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CHAPTER XXXIX.

WHAT BEFELL TOM THE LINK BOY�MYSTERIOUS DOINGS.

SOME few days after Tom the Link Boy had unfortunately lost all traces of Bella and Lily be made up his mind to try and ascertain their whereabouts, and resolved to proceed to the place where he had last seen the fugitives, and endeavour to trace them from that spot.

He had not gone more than about half-a-mile of his journey when in a lonely part of the road he was astonished at seeing the repulsive form of Obadiah standing before him.

He stood glaring at Tom malevolently, and by his manner it was evident he intended to accost him, and, therefore, Tom determined not to shrink from the encounter.

"What would you with me?" Tom said, boldly.

Obadiah was rather taken aback at this, and Tom saw it.

"Allow me to pass, if you please," he continued; "I am in a hurry, and less than usually inclined to converse with you, my worthy Obadiah."

"Stay!" cried that individual, letting his large and heavy hand fall upon Tom�s shoulder, "your inclination has nothing to do with the matter. I happen to know where you are going, and intend to prevent it if I can, and there is small doubt of that."

Here he gave a low laugh, that exasperated Tom beyond measure.

Obadiah was not handsome at the best of times, but when he smiled, and showed his large, yellow fangs, he was more than repulsive.

"Let me go?" cried Tom, suddenly lifting his fist, and bestowing a fearful blow upon the crafty Scramper�s nose.

This was utterly unexpected, and in his pain and astonishment his hold upon Tom�s coat relaxed for a moment.

Taking advantage of this, Tom flew like the wind down the narrow and muddy lane.

With a curse, not loud, but deep, Scramper sped after him.

Of course, under other circumstances, it would have been madness for Obadiah to think of matching Tom in speed.

But he built his hopes upon the chance that Tom might trip himself up.

This, in his blind haste, seemed by no means improbable.

Obadiah, however, had forgotten that the same thing might occur to him, and another astonishment, as unexpected as the first, awaited him, when he found himself up to his ears in mud, and groaning with pain.

He sat up, rubbing his head and other injured parts of his frame.

He had a very confused idea of where he was.

Suddenly he pricked up his large, and certainly more useful than ornamental, ears.

Someone approached.

Was it friend or foe?

Obadiah was not, as you know, a brave man. His opinion was�

"He that fights, and runs away,

Will live to fight another day."

In his present sorry plight, however, to run was utterly out of the question.

Therefore, as bravely as a man who has barely recovered the effects of a severe fall can, he cried�

"Who comes?"

"Well, Mister Scramper," replied somebody, whose voice did not prepossess Obadiah in his favour�it was a strange voice, too, and, therefore, Obadiah rashly concluded that it was the

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voice of a foe�"well, Mister Scramper, I haven�t the slightest objection to tell my name. I am rather proud of it. My designation is Jim Potter, at your service."

Obadiah cleared his eyes of the mud, and saw, looking down at him with a smile, a little man in a smaller coat.

"Help me up," said Scramper, abruptly.

Once on his feet, he demanded, in rather strong language, who Jim Potter might be.

"Now," said that individual, in injured tones, "you needn�t be so short; after all I have done for you too."

"What do you mean?" demanded Obadiah.

Jim Potter was small, and this made our crafty friend take high ground when addressing him.

"You do anything to help me! How you happen to know even my name is a mystery."

"Ah!" said the little man, placing his finger on his nose. "Jim Potter knows everything, Mister Obadiah. Will you credit it, but he knows your present pretty plot, and will help you on conditions?"

"You will find yourself in the river in a moment if you don�t take yourself off, my man," said Obadiah, angrily.

"All right, mister; only I thought you might like to know where Tom the Link Boy is just now."

"You know?" and Obadiah clutched the little man�s throat with murderous hands. "Tell me, or you die!"

But Jim Potter shook himself free with a light laugh.

"I�m a small man," he said, "but stronger than you would imagine, Mister Scramper."

Violent means having failed, Obadiah tried persuasive measures.

"See here," he said, mildly, "I don�t mind giving you a reward, anything within the bounds of reason, if you can tell me where Tom is."

"And I will have the reward if I do tell you," said Jim Potter, "although I san see by the working of your handsome face that you are planning how you can do me out of it."

After mentioning various sums, at which the small man turned up his nose�which, by the way, was a pug, and elevated enough already�Obadiah at length pitched upon something which satisfied that gentleman.

"Well," said Jim Potter, with exasperating slowness, "when I see anybody running at breakneck speed it strikes me that they must have particular reasons for so doing. Now, I know Tom the Link Boy�Jim knows everybody�and it struck me that I might make something by stopping him in his flight."

"How did you manage it?" demanded Obadiah, anxiously.

"I picked up a large stone and knocked him down with it. That�s a better method than having a hand-to-hand fight, let me tell you, Mister Scramper."

"Will you go on?" said Obadiah, impatiently.

"Then," continued the small man, "then I bound him with some cord I happened to have about me, and flung him in a dark corner, and then came here and discovered you sitting in the mud."

"But some chance passer-by may see him," said Obadiah, anxiously.

"No fear of that," returned the other; "not many people venture down this lane, Mr. Scramper. If such a thing did happen, though, I should lose my reward. Let us hurry to where I left him."

The place was a very short distance off.

"Where do you intend to take him?" asked Jim Potter, as the twain bent over poor Tow�s insensible form.

"That�s not the question," said Obadiah. "I know very well where to take him; but how to get there?"

"A friend of mine drives a hackney-coach," said Jim, musingly.

"The very thing," cried Obadiah. "Can we trust him, think you?"

"Trust him!" exclaimed Jim, "I should think we could. I know a turned-down page in history�Jim Potter knows everything."

They carried poor Tom between them to the end of the lane.

Here Obadiah was left to watch over his insensible form, while Jim Potter sought out his friend, the hackney-coachman.

When the coach arrived at the lane by the river, Tom was lifted into it, and Jim and Obadiah following, the door was closed, and Jim�s friend whipped up his horses, nor paused until they had travelled some considerable distance.

"Where to?" he inquired, when he had brought his horses to a standstill.

Obadiah told him, and they continued on their way.

When Tom the Link Boy came to himself he glanced around him with great amazement.

He was in a cellar, with mouldy, dripping walls.

How he came there he had not the remotest idea.

His limbs were free, and he rose to his feet, feeling somewhat giddy, and began exploring the place.

Suddenly he uttered a smothered exclamation.

From one corner came a faint light.

He knelt down and glanced through the hole from whence the light proceeded.

He saw a large and gloomy vault, its roof supported by massive pillars.

In its centre was a coffin, at the head of which stood a clergyman in his robes, reading, or rather reciting, the solemn burial service.

The vault had another occupant, but, as he was standing with his back towards Tom, the latter could not obtain a view of his face.

"I wonder what this means?" said Tom, under his breath. "Who brought me here? I daresay they never thought that I was destined to be a witness to such a scene as this, whoever they may be."

Tom gazed earnestly at the scene before him, which was so utterly unintelligible.

The preacher at length read slowly and solemnly the last words of the service, and stillness for a few moments pervaded the vault.

Then the man whose back was turned towards Tom said, in a low voice�

"Let us place the coffin in its niche now. Ere an hour has passed I must be many miles hence."

The preacher and his strange companion now lifted the coffin, and raised it with much apparent effort to a stone slab.

They then drew the other coffins round it, so as to conceal it entirely from view, and turned to quit the chamber of death.

As they did so the light of the lamp fell upon the priest�s companion�features which were unknown to Tom the Link Boy.

They were those of Sir Paxton Greaves.

CHAPTER XL.

THE OLD HOUSE AT CROYDON ONCE MORE.

IT was upon the second say after the arrival of Sir Paxton Greaves and his party at the inn, and the death of Sir Henry Grey, that the baronet received a letter.

On the night before he had paid his mysterious visit to the vaults, and he had been awaiting the arrival of the hours of darkness in order to proceed to Moreton Hall.

But again he had to change his plans.

The letter, which was brought by a messenger, seemed to excite him greatly.

In spite of the anxiety which he had shown to proceed to the house of the Moretons, his face, as he read, assumed a look of pleasure.

"I thank you much for this information," he said, as he gave the man a guinea. "I shall not fail to act upon it."

He at once sought Ralph.

"Ralph," he said, "I am, to-night, going once more to the old house at Croydon. Have you courage again to face its mysteries?"

"I have," said young Moreton; "once seen, such visions lose their terrors."

"Good," said Sir Paxton; "this night I hope to fathom the mystery, to punish those who are left of my enemies and to take what is justly my own."

The face of the baronet was pale and stern as he spoke these words.

Ralph saw at once that the night was to be a crisis in the fate of the young baronet.

Eagerly, therefore, he looked forward to the time when they would start for the lone house.

At length, as the clock struck the hour of nine, they started, Laura Grey being left in the charge of Captain George.

The weather had been threatening all day, and as Sir Paxton and Ralph quitted the inn and made their way along the high road, the lightning had begun to play on the far horizon, and the thunder had begun to boom.

"We shall have a severe night of it," said Ralph, as they put their horses to their full speed.

"Yes," said Sir Paxton, grimly; "it is fitting for the task we have to perform."

"I hope in this occasion," said Ralph, "that you will withdraw the prohibition which you last time placed upon me, and will permit me to aid you."

"I trust I shall not require your aid," said Sir Paxton; "but I will promise this, that if I find myself in difficulties I will accept your services."

The pace at which they dashed along was such as to preclude much conversation.

The journey, therefore, was mostly performed in silence, except when they breathed their horses on the steep ascent of a hill.

At length, after a rapid ride, they reached once more the precincts of the old house, and fastening their horses to a tree, they hastened to the entrance.

There was no fear in Ralph�s heart as he followed his patron up the steps.

But there was a feeling of awe in his mind�something which he could not shake off�as he thought of the strange and wondrous vision which he had beheld there on his last visit.

The house was buried in profound silence.

A silence only broken by the shaking of the old timbers, as the wind rushed in and out of the tall chimneys, and the thunder roared and shook the walls and casements.

"I will go up to the top room first," said Sir Paxton Greaves.

And without hesitation he led the way upstairs.

The light streamed as before from beneath the door of the chamber, and distinctly could be heard the sound of voices engaged in earnest conversation.

Sir Paxton beckoned to Ralph Moreton to approach nearer, and bending down close to the door they listened.

"I tell you, Bertram, that I feel certain that I have lighted on the right scent at last," said a voice.

"Have your own way, Turner," replied the one addressed as Bertram. "I will assist you in any way I can, but you will find that you are led away by a mistake."

"But," said the other, impatiently, "look at the plan I have drawn out. See, seven feet from the right corner of the room, as you enter the door. Seven again from the join in the floor. The point where the lines intersect is the point where we shall find the treasure."

"Well, well, as I have said, I will help you," replied the other. "One never knows what one may meet with."

"No," cried Sir Paxton Greaves, as be flung open the door and entered the room; "you did not know you were going to meet me."

The two men started up in astonishment and alarm, and in an instant swords flashed from their scabbards.

"What want you here again?" said Bertram. "Was not your last visit enough for you? Is your appetite for blood appeased?"

"My appetite for blood, as you choose to call it," replied Sir Paxton, "will never be appeased until all my enemies have been punished."

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Turning towards Ralph, Sir Paxton made a significant sign, and drew his sword.

Not a word more was spoken.

The two men knew at once that their only chance of escape lay in a desperate defence.

Both of them were broad-built, stalwart fellows of middle age, and they glanced somewhat contemptuously at young Moreton as he ranged himself on the side of his patron; but the first attack proved that their judgment was wrong.

The lad�s eyes glistened like those of a hawk�his lips were compressed and stern, and his sword was held by a wrist. strong as steel.

The two mysterious men quickly lost the air of braggadocio which they had assumed.

They lost ground rapidly.

Backward they were driven, step by step, until at length, wounded and faint, they stood at bay with their backs to the wall.

Ralph�s opponent at last got desperate, and entirely lost control over himself.

Not being an accomplished swordsman, he endeavoured to save himself by one tremendous dash, and, raising his sword wildly above his head, he rushed forward.

This action cost him his life.

Holding his sword horizontally, Ralph drove it up to the hilt in the man�s heart.

With a groan of agony the dying wretch clasped his hands together, and sank to the ground a huddled mass.

At this juncture Ralph heard Sir Paxton distinctly say�

"I am avenged at last!"

Ralph glanced towards the spot where he had observed Bertram.

He was now a corpse, standing still and stiff in the same position that Sir Paxton had killed him, and, as Ralph looked in that direction, he tottered forward and fell with a dull thud upon the floor.

Sir Paxton stood for a moment gazing at his two enemies, and then, sheathing his blood-stained sword, he turned to Ralph.

Observing that he was pale and ill, Sir Paxton remarked�

"Ah! my lad, you are unused to these scenes; but cheer up, I believe this will be the last. We will hide from view these ghastly objects."

He then covered up the dead bodies, and this done, Ralph inquired what should next be done.

"Let us hasten on our adventure. T he sooner we commence operations the better for our success."

Ralph answered with a nod.

His patron at once proceeded to lead the way downstairs.

Their hearts beat wildly as they approached the room of mystery.

No wonder was it.

It was a terrible and awful thing, this treading on the threshold of another world.

But Ralph, young as he was, was still resolute.

His brave heart knew that, perhaps, this adventure would be the means of releasing Sir Paxton for ever from the strange thraldom in which he was chained.

Slowly the young baronet pushed open the door of the chamber where they had before seen so extraordinary a scene.

At first they saw nothing.

The room was immersed in total darkness, but there seemed to be a chill air in it, as if some denizens of spirit-land were still hovering in it.

The lamp which Sir Paxton had brought from the upper room diffused a dim light over the place, seeming gradually to make its way into the shadowy corners, and bring out, in dull relief, the reflections of the antique furniture.

Presently the lamp of itself grew more dim and lustreless.

Some unseen hand seemed turning it down.

Then, as the light disappeared, there came on the wall a cloud, as it were, of white, and from out the centre of it there advanced towards them two figures.

One of these was the old man whom they had before seen sitting in the antique chair by the fire.

The other was the young girl who had been lying on the bier in the centre of the room.

Both of those who gazed trembled with an emotion which was not fear, and as the girl, lovely in death, approached nearer, Sir Paxton knelt down before her.

Ralph followed his example.

The figure then seemed to droop over him, as if in benediction, while the old man vanished slowly as he had come.

After a few moments the young girl gently retreated towards the door, and beckoned.

They at once rose and prepared to follow.

Neither spoke.

Their hearts were too full for utterance.

Gliding noiselessly up the staircase, with a glow of light around her form, and a chill air surrounding her as she went, the angel spirit of the departed loved one led the way until it reached the highest storey.

And, as they followed, the storm, which had been hushed for a time, broke out afresh.

The thunder boomed, the lightning flashed, the old house trembled to its very foundation.

But the adventurers swerved not from their purpose.

What they had begun they resolved to carry out.

On reaching the topmost landing the figure passed through a door without opening it.

With a shudder, Sir Paxton placed his hand upon the handle, and they entered, to find the young girl standing in the midst of a silver halo, in the centre of the apartment.

As they passed in, she raised her hand, and pointed towards the corner of the apartment upwards towards the roof.

At the same moment there was a tremendous clap of thunder, preceded by a blinding flash, and the roof fell in in one part, sending the brickwork flying over the apartment, and causing both Ralph and Sir Paxton to stagger back.

When they recovered from the shock they found that the old place was on fire, and burning like tinder.

"Good Heaven!" murmured the young baronet, "all our plans will be useless. Our peril has been undergone for nothing."

But at this instant Ralph�s eyes caught sight of a small brass-bound iron casket.

He seized it at once.

"See here!" he said; "is this what you seek?"

"Yes, yes!" cried Sir Paxton; "quick! let us leave this room. Ah! there she is again."

The figure, which, during the momentary confusion caused by the lightning flash, had disappeared, appeared once more upon the threshold.

A strange smile seemed to hover on its lips; it stretched its hands towards Sir Paxton, half in yearning love, half in benediction, and then�was it fancy, or was it, indeed, true?�a wailing voice, low and sweet as the breath of a zephyr, whispered�

"Farewell!"

Then, on the instant, it vanished, and Sir Paxton, grasping Ralph�s hand, said, in a husky voice�

"I have seen her for the last time. I loved her as my life; she was my betrothed, my darling; these men murdered her, and now that she is avenged her spirit will rest quietly in that land of joy where the troubles and sorrows of this earth must seem so mean and pitiful. But come, let us depart. The flames gain on us; it is fitting that such a place should be burned�destroyed from out the sight of man."

They soon reached the road, where the baronet, opening his casket, took out the documents, and gave the box, and the gold and notes it contained, into Ralph�s keeping.

"Now," said Sir Paxton Greaves, as he placed the papers carefully in his breast, "I will proceed to Armale Hall and claim the estate that has been so long withheld from me. Ralph, I fear we must part."

"What! for ever?" cried Ralph, in amazement.

"No, no! you mistake me," replied his patron; "we only part for a short time. I have led you into so many dangerous adventures that I am resolved you shall rest for awhile, and not join with me in the adventure in which I am about

embark."

"But, Sir Paxton, you know from experience that I am no coward, and would gladly accompany you. Armale Hall is not far from here, is it? In what locality is it situated?"

"It is situated on the road to Guildford; but, however, that matters not. I am determined to run you into no more danger. I will go to Armale Hall myself. Ralph, my friend, adieu!"

Ralph, seeing that he was resolved, held out his hand, and so, shaking hands heartily, they parted.

As Sir Paxton�s form gradually disappeared in the darkness, Ralph watched him with a sickening dread�a strange presentiment of evil which he could not define.

Meanwhile, the object of his fears galloped along the road at a furious rate, full of his own thoughts.

As he passed over the even ground, the unbroken monotony of his ride caused him to fall into a reverie.

A reverie, however, which was not destined to be unbroken, for he had scarcely traversed four miles when he heard the clattering of horse�s feet behind him.

Sir Paxton at once drew rein, and awaited the arrival of the stranger.

Could he be mistaken?

The sound had ceased.

Smiling at himself for what he considered his own folly, he once more urged his horse forward.

Then, again, before he had got his horse into a full gallop, the sound was repeated.

Was he mad?

This time he was determined to discover the cause of the mystery, and turning his horses head, he dashed backwards.

His heart leaped with excitement.

Before him, a few yards down a bye-lane, he could see distinctly the form of a horse and rider.

Sir Paxton Greaves instantly made towards the spot, but the man had evidently perceived him, for he dashed off, and was soon lost to sight in the darkness.

He saw that it would be useless to attempt pursuit, so, once more spurring his mare, he galloped off down the high-road.

Sir Paxton was not molested again that night, and it was with a sigh of relief that he arrived at the door of a tavern.

He was not long gaining admittance, and in a short space of time he was indulging in a refreshing slumber.

The morning broke with unusual brightness, and as Sir Paxton Greaves stood at the window of his little room, and gazed out upon the surrounding country, he felt an inexpressible feeling of delight.

But then, amidst these bright reflections, came the remembrance of his last night�s adventure, and a gloom came over his soul.

At length, casting away this despondence, he descended to the bar, and after partaking of some refreshment, he mounted hill horse, and rode off in the direction of Armale Hall.

Arrived outside the mansion, Sir Paxton dismounted, and rang the great bell at the lodge.

The man who answered the bell stared at the visitor in amazement.

"What?" he exclaimed; "is it you, Sir Paxton Greaves?"

"Yes," replied the other, solemnly, "it is Sir Paxton Greaves�why are you astonished?"

"No offence, I hope, sir?" said the lodge-keeper, humbly.

"Certainly not. Is my enemy, Sir Alton Guard, still in possession of this place, or has he left it with anyone?"

"No; Sir Alton Guard has gone to Guildford. He has left the house in charge of Charles Northern."

"That is well," thought Sir Paxton; then he added aloud, "I shall now proceed to the house:"

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The man looked curiously at him as be passed quickly through the park; but Sir Paxton heeded naught around him, and was soon standing on the steps of the old mansion.

He knocked loudly at the door.

A man of repulsive appearance answered the summons.

"Who are you?" he asked gruffly.

"Sir Paxton Greaves, master of this place."

"Oh!" sneered Charles Northern (for it was he), "you are master of this place, are you? We�ll see about that."

So saying, he slammed the door in the baronet�s face.

"So, so!" cried Sir Paxton, "if he will not give me entrance to my own house at the front I will find it at the back. I have not waited for years for nothing. I have devoted the best part of my life to obtain revenge, and I will have it. My enemy little dreams what a revenge I have in store for him. But the time has come, and I must act."

Thus talking to himself, Sir Paxton walked round the orchard boundaries till he reached the termination of the rear of the mansion.

It was a queer little outhouse, situated in a small village street, the windows of which touched either side.

A group of ruffianly-looking foreigners were congregated here, but Sir Paxton took no notice of them. Pushing them aside, he advanced towards the door of the outhouse.

It was ajar, and yielded easily as he touched it.

At this moment there was a sudden rush of feet, and Sir Paxton Greaves was forcibly pushed into the street, and fell staggering back.

Recovering his equilibrium, he turned purple with fury, to ascertain who it was that had ejected him so unceremoniously from the house.

It was Charles Northern.

Sir Paxton gave but one glance, and then, rushing forward, he delivered a blow which sent him reeling among the astonished foreigners.

The man lay cowering on the ground, scowling up at Sir Paxton Greaves with a look of deadly hate.

Then, with a sudden oath, he sprang to his feet, and drew his hanger.

"At him, my men!" he cried, turning to the menial throng; "he is usurper and an impostor. Let us give him a taste of our quality!"

The fellows, thus urged on, and seeing that only one man was opposed to them, roused up a little courage, and, drawing their knives and hangers made a dash at Sir Paxton.

Five to one were odds that no one could withstand, and the young baronet saw at once that his position was a very perilous one, if some aid did not come.

But whence could it come?

The lodge-keeper was not within hail, and no on else was near.

Planting his back against the wall, therefore, he determined to fight to the death

The fellows crowded round him like hungry wolves.

Stab after stab was aimed at him, and though for a time he successfully parried them, he felt several pricks which told him that he could not count on continued success.

Suddenly, as the attack became more and more severe, the sounds of horse�s feet were heard approaching along the avenue, and in another moment a horseman dashed up to the scene of the conflict.

Sir Paxton, as he saw him, uttered a cry of amazement.

It was Ralph Moreton.

He leaped at once from his horse, and his bright sword flashed forth in a moment.

"Ah, villains! would you commit murder?" he cried.

In an instant the diversion proved effectual.

Northern fell, wounded desperately, to the ground, and, as the two friends made a sudden onslaught upon the others, they turned and fled.

Sir Paxton shouted to them to stop.

But they would not.

Panic had taken possession of them, and they preferred losing their situations to sacrificing their lives.

"The cowards!" said Sir Paxton; "they would have murdered me had you not arrived at the critical moment. But how came you here?"

"I had a presentiment of evil from the first," replied Ralph. "I liked not your coming hither alone. I followed you unseen, but missed you this morning."

"And how knew you that I was here?"

"I asked the man at the lodge, and he informed me that a gentleman such as I described had arrived here after a long absence, and mentioned your name. Then it was that I heard the clash of steel, and the loud sound of voices."

"You have saved my life," said Sir Paxton, "and I shall not forget it. But come, we must enter."

He pushed open the door, which had stood ajar, and entered the house.

Pausing at the grand staircase with the manner of one who knew his way, he entered the drawing-room and rang the bell.

(To be continued.�Commenced in No. 78.)