Jasper County Democrat, Volume 8, Number 30, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 October 1905 — The Yellow Holly [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Yellow Holly

By FERGUS HUME,

Author of “The Mystery of a Hansom Cab." Etc. <•<

“No. no," cried Train, “I shall never marry. A literary man should keep himself away from the fascinations of female society.” “Do you agree with that, Mr. Brendon?" asked Sirs. Jersey curiously. He shook bis head and laughed. “I am not a hermit, Mrs. Jersey.” “Then Miss Bull must prophesy about your marriage. Come!” At first Brendon was unwilling to go, but after some persuasion he submitted to be led to the table. Miss Bull was quite willing to do what was asked of her, and spread out the cards.

“Fou will med with a violent death." Brendon waited beside Mrs. Jersey ■with a most indifferent air. Sbe was far more anxious to bear tbe fortune than be was. “You are in trouble,” announced Miss Bull in a sepulchral tone, “and the trouble will grow worse. But In the end all will be well. She will aid you to get free and will bestow her hand on you." “She?” asked Brendon, looking puzzled.

Miss Bull did not raise her eyes. “The lady you are thinking of.” Brendon was rather taken aback, but seeing Mrs. Jersey’s curious look be crushed down his emotion. “At my age we are always thinking of ladles,” be said, laughing. Train touched his arm. “It is”— he began, but Brendon frowned, and Leonard was quick enough to take the hint. Miss Bull went on telling the fortune. There were the usual dark and fair people, the widow, the journey, the. money and all the rest of tbe general events and happenings which are usually foretold. But there was always trouble, trouble, and again trouble. “But you will come out right in the end,” said Miss Bull. "Keep a brave heart.” “I am sure Mr. Brendon will do tliat.” said madame graciously. While George bowed to the compliment Miss Bull agaiu shuffled the cards aud fastened her keen black eyes on madame. “Will you have your fortune told?” sbe asked coldly.

"Ob, certainly,” said Mrs. Jersey in a most gushing manner; “anything to amuse. But my fortune has been told BO often and lias never come true—never.” And she sighed in an effective manner. Miss Bull continued her mystic counting. She told madame a lot of things about the house which were known to most present. Mrs. Jersey laughed and Miss BulT nirne.i up a black card. "You will meet with a violent death,” she said, and every one shuddered.

CHAPTER 11. IF Miss Bull wished to make madame uncomfortable she certainly succeeded. From being voluble, Mrs. Jersey became silent, the fresh color died out of her face and her lips moved nervously. Twice did she make an effort to overcome her emotion, but each time failed. Afterward site took u seat by the Are and stared into the Hames with an anxious look, as though she saw therein a fulfillment of the dismal prophecy. Iler depression communicated itself to the rest of the company, and shortly before 10 the friends took their departure. The idea Of being alone seemed to cheer Mrs. Jersey, and she accompanied her departing guests to the front door.

It was a comparatively thick fog, yet not so bad but that the visitors might hope to reach their homes. For some time Mrs. Jersey stood in the doorway at the top of the steps and shook hands with those who were going. The boarders, who were ’.old and chilly, were too wise to venture outside on such a dreary night, so Mrs. Jersey had the doorstep all to herself. “If you lose your way,” she called out to the visitors, “come back. You can tell the house by the red light.” She pointed to the fanlight of crimson glass behind which gas was burning. “I will keep that nlight for another hour.” The voices of thanks came back muffled by the fog, but Leonard and George waited to hear no more. They walked upstairs to Train's sitting room, Which was on the first floor. The win-

dows looked out on to a back garden, wherein grew a few scrubby trees, so that the prospect was not cheering. But on this night the* faded crimson curtains were drawn, the fire was lighted and a round table in the middle of the apartment was spread for supper. On one side a door led to Leonard’s bedroom; on the other side was the room wherein George was to sleep. As the firelight played on the old fashioned furniture and on the mellow colors of curtains and carpet Leonard rubbed his hands. “It is rather quaint,” he said cheerfully, and lighted the lamp. “Not such a palace as your diggings tn Duke street,” said Brendon, stretching his long legs on the chintz covered sofa.

“One must suffer in jjie cause of art,” Baid Train, putting the shade on the lamp. “1 am picking up excellent tyi>es here. What do you think?” “There’s plenty of material,” growled Brendon, getting out bis pipe. “Don’t smoke yet, George,” interposed Train, glancing at the clock. "We must have supper first. After that we can smoke till 11 and then we must go to bed.” “You keep early hours here, Leonard.” “I don’t. Mts. Jersey asked me particularly to be in bed at 11.” “Why ?” Brendon started and looked hard at his friend. “I don’t know', but she did.” “Is it an understood thing that you retire at that hour?” Train shook his head and drew in bis ehair. “By no means. I have sat up till 2 before now. But on this night Mrs. Jersey wants the bouse to be considered respectable and therefore asked me to retire early. Perhaps it’s on account of you, old man.” Here he smiled in an amused manner. “She hopes to get you as a boarder.”

“I wouldn’t come here for the world,” retorted Brendon with quite unnecessary violence. “Why not? Have some tongue?” “Thanks,” responded George, passing his plate. “Because I don’t like the house, and I don't care for Mrs. Jersey.” —— “Why did you advise me to come here, then?” asked Train, pouring out a glass of claret. “Well, you wanted something in the style of Dickens, and this was the only place I knew.” “How did you know about It?” George deliberated for a moment and then fastened his eyes on his plate. “I lived here once,” he said in a low voice. “But you didn’t like Mrs. Jersey,” “She was not here then.” “Who was here?” “My grandfather on tbe mother’s side. That’s fifteen years ago.” Leonard looked at the handsome, moody face of his friend musingly. “I never knew you had a grandfather,” he said at last. “Do you know anything at all about me?’’ asked Brendon. “No; now I come to think of it, I don't. 1 met you three years agp at Mrs. Ward’s house, and we have been friends ever since.”

“Acquaintances, rather. Men are not friends until they become confidential with one another. Well, Train”—George pushed back his chair and wiped bls mouth—“tonight I intend to turn you from a mere acquaintance into a friend.” "I shall be delighted,” said Train, rather bewildered. “Won’t you have more supper?” Brendon shook his head, lighted his pipe and again stretched himself on the sofa. Train, being curious to know what he had to say, was on the point of joining him, but he was yet hungry, so could not bring himself to leave the table.

Traln’s parents were dead and had left him an income of £5,000 a year. Not being very strongminded, and being more than a trifle conceited as to his literary abilities, his money speedily attracted round him a number of needy hangers on, who flattered him to the top of his bent. Poor Leonard thought that all women were angels and all men good fellows with a harmless tendency to borrow. He was called a fool by those he fed, but none could call him a rogue. It was simplicity which inspired Brendon with a pitying friendship, and Brendon had done much to save him from the harpies who preyed on this innocent. In several cases he had opened Train’s eyes at the cost of quarreling with those who lost by the opening, but George was well able to hold his own, and none could say that he benefited pecuniarily by the trust and confidence which Leonard reposed in him. To avert all suspicion of this sort he had refused to become Train's secretary ami companion at an excellent salary. Now that Train came to think of it Brendon was rather a mysterious person. He lived by writing articles for the papers, and was always well dressed. His rooms were in Kensington, and he seemed to know many people whom he did not cultivate. Train would have given his ears to enter the houses at which Brendon was a wel-

come guest, but for the most part George preferred to live alone with his pipe and his books. He was writing a novel and hoped to make a successful career as a literary man, but as be was barely, thirty years of age and had been settled only five years In London his scheme of life was rather In embyro. He appeared to have some secret trouble, but what it was Train never knew, as Brendon was a particularly reticent man. Why he should propose to be frank on this especial night Leonard could not understand. After supper he put the question to him. “You can depend upon me, George. Anything you tell me will never be repeated.” Brendon nodded his thanks. “Also.” he continued, “I wish you to lend me £300.” “A thousand if you will.” “Three hundred will be sufficient. I’ll repay you when I come into my property.” Train opened his eyes. “Are you coming into money?” be asked. “That I can’t say. It all depends. Do you know why I suggested this house to you, Leonard?”*he asked suddenly. "To help me in my literary work.” “That was one reason, certainly, but I had another and more selfish one, connected”—George sat up to finish the sentence—“connected with Mrs. Jersey,” lie said quietly. This remark was so unexpected that Leonard did not know what to say for a moment. “I thought you did not know her,” he gasped out. "Nor do I.” "Does she know you?” “Not as George Brendon, or as I am now.” “What do you mean?” Train was more puzzled than ever. “It is a long story. I don’t know' that I can tell you the whole." Train looked annoyed. “Trust me”— “All In all or not at all,” finished Brendon. “Quite so.” He paused and drew' hard at his pipe. “Since I want money I must trust you.” "Is it only for that reason that you consider me worthy of your confidence?” asked Leonard, much mortified. George leaned forward and patted him on the knee. "No, old man. I wish you to help me also.” “In what way?” “With Dorothy Ward,” replied George, looking closely at ills pipe. “Was she in your mind tonight when that old maid was telling the cards?” asked Train, sitting up with a look of Interest. Brendon nodded. "But Ido not wish you to mention her name. That was why”— “I know. I was foolish. Well, she’s a pretty girl, and as good as she is pretty.” “Which is marvelous,” said Brendon, “considering the fashionable mother she has.” Train smiled. “Mrs. Ward is certainly a leader of fashion.” “And as heartless as any woman I observed Brendon. He glanced affectionately at the yellow' holly. “Dorothy gave me this tonight.” “Did you see her before you came here?” “Yes. I went to afternoon tea. We” —Brendon examined his pipe again—“we understand one another,” he said. Leonard sprang to his feet. “My dear chap, I congratulate you.”

“Thanks, but it’s too early for congratulation as yet Mrs. Ward wants her daughter to make a good marriage. George Brendon will not be the husband of her choice, but Lord Derrington!” “Does she want her daughter to marry that old thing?” * “You don’t understand, Leonard. I mean that If I become Lord Derrington when the old man dies Mrs. Ward will consent.” Train sat down helplessly and stared. “I don’t understand,” he said. “I’ll put the thing in a nutshell,” explained Brendon. "Lord Derrington is my grandfather.” “Your—but he never lived here?” “No. The grandfather who lived here and with whom I stayed was my mother’s father. He was called Lockwood. Derrington is my father’s father. Now do you understand?” “Not quite! How can you become Lord Derrington when he has a grandson—that young rip Walter Vane?” “Walter Vane is the son of my father’s brother, and my father was the elder and the heir to the title.” "Then, if Lord Derrington dies you become”— ■ “Exactly. But the difficulty is that I have to establish my birth.” Leonard jumped up and clutched his hair. “Here’s a mystery,” he said, staring at his friend. "What does it all mean?” "Sit down and I’ll tell you.” Leonard resumed his seat and glanced at the clock. “We have a quarter

of an hour,” he said, “but I think we’ll lleTy3lrs. Jersey and sit up tllternight.” “No,” said Brendon hastily, “we may as well do what she wants. I wish to conciliate her. She is the only person who can help to prove my mother’s marriage.” “Humph! "I thought there was something queer about her. Who was she?” “My mother’s maid! But I had better tell you from the beginning.” Train sat down and produced a cigarette. “Go on,” he said. “No, wait! I want to know before you begin why Mrs. Jersey was so struck with that yellow holly?” mis nine it was crenaon wmo looxea puzzled. “I can’t say, Leonard.” (TO BE CONTINUED.]

"Here’s a mystery.”