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( Copvrijtht. ) THE MISSING LINK. By the Author of "Secret Chains," "Restored," u Until the Day Breaks, &c. &c. -T,our brother's life Falls Into forfeit. » ollas, what poor ability's in me To do him good?" "Command me to my brother, seon at night I'll send him certain word of my success." Measure for Mearure. CHAPTER IV. BOYCOTTED. And now, what was the vulnerable spot in this strong, self-contained man who had been pierced so sharply by his sister's words ? Martin Derrick was four-and-twenty when his father died, and he had succeeded to the tenancy of Row-tor Farm. Reserved and thoughtful as he was by nature-his bringing up and his sur- roundings had intensified all his characteristics. Life on these vast and lonely moors, where nature is still untamed and free, where neighbours are few and far between, and where the greater part of daily work has to be carried on in solitude, has a tendency to develop a strong, serious, self- reliant race. But there is about it, either in speech or manner, little of the harshness and ruggedness of the north. The soft climate of Devonshire plays its part also; and courtesy, gentleness, refinement even, may be found in these men of Dartmoor. Martin Derrick, however, had gained the reputation of being morose and eccentric. His ways were not altogether the ways of the men about him, or his thoughts their thoughts. To be sure, his land was in excellent order, his beasts were well cared for and fetched a. "long price," although he was credited with trying all sorts of new-fangled experiments with his farm, and he worked as hard, and was as buine a-lik-) in market, as any man in the country rouud. But he cared little for the society of other men of his age and class. He never hunted, or rodo in the Tavistock steeplechases; if he took out his gun, it was only for the prosaic purpose of killing a plover or rabbit for dinner sport, as other men understood it, was no sport to him He was supposed to spend all his leisure time in reading; and it was rumoured that he wasted a shameful lot of money in buying hooks. The vicar of the parish, Mr. Escott, was the only man in it who was heartily friendly with Martin Derrick. But then the vicar was himself suspected of being heterodox. At all events, he went about chipping stones with a hammer; and he was believed in consequence, by some occult connection of ideas, not to literally accept every word of the book of Genesis. It wa3 known for a fact that much lending and borrowing of books went on between the parson and the farmer, and it was whispered that the books were of a re- volutionary and even infidel tendency. The time came when Mr. Escott was able to do Martin Derrick one of the greatest services which one man can render another. This is how it came about: One midsummer evening, two yearrs before this story begins, Martin and his sister Anne were strolling together along the lane which led from Row-Tor Farm to the village of St. Stephen's, three miles away. Often when tho day's work was done did the brother and sister take an evening walk together. Sometimes they wandered far over the moor, until they had left behind every trace of human habitation, aied all arojuad them was the pathless heather. Peopie might have sneered had they met them-Martin Derrick was a fool not to find a sweetheart to walk with instead of a sister. But Anne knew, with secret pride, that Martin pieferred her society to that of any other womall. The girls of the neighbourhood were to him wearisome and unprofitable creatures, more exacting and less companionable than his dog or horse. The sun had set, the western sky was all a crimson glow, the moorland hills were rose- colour against the clear blue east. In the hedge- rows was a luxuriant growth of ferns, and tall foxgloves rose in purple state. Grey swathes of hay lay in the field far and wide, the air was sweet with the scent of honeysuckles, sweet with the song of larks and thrusl.es. All that was pure and peaceful seemed to breathe through the June twilight. But for long afterwards the beauty and the calm of summer evenings brought ghastly memories to that unhappy brother and sister. They suddenly heard coarse, discordant laughter, and an attempt at a song; they turned a corner of the lane, and they saw coming towards them a young man with unsteady, rolling gait. Qe was the son of a widow who rented a small farm, a mile or so away; he was commcnly called "Nobody's enemy but his OWl," for he was a light-hearted, good-humoured, open- handed, young fellow, who was popular when he was sober, and pitied when he was drunk. But to Martin Derrick he was only an object of disgust. "There's that fool of a Dick Lawson. Walk on a little faster Anne." The lane was narrow, rough, and stony, and Lawfon seemed to roll right across it, from one hedge-bank to the other as he staggered onward, shouting and singing in his hideous fashion. Martin, of course, tried to keep himself between his sister and the drunken man, but Lawson, with a yell of laughter, suddenly swerved across the path, and, too tipsy to recognise Anne, conscious on! y hat here was fair game-a woman—he seized her round the waist. Anne had hardly time to be aware of his rude grasp before Martin's hand was on his collar, and with all the force of his athletic arm, he swung him round, and then let him go, with a backward push. It all happened in one moment. Lawson was lying on the stony road motionless, silent. Martin was standing over him, breathing hard, his fists clenched. "Oh, Martin! aried Anne, "what have you done ? "Done! Why, sobered him for once, the beast! "I think he is quite stunned," and Anne bent over him, a vague fear seizing her. "Serve him right. Come on, Anne, he's not fit for you to look at," and Martin took her by the arm and tried to hurry her on, but she resisted firmly. "We can't go on and leave him like that. I am afraid he is badly hurt, and we shall have to get him home somehow." "Don't touch him, I tell you said Martin, fiercely; but Anne knelt down in the road and began to loosen Dick Lawson's collar and neck- tie. She tried to raise his head; it fell back heavily, and it seemed to her that a ghastly pallor was gathering on his face. "Martin, look-look at him," she gasped, and her very heart seemed to stop beating. Something in Anne's voice, something in the man's altitude, startled Martin. He, too, bent over Dick Lawson, and he raised his unresisting body into a sitticg posture, with his back agamst the bank. The man's head fell forward, and presently Martin said in a hoarse, choking voice: "I believe he is dead! For one awful moment the brother and sister looked at each other in silence, then Anne sprang to her feet. "Martin," and she gave a wild cry, "you are talking nonsense; you have gone mad! and then she seemed to recover her presence of mind, and she went on breathlessly, but quite clearly: "Go home as quick as ever you can run-no, stop, Wilsworthy Farm is the nearest. Get someone to come at once, and bring some brandy, and then you go home and tell Richards to put the horse in the trap, and drive as hard as be can for the doctor. I'll stay here till you come back." "And leave you here all alone with him?" said Martin, in the same half-suffocated voice. "Yes go-go, don't wait another moment." And then Anne was left alone in the gathering darkness crouched on t-he ground, supporting on her knees the white face, with fixed staring eyes -tho face of a dead man. For Dick Lawson was dead, and all the help that Mai tin summoned was of no avail. The body was carried into the nearest house; the doctor, after some delay, arrived from Tavistock. Before night the tidings spread from one lonely farm to another, and descended as a crushing thunderbolt upon the humble home where dwelt the dead man's widowed mother-Martin Derrick and Dick Lawson had quarrelled and fought, and Derrick had murdered Lawson. At the c(Jrouer'. inquest two days afterwards, the only witrosses who could peak of what had actually happened were Martin and his sister Anne By no possibility could anyone disprove their ^s'^mony ?s to the purely accidental nature of Laws, death. Not even a b-ow had been given. MartI' hi; w ely thrust him away from his sifter ir. order to protect her from insult. Nevertheless the coroi)o r' jury returned a verdict of m. 'v b' er against Marin Derrick. Popular teding ran strongly against him. He was reckoned a proud, unsociable young man, who held himself aloof from the other farmers, el who, whilst having the presumption to succeed in business better than most of them, paid no attentions to their daughters, and never joined in the amusements of their s t.-t Whereas Dick Lawson was a jelly good fellen', friendly with everybody, having a few we:\ :d0;) certainly, but as harmless as a rbiki. Ard Msea he was the only sou, the only solace of a widowed mother, who had always stinted herself, in order that he should have enough and to spare. Martin Derli. Ie had murdered him, and Martin Derrick ought tO swing for it. [lotvever, the village of St. Sfepnen's was not il the world. Martin was committed for trial t the next Exeter Assizes, but he was ared imprisonment, for Mr. Escott, the vicar, i i d a neighbofiring squire, Martin's land- lord, vere allowed to give bail for his appear- ance. At the trial he was ably defended by (ounsel, and the jury, who knew nothing of local prejudice, and were favourably impressed by the clear manner in which Anne, now the sole witness of the actual occurrence, gave hei fvidf Dce-evidence which no amount of cross- examination could shake-the jury, after a short deliberation, acquitted the prisoner. Martin Derrick left the court a free man, and went home with his sister to Row-tor Farm; nd then his punishment at the hands of society e;;an. If he had been convicted and sentenced to a term of imprisonment people would have pitied and in time lorgiven him. But to get off scct-free, when nobody could deny that he had killed a man, a near neighbour, too, whom everybody in the place had known from his < radle! Martin Derrick should be made to learn that there was justice in St. Stephen's, if there was none to be had at Exeter. For two years, therefore, he had been to a certain extent "boy- cotted and popular disfavour had extended itself to Anne. For, it was said, who knows exactly what happened that evening in the lonely lane ? There was no witness but Anne to the struggle between the two men. Was it proved-rould it ever be proved—that his sister had told the truth about the part which Martin had played ? So, shunned by their neigbours, the brother and sister, in their house beside the moor, lived almost the life of hermits. Their firm friend, Mr. Escott, the heterodox vicar, had given up the living of St. Stephen's. His successor, the Rev. Philip Maradcn, was a bigot, and Martin now never crossed the threshold of the church. The fact that he was avoided by everybody troubled Martin but little, for he had a secret, ever-gnawing pain which deadened his nerves to all lesser suffering. The fact that he had— unintentionally though it was-ki lied a man was always present to hint. He could not accuse himself of any guilt in the matter, and yet he was consumad by remorse. Dick Lawson might have been an idle scapegrace, but he was "the only son of his mother, and she was a widow." Martin had never cared for public opinion, and his work on his farm and the books he read in his leisure hours sufficed him instead of society. Still, the solitude in which he lived had a saddening influence upon him. This silent, sombre man was in reality as sensitive and render-hearted as any i woman. And it was, perhaps, partly the feminine element in Martin which so powerfully attracted the strong and resolute nature of hior sister. Anne's love for fiim was the passionate and protecting devotion of a mother to her child. She never forgot that it was in her defence that Martin had brought tjiis terrible misfortune upon himself. It was her turn now to defend him. She could not, indeed, shield him from the cold looks and words, the dislike and disapproval, which he met abroad in the world, but she could make his ,ome a sure refuge, the one place where he was considered and cared for and sympathised with. It was nothing to her that she was shunned as well as Martin, that the small chance she had ever had of marrying was over. She and Martin were all the world to each other, and they would live on together, at Row-tor Farm, as old maid and old bachelor, until they were parted by death. CHAPTER V. A WEDDING PRESENT. More than two years had passed since the trial of Martin Derrick, when the quiet, even tenour of life*At Row-tor Farm was suddenly inter- ruptejPby a loud, cheerful, but discordant note. Susan, the youngest sister, had descended upon her brother's home, seeming as much out of place there as a brass band playing dance music would be on a tor of Dartmoor. Her ^arious attraction had led to the first overtures of friendship being made to Martin since he had stood in the dock at Exeter. James Stambridge, mine captain—who had made money in the days, now, perhaps, gone for ever, when money was to be made in Devonshire mines—a sober, middle-aged man, a highly respected member of the congregation who worshipped at the little white-washed Wesleyan chapel at St. Stephen's, had fallen in love with Susan, and had offered to marry her. And for Susan's sake he was willing to be oivil to her sister Anne, whom secretly he sneered at as a strong-minded old maid; for Susan's sake he would even try to be friends with her unsociable and ungodly brother, who spoke to nobody at market except the cattle-dealers who bought his beasts, who shunned village concerts and tea-meetings, and never attended a place of worship" on Sundays. For a few weeks the old farmhouse on the border of the moor was transformed. Susan's gay laughter rang through the silent rooms, her light footsteps pattered up and down the stair- case, the homely parlour was littered with her finery. All day long she sewed, and tried on hats and bonnets and gowns, and looked -it herself in the glass, and chattered with Miss Taylor, the village dressmaker, -whom she had summoned to help her prepare her trousseau. In the evenings Captain Stambridge would-as he expressed it- "drop in and have a cup of tea," and sit smil- ing at his promised bride and utter fatuous compliments; and then Anne would retreat to the kitchen to wash the china tea-things, and Martin would flee to his cheerless smoking- room to read, leaving the eng.,igad couple in undisturbed possession of the parlour. One Wednesday evening in that month of November, Martin returned homo from Tavi- stock, and entered the parlour, where every chair and table in the room was strewn with gowns in more or less advanced stages of manu- facture, while Susan stood before the fire, trying on a hat and ogling herself in the old-fashioned glass over the mantelshelf. He went up to her and took a roll of banknotes out of a large leather purse. "Here, Susan," said he abruptly, "I sold those bullocks to-day, so here's the price of them for a wedding present. Buy what you like with it," and. he went out of the room again, before she had hardly recovered from her surprise enough to thank him. For, as she said to her lover afterwards: "Who would have thought of grumpy old Martin coming out so handsome ? Well, I am glad that money hasn't gone in buying books, any way." That evening Martin, having no better refuge, for the fire in his little den refused to burn, came into the kitchen and seated himself in a hard, straight-backed wooden chair by the wide fteaith. With his elbows on his knees, his hands supporting his head, his eyes fixed on the fire, he appeared plunged into profound despondency. 4nne glanced at him as she put away the tea-things. Her sympathy with her brother, Mr natural insight told her much that was in his thoughts. Part of his frequent depression of spirits arose from the circumstances he had ohosen for himself. The solitary life he loved so well, the life of wandering on the moors, of study and of silent thought, sometimes weighed him down with a sense of the awfulness of nature and of human destiny—with all those mysteries of life and d-.a^h, of sin, sorrow, and loss, which the dweller., amidst the constant society of their kind find it so easy to forget. Presently, when the servant girl had left the room, he said to Anne: "I shall be glad when this business of Susan's is over and done with. Seemk to mp all this wodding finery and feasting is out of keeping with this house.' "I can't bear to see you giving up your arm- chair by the parlour fire, as you do night after night, Martin." Ob. as for that, I am more comfortable where I am. Stambridge is a man I can hardly bear to he in the same room with. But if Susan likes him, that's the main point. I suppose she does, Anne P I don't understand girls." "Shft likes him as much as it's in her nature to like anybody, and men generally don't care to be loved in a very strong sort of way, it soems to me. Plenty of flattery and a lukewarm l.king is what they look for from the girls they are going to marry." "I have sometimes thought," replied Martin, looking at his sister with rather a sad smile- "I have sometimes thought that you might have married, if it had not been for me." "Don't talk nonsense, Martin"; and then, having iihut the door of her china cupboard, she goated herself by the fire with her knitting. "Just think of all the men you know, and say if is one I would marry, or that would marry You may be sure that when a woman is happy and contented in her own company, and wants above all things peace, and freed or., from worry and interference, then that woman was born to be an old maid. No. no, my dear Martin; I Itove got the kind of life I like best, so don't you trouble yourself about JEC." > Martin looked at .Anne, with her fair face, her clear, truthful eyes, and thought of her calm temper, her faithfulness to duty, her never-fail- ing sympathy, all that made her like an atmos- phere of restfulness in his home. "Anne, you are like Wisdom," he had once said to her. "All her ways are pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." Aw "Well, a little patience," he replied to-night, "and all this vanity and vexation of love and carriage will be done with for ever, and you 'and I, Anne, old maid and old bachelor, will have the house to ourselves again. Thank heaven, by this day fortnight we shall be left in peace." 1 Oa the folloyipg dilv. Captain Stambridge drove h a bttruthod in his to Tavistock, where Susan wished to expend part of Martin's present in buying ornamental articles for her future home. The lovers had spent several hours in each other's company, and nothing had hap- pened to ruffle their mutual satisfaction; nor had they even quai-relled over choosing a best china tea-service. Differences of tasto cften lead to as bitter disagreements as theological controversy- and as the Arian heresy was to Athanasius, f- are aniline dyes to a true aesthete. But Susat; and Stambridge were eqinlly destitute of real refinement and eultivatien; although the late lady's-maid had a smattering of London fashion, which enabled her a little to overawe her pro- vincial lover when it was a matter of deciding between a cheap and sticky-looking black and gold cabinet and a clumsy walnut-wood, marble- topped chiffonier of an earlier date. The lovers w )o driving homewards, when about two miles from Row-tor Farm the horse lost a shoe. They had not Jong passed a black- smith's forge, and Stambridge, ei uiiibling a little at the delay, said they must turn back. "Help me down, then," aid Susan. "I am cold and tired." Tired uf nt-f lover's company, she might have added. "I'll walk on to Mrs. Hanham's, it's only a quarter of a mile, and stop there until you come. She'll give me a cup of tea, you may be sure-you know Mrs. Hanham and her kettle ? and Susan laughed meaningly. "What is the joke ?" asked Stambridge. "Oh, don't you know ? It's a regular saying in these parts-so Miss Taylor told me—Mrs. Hanham's kettle. She's a regular st'ngy old screw, and when a friend drot s in of an after- noon, and the kettle is on the fire, she asks them to have a cup of ten just for politeners' sake-but, says she, if you're in a hurry it's no good to pay heed to that kettle, he will sing for an hour or two on a stretch before he'll boil; and so, you see, they go away again without the cup of tea after all." Some half-hour or more afterwards Stambridge drove up to the little whitewashed, slate-roofed cottage, wherein dwelt Mrs. Hanham and her music-loving kettle, and where lie expected to find Susan. To his surprise, the thrifty mistress of the house informed him that she had not seen Susan that day. In perplexity Stambridge drove slowly onward. "I can't have missed her anyhow," he thought. "I have come straight along the road, and she would not have turned off into either of the lanes I have passed, as they would lead her out of her way." He drove some distance at a walking pace, looking to right and left of him the substan- tial form of tfusan seemed to have melted into air. Presently his bewilderment gave place to a sense of injured dignity. "She is playing hide-and-seek or some such game with me. It may be all very well this side of the wedding-day, but I shan't put up with being made a fool of, and kept dawdling about when I want my tea, when she is once my wife. In another minute he had turned a comer- and there was Susan hurrying along as if she thought Stambridge and the dog-cart were ahead of her. "Why, Susan—Susan," he shouted, touching his horse with the whip, and urging him into a sharp trot, "wherever are you off to in such a hurry ? Didn't you tell me you were going to wait for me at Mrs. Hanham's ?-and you have never been there at all, she says! Susan gave a little start as she heard her lover's voice, but she did not look back or slacken her steps until he overtook her and Stopped his horse. He stepped down from tho dog-cart with the prudence of a man no longer very young: "Come, Susan, there's no time to be playing tricks. It's getting late, and I wart my tea." She made no answer, she did not even look at him; but she recoiled with a little shiver when he took her by the arm-then, as if with a sudden recollection, she turned and said in a low, unsteady voice: Yes, let us got home as quick as we can." As she took Stambridge's hand in mounting the dog-cart, he saw that her face was very pale, her lips were quivering, and there was a terrified look in her dark eyes. Stambridge was not a man of quick perception, but it was evident even to him that a startling change had passed over Susan during the half-hour that they had been parted. Why, whatever is the matter ?" and he stared at her in amazement, as he spread the rug over her knees. "Oh, nothing-it's nothing," she answered confusedly. "Let's get on home, and never mind me." "But I shall mind you," he answered, half angry, half alarmed. "You look as though somebody had been frightening of you." "Oh, no-no, indeed it's not that," she cried, with sudden eagerness. "I believe it is, though, by your looks. Now look here, Susan, if so be as anybody has been saying anything rude to you as you came along the road, you might as well tell me of it. I shan't murder him; that's not in my line, as it is in some folks.' I should call it your own fault for choosing to walk along the road by your- self, instead of waiting for me, as is ycur lawful protector. Ladies didn't ought to be going about the country by themselves, where there's tramps and all sorts to be met with." ("Serve her right if she has been frightened," thqpght Stambridge, "for keeping me dawdling ahoat so.") "I wish you'd be quiet and not bother," was her pettish answer; and then, as if her nerves were quite unstrung, she suddenly burst into tears. "Good Lord, Susan, my dear, whatever is the matter ? "You do—plague one so," she sobbed, with her handkerchief at her eyes. "Plague you-I plague you! Did ever anyone hear the like of that ? Why, what an unreason- able, inconsequential thing a female is cried Stambridge, injured and amazed. "It's no good your telling me that you have seen no one to speak to since you left me at the forge, or you wouldn't be put out like this; and you didn't ought to keep the truth from me, as will be your husband in a fortnight. "Well, there, if you will have it," and Susan dashed down the handkerchief from her eyes, and spoke in a sort of desperation—" if you will make me say it, I met Martin just now, and we've had an awful flare-up; you know what a nasty temper he has." "A flare-up with Martin! And he's just given you all that money! "Well—yes—that's just it," Susan went on, hurriedly and conlusedly, her face turned away from Stambridge. "He don't like the way we've spent it in." But wherever did you meet with Martin ? I never saw him or anybody else as I came along the road." "Oh—he went across the fields, I think. There, that's enough about it. Do leave me in peace." Siambvidge said no more, but drove on with a srloomy countenance. fhere seemed to him- with his opinion of Martin Derrick's temper- nothing, on the face of it, unlikely that he should storm at Susan because she had not spent his gift in a manner he approved. But an instinctive feeling made him doubt whether S'isa:i wore speaking the whole truth. "Is she hiding anything from me?" be "What is it-what can have hap- pened P That's the worst of being mixed up with a man like Martin Derrick; one never knows what he'll say or do next." In silence they drove along the road until they ts.-ci rij Row-tor farm, and in silence Stambridge Ii "W 11 from the dog-cart, and helped Susan ;• 1 ivtit. Ai e you coming in?" she asked uneasily. II' uu p, if you do, mind you don't say a word "¡ r: in about what I told you, whatever reus." i or 1't th nk I shall come in this evening," -nj-APi-od Si am bridge, in rather a sulky tone. la stood for a moment at the doorway, waiting 1' more pressing invitation; but Susan tunned ,Ii) L im with evident relief. "Good-night, then. ] (1,,¡n;;¡y jou have plenty to do at home." went into the house without another look ;,t hei lover, bur. just as he had mounted the (Ljj;-c;ut, and was about to drive off in high Lit Oiijv n, Susan darted out of the porch again .01 nJifld atter him in a hurried, eager voice: "i-oi:'t lcrne to-morrow night, mind. I can't see jou. I shall be too busy. Miss Taylor, the dtft^maker, is coming." i' bi i<lt»e drove away without replying, but to im-elf he aid: "I shan't come to-morrow n'fj'.f, nor the night alter that, my dear, but I sh ii-l j\!st wait till you've come back to your ri, ,lit tenses, and sent me a pretty humble little note ot invitation. I shan't have to wait long, I fancy," and then, angry as he was, he chuckled with self-satisfaction. He ke,, t his eyes well open as he drove along. Pe;haps ha should see Martin, or perhaps he should see skulking by the hedge some tramp who had frightened Su3an. But then, in that case, why had she not confessed to him the truth ? It was growing dusk-the early dusk of November—the grey clouds stooped low over the grey moors, the air was sweet and soft as on a summer evening. There was no sound but the river Tavy murmuring in the rocky valley below. Presently Stambridge heard men's voices in a field beside the road, and he checked his horse into a walk. He could just see over the high hedge bank, and he beheld a group which filled him with cariosity. Martin Derrick—in his rough tweed Mit and leather gaiters, his tweed hat slouched rr his eyes, and both hands plunged into bit pockets—stood regarding, with an air of sombre meditation, a black and white Alderney cow. Richards, an old labourer who had worked for Martin's father before Martin was born-a grey- haired, ruddy-faced man, in brown fustian-stood stroking the cow with a horny hand, and the cow chewed the cud and gazed at the two men with a placid, dreamy consciousness that she was the subject of their conversation. "There's nary better cow in all the farms round. There's nary one gives richer milk, or is a handsomer sight to look at," Richards was saying in rather a complaining tone. "She's got a head like a deer; she'd ornament a park.prtyet ere t nr." "I know all that," and then Martin took one hand out (f his pocket and began stroking the cow, and allowed her rough tongue to lick his hand in return. "I know all that. Bu, as I told you before, Richards, it is an Alderney cow that Mrs. Lawson has lost, so an Alderney cow it's bound to be. Tria is the first chance that has come to me of doing that poor soul a good turn, so you do as I say—take the cow along to-morrow night, and put her into Mrs. Lawson's field and mind what I tell you—keep the matter dark as long as you live. I can't offer Mrs. Lawson a present, and she can't take one from me-you must see that for yourself." "You be always doing folks good turns, seems to me," replied Richar.ls, still rather grumbling, "and what do you get by it ? Nary bit of grati- tude, that I can see." Martin gave his short, rather hitter laugh. "Then I shan't be left mourning,' that's all." The allusion amused himself; but of course his remark was as pointless to Richards as it was to the cow, who munched on, all unwitting of her coming change of pasture. Stambridge drove on, more mystified than ever. Did Martin Derrick look as though, not an hour ago, he had been scolding his sister violently enough to terrify her ? Stambridge felt half inclined to call out to Martin, to ask him if he had seen Susan that evening. But something—fear, or an instinct of self-defence —kept him silent. If Susan, his wife to be, had been deceiving him, he would rather not know it for a fact. (To be continued.) +-

Te fjhondda Council and tke P.O. Telephone. For some time past the action of the post office authorities in placing telephone noles throughout the district at any spot has been a matter for some discussion at the meetings of the Rhondda Urban District Council. A few weeks ago a resolution was passed making it impossible for the authorities to plant or remove a pole without the Council's consent. At a recent meeting the Council decided to request the authorities to remove a pole at Ynyshir. Alderman W. H. Mathias. speaking at Fri- day's meeting of the Council, said he believed that poles were still being .removed without the sanction of the Council. Councillor Morris Morris drew attention to the manner in which a stay was allowed to pro- ject from one of the poles in the Strand, at Ferndale. Alderman Mathias thought that the time had nearly arrived when they should be reques- ted to place these poles underground. Mr W. D. Wicht said that some of them were in a dangerous state. The Clerk: You can refuse your consent. Mr J. D. Wil'i.UuS moved that uiey request the authorities to remove certain poles to which objection were raised. The Surveyor remarked that he had been informed that the Council had no power to remove the stays under an Act of Parliament. Alderman Mathias: Well, remove the poles, then the stays will go. The Chairman: They don't carry out our instructions. Alderman Mathias: We can _give them also notice to remove the posts. Mr J. D. Williams moved that the postal authorities be asked to submit the plans of spots where they intended placing poies, and that no poles be allowed to be fixed unless they were placed to the satisfaction of the Surveyor of the Council. Alderman Mathias seconded the motion, and it was agreed to.

Registration Agent and Collector at Mountain Ash. EMPHATIC REFUTATION BY MR D. T. EVANS. At the ordinary meeting of the Aountain Ash Urban District Council held on Monday under the presidency of Mr J. Powell, the following letter was read from Mr D. T. Evans in answer to a letter received from Mr S. Cox, Conserva- tive registration agent, at the previous meeting "To the Chairman and Members of the Moun- tain Ash Urban District Council. "Gentlemen,—Referring to the letter sent to your Council by Mr S. Cox at the last meeting, a copy of which, has been handed to me, stating that I made use of the Council offices for poli- tical purposes, and that I took upon myself the duties of registration agent. I beg to thank you for granting me the opportunity of making my observations therein, and to state that the assertions made therein are untrue and entirely without foundation." The Chairman: Well, that's an end to the matter. The Rev J. F. Williams moved that the reply be sent to the gentleman who made the accusa- tions. This was seconded and agreed to, Mr Morgan Morgan remarking the Council did not take upon itself the responsibility of the statement that it was untrue, but that was the reply of the collector to them.

THEFTS AT PENYGRAIG. I WOULD AS SOON BE IN GAOL AS NOT! Benjamin Hares, a Penygrig lad, was placed in the dock at the Porth police court on Thurs- day charged with stealing coal and a sack, p Markham said that about six a.m. on the 28tli ult. he eaw the defendant leaving the screens at the Pandy colliery, Penygraig, carry- ing a sack containing 56 pounds of coal. The sack was the property of the colliery company, the stamp of the company having been inscribed thereon. The sergeant had been requested by the offi-cials to watch the defendant, inasmuch as he had been previously seen to steal coal. In answer to the Stipendiary, the officer said that the lad himself worked at the Clydach Vale Colliery and his father at the Naval Colliery, whilst ether members of the family were employed elsewhere. The Stipendiary saw no reason why the offence should have been committed, and inflicted a fine of ten shillings, and warned the lad's mother to exercise a little more care, because he would not have stolen the coal if he had no place to take it to. William Bailey, collier, a married man, of tho same place, was also summoned for stealing coal. The same police officer said that on the 28th ult., about noon, he saw the defendant leaving the Nantgwyn (Naval Colliery), Peny- graig, in company with a little girl, both of them carrying coal in sacks. The foreman of the colliery had requested him to watch the defendant also, because he had been seen carry- ing coal away upon several occasions, and bad been warned many times during the past month. When spnken to the defendant replied, I don't care; I would as soon be in gaol as not." He now pleaded for leniency, and said he had DO food in the house for his wife and three children. The list of previous convictions indicated that a similar charge had been pre- ferred against the defendant two mon P to the commencement of thc stnke. The 8,1- pendiary believed the defendant wa j1 0 stealing coal, and sentenced him to a s imprisonment without the option And remarked there was no excuse .or i-*ing abso- lutely idle.

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RHOVDDA FIRES. Tlte Ferndale Fire Brigade. APPLICATION TO THE DISTRICT COUNCIL. ADDITIONAL APPLIANCES FOR TBB ENTIRE DISTRICT. THE PORTH BRIGADE'S REQUEST GRANTED. The recent fire at Ferndale, whereby a chapel and business establishments were completely destroyed, seems to have produced a good effect upon the inhabitants, who have since formed -a brigade, and it has also induced the Rhondda. District Council to see that proper provision is made in each district in case of fires. At Fri- day's meeting of the Council-Mr Rhys S. Grif- fiths, J.P., presiding—several matters relative to tires were ealt with. First of all, a depu- tation, consisting of Dr T. W. A arry, J.P., and Mr D. Hannah, M.E., appeared on behalf of the Ferndale, or Rhondda Fach Fire Brigade, and applied for various appliances. Dr Parry, who acted on the ..capacity of spokesman, said that during the last six months THREE FIRES HAD OCCURRED at Ferntlale--one being of a very serious nature. A meeting of ratepayers was hold shortly after the occurrence, with the result that a fire brigade had now been formed consisting of twenty com- petent men, who would be able to do credit to any fire brigade. However, they now needed appliances, including a fire engine. If the appliances were at Ferndale when the recent fire occurred, it was beyond doubt that thft chapel, which cost £ 4,000, would have been saved. The Chairman: You ask for an engine and fire appliances ? Dr Parry replied that they had seriously con- sidered the matter. In some streets there was a sufficient pressure of water to enable the use of a hose only, but in other streets it was the reverse, and a hose could not be utilised. The Chairman: Are there any important buildings in those streets? Dr Parry ies, very large buildings. The Chairman": With an engine there must be al a station. Dr Parry: Yes. The Clerk (Alderman W. H. Morgan): And that's a big item. In response to the Chairman. Mr D. Hannah furnished for the perusal of the members a list of the appliances applied for. The Chairman remarked that several of the articles applied for were included in those the Surveyor had been authorised to procure. Mr D. Hannah pointed out that the whole of the articles were sorely needed. The Chairman desired to know what area would be covered by the new. brigade if they were GRANTED AN ENGINE and set of appliances. Dr Parry: Maerdy, Ferndale, Tylorstown,a.nd even down to Ynyshir. The Clerk: Do you work in conjunction with the Maerdy brigade? Mr Hannah: No. not now. Dr Parry added that Maerdy inhabitants accepted an invitation to attend a meeting held at Ferndale, but subsequently stated their in- tention of working independently. Dr-W. E. Thomas: What about Tylorstown? Dr Parry: We invited them to the meeting, but they did not appear. Dr Parrv related his experience when a fire recently occurred at his house, when it occupied half-an-hour in opening the hydrants, and he believed they should be looked after better. Alderman Matthias: I think it has been changed all through noc. The Chairman: Yes; and we have decided to get full periodical reports of the hydrant throughout the district. Mr W. D. Wight asked the deputation how they explained the INSUFFICIENT PRESSURE. Dr Parry replied that the houses were too high. Mr Hannah concurred, and remarked that some of the houses were "very, very high." Mr J. D. Williams: They are going to form a fire brigade at Maeraly independently of vours. I suppose? Mr D. Hannah: We have nothing to do witn them. If we were granted the appliances, w" would not be long running up to Maerdy, but I don't know whether the Ferndale brigade would be sufficient for-Maerdy. Mr J. D. Williams: It would be yery central for the whole Valley. Tho deputation having retired, Councillor Morris "Morris proposed that the whole of the appliances now in charge of the Ferndale police be handed over to the brigade. The Chairman suggested that the Surveyor b3 instructed to report again unon this mater, as with the others. Councillor Morris Morris remarked that at the last Roads' Committee meeting he requested the members not to go into the Ferndale ques- tion pending the appearance of the deputation before the Council. Mr J. D. Williams considered it desirable that some arrangement should be arrived at between Ferndale and Maerdy. The Chairman agreed that something should be done, he believing, that TWO BRIGADES WERE UNNECESSARY. Dr W. E. TEonias, whilst being of opinibn that a brigade o-r -a body of men. should be in every district, did not know how the Council could supply them all. Mr W. D. Wight seconded the motion of Councillor Morris, believing the proposal to be a good one. This was carried. The Surveyor was then instructed to report upon the matter of procuring an engine. THANKS FROM THE RHONDDA BRIGADE The secretary of the Rhondda Fire Brigade wrote thanking the Council for acceding to their request for additional appliances. The f6remost motto of the brigade, he said, would be to do all within their power to satisfy both the Coun- cil and the general body of ratepayers in the execution of their duty. POOR APPLIANCES AT TONYPANDY. Superintendent Cole, Pontynridd, submitted a report he bad received from Inspector Hoyle, Tonypandy, with reference to the fire appli- ances at his station. The inspector, and two employees of the Council, tested the appliances recently. There were four hoses in his posses- sion. two of which were damaged. All the appliances were out of order, and quite in- efficient to meet the requirements of the dis- trict. The lid of the reel broke when proceed- ing to a fire at Penygraig about a week aro. The appliances had been in use for over twenty years. There was always a delay when pro- ceeding to a fire. The Chairman: That's in the Surveyor's hands NEW APPDIANCES. The Roads Committee recommended that three and a half dozen hydrants and three stand posts, as well as six dozen surface boxes, be obtained for the district. The recommenda- tion was adopted. It was decided at the comirattee. on the motion of Councillor L. P. Griffiths, seconded by Mr Llewelvn, that a larger shed be erected at the Pandy fire station, and a, nf,w 1"eel be provided. It was also decided hat the fol- lowing appliances be procured for the Porth Fire Brigade, viz., 300 feet hose: one stand pipe; two branch pipes, two elbows for branch pipes, three nozzles, and one horse hose cart fitted with two ladders and lamps: also that a fire station be erected on the site suggested by the brigade, namely, the old road at the north end of the new Upper Eirw Bridge; fur- ther, that the Surveyor apply to Mr Thomas of Brynawel, for a site for the fire station at Maerdy near the police station. The committee recommended that tenders be obtained for fhe following: Fire hydrants, sur- face boxes, shed at Tonypandy. appliances for horse hose Cart and fire station for Porth. and 800 feet of hose.—This was agreed to.

A Violent Prisoner at Pentre. Benjamin Daniel, a collier residing at Fentr". was charged at the Ystrad police court on Mon- day with being drunk and disorderly, assaulting the polic and wilfully damaging a cell at thA police station. P.S. Rpt p said that on Bank Holiday the de- fendant was near the Pentre Hótpl very r'runk, .and when he was arrested he opcame rery violent, and kicked witness several tims-s .'n the leg. With great difficulty he succeeded, with the assistance of P.C. Davies, in conveying the defendant to the polict, station. After hnv- ing been placed in the cell he created a. dis- turbance, and persisted in shoutinc and kiekimr the door. The sergeant and P.C Davies vhit"d him and found that he had damaged two panes of gitss in the window and the bench of tho cell to the ¡xœnt of five shilliags. The police were obliged to take off his boots to prevent Ivin from damaging the door. The df-fendant ridiculed the statement that he had dam"t u tel" bench. He was fined 103 for the assault and 5s for the damage.