Chums No. 785, Vol. XVI — page 9: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Unrehearsed. A wemser of an amateur dramatic society who was acting the part of gamekeeper, wishing to add a touch of realism to his get-up, directed a bey to go quickly to » local poul- and fetch a rabbit, which he intended to carry across the stage, while his gun lay ever his shoulder. : ; Just as the actor was ready to go on the bey rushed to the wings, and gasped: “Ere yer are, catch ’old.” The supposed gamekeeper grasped the hind legs of his prey, and sauntered over the boards, but was saluted with roars of laughter from the other side of the footlights. The rabbit was a skinned one! TO SAVE HIS FATHER’S FORTUNE. When Kinglake Hall Was Flooded. _ } OLD hard, Chris—stop!”’ ii Bob Medway was ont of his saddle ina trice. Switching his bike around, he brought the lamp-light on a pair of massive gate-pillars. lhere was now no gate between them, but beyond there was an approach which evidently led to a house-—probably a large house. “Here goes!”? was Bob’s ery. ‘This way. for hope and shelter !’’ He mounted as he spoke, and his brother did not hesitate to follow. Indeed, it was no time for hesitation, for the rain was simply lashing down, and the ditches were overflowing. Further riding on this strange Cheshire road began to seem impossible. lt was now ten o'clock at night, with not a star to relieve the impenetrable blackness. “ Hurrah!” cried Bob presently; “here is a house, Chris! Down this dip, you see, and here we are bang at the front door!’’ In a moment they had dismounted. ““Untenanted,’’ observed Chris, ‘though it’s too dark to see much more than the door. But a good door, eh—big and solid. Here, let’s bang it, and see if there’s a caretaker to—— Hark! By Jove, horse-hoofs!”’ Horse-hoofs they certainly were, and pound- ing hard along the drive behind them. Though heavy, they seemed limping and irregular, and presently it appeared as though the mount had stumbled. Next came an approaching sound of running; the horseman was now panting to- wards them on foot. He dashed through the darkness, and ran so wildly that he had pitched over Bob’s front wheel before his rush could be avoided. He went down weightily, but was up again next instant with his back to the big d or. “Who are your light to light me Z “Gyclists,”’ replied Chris. ‘‘ We've just ar- rived here, and we were going to ask shelter if ar 3 “Yes, yes!’* was the panted rejoinder ; “come in, but come quickly! I’m being fol- A pony-trap; do you hear it ** he gasped, blinking from lowed—pursued ! coming?’ Exeitedly speaking thus, the stranger had stooped and was now struggling with a key in the great door, In a breath the door was wide 1, and the young man was pressing them to open, * ¥ i ‘ 0 1 “Bring your bikes,”” he eried; “but uickly—quickly pe" The machines were slipped through, the door losed. and the lock turned again. Then, d by the cyele-lights, the stranger mbled. found bolts, and thrust them into Standing near he then espied a stout of iron, This, fitting down into keeps on side, spanned the door and made it gD secure, N oe me a bike, and I'll lead the way. We must hide!” Leross a great hall, sharply to the right, 1 pa sve a warrow oue branching, down a hens and the trio were before a bew, doer Phis the unknewn—a young fellow » hevond his teens--pulled open tlat he annonnved we wonderingly entered. This cellar dreary, dank place; so much they could idge by their sense of smell The stranger passed in last, found the door- and slid it rustily, ‘Ah,’’ he said with I've done all] I can now. Tell me, * ¢ you?*’ Bob and Chris Medway—on a holiday tour, 785 CHUMS. Rain had delayed us for so many days, that at noon we risked all and pressed on. We were idiots. Ten o'clock’ to-night found ns_ still struggling in the pouring rain to reach North- wich. We didn’t know this house, but——” “Tt is Kinglake Hall, and my name is Howard Kinglake. I'll teH—— Hark! they’ve come !”’ I. Tue speaker paused to listen. Even there they could hear a great assault on the door above; a shaking and a tumult, of blows. Then the noise divided; various window-shutters were being tried. Shouts followed. By closely at- tending, the three in the cellar could just catch what was being said, ““Any luck that way?” voice. ““No, no; all the shutters are strong and tight.” “Confound! Here, this pony is restless; I must get rid of her. Thunder—how it rains! There may be shelter at the back; I’ take the trap around. Wait till I return with the carriage-light. That thief must be inside, and we've got to nab him. D’you hear?” There was a murmur of assent, the faint noise of wheels, and then silence, In the cellar the young vtranger—Howard Kinglake—spoke vehemently. ‘‘ The scoundrel !”’ he burst out, ‘‘You heard him say ‘ thief,’ eh? He meant me!” “He lied!’’ declared Bob stoutly, for he trusted Kinglake’s looks, “He did. My story's a curious one; you'd like to hear it?’”’ “We shonld.”’ “Then I must be quick with it, so attend closely. At my grandfather’s death this house demanded a high spi Haan See “Chums” Bere and There Gallery. KNOWN AS ENGLAND'S CENTRE, Wuere would you place the central spot in England if you were suddenly asked the question? Ata guess you might say Birmingham, or perhaps venture a little further to the north or the east, and in this you would not be far wrong. For if the high road between Brminghai and Coventry be taken it will lead one through the pretty Warwickshire village of Meriden, sme twelve miles from the former great city, and here it is that popular belief hag located England's centre. It can only be w supposition, of course, but many t people have been and no doubt stall are, convineed of Steriden's exactitude, whereforea stone obehsk (kndwa a the Old Croos) wes erected vears ago to tark the fact. Meriden stands at the point of interseotion of lines drawn from Berwick-on-Tweed to Southampton and from Aberystwith to Southwold, If you ar@ satis- fed with these places as measuring p. ints then Meriden may retain the prond honour which it now claims, OE a TTT TOTS 129 was mortgaged to the hilt—money had been borrowed on it to its uttermost value. My father—at that time a widower with one son, myself—determined not to live a day in it till the huge loan was cleared. The debtors, family friends, generously promised fo indefinitely await settlement. “My father set himself his great'task in the sugar plantations of Mauritius. Little by little he saved and saved to clear off the Kinglake Hall debt. It was his life-task—his mania. Not even would he trust these savings to a bank; out there he kept them and his great object strictly to himself, me = “JT was at school in England; only at long ea. did my father cross to see me, But his etters were always full of his great purpose. The very last I received told me that his under- taking was finished; that he could now wil out the whole mortgage! This was as well, he added, for his health had lately failed, and, indeed, he had had to engage the services of a manager—a fairly competent man named Spare. POM next foreign missive came from that. Spare himself, bad told me, briefly enough, that my father was dead—had died pec” = ‘ is “T can’t describe the fearful shock of news. Having left school, 1 was then in ® business office; the very fact that I was destined to own Kinglake Hall made poor dad insist on a business training. Well, I left for Mauritius at the very first opportunity. “Arrived at my late father’s plantations, I discovered them in charge of subordinates. Spare, the manager, had gone! Where? I asked. Noone knew. Was anything left there for me—a letter or a packet? No; my father’s death had been very sudden indeed. Was ma one with him at the last? Yes, Spare; on Spare. . Well, having heard all this,” broke off the young fellow, “what was I to think? ”’ opp : ; ; “T know!” cried Bob; “‘that your father, in. that last moment, had been compelled to trust his special savings to Spare to hand to you, and that Spare, turning rogue, had bolted with them!” ‘ “Right; like a flash the suspicion came to me, and right on it I set out to trace Spare! . Well, I found him; after weeks I tracked him to Port Louis. I found the house; I entered his room—I faced him. The moment I uttered my name I knew by his face that he was indeed the thief! I chal- lenged him; we had words, we came to blows. I had him over quickly, and his head struek - the table. “Hurriedly I hunted the place, and I found a packet containing almost the right amount in notes—and a big, rusty key. I got away sharply; but, observe, there was not a word nor sign on the packet to prove "twas mine. Thus to all appearances, I was the thief, not Spare! For three weeks, therefore, I kept low and avoided everyone. At the end of that TI secured a passage in an England-bound vessel. “This very day I reached Liverpool and trained at once to Northwich. It was then dark and raining, but from jobbing stables I hired a horse to come here immediately. My one idea was to fit that key into the great door of Kinglake Hall; that, thought I, would do much towards making good my claim to those thousands of pounds! “T rode out of the stables then, and there, there, watching me, was Spare, with two others! How I rode at that! how I flew from Northwich! That fleeting glimpse called me to spur my mount on and on! At the last mile the horse turned lame, but yet I urged the oor brute forward! Well, it reached the inglake drive, as you know; I heard pursuing wheels, I—-- Heaven! What’s that?” Chris Medway, for some moments, had been sensible of a dull, poarta commotion from witliont the house. This, having ef a sudden ained force, had seemed to enter the house itself; had broken into a gurgling rush, ond then-—-- : ; “Great powers! cried Kinglake; “the food, the fleod! Lack, look!" : Lifting Bob's cyele-lamp he flashed it roumd, and there, beneath the cellar door, hissing and sparkling, appeared a strong rush of water! 1. “Wyar is it? cried Bob in alarm, “The viver Withy must have burst from ite —_