Our Serial Story.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVIII, Issue 2711, 15 January 1910, Page 1 (Supplement)

Our Serial Story.

| "The Jew’s House,” | * *

By Fergus Hume.

Author of the “ Mystery of a Hansom Cab, ” “ The Yellow Holly, ” “ The Mandarin’s Fan, ” “ The Sealed Message, ” etc., etc., etc. »J< (All Rights Reserved) ►> ►!« ►!< «*!•< ►!-< ►l* ►!« >Z* >J« ►!« ►!« ►!« ►!« <%* d? ►!« ►!< d? ►I < <%? ►!« d? ►!-<

CHAPTER XIX. THE THIRD SECRET. While Ben Ezra was accomplishing his long-nurtured vengeance on the treacherous governess, Ashton was spending air idle morning at Verity's farm. In the homely sitting-room the young man lounged beside Judith, and the two, to their great gratification, •were entirely alone. Verily, as usual, was going about his agricultural business, and Ruth, ever a busy housewife, attended to her domestic duties. Judith should have been helping her, according to custom, but on this particular morning the old Quakeress had insisted that she should take a holiday and enjoy herself. “Sit thee in the parlour with the •young man of thy desires,” said Mrs. Verily, bestowing a tender caress on the girl, “for with years will come trouble, as it doth to all, so it is as well that thou sliouldst- take thy pleasure when thou canst.” Judith, dreaming ever of love, only too gladly accepted the permission to spend several golden hours with Lancelot. The morning was misty and grey and chilly, a state of things which would have disturbed and depressed the most serene of mortals. But the lovers paid no attention to the dismal weather, and it might have been the month of roses for them, so happy did they feel. Side by side they sat on the old-fashioned sofa, taking pleasure in looking into each other’s eyes. The ft re burned briskly, the closed door isolated that quiet room from the inevitable trouble of the workaday world, and to Judith and Lancelot it became a shrine as splendid as that of Astame. Love, as usual, was making paradise out of r. wilderness. “But I feel that it is very wrong of us to idle in this way,” said Judith, after a sweet- pause in the- conversation; “I should be helping my mother, and you ought- to he in your office.” “Dear,” murmured Lancelot, pressing his bps to her dark hair, ' I could not work if I were in my office. Your image comes between me and my books, and until I am absolutely assured of your love, I daro not lea've “But- you are assured of my love, she whispered; “have I not told you again and again, that you alone will be my husband ? Let-, in the face of it all, you come here, day after day, to ask me the same question, and neglect your business for my sake.” “A few days will make very little difference to my business. Besides, this is an idle time in the law courts. I come here to guard you, as I dread lest Ben-Ezra should appear and compel you to marry young Dove.” Judith withdrew a little from his embrace. “'You do not trust me?” “Dearest, I trust you wholly. But Ben-Ezra is cunning ”

in his arms he kissed her again and again with .such passion that she cried out, “Really, you’re not respectable, my dear.” “Say •darling’.” “No, I shall not.” . “Say ‘darling,’ or I’ll kiss 3 r ou again.” “Very well, then —darling. Silly darling.” “Oh, Judith, however have I done without you all these years,” and he caught her hands in ecstasy. “It’s a miracle,” she replied, in pretended seriousness; then she placed her hand on his lips. “Now, don’t talk any more nonsense, but tell me more about Mr. Ben-Ezra.” “There is no more to tell, dear,” said the young man. “Nothing loss than the fear of losing you would have taken me to Ben-Ezra’s office. He spoke to me as I told you, and apparently does not approve of our marriage. Blit he said also—as 1 explained —that he had no power over you.” “None, save that of gratitude,” breathed Judith, softly. “So he said,” remarked Ashton gravely; he certainly got you a home here, when your parents, whomsoever they are, went the way of all flesh. But even his kindness in this respect does not warrant your spoiling your life and mine, dearest.” “Of course not,” she replied, impatiently. “I said exactly the same thing to you a few minutes ago. Should Mr. Ben-Ezra come here I shall thank him for his kindness, and tell him that we are to marry before Christmas.” “And you won’t mind Firing in a London flat?” “No. I think I shall enjoy it, for. small as the flat may bo, you will be there, and I shall be mistress of my own particular house.” “As if a flat ever were a house,” laughed Lancelot; “but I am glad' to think you are wholly mine. Reginald Dove can now marry Miss Cashed.” “I fancy you put tilings wrongly,” said Judith, dryly. “Miss Cashed will now marry Reginald Dove. Sho loves hkn better than he does her, or he would not have wanted me to marry him.”

“I don’t think Miss Cashed loves anyone but herself, dear. It.is for Lis rank and money that she marries this boy. But in any case,” be caught at her hands gaily, “it does not concern us. We will be married quietly, and I shad look out for a cheap flat in West Kensington, where we can settle down to genteel poverty until the time when I am a leader at the Bar.”

“And you will soon be that. dear. But won’t your cousin miss you?” “Yes, poor Susan. AVe have been together for years, and have suffered much in the way of poverty. But I don’t think the experience has done me any harm, Judith. If I had retained my heritage, which the Jew took from me, I might have developed into an idle spendthrift.” “Oh, no! no!”

“Lancelot, you are not fair to Mr. Ben-Ezra in calling him cunning. Ho is a good man, and I owe him much, as do my foster-parents.” “And owing him so much, lie may got you to marry— —” “He will get me to marry no one,” interrupted the girl, impatiently; “much as I like Mr. Ben-Ezra, 1 certainly would not ruin my life to please him. Nor do I think he wants me to.” “I'm not so sure of that,” said the young man, gloomily. “He told me very plainly that if you married me he would not give you a dowry.” “But you don’t want me for the sake of a dowry?” “I want you for the sake of yourself,” he said, eagerly; “if you will take me as I am, poor and unknown, without a house, or an income, I am willing to marry you when and where you will.” Judith wrinkled her white brows and pinched his arm delicately. “Was there ever such a man?” she asked the ceiling; “again and again I tell him that I will become his wife, yet he makes excuses for himself.” “Well,” said Lancelot, reflectively, ’•after all, I must look at things from your point of view as well as my own. There is no doubt that I am poor, and that Reginald l Dove is a better match for you.” “Who told you that such was my point of view?” said Judith, smiling; “if Reginald was the emperor of the world I would not marry him. I would rather your poverty than his luxury. Oh, you silly, silly, silly hoy,” she cried, kissing him fondly, “can you not believe what I say?” “I do, and yet—you love me?” “With all my heart and soul.” “And you will marry me?” “This morning if you like.” “You will give up a title and a millionaire to be the wife of a poor barrister who has his way to make in the world?” “Yes! Yes! Yes!” cried Judith, half laughing and half vexed, and she plac- ' ed her finger in her ears. “I won’t listen to another word. ' Why should you doubt?” “It seems too good to be true,” sighed this exacting lover. Judith, with her fingers still in her ears, shook her head, smiling. “I cannot hear a single word.” “Then let this make my meaning plain,” said Lancelot, and taking her

“Oh, yes! yes!” he mimicked; “the Ashtons were ever idle and wasteful, living only for the pleasure of an hour. It is due to the extravagance of the General that Taubuck Hall has passed from our race. And, from what I have heard from Susan, my father was as reckless a spendthrift as any of our ancestors. I tell you what, darling—the Ashtons were of a bad stock and you run considerable risk in marrying me.”

“I am willing to take it,” she laughed, “and—as you said yourself just now —poverty and struggle has chastened your instincts.” “Yes,” sighed Lancelot, looking hack with a shudder at the painful years; “I have learned life’s lesson, I think, and ever did I become rich I should spend my money in helping the less fortunate. The Jew thought that he did me a bad turn in reducing me to poverty. As things have turned out, he has done the very best thing he could have done.”

“Then fo-rgive him, dear.” ”No, Judith, I can’t. Whatever good he may have done, he certainly cheated my grandfather.” “H© denied that.” “He would • deny anything.” said Lancelot, contemptuously; “I believe that General Ashton was cheated. You think that I am unforgiving, Judith, but you should hear Susan. She hates Ben-Ezra as though he were poison, and I scarcely think that she has forgiven me for defending him.” “I thought she was a Christian.” “Oh, yes.” Ashton made a careless gesture. “But it is wonderful how these Christians can -find texts in the Bible to explain tho righteousness of their angry feelings. However, do not let us talk of such things.” “What shall we talk about?” asked Judith, falling into his humour, when he captured her hands. “Of you; of myself; of love and our future.” “Oh dear! Oh dear! we have been talking in that way and of those tilings for the last two hours.” “They are the most important things in the world,” said Lancelot, seriously. “Other people would not think so,” smiled the girl ; “no. dear, I’ll talk of one thing about which I w r ished- to ask your advice.”

“What is that?” “You know Mabel Daxley?” “Yes; the golden-liaired child of that poor wretch, who has been befriended by Ben-Ezra. You showed her to me sleeping the other night; she looked like a little angel.” “I fear she is not an angel,” sighed Judith sadly; the child ha s been badly brought up, and has mixed with had companions.” “Why, what does she do so very bad?” “She steals.” “Steals?” “Yes. -Even though she has boon hero- only a few days, she has stolen many things, and hides them like a magpie. Mother actually whipped her much against her will, because Mabel thieved her brooch. But the child never cried, and would not say she was sorry. Wo only found the brooch after a long search, as Mabel refused to tell where sli-e had hidden it.” “Poor child. No doubt her upbringing lias been very bad. However, I dare s ay that Mrs. Verily will train her into better ways. You can’t expect Mabel to be perfect.” “No; her father loved her, hut he was not a good man. Still—to steal “Pooh! Stockbrokers steal, and we think no less of them. It is called business. To ruin a life with gossip is worse than stealing.” Before Judith could reply to this extreme statement, the door was quietly opened. Their eyes turned at the click of the handle, and they saw a- golden head thrust into the room. A moment later, and Mabel entered, leaving the door wide open. She ran forward to throw herself into Judith's arms. “I am sorry! I am sorry!” she wailed, in the shrill voice of a child; “I’ll never, never take anything again!” “That’s right, clear,” said Judith, lifting the child on to her lap, while Lancelot went to close the door; “it is very wrong to steal.”

“Daddy said it wasn’t,” whimpered the little girl; “he told me that we had a right to take from rich people what they would not give us.” “No, dear; that is wrong. Poor daddy was ill when he said that. And hero you will be given everything you desire, so there will be no need to steal.”

“Can I have food every day?” “Yes.” “And Mrs. Verily won’t send me out in the rain to bog?” “No, dear, of course she won’t. Lou must know that, Mabel; you are quite a big girl, and must be more sensible. All we wish you to do is to be happy and honest, and you will have a pleasant life.”

The child heaved a sigh of relief, and pressed her Lead against the kind arms which held her. Lancelot looked on sympathetically. “The poor thing’s education has been neglected,” lie said, after a pause; “she has been insufficiently nourished and clothed. Judith, you cannot wonder that the seeds of criminality should flourish amidst such surroundings.” “We won’t talk of it any more,” said Judith, quickly, for the child was sharp enough to understand many tilings it- were better she should be ignorant of; “hero Mable will grow into a good girl, and will be able to help Mrs. Verily when I am married to you.” “But won’t Miss Cashell take me away?” asked Mabel, slipping off Judith’s lap, and standing, an odd little figure before the two lovers. Mrs. Verily had clothed her in a demure Quaker dress of grey, in place of her picturesque rags, and the child evidently disliked the lack of colour. “I don’t like this nasty frock,” she muttered, discontentedly. “Miss Cashell told daddy that she would give me a silk dress, and a gold chain, and ” “Mabel, you are talking nonsense,” said Judith, sharply, while she stole an amazed glance at Lancelot. “Miss Cashell is not rich enough to give you such expensive things.” “But she is. She came to daddy one night, and told him that she would soon have plenty of money, when she married Mr. Dove.”

“Little pitchers have long ears,” murmured Ashton; “where did you hear this, Mabel?” “When I was in my bed, near daddy. Daddy was ill, and Miss Cashed came to see him very often. The last time •' she came she told daddy that she would look after me.” “And what reason did she giv e for making such a proposal?” asked Lancelot, feeling vaguely that he was on the eve of a discovery. “Daddy was to s ay that he killed Sir Giles,” said Mabel/ looking at the two with serious eyes, unnaturally large in the pinched white face. “But daddy did kill Sir Giles,” said Judith, quickly. “No, he didn’t,” contradicted the child, excitedly; “he never did. When he made the key for the gate he told me that he only made it so that he cotdd get in and steal things from the Hall. We were so poor,’’ added Mabel, pulling down her lip, “and Mr. Ben-Ezra was so rich. There was no harm in daddy stealing from him. He would not help ns," and he hated daddy.” She scowled and stamped her small foot. “I hate him,” she declared; “I hate him.” “Mabel,” said Ashton, holding out his hand, “come here.” The little girl did as she was told, and Ashton, holding her arms, placed her between his kneesi “Tell me,” he said to the child, and looking searching at her, “did you hear the whole conversation between Miss Cashell and your father?” “Yes; hut I don’t want to- tell it. Daddy said that I was to say nothing, or Miss Cashell would not give me a gold chain and a silk frock.” “And if she did not give them?”

“Daddy said that I could tell.” “Tell what?” asked Judith, quickly. Mabel, put on her guard, looked ,at the- lovely, curious face sullenly. “I don’t know,” she muttered, averting her eyes. “I know nothing.” “Let me examine her,” whispered Lancelot, “for I believe that we are about to learn some strange things.” “Let me go away,” said Mabel, trying to release herself. “No,” replied the young man, sternly. “Mabel, you loved your father?” “Yes, I did,” sobbed the little girl, bursting into tears; “I loved him very much, and he never killed that nasty Sir Giles; no, he didn’t.” “Then who did?” “I must not tell. Daddy said that I was not to tell, if Aliss Cashell looked after me.” “And if she did not?” “I was to go to Mr. Ben-Ezra and give him ” here Ltabel again became- aware that she was saying too much, and, shaking her head, shut her month tightly. Ashton thought for a few minutes, remembering Ben-Ezra’s strange assertion that lie believed Daxley to be innocent. Apparently this child knew thetruth. Daxley was innocent, and had been suborned by Ida Cashell for the gaining of her own ends; bribed, as it were, by her promise to look after his dearly loved child. AVl;at was ascribed to Ben-Ezra by bis helping the child of his enemy, was true of the governess. And she . . “But it’s impossible,” muttered the young man, pushing away the child and rising in his agitation. “Impossible!” “What- is impossible?” asked Judith, catching Mabel as she tried to run out of the room. “Nothing, and yet ” he opened and shut his hand. “Child, do you knew who brought you to this kind home?” “Yes,” said Mabel, who was beginning to feel soared by bis stern looks; “Mr. Ben-Ezra, who hated daddy. But M iss Cashell will give the money to keep me.” “She will do nothing of the sort,” burst in Judith, angrily, “and you must not talk as you do of Air. BenEzra. He is the kindest man in the world. He is paying for you, and hut for him you would have been sent to the workhouse. Aliss Cashell will not give you anything.”

“She promised my daddy that she would if he said that he killed Sir Giles.” “Ah!” said Lancelot, eagerly, “now we are getting to the root of the matter. Afy child, Alabel,” lie caught her again by the arm, and again sat down to question her, “you loved your daddy ; yes—yes, I asked you that before, but I ask you again.' A’ou loved him?”

“Yes,” sobbed Alabel. “And you know that everyone says he killed Sir Giles, because lie confessed that beglftl?” ‘Yes, but he didn’t.” “Then,” .said Lancelot, clinching the matter, “you must tell me and Aliss Verily here the truth, in order to cleanse the memory ot your lather from shame. A’ou want everyone to speak well of him?” “I do. Alv daddy was good and kind. “J daresay. Mo bad his faults, but be was fond of you, poor child. AYell, then, if you can prove that your father was guiltless and took the crime of another person on bis shoulders, so that you might be looked alter, all the people will say what a good father he was. You understand?” Alabel nodded. “I understand,” she said briefly, and thought. The child, trained by poverty, was shrewd beyond her years, and grasped immediately what benefit would accrue to her father’s memory if she told the truth. “But daddy said I was to say nothing if Aliss Cashell helped me.” “She has not helped you, and she has no intention of helping you,’’said Lancelot. “You need keep your promise to your daddy no longer, as Aliss Cashell has broken hor’s. And by telling the truth you will make every one speak well of him, poor man.” Alabel looked at him fixedly, then abruptly slipped her hand into the pocket of her demure garb. “I don’t like Aliss . Cashell.” she said, crossly; “she slapped me once because I stole her handkerchief. I only kept my promise to my daddy because she was going to give me a silk dress and a golden chain. But as she has not-, ll—l’llI — I—l’ll give it to Air. Ben-Ezra,” she ended, abruptly, and withdrew her hand empty. “No,’’said Judith, taking her by theshoulder, “A 7 ou must give it to Air. Ashton, and he will give it to Air. BenEzra.” “I won’t. Let me go ” and Alabel wriggled. Lancelot was about to suggest that they should take the child at once to the Jew’s office when Judith, at the end of her patience, slipped her hand into the child’s pocket, and, in. spite of an angry scream, pulled out a piece, of. dirty blue paper, which she passed to her lover. “Give it to me; give it to mo!” bellowed Mabel, her face distorted with anger; “it’s for Air. Ben-Ezra, and —” “It will be given to him,” said Lancelot, sharply, and smoothing out the paper. “Hold your tougue while I read.” He glanced his eye over the writing, and sprang to his feet with a cry. “Judith,” he said, excitedly. “Da.xle declares that Ida Cashell murdered Sir. Giles, so that she could marry young Dove.” “Yes,” said Alabel, rubbing her eyes, “and daddy took the blame for my sake.” (To be Continued.)