Jasper County Democrat, Volume 8, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 January 1906 — The Yellow Holly [ARTICLE]

The Yellow Holly

By FERGUS HUME,

Author of “The Mystery of a Hansom Cab,” Etc. <g Jk

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. CHAPTER I—George Hreudou, & young Londoner, visits bin friend. Leonard Train, who hus I<<(Jtr 111 trs in the boarding house kept by Mrs. Jersey. Among the boarders is an elderly maiden lady. Miss Bull. Mrs. Jersey is startled by a piece of yellow holly worn by George. U—(isortt, whose renl name is Vane, tells Train the story of his life. Heisanorphun and the grandson of Lord Herrington, but the latter refuses to recognize the marriage of George’s father (Lord Herrington's son), who had eloped. Brendon 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, aud his father had been murdered in San Remo, Italy, years before. Ill —Tn the night Mrs. Jersey is killed with a stilleto by an unknown person. IV—Miss Bull takes churge of the house in behalf of Margery, neioe of the murdered woman. The house hus been leased from Lord Herrington. V—Mrs. Ward, a heartless society woman, mother of Dorothy, is opposed to Dorothy’s marriage to Hreudou. 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 father’s murder. The latter was killed after leaving a masked ball in company with n woman—a blue domino—who wore a sprig of yellow holly. VII — George, seeking a confession known to have been left by Mrs. Jersey, visits Miss Bull and learns that the dead woman received an annuity from Lord Herrington, George saves a Mr. Buwdsey from death and learns that the latter"lives in the Jersey house. She sat down, or rather flung herself Into the chair, with a whirl of scarlet draperies. “Decidedly 1 am a Christian. I go to mass, I confess—yes, I confess to the priest how I love you.” “Do you really love me, Lola? I was told that you wished me harm.” She started from her chair with a passionate gesture. “Who says It Is liars of the worst! Tell me who speak, that I may tear and scratch.” “No, no! I don’t want a scandal.” “For her sakes, oh, yes!" She subsided sulkily. “I am nothings.” “For whose sake?” asked Brendon, rather alarmed, for he did not wish this tigress to know about. Dorothy. “The other woman’s. Oh, yes, there Is some one else. I know. You are mine all, and would be but for the other womans. Imbecile that I am to think of you who kick me hardhard. And I can learn nothing—nothing. If I did—ls I knew, I”- She stopped and breathed hard. “I wonder you don’t have me watched." said George, thoroughly angry at her unreasonable nttitude. Lola tossed her head and her expression changed to one of alarm. Brendon saw the change and guessed Its meaning. "You did linve uie watched.” “And what if I did?” she demanded defiantly. “You ure mine.” ”1 am not yours.” lie retorted angrily. ”1 have given you no cause to think that I would uiarry you.” Lola burst Into tears. “You took me from the stones and snows,” she wept with extravagant grief. “Why did I not die? You fed me with foods and made me shine in this Loudon. You win my heart and then then—pschutt”—she snapped her lingers—"ymi toss It aside.” .... “Why did you have me watched?” asked George sternly. “I want to know of the other woman.” she replied sullenly. “There Is no”— He broke off. “It has nothing to do with you." Lola sprang to her feet with tierce eyes. “Then there is another—another —oli, you cruel! Name of names, but 1 Shall tind her. I shall tell her”— “You shall tell her nothing—you shall not set* her.” "Blit 1 will. Hli, yes. You do not know me.” This with a stamp. “I know you cannot behave decently, Lola. If you have me watched again, if you dare to to—hah!” George s; i.r.., ed in his turn. ‘T have had enough of this. Behave, or I go and will not return.” She flung herself at his feet with a wail. “All, but no,” she sobbed, ”1 do iove you so ’dearly—l will die if you love me noti” George drew himself roughly away, and taking her by the hands placed her in a chair, where she hid her face and sobbed. “Who was it you got towatch me- you hired to watch me?” George advisedly used the word “hired,” as he thought she might have engaged one of her friends to do the dirty work instead of engaging a professional. Yet in* knew she was quite capable of going to a private detective otlice. “1 shall not tell you,” said Lola, sitting up with a hard expression on her mouth and in her eyes. “Did you pay him much?” asked Brendon dexterously. “1 paid him what I chose,” retorted Lola, falling into the trap. “Ah! Then it was a professional detective you engaged. Y'ou have been to one of those inquiry offices.” “That is my business,” said Lola, who, seeing she had made a slip, became more olAtiuate than ever. George shrugged his shoulders. He Was not goiug to argue with her. ltememberlng that Bawdstfy had mentioned her name, and that Bawdsey appeared to know all about himself, he began to put two and l*o together. Certainly he might be wrong, and Bawdsey might have nothing to do with the matter. Still it was worth while trying to startle Lola Into a confession by the use of his name. His rescue of Bawdsey hinted that the long arm of coincidence might be at work. “1 should have thought that the red

man was clever enough to”— began George. She rose to her feet with such manifest alarm that George knew his guess, was correct. “Y’ou talk foolish,” said she. George looked at her angry face serenely. “Did Bawdsey when he said you wished me harm?” “What?” She flung up her hands, with blazing eyes. “Did he say I do wish you harm? Was It—that—that cow—pig”— “Don’t call names, Lola, and don’t distress yourself. It was Bawdsey.” Lola saw that she had gone too far. She tried to recover lost ground. “I do not know his names,” she said sullenly, then burst out: “But I wish yon no harm. Eh, will you believe that, my preserver?” "I’ll believe nothing If you will not tell me the truth,” said Brendon, a little cruelly. "Come, Lola, admit that you paid Bawdsey to watch me.” “I did not pay—no, not one sou. He did it for love.” “Oh. indeed! So Bawdsey Is In love with you?” Lola threw hack her head deflantly. “Yes, lie Is, and I care not one, two, three little trifles for him. Chup! He is old—he Is red—he Is one big fool, j that I can twist and twist”— “And you apparently have done so. j Well, then, Lola, did you get him from a private inquiry olllce?” “No, I did not so. He loved me, and sent me flowers—oh, many, many flowers—those roses.” She pointed to a silver dish-fllled with roses. He has flowers from a friend In San Remo.” Brendon sat up with an eager look In his eyes. So Bawdsey knew' some one in Son Remo. Brendon began to think that there was some meaning In all these things and plied Lola with questions. She was sulky at first and would not answer. But Brendon knew how to manage her, and before the conclusion- of the conversation he got the whole truth out of her. “So Bawdsey knows San Remo, and he Is fifty or over fifty years of age. H’m! He knows all the history of the place, I suppose,” “I know not—nothing do I know.” “Ah, that's a pity! Bawdsey could tell you some nice talcs." Tie fixed a keen glance on her. “About some yellow holly, for instance.” Lola winced, for the shot had gone homo. Bat she still held to her declaration of ignorance. “I know nothings—absolutely.” “But apparently tills man knows a great deal. lie is in love witli you and must have told you much. Did lie Inform you of n certain murder which took place at San Remo?” “Ah, bah! Why should lie? I knew of all already.” “Y’ou! How did yon know?” “My father and my mothers, they lived in San Remo when—oh, they did tell me all of that Englishman.” “Did they know who murdered him?” asked George, marveling at this unexpected discovery. “No. No one know anythlngs.” “Was there no suspicion?” “Not one suspicions. I know nothings,” six* repeated doggedly. “It strikes me that you do. How did. you and Bawdsey come to be talking of this matter?” "We did not talk." Lola looked down at her foot as she told the lie and moved it restlessly. George rose and took up his hut. Throwing his coat over his arm. he mined toward the door. "Good night, mademoiselle." Sin* sprang to her feet anil flew after him. “No, no!” slit* cried In lively alarm. "You must not go, my dearest dear!” “Wliat is the use of my stepping when you will not show your gratitude toward me by tell ng the truth?” "1 will tell! 1 will tell! Sit down. The coat—you shall not go. I will say all. Ask what you will. Sit, my little cabbage—a wine in the glass—ah, yesanil a cigarette. Come, be good. Am I mademoiselle?” “No,” said George, smiling on her pleading face. “You are my friend Lola now that you are sensible.” “All, only friend!" she said sadly. “But I speak. Y'es?” George began at onee to question her lest the yielding mood should pass away. “You made the acquaintance of Bawdsey at the hall?” Lola nodded. “lie loved me; he sent me flowers. I learn that he looks after people, and I tnnde him watch you. I told him your name.” "Did he know my name?’* asked Brendon quickly. “He knew everything—oh, yes—allall!” Brendon was taken aback. “All—all what?” he asked, amazed. “Why”—Lola twirled her fingers—“all what you would not tell to me. my dear. That your names Is Vane, and milor”— "Derriugton! Did Bawdsey mention Lord Derrington?” “Yes. Oh, many times he speaks of milor. I speaks of San Remo. This—this Bawdsey ask me of the blue domino—of file holly” “Of the murder, in fact" “It is quite so, my friend. Of the murder of your father.” “What?” George started from his seat. “Dkl he know that the man whq

was murdered at Sun Remo was my father?” "Yes, and that it was difficult about the marriages.” “That also. He appears to know the whole story. And be mentioned Lord Derrington. That is how he comes to be acquainted with these facts. A spy —Derrington Is employing him. And the man Is boarding in Amelia square.” George struck his bands together. “By Jove, It’s a conspiracy, and I never knew anything!” “I do not wish you to have the marriages right, George,” said Lola, with a pout. “If you are as what you are, then you will marry me. She will not be madame.” "Did Bawdsey tell you the name of the lady?” “No. But he will tell. But she is a well born one, and I am of the gutter. But I love you—ab, yes, I love you!” She threw her arms round him. “Be still Brendons, and not milor, and I am yours.” "No, no!” George took her arms from his neck and spoke more soberly. “Lola, hold your tongue about what you have told me, and I’ll see you again. If you speak, I see you no more.” “I will be silent,” she said as Brendon put on his coat “But you are cruel, wicked. You shall never be milor, never!” [TO BE CONTINUED.!