccentric way?” “I can’t say, sir, and no more can anyone else. Tanbuck Hall is a white elephant, as you might say, and yet not exactly, as old Benjamin, sir, could turn over his money at a profit by selling it to Sir Giles Dove.” “I am afraid he couldn’t do that now,” said Wain drily. “Mo, sir; quite so, sir. But I daresay the son, who is now Sir Reginald, would he willing to. buy the place. These Doves are nobodies, sir, and want to .set up as gentry at the Jew’s House. But whether old Benjamin Jives or dies, he won’t sell a stick or stone of the place. It’s just his fancy, sir—just liis fancy.” “I should think Ben-Ezra was too businesslike to liave fancies.”

“Perhaps lie’s cracked, sir,” said the bookseller genially; “he must have been, to shoot Sir Giles so openly. Well, he’ll hang, that’s one comfort, and Brim ties, will be rid of such rubbish.” “Take care,” Avarned Wain, sorneAvliat disgusted at this speech, “that .

you don’t fa-ll out of the frying-pan into the fire, and that Bruntlea doesn’t get Queen Stork in exchange for King Hog.” The bookseller, notwithstanding his trade, did not seem to have read Aesop’s fables, so he merely stared, while Wain strolled along the. * High-street and down the- lane. into, which he had stumbled on the previous night to look at the Jew’s house. Ho found the gate guarded by two policemen, and could not enter, so he skirted the red brick walls of the park, so as to ascertain its extent. The magnitude of tile acreage surprised him, and to his fancy —as the bookseller had called it—BenEzra was sacrificing roods of' land which were invaluable for building purposes.

The Park, in the centre of which was the Hall, lay like an oasis of greenery in the middle of the town. All around the red brick wall, which girdled the place, houses great and small were built, and stretched put for quite a considerable distance into the country. Tanbuck Park was the pick of the whole suburb, and, by building amidst its leafy woods, Ben-Ezra could have made thousands of pounds. Yet this he would not do, find refused even to sell it when he received an advantageous offer. Wain wondered at this frdakish fancy of the Hebrew. Apparently BenEzra was not .spell a money-grubber as those whom lie oppressed declared. The journalist no longer marvelled at the strange sensations which had be wildered him on tho previous night. Had ho goneHul'ht or left when wandering down the side-lane, he would still have been in the middle of houses, even though these were then shrouded by fog. But by striking the open gate, ho had entered into a woodland solitude, which more fitly might have been placed in the Carpathians. To enter the iealously-guarded gate was to leave the twentieth century for the times of King Arthur, and adventures, violently fantastical in the busy streets of Bruntlea, would have become matter-of-fact romance—if there be such a thing—under tho shadow of tho Jew’s house. It was the Forest of the Sleeping Beauty, set incongruously in the midst of up-to-date civilisation. By leaving the great gates on the right, and by hugging the red brick wall, Wain got round in an irregular circle until he found himself coming from the left qn the entrance again. The two policepien were not visible, 'nit had no doulit gone within to guard the avenue. The gates, great and small, were, closed, and a small knot of idlers was collected before them, attracted by the morbid curiosity now prevalent in the town. Ami every now and then other sightseers and reporters arrived on foot or on bicycles, or in motor-cars and four-wheelers from the railway station, to take stock of tlie scene of the tragedy, though that was hidden from them by reason of the brick wall.

And at the gates, like Lazarus on the threshold of Dives’ dwelling, sat a ragged, pitiful beggar in the bright sunshine, soliciting alms. Wain, by reason of travel, was steeled to unpleasant sights, but he halted involuntarily to stare at .this poor , wretch. Tin; man was a consumptive wreck, bent almost double, and coughed with a violence which threatened to shake him into fragments. He was considerably over fifty years of age, and must have been handsome at one time. But this disease had made such inroads on his originally strong constitution that he looked as though lie would die then and there. But he retained sufficient vitality, to implore alms, and the tin box ho held out- shook in a trembling hand. “Great heavens, man, why don’t you go homo ?” asked Wain, shocked, and' feeling for sixpence in his noiic-too-wc-!l lined' pockets.

“I've only got a shed to go to.” coughed the beggar, “and I must get some money to give my little daughter food to-night.” “What brought you to this?” asked. Wain, throwing the sixpence.

. “That damned Jew.” said the mhii'f rising painfully. “I was well-off as- a locksmith, and lie sold me up. Ho ruined .me, cnr.se him, so I’ve come here, to liis very door, to laugh at him as he goes to the gallows.” “He won’t come here again if he is condemned.”

“He will be condemned; lie must be condemned,” said tlie man, taking another meaning out of the sentence. “He’s guilty,” —there was a murmur of assent from those around. “Everyone says lie’s guilty. He’ll hang. Tell him that Simon Daxley, whom lie ruined, says he’ll hang. Then I shall die happy.” Ho might have died then, without seeing his revenge, for he collapsed in a heap on the ground, worn out by the. vehemence of his hatred and anger. (To be Continued.)