Our Serial Story,

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVIII, Issue 2716, 22 January 1910, Page 1 (Supplement)

Our Serial Story,

“The Jew’s Mouse,’ 1

By Fergus Hume.

A A? AA CHAPTER XX.

AN EXPLANATION

There was no doubt that it was true. On that dirty scrap of blue paper, the dead man had' scrawled a few lines, stating that Miss Cashell had. followed him through the open gate—he did not deny that he had been in the park—and that he had seen her break the window, procure the revolver, and shoot Sir Giles when he came storming back out of the fog. “I have taken the blame,’’ wrote Simon Baxley, ‘•because I am dying arid there is no one to look after my Mabel. Because Miss Cashed has promised to keep her and help her, I am willing that my memory should be sullied. But if she fails you, 'Ben-Ezra will learn the truth. Only for the sake of my child would I take the blame and save you. But this you read —if it ever comes to your eyes —is the truth, the -whole truth, so help me God.” Then came a weak and tremulous signature, and on the back of the paper was the name of Ben-Ezra and his address. “I shall take this with me,” Lancelot said to the child’, who clamoured for her precious paper; “your fathers memory shall be cleared, and Ida Cashed will suffer for her wickedness.” •‘But can’t I come with you to Mr. Ben-Ezra?” wailed Mabel, tearfully. “No,” said Judith, sharply, and interpreting a look from her lover; “you must stop and try to be a good girl. Miss Cashed lias 'left you to starve, but Mr. Ben-Ezra, who ip r. kind -man, will see that you want for nothlffg. Come, my dear,” she knelt before the sobbing little girl and kissed her, “you must see that wo are acting for the best.” “Yes,” wept Mabel, “but —but —be kind to me.”

Judith assured her that she would, and took her to the kitchen, where she informed Mrs. Verily what had happened. Ruth called her husband, and the four people discussed the contents of that surprising piece of paper. After much deliberation, they decided to keep the matter private for the present, and' Mrs. Verily undertook t<> seal Mabel’s lips. Later in the day, Jjanc-elot suggested that he should see Ben-Ezra and ,explain what had been discovered. He was reluctant to interview the Jew, remembering what had taken place at their last meeting, but the present necessity knew no law. He would have to go, in order to wipe off the shame of guilt from the memory of the dead man. And then, as Lancelot reflected when leaving the farm, Ben-Ezra had always insisted that Baxley was innocent. He would be pleased to have this belief confirmed.

“Try and make friends with Mr BenEzra,” Judith urged him, when she kissed him at ths gate.

Lancelot drew himself up stiffly. “I fear that is impossible,” he said, in a hard voice. “I would that T could, for your sake, Judith dear, since it would please you. But you must not forget that ho is hostile to our marriage.”

“Oh, what does that matter? In any case we will marry ; but, after all, Lancelot. I cannot help feeling grateful tojAlr. Ben-Ezra for what he has ■done.”

“No one wants you not to fed grateTul,” said Ashton, slowly; “I will try and think the best I can of the man for your sake, Judith. And I daresay that he is not so black as he is painted.”

“I believe him to be a good man.” “Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. He has been cruel to some people, you know, dear.” “And; kind to others. It’s ns broad •as it is long,” she said, impetuously; “but it is useless to continue arguing on the subject. Kiss me, and go to his office,” which Lancelot did, since there was no reason for delay. But Ben-Ezra was not in his office, as Silas informed hiuv. The clerk stated that Barrington Wain, his, master, and Miss Cash-ell had been closeted together for a long time, and that there Lad been trouble, as lie liad beard loud, angry voices through the closed door. Finally, his master had opened the .door —jnd been locked—with the : informa uiem that Miss Cashel had fainted. 'He uad told Silas to get a cab, and Mr. Wain had carried the insensible woman down the stairs. They then had driven away, and Silas had heard nothing of his master since. Would Mr. Ashton leave a message, asked the old clerk, who. seemed to be perplexed by these strange happenings, which he could not understand. “]ss,” answered Ashton, “there is no need for me to leave a message, ais what I have to say must he told to ■your master in person. To-morrow morning or afternoon I shall call and see him. Here’s ray card. By the way, can yon tell me why Miss Cashell fainted, and what she was doing

'here?” ’ . _ “No,” replied Silas, shaking his aged head. “Mr. Wain came first, and Miss t - .‘Cashell'later; I showed her in and heard her screaming. Then Mr-. BenEzra 'locked the door, and they talked angrily, .until my master unlocked the door, to say that Miss Cashell had fainted. I don’t know what the troni hie was about, as I could only catch a

Author of the “ Mystery of a Hansom Cab, ” “ The Yellow Holly, ” “ The Mandarin’s Fan, ” “ The Sealed Message,” etc., etc., etc. (All Rights Reserved)

loud-spoken word here and' there. Mr. Ben-Ezra, you know, sir, had this office built for himself, and the walls are very thick. He doesn’t want his business overheard—-very naturally.” Lancelot nodded /and retired, wondering what the business could be which had made Ida- Casliell faint; and wondered, also, what had brought Wain to.the Jew’s office. However, it was useless to surmise, and Lancelot went home to liis cousin’s house. To_ morrow he could question Ben-Ezra as to what had taken place. It flashed across his mind 1 that the Jew and the journalist having got the governess alone, had forced her to confess her guilt. But from what lie had heard and' seen of her, she was not the woman to yield to threats, and, backed by Baxley’s lying and dying confession, would assuredly refuse to incriminate herself.

It was three o’clock in the afternoon when Lancelot reached home, and he received a surprise when he walked into the tiny drawing-room. Miss Merton was there, looking more- sickly and pinched than ever. But her eyes were filled with sympathy, and bent upon a dreary-looking man. * Ashton started when he saw and -recognised him. “Why, Wain!” he said, striding forward, iand the visitor rose; “I did not expect to find you here, although I knew 3-011 were in Bruntlea.” “Who told you that?” asked Wain, who looked ill and worried, white- and wrinkled, as fie shook hands. “Silas. I went to Ben-Ezra’s office, but could not find him, and 1 ” “Ben-Ezra has gone to London,” interrupted Wain, passing his hand wearily over his lined face; “he will not return until to-morrow afternoon.” “I am sorry for that,” replied Lancelot, -throwing himself into the chair; “I want to see him -very particularly.” “Oh,” said Wain, moodily, and looked' at the floor. Miss Merton still kept her sympathetic eyes upon him, and her attitude towards the man puzzled Ashton. “What is the matter, Susan?” he asked softly. “Mr Wain has come to ask me to go to the Princess Hotel to nurse his wife.”

“Because I 'know you are a good, kind lady, Miss Merton,” said Wain, with a thankful note in his voice. “She is delirious, and may say things” —the broke off abruptly. “I know 3-011 hold your tongue,” he ended. “Of course,” said' Miss Merton, with great promptness; “and in any case whomsoever 3'ou got- to wait on your wife would not be so base as to- repeat anything revealed during delirium. But 3’ou have not told me what is the matter with your wife, Mr. Wain.” “She has had a shock,” said the man, moodily; “I tlhink she has brain fever.”

Meanwhile Lancelot was s taring and thinking. At first he had been surprised to hear that Wain had a wife, as he had always supposed him to be a bachelor. Now, when he heard that the wife was ill and was suffering from a shock, his thoughts flew back to what Silas had tcld him of. the trio in Bon-Ezra’s office. What if Ida Cashed was Wain’s wife? And if she Were, did he know that she was a murderess who “Oh!” Ashton sat up straight with a white face, and his heart drumming against his ribs; “it surely must be a mistake!” “Wlhat is it?” asked Wain, shortly, and looking up with a flush. “That Ida Cashed is your wife?” There was a gasp from Miss Merton. “You did not tell me that,” she cried, in a pained voice. “Will the knowledge- cut short your charitable designs?” growled the journalist irritably. “Ce-rtainly not. I do not like Miss Cashed —I beg your pardon, Mrs Wain —but as she is sick and needs my services, she certainly shall have them. I shall collect a few things, and come, with you in 30 minutes to the hotel. But how did Mrs. Wain fall" id ?” “Don’t call her Mrs. Wain.” “She is your wife?” “My faithless wife,” muttered the journalist, between his teeth. “For 20 3'ears we have not set eyes on one- another. I never should have looked upon her face again had not Ben-Ezra brought us together -by means of a trick. He’s a clever man is Ben-Ezra, but I wish he would not bring me into his plans for vengeance.” “What does it all mean?” asked Lancelot, .much puzzled by this speech. “You shad learn later,” said Wain, moodily. “By the way, how. did you come to know that Miss Cashed was my wife?” " “Guesswork, Wain. Silas fold me that Miss Cashed had a. row with you and Ben-Ezra in his office, and that 3'ou carried her downstairs. By putting two and two together, I gathered ' ■

“Yes, yes! I understand. Well, - it it true. She is my wife, who eloped with Major H-arkness 20 years ago-, and so took a husband -from Ben-Ezra’s sister. Do you understand that,' Ashton? You ought to, since the matter concerns you greatly.” , “Why should it concern Lancelot’?” asked Miss Merton, ’sharply, and her

cousin’s mute face asked the same question. Then Wain spoke slowly. “T!io girl you are engaged to -marry is Ben-Ezra’s niece,” said he. Lancelot rose silently, with his mouth open, scarce by understanding what had been said. Again Miss Merton spoke for him. “Judith Verily,” she cried, aghast, , and -all her hatred of the Jew showing in her pale peaked face. “Judith Harkness,” said Wain, distinctly, “Rachael Ben-Ezra married Major John Harkness many years ago, and Judith is the child of that marriage. My wife inveigled Harkness, who was a scamp, from his home, and lie eloped with her. Ben-Ezra’s sister died, and he brought the child to the Vorilys, determined that sihe should not hear her bated father’s name. Both the parents are dead, but my wife is alive, and Ben-Ezra has been watching over her, so as to avenge himself.” Lancelot still stared. “Judith Harkness,” lie said, in the notes of a man talking in his sleep; “fllie niece of BenEzra ! It—it—it is not true.’” “I think you will find that Ben-Ezra can prove what he says,” remarked Wain, acidly, “'and that the Vorilys will support him. If you marry Judith, you make the niece of your enemy, who is half a Jewess, your wife.” “lb’s impossible! Impossible!” said Miss Merton furiously. “Not that I mind the girl being half a Jewess or wholly one. But Ben-Ezra, who ruined my cousin, the general, and robbed my boy here of his heritage! It is not to be thought of.” “What do 3*611 say?” asked Wain, turning towards the young man. “Say?” cried Lancelot, throwing back his handsome head, and speaking very strongly and clearly, “I say that I love Judith, and were she BenEzra’s daughter instead of his niece, I would still marry her.” “Lancelot, I forbid it. You shall not make any alliance with our enemy. Yes, I say our enemy. He is mine as well as yours. Think of the misery to which he condemned me; think of the lean years; of the ” “Susan,” interrupted the ’y° lu, a man, imperiously, “I owe you much, and I love you as I would have loved mv mother who died, for you have stood in her place to me. But .Judith is not to blame for her uncle’-s sins, and I see ho reason to visit them on her head. I shall still marry her. Wain,” he turned sharply on the journalist, while Miss Merton, who had risen, sat down again in silence, but still unconvinced —“tell me exactly wluit jßen-Ezra said -at this interview.” “I will tell you a portion, and no more,” said Wain, mindful of the accusation of anurder, about which he intended to say nothing. “The whole story runs as follows.” And related in detail all that the Jew had explained' to himself and his wife, omitting no point which might bring home the truth to Ashton’s ears. “-%d Ben-Ezra loves the girl tenderly, because she is the child of the sister he was so fond of. He wishes to see her happily married to you, and will doubtless leave her all his money.” “Money,” muttered Miss Merton, angrily; “wrongfully wrung from the suffering poor. Don’t touch the money, Lancelot, even if you are brave enough to marry the girl.” “There is no chance of my touching it,” said Lancelot at once, “for when I last saw Ben-Ezra he told me that he did not approve of Judith marrying me, and would give her no dowry if she did.” Wain raised his eyebrows. “He told me privately that he wished to see Judith your wife, and would make things easy for you both as .regards money.” “He blows hot and cold,” broke in Miss Merton, still unappeased; “he always did. For my part, I hope Lancelot will throw the girl over. I have •nothing against her; she is well enough in every way. But she' is Ben-Ezra s niece, and Ben-Ezra ruined us. There is no more to be said,” and she shut her mouth with a snap, watching her cousin’s face anxiously. “Whether Ben-Ezra wishes to see Judith married to me or not,” he said in a deliberate voice, “matters very little to me, or to her. We shall not take one penny of his ill-gotten money. I shall marry the girl I Jove, and remove her from the neighborhood of Ben-Ezra by taking her to Australia. There I can practise as a barrister and we can begin a new life.” “That is hard on Ben-Ezra,” said Wain slowly, but Miss Merton did not speak, as she was istiil watching the face of her cousin. Ashton shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t change ray mind over Ben-Ezra,” he remarked; “whatever else tie (has done, which may be good or may not, I know for certain and on the authority of my cousin here, that lie cheated my grandfather and secured my heritage by swindling.” “1 can hear witness to that,” said Miss Merton, coldlv “and if it will wring JBen Ezra’s heart to take away his niece, marry her by all means.” Wain looked at her curiously. I understood that- you were a Christian woman,” he said, quietly. “I am—l try to be,” s lio said, placing her hand on her heart as though she there felt a cruel pain; “but my Christianity will not permit une to love ■this one enemy, although I have overcome my hatred for others. Think of •what he has done to me and mine,” she said, fiercely, “and I hater him even more on Lancelot’s account than on my own.” “You needn’t, Susan',” said her cou-

siii, calmly; “-whatever, harm Ben-Ezra, has done to my father, he certainly conferred a benefit on me by forcing me to learn the value of money and time. However, there is no more to be I shall see Judith tp-night, and tell her /what you, Wain, have told me.”

“Blatter wait until Ben-Ezra reveals the truth.”

“No; I don’t want Ben-Ezra to interfere in any way. As to your wife

Wain stood up. “Don’t talk of my wife,” he said, harshly. “She deceived me and ruined my life. I am trying to forgive her, and perhaps now that she is laid' low I ma3 T be able to. I sincerely trust that she will die.” “That does not sound like forgiveness.”

“I know that. All the same I mean it kindly. Heaven knows that Blanche has sins enough to jjear, without ray adding hatred to her heavy score. For her own sake I wish her to die.” “Is /her name Blanche?” asked Miss Merton, suddenly. “Yes. It was Blanche Selvedge until she became Blanche Wain. She is still my wife, and: I have not divorced her. But she is only reaping as she has sown, poor ignorant woman, and she suffers greatly. I want you to come to her Miss Merton, because I know you will never reveal anything she may say when delirious.” Remembering the paper in liis pocket Lancelot put a straight question. “What do you expect her to say?” he asked quickly. “When people are delirious they say foolish things,” replied Wain, turning a trifle pale. ' “That is true. Murderers have confessed when delirious, before now.” . “What —what do 3-011 mean?” asked ■the journalist, hoarsely, and falling back a step in sheer surprise and dread. . Lancelot locked at him closely. ■“'Then it is true?” he inquired. • “What is true?” “That Miss Cashel 1, vour wife, got Baxley to take the blame of her own act on his shoulders.” “Lancelot!” chimed in liis cousin, turning pale also; “‘what are you saving?” • Wain stood still, as though turned to stone. “I thought the secret would have died with her,” he muttered. “All the same, Ben-Ezra has gone up to see Handy Luck and to tell him the truth. Everyone will know, soon so you may as well know now. Blanche—that is Ida—is accused by Ben-Ezra of having murdered Sir Giles. His evidence is a bracelet of silver and turquoise stones, the property of m3' wife, which he found on the floor of the drawing-room immediately after the murder —plain evidence that she had been there. My •wife’s sister is Mrs. Jorvin, the housekeeper, who is a stranger to me. She —according to Ben-Ezra —admitted my wife into the grounds of the Hall, through the back gate, of which she had the key.”

“That is wrong.” said Ashton sharply. “Baxley tells a different story.”

“Daxley!” said Miss Merton, who was listening with deep iterest; “the man is dead and buried, having confessed to the murder.”

“He did so to help Miss Cashell’s schemes, on condition that his child was looked after,’’explained Lancelot quickly.

“How do you know?” demanded Wain, whose face was very pale and whose eves were like burning stars. Ashton fished in his pocket and produced the blue paper. “Read that!” The journalist did so. “So she followed Daxley through the open gate when he went to rob.” said Wain with a shrug; “and he saw her shoot. Humph! She is guilty right enough, and Ben-Ezra is right.” He handed back the paper to Ashton, who for one moment thought that to save his wife he was about to tear it up. “What’s to be done?” asked the 3'oung man, somewhat embarrassed,

as he slipped the paper into his pocket. “Nothing is to be done, save to leave the business in Ben-Ezfa’s hands. He hates my wife and has every cause to. You must give him that paper, so as to prove her guilt. She has sinned, and must ‘be punished. It is scarcely fair that Baxley’s memory should lie under such a stigma.

“She is your wife and a woman, remember,” said Miss Merton calmly; “you should show her cliarit3 r .” “I show her as much as I am able, and will doubtless show her more when she is dead;” said Wain, wincing. He knew that his behaviour was somewhat at variance with his principles; but in this he was extremely human. “When she is dead on the scaffold,” said Miss Merton, shuddering. “I don’t think it will get so far,” said Wain, trying to speak with composure. “She is dying. But. I can’t tell; perhaps you will come and see, Miss Merton. Even though she has sinned as she has done, you will not condemn he r too harshly. ” “I will come with you,” said Miss Merton; “but it’s a horrible s tory, and makes me feel quite ill. Ah!” slio swayed a trifle, and caught at her cousin’s arm. “I feel quite ill,” she repeated. • “Better lie down, Susan, and go to see Mrs Wain ”

“Miss Cashed,” interposed the husband, frowning. “Well then, see Miss Casliell later.” “No, no! Get .me -the South American Bmps, Lancelot. They are on the mantelpiece in my bedroom; or stay, I will go myself,” and she walked out of the room in a fairly steady fashion, although, her face was white and there were dark rings under her eyes.

“What are . the South American Drops?” asked Wain, idly.

“Oh, it’s a special kind<of drug, which a great friend of General Ashton’s gave him to allay, pain. One or two drops cure, hut half a dozen kill. It is a strong poison, as well as an excellent medicine.”

“Rather a dangerous drug to have about one.”

Lancelot shrugged his shoulders. “Oh Susan has used it for years. 'She suffers from spasms, you know. Your story and mine lias upset her. But she will bake the drops and be all right in ten minutes. Then she can go to see your —that is, Miss Casliell.”

.Wain nodded and then ensued a long silence. “It’s a strange story,” he said, at length, “and a very painful one. I hope she’ll die,” he ended, abruptly. “Well,” said Ashton, with a- sigh, “her death would certainly solve all difficulty. But Ben-Ezra will keep her alive, if only to hang her.” Wain nodded. “He’s a very unforgiving man.” (To ho Continued.)