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[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] "0 THE MISSING MILLIONAIRE; OR, ,Who Killed Hose Hammond ? BY M. C. ROWSELL. CHAPTER XXIII. "NUTS TO CRACK." AFTER some self-deliberation on the mode of procedure, Temple decided to go first to the Grange, but he did not go by the road, although it was a much nearer way, since he decided that it was not desirable to draw any superfluity of attention on his move- ments. The quest of Norna at St. Wolfram's SFas but a forlorn hope, the outcome of his despair—for had she not expressed a deep Shrinking from remaining there?—and as he followed the park by-paths, he paused once Or twice and turned about as if to retrace his Steps, lest he might be wasting precious time, and bitterly repent the waste. Then lie took heart again to go forward, impelled by the reflection that if from any fear of being watched in the neighbourhood of Bel voir Street, Norna could not return there, the old home would naturally suggest itself. That some deep-laid scheming was afoot, and that his own movements as well as those of Norna were dogged, he could no longer have the slightest doubt; and even though Norna might be far away from St. Wolf- ram's, it was a reasonable argument in any ease that clues might be discoverable in St. Wolfram's, Deeply lost in his thoughts, he reached the fringe of the wildest part of the park, which Was thickly wooded and undulated on in many a glade and copse to the boundaries of the Grange orchard stretching in the rear of the house. Plunging by an abrupt, narrow, downward path into a copse almost entirely Closed in by hazel bush and bramble, he nearly fell over a broad-shouldered, coatless nIan. His face was entirely lost in the foliage of a huge hazel-bush, whose branches were laden with nuts. These the man was absorbed in transferring to his trousers-pockets, their bulginess seeming to testify already to a highly satisfactory ingathering. Nor had he neglected to supply his immediate appe- tite for the fruit, which for many a mile round was famous for its quality, and it was Dot without difficulty that he disposed of the Supplies upon which his jaws were at work to make some kind of response to Temple's exclamation of recognition. Blinker! said the young man. You ? "Mornin', sir," came the nutter's reply, as he drew the old, broad-brimmed straw hat, tilted far back on his crown, to almost the towest level of his brows. Fancy coming upon you here," went on Temple, smiling in spite of himself at the encounter. The man's one eye worked at its highest Speed of pressure, but he smiled back as he placed a fresh nut between his teeth, which being white and even, formed a redeeming feature in Blinker's non-Adonis-like coun- tenance. "I heard you were working at De Vere Court," went on Temple. You come out to do a little bit on your own account, eh?" Eh ? echoed Blinker, who seemed in one of his moods for keeping the ball of con- versation rolling at a minimum of trouble for himself. "Ruralising," explained Temple. Trooly rural,' and the one eye blinked actively, while half a dozen nuts cracked off like squibs. 1 was suprised to find you gone from the Wharf." I warn't wanted there," said the all-sorts man, munching vigorously at his nuts, nothin' doiri' at Migson's.' "No," said Temple, with an attempt at Ch eerinews but there will be plenty doing Boon, and you must gather your justs while yolt may, for you'll have to be getting back to lVl¡¡,;ul:s-yes, to give the '.z)Lli)atj.,oss' a Welcome." The eye stopped blinking, and fixed ft prolonged, attentive gaze on Temple, What d'yer say ? he said, at last. "The AI baÜ'oss "h safe and sound with all her crew, not go:;e I o Davy Jones's locker, as we thought. That is good hearing, isn't it, Blinker?" A. grunt of deep content sounded in the man's throat. "And richly laden "Then what do you be here vor?" said Blinker., Temple, somewhat staggered by such an abnormal display of the man's reasoning faculty, did not immediately reply, but finally said that he had business at the Grange. Theer don't be no one there." How do you know ? No one but the ghost- "Pshaw!" said Temple. "I must be sgeti ing on. Look here, Blinker, when you've quite done cracking your nnts-" "Sha'n'tha' done yet awhile," said Blinker, iimperturbably, as he brought a handful of ami s jfrom his pocket and closely contem- plated them with his one eye. "Theer be a sight on 'em to crack hereabouts, an' no mistake." "Now, look here, Blinker," said Temple, in preremptory tones. I know the sort you re made of. You are capable of putting it on to any amount. Yes," continued Tt-itil.)Ie, as the eye blinked deprecatingly; I)ti I, you don't deceive me." "Noa?" and Blinker's tone carried a sub- iiiiistiive note of interrogation. "No," sternly continued Temple. "And you'll be turned off—dismissed—get the sack, do you understand ?-if you don't stow those niits and return this instant to De Vere Court, and inform Mr. Cleeves that you're to be getting back at once to Migson's Wharf." "Sayin' I met you and you telled me?" inquired the man, as he took his old jacket from a neighbouring branch. Certainly," said Temple, after a moment's consideration. "I don't know why not. Now, Blinker, off with you. Look sharp!" -and Temple passed on. "Ay, I be lookin' sharp," muttered Blinker to himself, as he threw the jacket over his arm and stood for a moment looking after Temple—" fur as one eye'll do it, leastways, to say nothing of two, which an't too much for some games of hide-and seek. Phew it's getting a warmish game, and some of the biggest nuts aren't cracked yet, if James Elmore can see straight," muttered on the factotum, but in brisker tone as he turned to see Temple watching him over his shoulder as he hurried on. "Tell Mr. Cleeves I met, you? No, not for any consideration," and thrusting his hands into his pockets, the caretaker of Migson's Wharf shambled from the hazel copse till he was well out of possible sight of Temple. The road to De Vere Court swerved at a sharp angle at about a mile's distance from the direct road to the railway station, some little way beyond the park boundaries. Shambling on till he reached this corner, Lhe Oian came to a halt, and looking first up the One road, then along the other, he finally drew a watch from the extreme depths of One of his nut-laden trousers-pockets. It was a plain gold repeater of exquisite finish nd workmanship, and bore the initials J. E," engraved on the back. The time by this faultlessly correct watch was half-past twelve. At one o'clock the up-train for •Liverpool Street was due, and restoring the Repeater to its place under the nuts, the man 'Went forward in direct contravention of his ^'np] oyer's orders. Blinker might be thick-headed, but the an argued to himself that if the Albatross" was nearing port, someone ought to be in the way at Migson's, though business was temporarily dull. When one of the partners returned to town it was another matter, but Migson's had best not be left to itself altogether. Conceding to the London street fashion of wearing a coat, the guardian of Migson's Wharf took his jacket from his arm as he neared the railway-station, and wriggled himself into it, not without an expression on his face of disinclination. He was one of the multitude who would prefer to live in shirt- sleeves, but for the tyranny of La Mode. In settling the old frieze jacket-sleeve about his arms with a shade of impatience at the restraint, he drew down the up-turned shirt-sleeve of his right arm, securing it with the bone stud dangling in the button-hole of the wristband. In the struggle to pull the jacket-sleeve neatly about the left wrist, which was not exposed as the other had been, but covered well over to the hand, the wristband became twisted, while the bone stud flew off at a bound into a clump of gorse bushes. One of the expletives not uncommon on such occasions escaped the man's lips not entirely unpardonable, perhaps, on account of the sleeve-seam being torn some way up the forearm, by having caught in the hazel bushes. He looked round with almost startled glances, recovering his equanimity, however, as he made sine that, as far as human propinquity was concerned, Robinson Crusoe could not have been more alone on his island than he; and a laugh of amuse- ment escaped him as he blinked up at a small brown squirrel who was watching him in- tently from the overhanging boughs of a solitary oak-tree. "You inquisitive little fellow, you," he said, as he drew the torn sleeve well round the forearm, which bore some bluish-tinted marks, but exactly what they were only that bright-eyed little nut-cracker saw. Then trudging on, he reached the station in good time, and booked himself for Liverpool Street. Passing on, Temple skirted the orchard, and made his way to the front of the house by the drive. There was hardly a sign of life about the place, and when he knocked at the door, it was opened after a clatter of bolts and bars by Mrs. Somers, the gardener's wife, who happened to be going the round of the place. "No, sir," she replied, in answer to Temple's inquiries. "Mr. Elmore has not been here this long time past. A. gentleman named Mr. Johnstone called a week or two since, and Mr. Cleeves was here this morning on horseback to know if things were going on all right," added the woman, with a dreary, cynical smile. "1 told him they were as usual, but as to the right of it all, 'tis another tale to my thinking. What with one thing and another the place is like bewitched. I feel as though if 'twarn'fc for respect for Miss Norna, poor thing, and the dead missis's memory, I could run out of the place. So I do." "But don't do that. We must hope for a better state of things," said Temple but he spoke wearily. "Well, they couldn't be worse, anyways," said Mrs. Somers, looking hard at Temple's face, haggard and pale for want of sleep; "and now my sister's gone," added the woman, as she took up a gentle-faced tortoise-shell cat which was rubbing round her skirts, leaving the cottage all nohow, and the poor cat here she always made such a fuss of, Sent up in a basket by Susy—that's my girl, sir-for me to give it a home. I can't understand it, that I can't." "Your sister- Nance Burgis, sir. Her good-for-nothing husband, that's been away years, come home and 'tis he's took her away, as we suppose, unless she's been fool enough to follow him. Anyhow she's gone. Won't you come inside, sir, and wait a bit?" "No, thanks," said Temple. "I am going on to the Vicarage. I want to speak to Mr. Carteret on a little matter of business, as I am in the neighbourhood," and, bidding Mrs. Somers good-morning, he went on by the well-remembered ways, past the ruined arch and by the stream which carried off Uncle James's letter that fine spring morning. Alas, for the days that were gone Even then his mind had felt the shadow of coming trouble—the little cloud, no bigger then than a man's hand, grown now to one vast tenting blackness, so dark that he would fain have laid down his life, for the burden of existence almost crushed him. Sometimes he even thought that he could I endure better if he knew that death had taken her, because then, in some brave but impossible or hopeless endeavour for good he might Jay down his own life, and rejoin Norna; but the uncertainty was torture, svnd the mystery seemed to deepen with every effort he had made to penetrate to the heart of it. Air. Carteret was at home, and received Temple cordially, though not without a little constraint. Strange things had hap- pened at St. Wolfram's since last he and Temple had discussed things in general, and the probable date of the old altar tomb in the I church chancel in particular, and the signi- iicance of the more than half-obliterated words on one of the bells in the tower; for Temple's hobby was like the vicar's—an ancient fresco found under whitewash, an old Roman coin turned by the harrow, all ancient things of the kind were a delight to him. And at lunch, which was just about to be served when Temple arrived, and was hospitably invited by Mrs. Carteret to par- take of, some antiquities recently unearthed in the neighbourhood formed the sole subject of discussion. "By the way," went on the vicar, thus launched upon his favourite theme, "that wanton mischief at the old Chantry. You wanton mischief at the old Chantry. You have noticed it, of course ? "No," replied Temple, I have not been near the old Chantry for many a day—many a month, I may say. What is amiss with it ? 11 What is amiss with it, my dear sir?" indignantly cried the vicar. "It is simply criminal the destruction wrought there! You remember the dog-tooth carving on the jambs of the postern? Yes-well, it is all destroyed—chipped away by that misbe- gotten vandal of a carpenter, who has fixed up the door- "Door?" "There'll be a bone to pick with Mr. Elmore next time he comes to the Grange," continued the vicar, almost weeping. Mr. Elmore ? I do not understand said Temple. It did not take long to enlighten Temple about the closing-in of the entrance to the Chantry. "It is a curious fancy, to my mind," went on the vicar, "to put his things there at all, though the walls are in excellent preserva- tion, I grant you; and 'safe bind, safe find.' Anyone trying to break into the place would have all his work." But are you certain that—Mr. Elmore- that the place has been put to use in this manner? said Temple. "Only by ocular proof," replied the vicar, a little testily. I can only vouch to seeing a huge packing case being carried in a night or two ago "Which night?" "Tuesday night," said Mrs. Carteret, as the vicar paused to recall. Don't you remember, Aubrey dear, you had been down at the village to inquire about Nance Burgis Who, I am told, is missing," said Temple. "Since when ?" Since Tuesday morning, it appears," replied Mr. Carteret. "Being out all day in a distant part of the parish, I was not able to get down into her cottage to make in- quiries about her and I was not much wiser after I had done so. The information was very vague. I knew only from Mrs. Somers, the gardener's wife, at the Grange—who vou know is Nance's sisLer-that Burgis hau returned that morning. One or two had, they said, seen a strange, tramp-looking man pass through the village, but no one had recognised Burgis in him. I cannot under- stand it," went on the vicar. "The man bore no character, and that his wife should go away with him Particularly after she has so often said to me that nothing would ever tempt her to live away from poor Rosie's grave—for you remember Rose Hammond's funeral, don't you, Mr. Temple?" put in Mrs. Carteret. I remember hearing about it. There was a great demonstration, was there not, in St. Nvolfl.,I.yyl,s ? "Yes, and when one thinks that the flowers Nance placed on her grave last Sunday are not yet withered, it does seem strange- "If she went of her own free will," said the vicar. "But as'I tell you, Temple—that is, I was going to remark, that to make a goods store of the old Chantry does not impress one with a sense of fine taste on the part of- Who is it?" demanded Mr. Carteret, as the parlour-maid said something to his wife. Mr. Cleeves," said Mrs. Carteret. "Ask him in here," said the vicar. "He has not lunched yet, I expect. Don't go Temple," he added, asTemplerose hurriedly, with a deep flush on his worn face, while Mr. Carteret turned to greet the new-comer. He entered with his accustomed air of con- fidence in being well received; but at sight of Teiii I)le he stood as if paralysed, but im- mediately recovered himself. "You here, Temple ?" he said, jauntily. "As you see," said Temple, who did not resume his seat, as Cleeves took the chair at the table indicated by his hostess. "And about the last man I should have expected to find—er—away from town," said Cleeves, "just now." Especially this way," said Temple in cool, even tones. But you were speaking of the old Chantry, Mr. Carteret." A clatter on the plate just before Cleeves interrupted the vicar's reply, and a sup- pressed exclamation broke from him. "Your knives are well sharpened, Mrs. Cateret," he said, "almost cut my finger—ah, nothing, thanks-hal'dly a scratch. And what about the old Chantry, Mr. Carteret ? My respected partner is looking to you for information. What does he want to know ? "Ah, I was telling Mr. Temple about the abominable treatment of the dog-tooth orna- ment round the postern." "Of the dog-tooth ornament? Ha., ha! Yes? Is this cognac? Thanks—yes," and Cleeves, assisting himself from the decanter, drank hastily. "Yes—the dog-tooth orna- ment! Quite n, scandal, isn't it ? "And about the packing-cases?" said Temple. "Only one, my dear sir. We must not form rash conclusions. Only one of any size was carried in. To be sure, I did not stay to look and one would suppose that if things of any appreciable value were placed there Mr. Elmore would seta stronger guard than thatone-eyedman who appears to be installed there, though he looks pretty sturdy. I was reckoning up his inches and girth just now as I came in to lunch. He was strolling about the heath." "And your conclusion, Mr, Carteret?" said Cleeves, as he selected a tempting little cake from the box before him-" your verdict ? "That I should not care to meet him for my enemy a hundred miles from everywhere on a dark night." Poor fellow!" said Mrs. Carteret. "They say in St. Wolfram's he's only a softy.' Must you really be going, Mr. Temple ?"-for Temple still stood as he had risen. "But we shall see you again?" said the vicar, taking Temple's proffered hand. I hope so," smiled Temple, as he bade Mrs. Oarteret adieu, and went out. On leaving the vicarage, Temple took his way by the glebe fields till lie reached the gorsed-covered common in the rear of the old Chantry, intending to skirt the shore bordered by the narrow path that wound on to the village. It was now about three o'clock. The afternoon was sultry with the oppressive heat of late summer, and Temple walked meditatively, for the experiences of the last few hours had afforded him ample food for thought. Even at low tide the walls of the old Chantry were seabound, except immediately in the rear, where access was gained only by the portion which was reached by two or three broken steps. The walls, however, on thie seaward side, hoary and lichen-grown as they were, presented a solid front almost to their lofty crenellated and ivy-covered tops. In the depths of these outer walls, which were of immense thick- ness, ran a stone-paved gallery. Originally it had encircled the structure, but in several parts the stones had been broken away and were lying in moss-grown heaps far below, so that the gallery was impassable for hardly a third of the way round. It, however, still communicated with the inner building by a narrow..walled-in bridge-like way cresting one of the arches opening from the outer to the inner walls. Not having an overwhelming fear of ghosts, Temple was acquainted with every stwne and corner of the old building, all its weakness and all its strength, and the value of the dictum that no fortress is stronger than its weakest part had no inconsiderable share in his mind as he took the half-circuit of the walls from end to end, till the waves forbade his further progress. At all hazards Temple was determined that he would not leave St. Wolfram's until he had found his way into the Chantry, and explored it from end to end, from string-courses to its lower- most vaults, of which some lay very deep indeed under the ground. But whatever the weakest part of the ancient place might be, it was certainly not outside. Seamed and cracked, and even broken away in some parts of the masonry, the walls remained sturdy and impenetrable, and the new door felt as strong and solid under Temple's attempts to ascertain its strength and power of resistance as any door which old friars had ever closed in the place with. And seeing that the walls were straight and perpendicular and glass- smooth to their great heights, and only their extreme uppermost, portions were clothed with ivy of any thickness of stem, to dream of climbing them was futile. Yet Temple did not appear to have lost heart over the resolution he had formed when he at last turned away, for there was a smile on his firmly-closed lips though the light in his eyes and the gathering of his brows glinted and darkened like the portents of some fearful, long-pent up storm, as he strolled slowly on by the narrow shingle towards the village. Turning up by the little jetty, he still strolled on, still at the same thoughtful, leisurely pace, but exchang- ing words of greeting with the village folk who happened to be about or at their doors for Temple was fairly well known to most of them, and, since gossips will be gossips, they had at one time learned in a subrosa sort of fashion to regard him in the light of one whom by-and-bye they would enjoy a nearer knowledge of-though the recent events at the Grange had sorely upset their theories and speculations. Just as Temple reached the door of the World's End, a man slowly slouched down into the road, and collided with Temple as he passed. "Now, then, my man, hold up," said Temple, giving a light sideward push to the individual, who he supposed had been taking in more of the four-ale than was good for him. Hold up yourself," growled back the man, as he lifted his big head and faced Temple. I ain't drunk." Nor was he. Temple could have borne witness to that if it had been necessary, for drunkenness was not one of Blinker's fail- ings. Blinker had a lofty contempt of the blue-ribuon, he had been heard to pronounce it as "childishness." Blinker enjoyed his half-pint, and stuck to it and no more. Sobriety was one of Blinker's recommenda- tions-and the man coming out of the World's End was Blinker. The two men looked at each other; Blinker with a stolid respectful expression of recog- nition, Temple speechlessly for a minute or two. What the deuce are you doing here?" he said at last, when he found utterance. "Here in St. Wolfram's ? "Dunno," replied Blinker, a trifle sheep- ishly. Don't know? What did I tell you to do the last time I saw you ?" "Eh?" said Blinker, passing his heavy hand across his eyes. "Oh! 'leave them hammer and rope-coils where they are,' says you-- "What?" "'Down there beside the big packing- case' Go on," said Temple, sternly. "I'll pack it myself,' you says, 'and if I want any help, I've a friend comin' who'll lend me his assistance in the job,' you says, and you can go for to-night,' you says. No, you didn't. No," continued Blinker, a clearer light gathering in his eye and across his brows. Certainly I did not," said Temple, wait- ing patiently, as he knew how to do with Blinker. No. 'Twern't you at all, sir," went on Blinker. "'Twere Alr. Cleeves said it. Well, 'tis all one." "And what about my telling you this morning—h'm—when I met you, to begetting back to the wharf without any delay, except to tell Mr. Cleeves you were going ?" Blinker stood the picture of dumfounded amazement, and his mouth puckered into whimpering lines. You'll be telling me next I did not give you those orders," went on Temple. "Noa," sobbed Blinker s'help ii-ie-- "There—that will do, Blinker. Never mind," said Temple, as gently as if the man were some troubled child. "Mistakes will occur sometimes. And serving two masters. Yes, Exactly. Where are you going now?" (To be contitiited.)