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The San Francisco call. (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, September 21, 1902, Image 3

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WHAT THEY FOUND IN ; THE CAVE.
N Sir Redways* Grant and Lord Carris
moyle bowed gravely to ' each other.
- "You 'sent' for me?'' said" the younger
man.' ---- . y
"When did you last see my daughter?"
CHAPTER III.
•If there were 'any logical., train of
thought in Sir Redways' distracted; brain
when he off ered ' to make the* man/he
hated ' his ? companion ; on so'; dreadful an
expedition, his; idea was that Mf Carris
moyle knew more than ; he had told the
"I .will listen to "no advice!" cried the
old man. "I would go-^and you know
that I would go— if I were sure it' were to
my death." ; / 1 . v ' ~l\-
"Look, then!": the old man , exclaimed,
fiercely, sweeping a. wild gesture toward
the box and its late contents. "Look at
that murderer's work. A few moments
ago I thought that was all I should ever
see/f her— my .beautiful girl!— but there's
a / cnance . now ' of better : luck, perhaps."
He' spoke strangely, with a look almost of
madness in his !eyes. . "There's "a dead
woman, it seems, lying ln ; a cave down
bythe sea a mile or two away. I'm going
to see~ whether; that cave holds anything
of mine, and you can go with me If you
choose, since you say you loved here 60
welV^:
...; "SIrRedways, I beg that you will listen
to my advice— "began Dr. Lester, only
to be instantly cut short -
"We did exchange them, Sir Redways.
Further than ; that, even at : Buch a mo
ment as this, I can't [ go. > Nothing • else
that I could tell you would help in the
least. I swear that Miss Grant and the
others went out of the tea-room and left
me there. Naturally, I did not follow. I
did not see her after she went by the win
dows.' But I did come. here to-day partly
In the hope of seeing j her again. . Now
that I've answered your questions . as
well as I can, I beg you'll give me some
idea of what has happened. . You . may
deny that I have any right, but— great
heaven, Sir Redways, I love her!" : .
the heart to keep anything back that can
help . now. '¦ Did you . meet j Cecily by ap
pointment?"/. . ¦ .,-,,-¦'.'
"I had written her that— I might be In
Bond street" ; -> , . ; ¦
. "Oh, you wrote to each other after all?".
VOnce or, twice,. yes. ; It was absolutely
necessary." • • , , . :
"Tell me what passed between you on
Saturday.", . .', .... .'¦ .'.'
'"Very few words- indeed. Only what
everybody could hear.". .. -.
•"You exchanged- no notes?" ;
She was confused "still, however, mixing
details of no importance with those that
were most significant, dwelling upon how
she had thought that she could get back
in plenty of time; how she had met her
cousin and been delayed; how the dark
ness had fallen. But she had not been
afraid,. at ; feast -hardly afraid at all, un
til she had heard the voices and that".hor
rid.isbundi of shoveling, shoveling— oh,
could she ever. get it out of her ears?
She knew that, she would dream about it.
And then -the touch of that cold hand!
It was enough, to kill her. It almost
seemed now. as if she must die. . At this
she had to go back and explain and be
gin over again, and Sir Redways in his
agony of impatience would have been
rough with her had not . Lady Stanton
begged him to let her ask the questions.
If it had not been for Lady Stanton, poor
Nella could never have finished her terri
ble story at all. ; But even at best it took
a long time; and she had only reached
the ghastly climax, her teeth chattering
as_ she told how she , had dug and dug,
until' at " last . in . hers she had clasped a
cold dead hand— small and . delicate— she
could feel it still— when ' the footman an
nounced "Lord '' Carrismoyle."
At. first her lips were so dry and her
heart • beat I s© chokingly fast that she
could not, utter two-consecutiv*. words
but Lady.'- Stanton's/ kind face,
and .pretty ¦ despite 'its '-cloud of trouble,
end Lady. Stanton's soft gray eyes gave
her courage. ! .
horror— already, \ through the footmen,
become the property of the servants' hall
—had been sprung upon her. The poor
girl would have given anything to escape
an Interview. with Sir Redways, but there
.was no help f ppf it. She had been forced
into his presence, , and she must speak
even though, what she would have to tell
proved i th* old man's death blow and
struck him down before her eyes.
As he spoke there was a rustling of silk,
and Lady Stanton, who had evidently
come up with the footman, walked quick
ly into the room. Instinctively Dr. Lester
took a step or two, and placed himself
between her and the table where lay the
mass of gleaming yellow hair. He liked
Lady Stanton, «.s did everybody who
knew her, and he wished to spare her as
much as he could.
"What's the matter here, Sir Redways?"
cried a cheerful voice, which rang out in
the tragedy-charged air like a false note
in music, pleasant though It was in Itself.
"Your servants look as if they'd Just
crossed the channel In a 6torm,or some
thing of the sort and"— glancing anxious
ly from face to face— "why, there is
something wrong! What is It? Cissy
isn't ill, I trust? or "
"It's of Cissy I would ask you," said
Sir Redways, imploringly, as if, after all,
'some hope might be left "I was expect
ing you both, only a little while . ago,
saying that the train was always late—"
- "But the train was not late," broke in
Lady Stanton, bewildered. "I drove all
the way home, thinking I'd wait till to
morrow to see. Cissy, and then I changed
my mind and came back thinking I'd still
have a few minutes here- before; it was
time to dress for dinner. I wanted .to
find out, if you didn't think that very
Sir Redways, who had been on his
knees by the box, raised himself hastily
tj his feet and stood erect, though sway
ing for a moment, giddily. "Where is
she?" he asked. "Request her to come to
we at once." . \
The two servants waited no longer, but
hurried from the room. Hardly had they
Rone, however, when James returned, hes
••tatlng at the door. "Lady Stanton is
here, sir," he stammered. "She has .Just
been 6hown In, as I "
"Send a message instantly to Lady
Stanton," Sir Redways commanded. "If
she has come home, request that she drive
here as soon as possible; she'll not delay,
I know, if— if she's safe. Send to Way
cross for the police, and wire Scotland
Yard. Not that It will do any good, but—
there, don't stand starlr.g. You've had
my orders. Go — go."
"Yes! And/Tve been a fool not to think
of that Heavens!— and only a few mo
ments ago I was expecting my poor little
drl!" His voice broke, but with hard, dry
eyes he turned to the two footmen, who,
half-dazed, hau remained, in the vague
hope that they might be called upon for
help of some sort

himself. Presently, when Sir Redways
was sane again, he would probably forget
these unworthy, absurd suspicions, and
for the moment it was best not to com
bat his intentions, perhaps. "But ' you
must not take it for granted that your
daughter is dead," he went on instead.
"Why, she may even yet arrive.
Wouldn't it be well to send over to Mar
tinscombe Hall at once, and find out if
Lady Stanton "
Hastily the doctor scribbled a line or
two on a leaf his notebook, and tear
ing it out folded the paper several times,
addressing it in pencil. Then he rang the
"Well, then, let him come If he will,"
Sir Redways said. "But I— you send for
him, Lester." • - • . ,
"But If he could, indirectly, th#ow light
on this dreadful mystery?" pleaded Lady
Stanton.. . ' - > "" , ¦ •
"It wasn't a case of 'admittins' any
thing," said Lester, standing up for the
friend he admired and liked, "for he was
accused of nothing. I am so sure Carris
moyle has had no hand in Miss Grant's
disappearance— so sure it will be the
greatest shock of his life to hear what
has happened— that I beg, Sir Redways,
you will send for him to come here — now
—while you are waiting for the police,
while there's nothing further you can do,
and question him, without his having been
in any way prepared."
"I have no, wish to see * the fellow,"
ejaculated Sir Redways. '" "-'.\ -'
Sir Redways lifted his head and his
eyes sent out a flash. "Ah! he admitted
that?"
"But something," urged .Lady Stanton,
In her pretty coaxing way that was still
very charming, though she was nearly 40.
And it was especially charming to Robert
Lester, because he had. been secretly In
love with her for the 'past twenty years.
"He did say something about her?" •
"He— er— said that he had seen* her— not
very long ago." •, ¦ - \
"Very little. I haven't had much talk
with him since he arrived. He came quite
Unexpectedly.','
Lester flushed and turned away his eyes.
For the last few minutes he had been
dreading this question; but It had to be
answered. . ¦ - . ¦¦ ¦
"Yes," said Redways. VI shall do all 1
can to bring the murderer to Justice. For
there has been murder! I've no longer
any hope. I shall never see my girl again.
Strange that you, too, Margaret should
have mentioned Carrismoyle's name.
Something tells me he's in this."
"Nothing could make me believe that,
now I) know everything," exclaimed Lady
Stanton, almost sharply. "I thought he
might have run away with her, for you
were very cruel to him, Sir Redways. But
this — It's - not to be . thought of. At , your
house, is he, Dr. Lester? Has he said
anything about Cissy to you?" . .
"I can't— I can't believe my sweet little
Cissy Is dead!" she sobbed. "It's an awful
mystery! But it will all be found put.
And she will be found, too, alive and -well.
There are plenty of clews whrch clever
detectives would pick up. Of course you'll
wire Scotland Yard?"
The old man bowed his head. And In
a few moments Lady knew as
much as the others. She was spared the
sight of the sacking with its ugly, omi
nous strains; but she saw the beautiful
hair and cried over it !
Carrismoyle took from, his
pocket a sovereign and laid it
on the table. ' .
"It was at a tea place in Bond street,
where Miss Grant: was with a chaperon
and several of her school friends."/
"Was the meeting accidental, Lord Car
rismoyle?" :
" I think, Sir Red way s, you have scarce
ly a right to ask that question." . ,
"I have every right. My daughter has
disappeared— we fear has been murdered.
It was on Saturday, that she- left school.
Now you understand.'.'. •- ¦ _j ¦ v.^ ,
Carrismoyle's ; face -was burked -a.
healthy brown, but he was pale under the
tan, and his eyes suddenly seemed to grow
dark as night. . ''¦:¦;'
"Disappeared — murdered?" he echoed,'
for Lester, true to i his. word, had • ex
plained nothing, . saying in his i note only.
"Come at once. It is urgent" . }-. ¦ '• . ;
"If she's dead I shan't be long in fol
lowing her," Sir ' Redways said, huskily.
'You and I are not friends Lord Carris-,
moyle. I consider myself deeply "injured
by you, but I don't thinit that you'll have
"Where if': you 'please?. It was^Bcarce
ly"—with a slight sneer— "at Ashburton
House?" _ " '¦¦' - .'¦ ', -'^;: '.'
"I saw Miss Grant on Saturday after
noon," Carrismoyle answered, quietly, in
deference to that look. ¦ ,i;-;'
Sir Redways flung the question at him.
Carrismoyle's blue eyes,, which* could
laugh so merrily, Vere far from merry
now. They^were the color of the sea in a
ftorm, and the black brows drew to
gether, for the tone was one to resent,
and he and Sir Redways Grant were old
enemies. Carrismoyle "would not rhave
come to " this house if Lester's hurried
note had* not been worded so urgently.
And now Lester, seeing the Inwn'.nent
storm, threw -an Imploring look at his
friend. . / --¦;'", v.i.- y .. ¦ ' ty'."
for a climb that was possible to them,
and, of course. Cecily was one of the
number, or the expedition never would
have gone out under Carrismoyle's escort.
' 'He thought Cecily Grant the most ra
diantly lovely girl he had ever seen, even
in his dreams. When he was with her he
~ could scarcely take bis eyes from hes
A year and a half ago he had not only
been In ignorance of this old feud, but
had not even been aware that such a per
son as Sir Redways Grant existed. Car
rismoyle Castle, tha dilapidated but still
beautiful home of his ancestors— a great
many of them, each generation a llttl*
poorer and more improvident than an
other—was in Ireland, and though, as a
matter of fact, tha young man had not
spent much time there since he had first
been packed off to Eton, naturally people
were of vast importance In Devonshire
had little interest for him, and ¦ ho had
only known the Lesters because they vis
ited cousins of his in his own county. But
about eighteen months ago he and an Ox
ford friend of his, the young Duke of
Clonmare, went to Switzerland together
for some climbing:. They began to find
themselves stared at. at the hotels they
frequented, because people found out who
they. were; and It Is not every day that
a Swiss hotel contains a bachelor Duka
and a Viscount, even. if both are "only
Irish titles." y
They had not come for "that sort of
.thing," as the Duke complained, . and he
proposed that he and Carrismoyle should
In future travel as plain George* Dennis
and Royal West They had had a right
to these names, so that they would not
be going about under false pretenses, and
It would be "more of a lark."
It was not ten days after tha changa
when ' they met Sir Redways Grant and
Cecily at Zermatt "Mr. Dennis and Mr.
West" had, in company with their guides,
done some very good things on the moun
tains, and Sir Redways, who had once, a
long, long time ago. been a climbing man.
was favorably Inclined toward them.
They talked in the big hall ot their hotel,
drank black coffee, listened to musio
together and discovered that they had
mutual friends In Robert and Mary Les
ter. After that Mr. West's enthusiasm
for; the mountains sensibly cooled. He
even . condescended to take some ladies
"I'm not thinking of the triumph," Car
rismoyle said, humbly; "I don't dare look
far ahead— the way is so "dark."
Somehow. It was upon the past that he
dwelt most as hs traveled back to town
that night alone. In a first-class compart
ment. His thoughts even went as far back
as the quarrel between his father and Sir
Redways Grant. To this day he did not
know the cause, though he had gleaned a
vague impression that it had been about
a woman, and when both men had been
young— his father, now dead, the younjer
of the two.
Then it's her father's fault for sendm«
her away from him," pronounced the spin
ster. "Poor old man— my'heart aches for
him now; but I wonder if that thought's
not in his mind to-night? Oh. Roy"
turning impulsively to Carrismoyle, "if
only you're right; if only you could find
her and give, her back to him, what a
triumph, what poetical Justice it would b*
¦for you!"
"By to-morrow morning Scotland Yard
will be at work," said Lester. "I fancy,
somehow, that their attention, after find
ing out how she left the school and that
obvious sort of thing, will mostly be con
centrated on this neighborhood. And you
—have you any definite plan of action, if
you don't mind my asking?"
"I don't .mind. And my definite plan
has gone no further than calling, at Ash
burton House, where she was at school.
Good heavens! If you only knew what
it is for me to feel that if it were not for
me this awful thing would never hav»
happened."
"How do you make that out?" Mary
Lester asked quickly.
"She was sent to school, you know as
a punishment for— caring about ma. If
she had been at home with her father she
would have been safe."
--Tve simply this: my own feeling that
she can't be dead. And the one fact that
—that her dear dead body wasn't in tha
box. - That was sent out of pure brutality,
to frighten her father. If she had been
¦murdered I think that the horror would
have been Intensified to the fulL The
only reason it wasn't, so, was because, as
she's alive, that was not possible."
; "I can't say I think we've much to go
on."
"Not much, but something. And I'm
in a condition to catch at straws."
; "Will you tell me what you have to go
upon— what ground for hope, after all
we've seen and heard to-night?"
"I have," answered the other; while
Mary Lester listened with uneven breaths
and the stinging of tears at her eyelids.
"Ah. that is what we all want!" sighed
Lester, with a quick vision of the beau
tiful girl as he had seen her last, and a
shuddering afterthought of the box and
its contents, the mound of sand in the
cave and the trampled sand and snow
outside. "But, Carrismoyle, I haven't
much hope."
"The police are equal to learning that
even the Waycross police." broke in Car
rismoyle, scornfully, "and also where that ¦
box came from. It isn't to that technical
sort of thing that I mean to apply my
self. I don't expect or want to be scien
tific in what I do, or begin at the right
end and all that What I want is to find
Cecily."
, "But why isn't there Just as much
chance of finding out things here?" asked
Lester, when he had come back at last
from ttfe abbey. "I should say this was
the end to work from. You could find
out whether those telegrams really were
sent from Waycross to Lady Stanton and
to Miss Grant—"
Mary Lester was horror-stricken at the
news from Stonecross Abbey, and befor«
her brother returned from there It was
arranged that Carrismoyle should take
the 11:30 train back to London. If he did
not catch that he could not arrive in town
'much before noon next day, and in his
desperate impatience he wished to begin
his quest as early as possible in th«
morning.
Lord Carrismoyle had come to Way
cross avowedly .with the Intention of
spending Christmas with Robert Lester
and Robert Lester's sister— a delightful
old maid, who consoled the doctor as well
as a sister could for the great disappoint
ment of his life. Carrismoyle was fond
of the Lesters, but they knew If Cecily
Grant had not been coming home from
school at this time that In all probability
they- would not have had a visit from
tbeir young and popular friend. They
were none the less glad to see him be
cause of this, and Miss Mary Lester was
of the opinion that Carrismoyle had been
abominably treated by Sir Redways; and
new they were neither surprised nor of
fended at their guest's sudden change of
plan. \ .
With that he bowed his white head and
passed on, leaning on the arm of the doc
tor. For a moment or two Carrismoyle
stood gazing after the two dark figures,
and the tremulous yellow star of their
lantern; then he turned and went back
into the cave. But he and his companion'
found nothing more. The locket was tha
only rear proof that Nella Kynaston had
not spoken out of the richness of her
imagination.
Sir Redways looked at him fixedly In
the queer mingling of lantern-light and
snowlight "Yet if you should do what
'you say," he exclaimed, on a sudden Im
pulse, "I would forget all the past and—
and give you everything."
of you. I merely spoke of what might be.
for I'm struck down so low that I'm at
any man's mercy; I'd make any bargain
to have my girl again." *
"You shall have her If she's alive— and
I believe she is," > answerd Carrismoyle.
"But . I make no bargain; I shall ask
nothing in return for what I hope to do—
what I shall give my whole life to doing
till if s done." .*¦'¦ '••>--¦
. She had come back half -fainting, pant
ing and breathless after the wild rush
she 'had made for homeland thenj before
she had had time to recover, the new
Now, every second seemed long; yet few
minutes passed before Nella Kynaston
was almost pushed in at the door, white
as a sheets with /wind blown hair and
great- frightened eyes— a very different
creature from the neat, pretty, peach
faced girl Sir Redways Grant's house
keeper, had engaged a few days ago to
wait upon the adored- young lady of the
house. - ,
"For goodness .sake ; don't stammer,
you'll drive me mad!" exclaimed Sir Red
ways, savagely. "Send the young woman
up, send her up. And get that note off
to Dr. Lester's house as quick as you
can."
In a moment James, the footman, ap
peared once more; and,^having taken the
order, still paused. "Everything you; di
rected has been done, sir," he announced.
"And— if you please, Miss Grant's ! maid,
who went into the village to post fa let
ter, and. came back by ., way of the v cliffs,
has been telling a very strange tale, sir,
of something she < saw and heard In the
smugglers' cave — No Man's, you know,
sir. I— it's Just possible it may have some
connection with— with— " i'^:*
bell, as he knew the master of the house
would wish him to do. '^h^-.-'y.
"You don't understand all yet. Lady
Stanton, orl don't think, you'd- hint at
Carrismoyle's hand in this," went on Les
ter. "Shall I tell her. Sir Redways?"
"Ah! then he , can't— yet might he not
wish to throw you off the track. Sir Red
ways, until they could get a license and
that sort of thing? Or could they have
managed to be married without, in Scot
land?" .
"Well, then— I wouldn't suggest such a
thing if— if we need not think of every
contingency— can she and Carrismoyle
have run away together?"
"Lord Carrismoyle Is at my house,"
said Lester, quickly.
"Don't be afraid to speak, Margaret."
"How terrible! Why, I can hardly be
lieve-it What can have happened? Oh,
Is It possible that— that she- "
"Would to heaven I did!"
"No! I did nothing to' disturb the old
arrangement. -I was expecting you and
Cissy to arrive together this evening."
"Good gracious! Then she isn't here?
And — you don't know where she is?"
"What! You^didn't wire for Cissy to
come home alone last Saturday evening
and telegraph me at the same- time?'"
"I did not send," Sir Redways answered,
the faint, hopeful brightness dying out
of his eyes. .
rude of me, .why you sent to Ashburton
House for Cissy in such a hurry."
His voice pleaded his innocence, an elo
quent advocate, and r Sir Redways was
pricked with a : faint stab of • remorse." "I
'don't-; say: that*' I. do -think 'It*' of you," he
retorted: "If I did I should ; have given
you', in charge of the police. No. Lord
Carrismoyle.il don't think so badly— even
.. "I -did not understand before how bad
ly j you "thought of me," answered * the
young man", In the deepest chagrin.
Sir Redways, who had . taken the doc
tor's arm, and had already begun to move
toward the path that led homewards,
stopped and turned abruptly. "Do you
think by saying that to remove all sus
picion from my mind?" he asked, harshly.
"What's to prevent my supposing, if you
come with news that the police have
failed to get, that you haven't had more
knowledge to begin with than they? That
all along it has been your plan to affect
surprise and horror with -the 'rest of us,
and -bribe me by saying that, if I'll give
you my daughter when she's found, you'll
bring her safely back to me — you, and no
other? Aren't you giving me reason to
think that? Yet, base as it would be so
to play on my feelings, heaven knows
that I'd forgive you all If only at this
moment you could tell me she was alive
and unharmed.': forgive you? Why, I'd
play into your hands. I'd promise her to
you." Lord \Carrismoyle, if you do know
anything 'of her— only speak, and the
game's yours. You've only to make your
own terms."' ' ¦.- ¦ — >
-"If she is alive, I swear to you that I
will bring her back to you." the young
man repeated. • "
"Itis-love, Sir Redways."
"Come, Lester, we will go," said the old
man. "You and I are no . longer needed
here. You will go home with me??
"Yes," returned Lester, 1 " with one elo
quent look at Carrismoyle. - J. . ¦
"There is something that sharpens the
wits . of an . amateur, . and gives him an
advantage over the 'trained intelligence'
of the expert,"" Carlsmoyle answered.
"And that something?" . . ;:.l-?
"VI- would sooner trust the, police for
that" said. Sir Redways. "Not these
provincials— I'm not talking of them. One
has. to begin with them, that's all. But
give me the trained intelligence of Scot
land, Yard. It's only In novels that the
amateur, detective scores, Lord Carris
moyle."; . ,'yij-t^- '£> .'>cy?.<^< {'
"I will '-.'yet do something to disprove
it," Carrismoyle exclaimed. - "If she lives
I will bring her back to you."
"Why not?" the old man retorted, sul
lenly. "You have done nothing so far
that I can see to. disprove that theory."
' "1 will ; stay and see the end of this as
far as may be," answered Carrismoyle,
with a glance at the policeman, who,
having thrown aside his spade for a look
at the locket, 4 was Industriously Jotting
down notes in a small book. "Just one
thing first," and he followed- Sir Red
ways Grant and Robert : Lester 'but into
the whirling snow." "I should like to ask
whether you still suspect me of knowing
more than I have told?"
¦ "If the locket was given by you It is
yours now. Lord Carrismoyle/': he said
coldly. ' "For me, you are welcome to
keep- It At least she is not here, and
now I have made sure of so much I will
go. Will you return with me as you
came, or- — " -/•;>•: 'y v .
The old .man's spirit cried out within
him at this confirmation of bis worst fear,
at the moment when he had allowed him
self to hope. Had he been alone or had
Lester, his old friend, been hl3 only com
panion, he would have covered his face
with his' hands and groaned aloud, but
now | pride gave him the power of self
restraint .- / . s -
r "Not from the locket,' Sir Redways,'*
said [Carrismoyle, sadly, "for— It was hers.
I gave it to her,, with a thin gold chain
that is -not with it. now. .There's-a pho
tograph of myself Inside. She - told me
that — that she .wore , It sometimes under
her dress." ¦' • -
; "A locket!" he exclaimed. "That girl
was right There has been strange work
herel - Perhaps the men she saw got sus
picious and came back to undo' what they
had done; there's been more' than time
since. , But, thank heaven, I don't -think
this thing : belonged , to Cissy. She had
little Jewelry; that I or Lady Stanton did
not give her, and I neversaw this trinket
• before. "Ah, after all,- perhaps I may hope
»agaln." > ;'•".. .: . " .; X.- " ; *
Suddenly Sir Redways gave a start for
ward, and snatched something up, almost
from under Carrismoyle's hand. 1
"Yes, ; I thought my spado touched
metal, but i}ow I can't j come upon it
again," answered the other./ "Wait!"
And he drew aside the spade, going down
on one knee with the lantern in his left,
hand, his right 'groping in the sand. ,
"tan it be that the girl. Imagined the
whole experience?" said the doctor. "I've
had hysterical patients who were quite
capable of, it Still, she didn't seem like
that sort, and, Carrismoyle,' did you hear
an odd sound then?" '.^ •
Yet the spades shoveled away the sand
and pebbles— carefully, With- a kind of
fearful tenderness lest at any moment
they , might come "upon that whi.cn was
sought— and found nothing." Theyihad all
calculated, though no one had spoken out
the thought, that from Nella Kynaston's
account the dead, hand she had felt could
not have been buried very far below the
surface. - . . v .
'•It's hard to be certain oft that, sir^'
broke in the policeman. ; ?The .sand Is^so
tumbled : about at this place that r it may
be a , mere V; eff e'et-", ;We're-not sure, either,
how Iong*'th r e snow has been falling so
fast" He. pushed the-' old door, which ,was
not quite shut/ 'and 5t-= was Sir. Redways
who entered the^ cave- first '. •" ' ;
i "For heaven's sake, :let*s get to work."
he said, harshly.-^'fand- end this horror
one way or the other. So-jfar the girl told
the truth. There J SM.he mound of -sand in
'the corner. Anything -mights be under
neath." ;•'¦ ¦•¦ ' -*v I;'-*- * '¦ '
. Elsewhere the newly fallen snow 'lay
smoothly spread ovex. the sand . liken the
ifrosting on a' fresnly made Christmas
.cake, but here, • in front of the, cave, .it
showed many footmarks not yet obliter
ated by the soft, feathery masses, which
came whirling- down faster and faster
every moment. T>
'"That looks as if "men had >been here
very lately," Dr. Lester - volunteered;
"later than the girl who- — '' : <>;V. >-
Again -the footman. was recalled, more
orders were given and presently, with the
policeman who by this time had arrived
from Waycross, Sir Redways, Lord Car
rismoyle and Dr. Lester left Lady Stan
tori to. wait in terrible suspense for news,
while" they drove in- a closed carriage to
the' Junction of the road and the footpath
over- the cliffs. % . .
They, carried with them lanterns and
spades^for the 1 grisly work they meant to
undertake,; but * no servant was to accom
pahy them after they left the carriage.
< 'Not three, houja, had: passed; since Nella
f Ky'naston ; had ; flea" 'from the ; cave to gasp
.ioutv at S the %bbey y the ""¦ almost • incredible
;story of her experience, but. already the
"snow lay white tippri' the ground, giving a
glimmering effect 'of light in
darkness; -,:Not one of the pa'rty/uttered a
• word during the ordeal .'of that, walk over
; the "cliffs^to' the beacht unt}l' they 'arrived
ati the' mouth of the caye^ t Then 'Carria
' moyle spoke, pointing downward l\ and
,-hplding the lantern he carried . closer to
-.the ground. • '\ v ; -.. |v| j -•
*. As for Robert .Lester, he objected no
more, for he understood that protest was
useless, and if Cecily Grant had indeed
been, done; to death, all the prudence and
precaution 11% the world would scarcely
suffice" to I preserve /her father's broken
life. The old ma.i must have his way, let
the consequences be what they might
sight which might be waiting for him in
No Man's Cave would wring the truth
from his lips, v as though his limbs had
been put to the\torture of the rack.. And.
perhaps, too. there was. in addition, the
vague, half- vindictive feeling- that since
he must endure hl3*white-hot agony there
would be a savage consolation in the
knowledge tha,t another heart was wrung.
"But this is monstrous," began the doc
tor, indignantly; then quickly checked
"You would not say, or even think such
things, if you were not half crazed for
the moment by the awful shock you've
had," said Lester. "Why, Carrismoyle is'
at mV house now. He came torday. I
was trying to tell you this when "
"I shall have Kjn arrested!" cried Sir
Redways.
"How should I know?" retorted the
other, with sudden fierceness. "He hated
me, as his father before him hated me.
His conduct last year showed ""that he
could stoop to deceit and treachery, why
not go a step further and put a girl be
yond the reach of any other man, since
he knew he could never have her for
himself?"
"Good heavens. Sir Redways!" ex
claimed Lester. "You don't know what
you're saying. Carrismoyle— a murderer?
Why. he worships your daughter. He'd
give his life ten times over to save her.
Surely you don't accuse him of taking
it?"
He broke off abruptly, a dark flush
creeping up to his forehead. "There is
one man," he went on in a changed
voice. "Lord Carrismoyle."
me of all that made life worth living,
except— except to bring him to Justice.
Revenge this may be, yet what enemy
have I— unless — - — "
"You say that wishing to buoy me up
with false hope," answered the old roan
—who locked years older now. "But it's
no use, Lester. Some villain has robbed
Silently he held out the open sheet of
paper to Robert Lester, who read It, hor
rified and wondering. "This is a case of
revenge," said the "An enemy
has done this thing— sent you this box,
I mean; for I do not believe that— that
she has been murdered."
Outside it was blank; but within a few
words had been printed, not written, In
ink of a dull red color.* "A Christmas
box for Sir Redways Grant All that he
will ever se.e of his daughter."
As he spoke, he attempted to lift the
dressing-bag from the box, but it was
surprisingly heavy, and, letting It remain,
he opened it bunglingly. because of the
trembling of his fingers. All the gold
fittings were gone, like the, monogram,
and the bae had been filled'wlth stones
and gravel, enough alone to account, for
the' weight of the box. But on top of the
stones was something .else^-a little pair of
shoes with high heels and smartly point
ed tots; and tucked Into one of these
was a folded bit of whfte paper which Sir
Redwsys snatched with a desperate eag
erness.
"These were her things." eald Sir Red
ways. "She wore this dress and hat and
muff the last time I saw her, about six
weeks ago. They were new then, and I
remember well how she 'asked me If I
liked them, smiling all the time, because
she knew what I would say. And the bag
that was hers. too. I gave it to her on
her last birthday. It has a lot of gold
bottles inside."
Instead, there was a bundle of clothing,
roughly folded. A pretty gray cloth skirt
with an edging- of chinchilla and a glimpse
cf Filk frills and lining to match. A
Jacket of the same materials, a gray felt
hat with soft feathers, once smartly
shaped and turned up at the side with a
Jeweled buckle, now crushed and broken
down by the pressure of the box cover;
a little chinchilla muff, with a bunch of
real Parma violets pinned upon it— poor
violets, dead now. and all their beauty
rone! Besides these things there was a
mass of pale blue silk and lace and deli
cate cambric, rolled Into a ball, and un
derneath was a large dressing bag of alli
gator tkin, with a rent In the side where
a monogram, doubtless of gold, had been
roughly torn off.
"Then at least let me " began Lester.
coming closer, but Sir Redways stopped
him with a gesture. The Invalid was
weak no longer. Once again he put out
his hands and this time did not draw
back. Softly, caressingly, he touched the
disordered mass of lovely hair, which
must have been cut close to the head it
had once adorned, for as he tenderly
lifted it from the box two or three long
golden ropes separated themselves from
the rest and trailed along the Persian rug
before Bir Redways could lay the whole
g-llttering heap "on a tablj^close by.
Lester saw the old man's lips tighten
and heard the deep breath he drew as he
lifted the sacking which covered the re
xnalninr contents of the box. It was an
effort not to turn away the eyes In fear
cf what might be beneath, but neither
would yield to the impulse which both
must have felt, and as the coarse stuff
was thrown back the two men breathed
the same words: "Thank heaven!" for no
fair dead body lay crumpled in that nar
row space.
"Not fit?" echoed the old man. "I was
once a soldier. I'm not a coward now.
What if it kills mel Do I want to live if
she is dead? And do you think it possible
that I would go — now?" "
"Xot what you fear, I hope," said Les
ter, trying to speak soothingly, though he
too was very pale and his voice unsteady.
"For heaven's sake, let me help you to
your room, and when I have— have found
out all I can of this mystery, you shall
hear everything. Tou are not fit "
Sir Redways put out his shaking' hands
as if to touch the hair, then drew them
back with a groan. "I cant— I can'tl" he
faltered. "My God! What's under the
sacking?" J
It was her hair. Even Dr. Lester, even
James, the footman, neither of whom had
seen her for a year, were sure of that;
sure, without a doubt For there was no
other hair like it in all the world— no
other as pure gold, with a wonderful, rip
pling wave spread over its shining sur
face, like the ruffling- of a clear sheet of
bright water in a breeze. No other hair
was so silky fine, or -so long- and thick
down to the very ends, that curled as
they lay on that ugly, red-spotted sack
ing-, into soft, pathetic rinps.
"Great heavens! My girl! She's been
murdered!" cried the old man in an awful
voice — a voice with the agony of death In
It. For there, on a bundle of sacking that
¦was stained with dark, unmistakable
stains, lay scattered the shorn glory of
golden hair which had been one of Cecily
Grant's most radiant beauties.
Robert Lester's eyes were ready to
snatch at the sight which should be re
vealed, and he and Sir Redways 'saw It to
gether.
But his master, pushing him roughly
aside, strode to the box and tore off the
cover.
"No, sir, for heaven's sake!" implbred
James, springing forward with a new
lease of courage. "It — it Isn't for you to
look at, sir. Wait — I beg you'll wait. Let
the doctor see, and then "
With a veined hand on either arm of
his big chair he lifted himself up and took
a step toward the box, which had been
placed on the floor at a distance of four
or five yards from him.
"There's no Joke about this, whatever
else It may be." broke In Sir Redways.
"Look at those fellows — they're green.
You're a doctor— you could see that a
minute ago Henry was on the point of
tumbling over in a faint Open the box,
I say— or have I got to do it myself?"
By this time the doctor was on bis feet
suspecting, fearing- he scarcely knew
what, for the faces ef the two men were
eloquent "Remember, Blr Redways," he
eaid. Quickly, "you're an Invalid, and my
patient I can't have you exciting your
self. If there's anything unpleasant In
the box — some hoax, perhaps, played on
you by an unprincipled person, or that
detestable creature, a practical joker ".
Until this moment Sir Redwaya. to
whom servant* were more or less autom
atons, had not thought of, observing the
footmen's faces. But as the end of the
box thumped down on the floor again, be
started and looked at the men with an
angry frown. For a long moment he
looked In eilence, from one to the other,
then he said, slowly: "Open that box
iere — and now."
At this, without waiting for permission,
the two men stooped to lift the box, but
the younger «f the two . staggered,
dropped his ea4 and leaned against the
wall, a visible dew breaking out on his
pale forehead.
"I think, sir— that— that you were right
There must have been a mistake about
the box," James stammered, he and his
fellow eervant both yellow-white to their
tremblin* 11pm. "I— if you'll allow us, sir.
we'll take It downstairs again. It's not
fit to— to open here."
"No, sir. no— I— it isn't that." responded
James, in a strange voice — so strange
that Robert Lester looked quickly and
tearchingly into his face. The footman
caught the look and returned it witn an.
Imploring gaze.
"Well, then, what Is It? Can't you
speak up?" Sir Redways went on.
"What's the matter now?" testily In
quired the invalid. "Have you torn your
clothes or hurt your fingers on a nail?"
James obeyed, and at the same time ut
tered a stifled cry. He and his compan
ion looked at each other, and, lowering
the cover, stepped with one accord be
tween their master and the box.
Sir Re-duays nodded assent, having
turned his chair so that he could see
what was poing on. and forgetting for a
moment the lateness of the train.
Both servants stooped and pulled at the
cover, but it still stuck fast.
"Give it a jerk, James," Eaid Sir Red
ways.
his mate Etood waiting. "Shall I take off
the cover, sir?" he asked.
THE SUNDAY CALL.
3

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