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T
T*?F FLOWERS CG!±£CT!0;>:
SUMMER ( LOi nS.
BTCUBA H. TARDY.
Drifting, drifting on an azure sea,
Cloud)* of golden and pink nd gray—
Fairer than earthly pictures can be.
Clouds of the Summer are ye to-day !
Floating on toward t'.ie sinking sun,
T'nged are you with purple now.
Parting asunder now, one by one,
Kesting on yonder mountain's brow.
Fading away in the twilight dim,
Clouils of golden and pink and gray,—
Birds are now sit ging your evening ymn ;
Clouds, ye have faded and vanished away!
A
WALTER ELLINGTON,
Anil
Nellie Cranston.
The Mysterious Murder.
An Exfitiuer Story-
CHAPTER XVI.
Walter Ellington had just reached Tv human;
Villa, and was standing near tlie drawing-room
window, when bis attention was attracted by a girl
who had passed the house two or three times.
‘How much that girl's I ke Nelly,’ he observed.
•It must he Nelly ! .See, sir,’ said he to Mr. .Sea-
grave, “she is looking up at us as if she had some
th ng to say.’
‘Go dow n and speak to her. She may have some- |
thing of importance to cemmumi't a' said he.
i. he: ■. I.,.-u the t -i■- Jf‘~^ rr-ts. Jt ji t'S; ';; -
n\ein ! e 1 11 riid attiic*'.--ui.td of OiS voice tfTe ;
girl turned r *uud quickly.
‘Master Ellington,’said she, timidly placing her
hand in his. ‘I have something very important to |
sav to you and your friends, if you will let me come j
in and speak to you.’
‘Come in, Nelly,’ said Walter. ‘Have you run
away from Ralph Cranston, and come to London
bv vourself *’
‘‘No. he came with me,’ she replied. But i would
leave him if I had any other place to go to, for he
is a bad man and he is not my father.’
Mr. Seagrave called to Walter to bring her up,
and in a few minutes they were in the drawing
room. . , ,, ,,
“Ralph Cranston is m town, sir, and Nelly wisu-
es to speak with us,’ said our hero.
‘Sit down. Nelly, said Mr. Seagrave.
The rich color went and came quickly on the girl s
dark cheek as she sat down, and for a moment she
seemed unable to speak.
‘Do not think badly of me if 1 speak of myself as
well as of Master Ellington, 1 she at length said. ‘I
do not know how else I can say it. I ought to speak
but I do not know what will become of me if I do,
because he will be sure to know' that it was me who
told yon.’ .
•You wished to speak of Ralph CranstoD r observ
ed Mr. Seagrave.
‘Yes, sir,’ rejoined Nelly. ‘You see, sir, he has
brought me up, and so far as I know I have not a
relation, nor any other friend in the world. He is
a terrible man. and he will be very hard upon me if
he comes to know that I have been speaking to
those whom he set me to watch.’
•I understand Nellv, sir,’ observed our hero. She
told me as we came in. that she would leave Cran
ston if she had any v here to go to. Can nothing
be done for held’
‘I am glad to hear you make the suggestion, re
turned his friend. ‘Would you like to go to school,
Nelly?
‘Oh, yes, sir!’ replied the girl. ‘I have been to
the church school at Nettlethorpe; but the girls
there would not associate with me because of Ralph
Cranston’s bad character. I <’o not wish ro be un
grateful to him, for he is not always unkind, though
he is rough; but he is getting worse year by year,
and sometimes when he has been drinking, ho says
things that frighten me.’
‘You shall not go back to him, Nelly,’ said Mr.
Seagrave. ‘I will speak to Mrs. Seagrave, and we
will consider what is best to be done for you. Now
tell us what you have to say that concerns Mr. El
lington.’ ...
‘I hope, sir, that you will not think that I came
here to betray Ralph Cranston in order to serve
myself,’ said Nelly,’ earnestly.
‘No, my good girl,’ rejoined Mr. Seagrave. ‘Do
not distress yourself with that idea, hut tell us what
brought you here.’
‘Well, sir, Mr. Somerford came over to our house
the day before yesterday, anil said that his house
had been entered in the night, and papers of great
importance taken away, and that he believed that
Master Ellington had taken them.
•But what made him go to Cranston about it V
inquired Mr. Seagrave.
‘I do not know sir,’ replied Nelly. ‘He had nev-
•r been there before, but he seemed to know Cran
ston, and they went out upon the hf-atfc to talk the
matter over. Cranston came back aloi e, and told
me that we were coming to London next dav, to
find out Master Ellington, and, if he had the papers
to get them from him. I made him promise that
no harm should be done to the young gentleman;
but he said he must get the papers, and he will try
and break into the house for that purpose.’
‘This is very important,’ said Mr. Seagrave. ‘It
shows that some papers of importance to you have
been in Somerford’s possession. But who can have
taken Them*''
‘It Ls very strange, and baffles conjecture,’ return
ed Walter.
‘Ralph says he does not believe you have got
them,’ observed Nelly turning to our hero.
‘Then it i; clear that he Ls acting in the matter as
the tool of Somerford;’ said Mr. Seagrave.
He then rang the bell, and on the uppearance of
a servant consigned Nelly to her care.
‘We must now prepare for Ralph Cranston’s visit,’
said he, and he went to the nearest police station
and there gave information of the expected attempt
at burglary.
On bis return he provided loaded pistols for him
self and Walter, and for the footman and gardener;
and then he assigned to them the positions which
they were to take up at midnight.
*,|J.
‘You are right.’observed tee stranger. ‘It may
not be easy to penetrate the mystery which sur
rounds Ralph Cranston’s disappearance, but you
may depend upon it that he is not dead.’
Somerford turned away with an expression of
annoyance upon his features which he could not
conceal, and the stranger proceeded towards the
railway station.
Somerford had good cause for the trouble that
weighed upon his mind. At night he left home
and directed his steps towards the blackened re
mains of the hovel on the heath.
The ashes and rubbish were now cold, and he had
no dtliculty in making his way amongst the charred
timbers.
The poacher’s bedstead was only partially con
sumed, and the remains of the bedding, which
Somerford found, satisfied him that Ralph must
have escaped.
He was about to abandon the search in despair,
when a low, chuckling laugh, close at hand, start
led him, and. raising his head quickly, he beheld
Black Ralph himself, standing in the darkness like
a ghost hovering about the blackened ruins.
Springing backward quickly, the ha filed incen
diary draw a small revolver from his pocket, and
levelling it at Ralph’s head, pulled the trigger.
There was a snap, but no report, and the next
moment the poacher's cudgel whistled round his
head as it clove the air, and the pistol was whirled
out of Somerford’s hand.
With a cry of rage he threw himself upon the
poacher, and made a desperate effort to throw him
to the ground; but, though he was a man of consid
erable strength, the more practised muscle of Black
Ralph prevailed, and after a short struggle, he was
h nieil backward, reeled a pace or two, and fell
heavily ut on the heath.
‘So you would mui iler me, Mr. Somerford, would
you !' aid Black Ralph.
"I did not know you.' said Somerford, as he rose
from tee ground. -Why do you come prowling
round ir, the dark V
‘\V; at are you spying about the ruins of the old
hovel for returned Ralph C*-;uistnn. ‘Tell me
that, Mr. Somerford. • You did not find what you
wore looking for, though.’
‘Do not be a fool, Ralph,’ said Somerford in alow
voice. ‘Wliat would yon gain by making a noise ?
j \ cut would be killing the goose that laid the golden
At that ib.ne L ,
kitchen. _
It continued for several minutes, and then came
a sound as of a door opening.
Walter and his friend rose and stood behind the
door, with their pistols firmly clutched in then
right hands.
Footsteps that were almost inaudible came upon
the stairs, and then ttie gleam of a light shone
through the key hole, and warned them that the
critical moment had arrived.
They beard a hand upon the door, and a tab,
dark figure strode in, carrying a dark lantern m
the left hand, and a stout cudgel in the other.
‘Hold !' cried Walter and Mr. Seagrave, simulta
neously, grasping the intruder s arm with dietr
right. ,
Black Ralph—for he was the intruder— muttered
a fierce imprecation, and, shaking off our hero and
his friend, endeavored to retreat; but at that mo
ment the door was opened and the footman and
gardener entered, each grasping a pistoL
‘Surrender!’exclaimed Mr. Seagrave; your life
is in our power.’
‘I am caught in a trap “ growled Ralph, dropping
his cudgel. ‘That little devil has betrayed me, and
drawn me into a snare.’
•It depends upon yourself whether we let you go
or hand you over to the police,’ said Mr. Seagr ve,
lowering his pistol. ‘Answer truthfully the ques
tions 1 shall put to you. You have come here at
the instigation of Mr. Somerford, to possess your
self of certain papers?’ .
‘Yes, replied Ralph, setting down li s lantern,
and leaning against the wall. .
‘ What papers did you hope to find ? inquired his
questioner.
‘Mr. Ellington’s will,’ was the reply.
‘There was a will then?" exclaimed \V alter, glanc
ing at Mr. Seagrave.
‘Did Mr. Somerford tell you how, or xroni whence
the papers were abstracted ?’ inquired his friend.
‘liecame to my cottage,' replied Ralph, and told
me that bis house had been entered in the night
and the desk containing them had been forced open
with a screw-driver taken from a table in the kitch
en.’ .
why did he apply to you?’ inquired Mr. Seagrave,
regarding him fixedly,. ,
He thought I might know something about the
matter,’replied Ralph. ‘He had heard that that
young gentleman had been in my company at the
railway station on i he morning lie left Nettlethorpe.
and that he had spoken to the girl after the inquiry
at King’s Lias.’
I have no more questions to ask, and you may
now go,’ said Mr. Seagravfe. ‘Let him out by the
front door, Thomas, and then we will see w hat
damage has been done below.’ .
Ralph picked up his cudgel, and consigned the
lantern to his pocket. He quietly followed the foot
man to the front door, and took his departure.
'wso**- lbe
nnftue cffEr-Tted upon Vtie table ten - j|
his purse. ‘There, I have fulfills
compact. "Now, tell me where Walter is living?
Black Ralph gathered up the gold and consigned
it to his leather bag; then he replied.
‘I shall tell you no more. Something may be
made of that lad, who,, I can make no more out of
you. , ,
‘I believe you have got the papers and are keep
ing them to'make your market of them with young
Ellington,’ exclaimed Somerford.
Black Ralph started to his feet again and glared
fiercely upon his visitor.
‘Say that again,’ said he, in a voice hoarse with
rage, ‘and I will Itirl you out upon the heath !’
•You need not Must r so.’ returned Somerford,
his face becoming pale. Is it not enough to infu
riate a saint to be balked in this manner ?’
‘Well, 1 have done my best for you, and I will
do no more,’ returned Ralph, sitting down again.
‘This is my last word upon it, and you may as well
take it easy as not.’
•One word more,’ said Somesford, rising. Are
the papers in young Ellington's possession ?’
‘I do not know,’ replied Ralph. ‘I do not be
lieve they are, and 1 told you so before I went up
to London.’
Somerford sto d a moment, and then opened the
door and passed out.
: mm, ' *
Fvfen J ne r., Yfild syuiewn^.
tap. SimieWUu. eiL.et.
might fan the 11ame, and hufp.e’l into the back
room, where Ralph was sleeping, and applied fi e
to the coverings that hung over the side of the b -d.
He rushed out, leaving the door open, and sped
swiftly across the heath.
He ran a mile before he turned his head to ob
serve the success of his crime.
Then the hovel was wrapped in red flames, widen
constructed as it was of old shins’ timbers and
pitched boards, threatened it with speedy destruc
tion.
He had not heard a cry from the burning hovel
during his flight, and could not now hear a sound
of any kind.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Half the population of Nettlethorpe was, on the
following day, assembled on the heath around the
blackened ruins of Ralph Cranston’s hovel, gazing
at the charred rafters and half-burned timbers,
and discussing the probable cause of the catastro
phe.
The destruction could scarcely have been more
complete.
A constable was on the spot, and a couple of la
borers wi re turning over the smoking rubbish.
‘Have they found the body ?’ inquired Somer-
the lookers-on.
lied the constable. 'Neither the
t jjj,- - N '<? of Hn se ,'i lilen eggs nvirf find their
herein'in !he liirre at liT^ui,.’ ’O’,' '“•*
‘Or on the beach, eh, my clever friend !’ exclaim
ed Ralph. 'No, no, you cannot catch a weasel
asleep. In your parlor, and iu the daylight, Mr.
Somerford, you shall hand me over fifty pounds !’
• Fi ft v pounds !’ exclaimed Somerford.
‘It isn’t much, but it wi 1 do for the present,’ ob
served Ralph. ‘When I want morel can write for
Why it is
it.’
‘It is the
‘Not much !’ repeated Somerford. 1
more than I have got in the house.’
•Then you must raise it,’ said Ralph,
price of your life.’
With these words he s’rode away from the spot,
and Somerford turned in the opposite direction.
mu
else con'd have taken them ?’
He seemed lost in thought for several minutes,
and muttered to himself:
•I do not like this strange and urexplained ac
quaintance of the lad with Cranston anil the g-rl.
Can this vagabond be aiding Waiter? Pshaw!
that is an absurd idea. W alter must have taken
the papers, and, if lie has them still, I shall somi be
made aware of the fact by a letter from his la-a y m*.
If not, I shall then know what to do. Patience,
then, patience for *■ few days longer.’
Three days elapsed without anything occurring
to throw light upon the mystery surrounding t he
iaimeil Somerford in atone of
surprise. 'Ah, true, he had a girl—not his own
daughter, I believe ?’
•So I have heard,’ said the constable. ‘No rela
tion, I am told. Her father was an old pal of his,
and was transported; then Ralph Cranston brought
her up.’
•Was this Ralph Cranston’s cottage ?’ inquired a
voice at his elbow, and, looking round, the consta
ble beh 1 Id a square-built, middle-aged man, whose
black hair was beginning to be grizzled, and whose
naturally d ,rk complexion seemed to have been
bronzed by exposure to the air in a sultry climate.
The stranger’s countenance had once been hand-
ui C1 )> uni „ some, but time and trouble had left th- ir impres
left home in the evening and proceeded over the sion upon his features.
iru uumc f, . .. He wore a pilot coat, and a red flannel shirt was
visible beneath the velveteen vest, upon which he
wore a heavy gold watch chain.
To his question the constable at length replied:
‘It was. He lived here for several years; but it
was burned down last night, and it is not known
bridge, in the direction" of a sea port a few miles
eastward. . , ,
Shortly after midnight, however, he might have
been see n crossing the heath, enveloped in a dark
cloak, and wearing his hat draw n so much over
his brows as to shade the upper part of his face,
hile the upturned collar of his cloak as effectually as yet whether he was burned in it or not.’
liL ‘There can be no doubt about it, I think,’ ob-
CHAPTF.R XVII.
On the evening of the day after Black Ralph sun-
successful venture at Labumam V ilia, an envelope
addressed in pencil to Mr. Somerford, was delivered
at Fern Lodge by a sunhrowned and freckled lad,
who had received it at the railway station from a
tall, dark man in a velveteen jacket.
It contained only the following words:
‘Just arrived from London. Going home direct^
lv Shall be glad to see you. Ralph Cranston.
‘He could not say much less,’ muttered bomer-
ford ‘I wonder whether he has got the papers?
Unable to bear the suspense and anxiety he put
on his hat, and walked down thel&ne and across tbe
heath to Ralph’s hovel. , , . .
‘Well,’ said he, as he entered Cranston s domicile,
‘have you got the papers ?’ ,, , .
‘No Mr. Somerford, 1 have not,’ replied Ralph.
‘Sorry I have failed for both our sakes; but that
won’t mend it. I have not got them.’
‘How did you bungle so as to fail ? said Somer-
f °d <1 'did not bungle at all,’ returned Ralph. ‘My
girl betrayed me, and I was caught in a trap, ana
onlv got let out by telling the truth.’ .
‘The truth !’ exclaimed Somerford furiously.
‘You told them that I sent you on the business?
Were you fool enough?’ ,
‘Hark you, Mr. Somerford,’returned Ralph; hard
words won’t break bones, they sav, but my crab-
stick will; and there are not two men 1 would tone
that from w ithout trying its toughness. If 1 was
rascal enough to try and do your dirty work for
-J . , you. I was not fool enough to get seven years at
I he female servants retired to bed at eleven and ^ d rison when i cou i d ge t off scot free by
every light was extinguished shortly afterwards. 1 ’
concealed the lower part.
As be drew near to Black Ralph’s hovel, he more
than once looked around him, but no one was in
sight, and no sound reached his ears.
He paused before the black hovel, and noiselessly
raised the latch; but the door did not move.
It was strongly bolted on the inside.
There were no shutters to the windows, but the
sash of the larger one was secured, and that of the
little room which had been Nolly's chamber was
too small to admit him.
Removing a diamond ring front one of his fin
gers he scored round a pane of th# larger window
with the gem, and then, after replacing the ring
on his finger, tapped the lower part of the pane
;th his knuckles, covered with a silk
the
served Somerford. ‘If not burned in the hovel,
whero is he ?’
The stranger turned an earnest look upon Somer
ford, while he was speaking, and then looked from
him to t he officer.
‘He might have many motives for not being
here,’ said the constable.
The stranger’s countenance, which had worn an
expression of the most painful anxiety, brightened
a little at these words.
‘Gan you tell me whether there was a girl resid
ing with him, a dark haired girl of thirteen or four
teen years of age ?’ he inquired.
‘There was,’ replied the constable.
‘Poor little Nelly !’ murmured the stranger,
turning away with tears in his eyes.
and gently unfastened the window.
d into the room, and, tak-
.harply w.___ _ .
he glasedropped outward?'and was i eceived on The two men who had been engaged in turning
handkerchief - and then he introduced his hand over the rubbish, at this moment approached the
le ’ - - • - ! blue-coated constable.
‘There is nothing there,’ said one of them. ‘We
have made a thorough search me and my mate,
and we cannot find even so much as a button or a
hobnail.’
The stranger heard this, and his conntenance
brightened again.
‘Very well,’ said the constable. ‘You cannot do
any more. ’
‘But the man must hare been burned,’ observed
Somerford. ‘ What interest had he in setting tire
to a tumble-down hovel, and thus attracting atten
tion to the fact that he had absconded ? And, if it
was an accident, why should he run away ? And
if he was not able to run away through being sur
prised in his sleep by the suffocating smoke, how
could he help being burned ?’
‘You are getting at me like a lawyer now,’ re
plied the constable. ‘What you sav is not easily
answered. I must own; but, then, if he was burned,
Noiselessly he droppei . .
in*r a dark lantern from his pocket, slid back the
shade, and threw the light around.
The table-lirawer appeared to be the only place
which would be likely to be used as a receptacle
for papers, and that was locked.
He quietly opened the door of the back room
and looked in, holding the lantern so that its light
should not fall upon the eyes of the sleeping m
U1 He approached the bed and put his hand under
the pillow, but could feel not hing Mere.
He next examined the sleeper s clothes, and in a
pocket of his velveteen jacket he found two or
three keys upon a ring, faking these he returned
to the sitting-room, and unlocked the table-drawer,
but the papers were not there.
Somerford’s countenance became clouded with
dis ipiKiintment at this discovery; but he had re
solved to destroy the will, if it was m the poacher’s
possession, and at the same tune » remove Ralph
from his path, and he flinched net from his pur
pose.
what has become of his buttons and hobnails.
Jim Mott put it,—to say nothing of his body, which girl.’
could not have been so completely burned as not to i *j mns t see her, Ralph,’ returned his friend. ‘It is
leave a bone to swear by V I something to find her, after so many years, alive
CHARTER XIX.
Somerford evinced, on the morning after his visit
to tbe wreck of Black Ralph’s hovel, an unwonted
interest in the garden upon which his deceased
cousin had bestowed so much care und attention.
At length be saw the poacher approaching, and
as Ra'ph paused before the gate, he slipped into his
hand a small parcel.
Ralph turned down the lane leading to the heath,
and opened the parcel. It contained notes and gold
to the amount of fifty pounds.
Having ascertained this, he consigned the parcel
to his pocket, and walked on towards the heath.
Ralph had been awakened suddenly on the night
t lie fire by the noise made by Somerford in his
hasty flight from the hovel, anil immediately per
ceived that the room was filled with smoke.
Springing from the bed, he hastily dressed him
self, and rushed out of the place, for by that time
the flames had spread to the furniture and window-
saslies, and he knew that the old wooden hovel
would burn like a bonfire.
The second night afterwards found him in Ihe
metropolis, where he obtained furnished lodgings
in the locality in which he had before resided.
‘Good-morning,’ said the cobbler, who occupied
the ground floor, and was the poacher’s landlord,
as the new lodger passed the door on the following
morning.
The poacher returned tbe salutation, and was
passing out, when the cobbler’s voice arrested his
steps.
‘Did you say your name was Cranston V said he.
Ralph replied in the affirmative.
Here is an advertizemont that may interest you,
perhaps.’ observed the cobbler, handing him a
newspaper, ui which he read the followinn notifica
tion -
‘If this should meet the eye of Ellen, the adopted
daughter of Ralph Cranston, late of Netttlethorpe,
in the County of Dorset., she will hear of something
to her advantage by calling upon, or communicat
ing with Mr. Ashbourne, York Road, Lambeth;
and any person giving information of the present
residence of the said El’en will be rewarded.’
‘Thank you,’ said the poacher, as he returned the
newspaper to his landlord, and the next moment he
was in the street. _ ,
Black Ralph hent his steps towards the York
Road and upon reaching it, was not long in discov
ering the shop wherein Mr. Ashbourne dispensed
tobacco, snuff, stationery and newspapers, to a
long list of customers.
The advertisement was not Mr. Ashbourne’s how
ever, but had been inserted by a lodger, to whose
apartments Ralph was directed.
The heavy tap of the poacher’s knuckles upon the
door was responded to by a square-built, middle-
aged man, with a profusion of dark hair, beginning
to be grizzled about his temples and eround his face,
which appeared to have been bronzed by exposure
to the air in a tropical climate.
‘Natty Bill /’ exclaimed Black Ralph, with a start
of surprise, as the door was opened
‘What, Ralph ?’ responded the other, extending
his hand, which the poacher shook heartily. ‘I had
a terrible disappointment at Nettlethorpe ! The
child, Ralph—my Nellie! You hove seen the ad
vertisement, and have come to *ell me of her ?’
‘Yes,’ responded the poacher, as he sat down, ‘I
did my best by her, Bill, bur she had a notion of
doing better by herself, it sepms. and she cut away
from me, and has been taken in hand by an old
gent down at Forest Hill. It is all square, old fel
low, and I dare say it will be a good thing for the
t t