Jasper County Democrat, Volume 8, Number 38, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 December 1905 — The Yellow Holly [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Yellow Holly

By FERGUS HUME,

Author of "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab." Etc. A A

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. CHAPTER I—George Brendou, a young Londoner, visits hi* friend. Leonard Train, who hat lodgings in the boarding house kept by Mrt. Jersey. Anions' the boarders it an elderly maiden lady. Miss Bull. Mrs. Jersey is staitled by a piece of yellow holly worn by George. ll—George, whose real name is Vane, tells Train the story of his life. He is an orphan mid the grandson of Lord Derringtou, but the latter refuses to recognize the marriage of George's father (Lord Herrington's son), who had eloped. Brendou desires to establish his position as Lord Herrington's heir in order to marry Dorothy Ward. The place of marriage of George's parents is known only to Mrs. Jersey, formerly maid to George's mother. His mother died at his birth, and his father had been murdered in San Remo. Italy, years before. Ill—ln the night Mrs. Jersey is killed with a stiileto by an unknown person. IV—Miss Bull takes charge of the house in behalf of Margery, neioe of the murdered woman. The house has been leased from Lord Herrington. V—Mrs. Ward, a heartless society woman, mother of Dorothy, is opposed to Dorothy's marriage to Brendou. The yellow holly had been given to Dorothy by her mother and by the girl to George. Vl—Mr. Ireland, George's former guardian, tells him of his mother's marriage and death and his futher’s murder. The latter was killed after leaving a masked ball in company with a woman—a blue domino—who wore a sprig of yellow holly. CHAPTER VII. AS Brendon was in tho neighborhood of Amelia square he paid L a visit to the boarding house. Having learned from Ireland that Miss Bull had informed him how Lord *Derrington was connected with the late Mrs. Jersey, George thought It Just as well that she should be questioned. Certainly Miss Bull, who appeared to be a dour und secretive sort of person, might not speak. On the other hand, If he could induce her to be frank he might learn from her—presuming she knew—the reason why Lord Herrington had leased the Amelia, square house to Mrs. Jersey. On his way Brendon meditated on Ireland’s remarks übout the holly. He remembered the agitation of Mrs. Jersey when she saw the sprig In his coat She had been at San Remo when his father was stabbed, and Ireland had mentioned that tho woman with whom the deceased gian had left the ballroom wore a sprig of yellow holly. Had the berries been red George might not have thought so much of the matter, but yellow holly la comparatively rare, and evidently Mrs. Jersey’s alarm had been caused by her recollection of the murder. The sight of the holly had revived her memory. *T wonder If she had anything to do .with the murder,” mused George as he

turned Into Amelia square. “Probably she had nothing to do with the blue domino or with the matter of the crime. From what Ireland says, however, a piece of yellow holly was mentioned In connection with the murder, and Mrs. Jersey, then Eliza Stokes, probably heard of It. That was why she shivered and turned pale when she saw the sprig in my coat.” Having thus decided the question, though not In a very satisfactory’ way, George rang the bell and was admitted Into the sitting room in which the murder had taken place. It was empty, but Jarvey departed Immediately to fetch Miss Bull. George knew the room welj. It had been used by his grandfather ns a breakfast room, and many a meal bad he enjoyed at that very table. As the furniture had been sold to Lord Herrington, together with the house, the table was the very article of furniture at which Mrs. Jersey had been stabbed when seated. Brendon looked from the table to the door and wondered if the assassin had entered stealthily’ with a bnred weupon and had stabbed the wretched woman before she had time to turn her head. But on second thoughts he was inclined to think that the assassin had been in friendly conversation with Mrs. Jersey before Inflicting the fatal stroke. Even in the short distance between table and door Mrs. Jersey would have hud time to spring to her feet and give the alarm. “No,” thought George ns he seated himself; “what I Said to Train is correct The assassin engaged Mrs. Jersey In friendly conversation and then watched for an opportunity to strike from behind.” He would have continued trying to puzzle out the circumstances of the crime but that Miss Bull entered, accompanied by Margery. The little old maid looked whiter and more haggard than ever, but her eyes gleamed brightly, and she seemed to be In perfect health. Margery, now being the nominal head of the house, appeared more Important, but she kept her eyes on Miss Bull’s fnce and in all things took her orders from this superior being. "How are you, Mr. Brendon?” said Miss Bull, smiling IB her prim way, but without offering her hand. “I did not expect to see you again.” “Why not?” asked George quickly.

| Miss Bull shrugged her thin shoulders and fastened her beady eyes on his face. “Many of the hoarders left on account of tuadame’s murder, so I ; thought you had done the same.” | “I was only a visitor. Miss Bull. Had I been a boarder I should not I have left. The murder did not scare me." “No,” replied Miss Bull indifferently; “I don’t suppose it did. I only talked for the sake of talking.” Brendon was rather embarrassed | how to begin the conversation, espe- | daily as Margery was present. Some- : thing of this showed itself in his man- | ner, for Miss Bull drew Margery’s | hand within her own and nodded affably. “Miss Watson is the head of the house,” she said. “Ho you come to | see her or me, Mr. Brendon?” "I come to see you,” said George, hoping she would send the inconvenient third away. But she did nothing of the sort. “In that case Margery can stop as my friend, Mr. Brendon. Anything you say before her will go uo further. She | keeps my secrets.” Margery stooped and kissed the old maid’s hand. Miss Bui! patted her | head and turned cheerfully to her visit- ; or. “Yes, Mr. Brendon?” she said In i *n Interrogative manner. Again George j felt awkward, but judged it best to ■ plunge Into the middle of the matter 1 and get it over as soon as possible. “You called, to see a certain Mr. Ireland,” he said, “about the lease of this house. I have come to ask you why you did so.” i Miss Bull stopped patting Margery's hand nnd her lips tightened. “I don't ! see what business that is of yours,” | she said tartly. “On the face of It, Miss Bull. I admit j that the question sounds impertinent. But I am anxious to learn something about Mrs. Jersey's early life, and since you know something”— “I know nothing," interrupted Miss I Bull quickly, “absolutely nothing. I came here as a boarder many yearn ago, and. as Is my custom. I kept myself to myself. Madame end I did not get on well together. She was not a lady.” Evidently it was impossible to learn anything from so Becretive a woman. Nevertheless George tried another tack. “Ho you know If Mrs. Jersey left any writings behind her?” He asked this because It struck him that Mrs. Jersey might have been tempted to write out her relations with the Vane family. Miss Bull did not reply to this question herself. “That Is not my business,” she said. “Miss Watson took possession of her aunt’s papers.” “They were In a green box,” said Margery artlessly. “What did they consist of?” asked Brendon. “You need not answer that question, Margery,” said Miss Bull quickly, and from that moment Margery preserved a lumpish silence. George rose in despair.

“You will not help me,” he said, taking up his hat. He saw nothing for it but to go. yet he hesitated to abandon the chance of learning something from Miss Bull. He stared at her pinched, white face and wondered if it would be any good appealing to that love of romance which is inherent in the heart of every woman. Old and withered as Miss Bull was she might soften under the influence of a love tale. Brendon disliked telling his business to strangers, especially anything regarding Horothy, whom he looked upon as a sacred vestal not to be lightly mentioned. But he could not speak in the presence of the girl Margery. She was such a sullen animal that to mention his love in her presence would be like casting pearls before swine. lie therefore turned to Miss Bull, who stood with folded hands, eying him frigidly. "If I could see you alone,” said Brendon. Miss Bull cast a shrewd glance at him, rapidly made up her mind nnd told Margery to go. The girl looked at him tlgerislily, ns she was evidently Jealous, and sulkily withdrew. "Miss Bull," said George deliberately, “what I am about to tell you, being my own private business, I must ask you to keep to yourself. I am engaged to be married.”

“Indeed, and what Interest can that have for me, Mr. Brendon?” “This much. I am anxious for certain information, and from what Mr. Ireland said you alone can give It. To put the thing In a nutshell, I am in love, and you can forward my marriage If you will.” “Who is tho bride. Mr. Brendon?” said Miss Bull. “She is not a bride yet. She hevcr may the young man gloomily, “for if she does not become my wife she will accept no one else. I can trust her implicitly. Her name Is Dorothy Ward.”

Miss Bull rose, with an ejaculation, and her face grew red. “Is her mother the Honorable Mrs. Ward who married Lord Ransome’s son?”

“Yes. Bo you know her?” asked George, surprised at her emotion. “I have heard of her,” replied Miss Bull, resuming her seat with feigned indifference, but with barely concealed agitation. "Horothy Ward. A handsome girl. I have seen her in the park.” “She is as good as she Is beautiful,” cried Brendon enthusiastically. “I’ll take your word for that,” said Miss Bull in a softer tone. “Mr. Brendou, I will help you. Hon’t ask me why. Perhaps it Is on account of your rontunee. perhaps because —because”— her hand clinched itself, and she fought down an outburst—"no matter. I will do what I can to forward the marriage. What do you wish to kuow?” “About Mrs. Jersey.” “In relation to Lord Herrington?” “Yes. He was the landlord of this house, I believe." “He was and is. It was leased to Mrs. Jersey, furniture nnd all, by the year.’*

“By the year," said Brendon, surprised. “Why not a seven years’ lease in the ordinary way?” “I cannot say. I am only telling yon what Mrs. Jersey's lawyer told me. Lord Herrington bought this house from Mr. Ireland, who sold It ou account of the last owner.”

“He did,” said George. “The last owner was Mr. Anthony Lockwood; he was”— George had it in his mind to state that Lockwood was his grandfather, but the time was not yet ripe for such a disclosure, and he said nothing at the moment. “He was n singing master,” he finished rather lamely. “Mr. Ireland told me all about him.” “That is all correct, so far as I know, Mr. Bremlon. I dare say you wish to know why I saw Mr. Ireland. I did so on behalf of Margery Watson, as I wanted the girl to continue the hoarding house. I like the poor creature, and when her aunt died she was left very badly off." “Didn’t Jersey leave any money?” “No. She lived principally on an annuity from Lord Herrington.” “Ah,” said Brendon. his suspicions becoming more and more continued, “so be allowed her an annuity. Why?” “I can’t tell you that But with the death of Mrs. Jersey the annuity naturally ceased. I asked Mr. Ireland about the lease and then sought out Lord Derrlngton. I represented to him the position of Margery Watson, and he was good enough to renew the lease In her name on my security." “Still by the year?” asked George. “Still by the year. So now the poor girl can live." “You are a good woman. Miss Bull, to help her in this way. It shows you have a good heart,” said George. “Well, Miss Bull”—he rose—“you have told me what I want to know. I hope

to make use of It In return for your confidence I should tell you”— “Tell me nothing.” cried the old maid quickly. “I don’t wish to hear your secrets. The less said the soonest mended. When Miss Ward becomes Mrs. Brendon,” she added, with a dry, smile, “you can send me a piece of wedding cake.” “She will not become Mrs. Brendon,” said George, shaking his head. “I will; be frank with you. Miss Bull. Mjr, name Is not Brendon.” She rose from her seat and looked! at him steadily, perusing every line in* his face. “I thought I had seen some one like you before. I see now—now—don’t tell me your name is—is—btit if» impossible.” “My real name Is George Vane. I am* Lord Herrington’s grandson.” [TO BE CONTINUED.!

"What have you been doing ?"