The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, February 24, 1907, Page 10

CHAPTER X A Bribe WHEEL round and peered into the darkness. Lady Angela's fingers clutched my arm. I could fee! thst she was trembling vio- er It was Grooton whose figure med up almost immediately before ton, bareheaded and breath- 17 I exclaimed quickly. sir, that you had better panted shoulder toward In & thither, run- e since my col- way antheaps over set foot in a hole, but somehow T kept my belence. As I neared the cottage I roceeded more ose to the window Grooton had been right e. The Prince was desk, with a bun his hand. I and entered the movement had been. aity with the catch had e his opportunity. He his easy chair when I ning there with half- He looked up at me with ated surprise soon back, Mr. Ducatne,” h ¥ “Did you forget slackened my speed 2 I drew c answered, struggling to breath, “to leck up my caution,” he ad- 1 gathered my especially if one has » exposed spot, this, 3 I sald. leaning e and facing him: * to know which of my poor n posisbly be of interest » Prince of Malors.” t of his answering v done. I had & he aristocrat. gmas, young man,” be more explicit.” an scarcely be more enigmat than your actions,” I an- sw was fool enough to trust ou, left you here alone. But unobserved, Prince. My I am thankful to say, is faith- ras he who summoned me e murmured 3 I continued, “that T o7 looking in through dow there before en &3 If it amused you to do 80, servant to spy upon me, reason to object. snexplained.” of explanation,” o to me to rest with vou, € frered the hospitality of my ; bly to a gentleman—not uld seize that ep- my private speak with assurance, Mr. Du- assurance of knowledge,” I an- 1 saw vou at my desk from 1 should consult an occullst,” he 1 have mot left this chalr, & still too painf lie well, Prince, well enough.” oked at me thoughtfuily. T am endeav ng,” he said, “to ac- modate T if to the customs of wonderf country of yours. In sends one's seconds. What do here to 2 man who calls you answered, im,” I answered hotly, eserves to be treated who hospitality of a stranger, nimself in the position of a e shrugged his shoulders helped himself to one of Mr. Ducaine.” thoughtfully. young, n & greater ve I. I propose, to be quite frank no wish for your confidences, answered. “They cannot cern or interest me.” be too e of that” he ang of vour readily conclu- possible that you and ce to one another, and ose who have been of Malors have regret 1 interposed, beside the point. to be of servic to are the men at e of ¥ become more clear only curb vour im- friend.” the Prince ambition to serve mand the gratitude oung today regards both mingled doubt and e ambitions, and T easy and generous master red with your confidence, Prince, still fail to see how these matters concern me” I said, setting T hard rour permission 1 will make lear,” he ocont'nued. “For vears War Office has suffered from constent dread of an invasion by Prance. The rumors of our great pro- jected maneuvers in the autumn have uspired ur statesmen with an al- zing fear. They see In merely an excuse for marshaling equipping an irresistible army n striking distance of your em- Personally I believe that they staken in thelr estimate of my = intentions. That, how- ever, is beside the mark. You follow me “Perfectly,” T assured him. “This is most Interesting, although as vet ft seems to me equally frrelevant.” the Prince con- tinued, * has established a secret coun- 1 of defense, whose only task it is to plan the successful resistance to that §nvasion. if ever it should take place. You, Mr. Ducaine, are, 1 be- , practically the secretary of th 2 have to elaborate the & ests of the meetings, to file schemes for the establishment of fortificatione and camps: in a word, the result of these meetings passes through your hands. 1 will not beat about the bush, Mr. Ducaine. You cen see that you have samething in your keeping which, if passed on to me, would accomplish my whole alm. The army would be forced to acknowledge my claim upon them: the nation would hear of it.” “Well,” 1 asked, “supposing all you say is true? What then?™ “You are = little cbtuse, Mr. Du- caine. the Prince sald softly. “If twenty thousand pounds would quicken your understanding——" I picked up & small inkpot from the |=ide of the table and hurled it at him. |He sprang aside, but it caught the cor iner of his forehead and he gave = sbrill ery of pain. He struck a Serce NI answered. blow at me, which I parried, and a mo- ment later we were locked, in one an- other's arms. I think that we must have been of equal strength, for we swayed up and down the room, neither gaining the advantage, till I felt my breath come short and my head dizzy. Nevertheless 1 was slowly gaining the mastery. My grasp upon his throat was tightening. I had hold of his col« lar and tie, and I could 1 strangled him with a turg of my Just then the door opened. a wris There was quick exclamation of horrified surprise in & familiar tone. I threw him from me to the ground and turned my head. Lady Angela who stood upon the 101d. CHAPTER XIV A Reluctant Apology ADY ANGELA looked at us both in cold surprise “Mr. Ducaine! Prince!” she ex- claimed. “What is the meaning of this extraordinary exhibition?” The Prince, whose sangfroid marvelous, rose to his feet and began to wipe his forehead with a gpotless c handkerchief. v dear Lady Angela,” he sald, “I most distressed that you should e been a witness of this—extraordi- ngry incident. I have been trying to adapt myself to the methods of your country, but, al I cannot say that I am enamored of them. Here, it seems, that gentlemen who differ must behave like dustmen. Will you pardon me if I turn my back to you for a mo- ment? 1 see a small mirror, and 1 am convinced that my tle and collar need readjustment.” “But why quarrel at all?” she ex- claimed. “Mr. Ducaine,” she added, turning coolly to me, “I trust you have remembered that the Prince is my father's guest.” I was speechless, but the Prince him- self intervened. “The blame, was cambr: it _any,” he declared, “was mine. Mr. Ducaine appeared to misunderstand me from the first I believe that his little ebullition arose altogether from too great 3eal on De- half of his employers. 1 congratulate him upon it, while I am bound to deprecate his extreme measures.” ‘And you, Mr. Ducaine,” she asked, turning toward me, “what have you to her his Nothing.,” I declared, stung by tone and manner as much as by coolness, “except that I found the Prince of Malors meddling with my private papers, and subsequently I in- terrupted him in the offer of a bribe.” The Prince smoothed his mnecktie, which he had really tied very well, complacently. “The personal belongings of Mr. Du- caine” he sald calmly, “are without interest to me. I fancy that the Prince of Malors can ignore any suggestions to the contrary. As for the bribe, Mr. Ducaine talks folly. I am not aware that he has anything to sell, and I decline to believe him a blackmafler. 1 prefer to look upon him as a singu- larly hot-headed and not overintelll- gent person, who takes very long jumps at conclusions. Lady Angela, I find my foot very much better. May 1 have the pleasure of escorting you to_the house?” . 1 held my tongue, knowing very well that the Prince played his part solely ghat I might be entrapped into speech. But Lady Angela seemed puzsled at my silence. She looked at me for a mo- ment inquiringly out of her soft black eyes. I made no sign. Sbhe turned away to the Prince. “Sf you are sure that you can walk without pain,” she said. “We will not trouble you, Mr. Ducain she added, as I moved to open the do So they left me alone, and I was not sure whether the honors remained with bim or with me. He had necver for a moment lost his dignity, nor had he even looked ridiculous when calmliy re- arranging his tie and collar. I laughed to my=zelf bitterly as I prepared to fol- low them. I was determined to lay the whole matter before the Duke at once. As 1 reached the terrace I saw a man walking up and down, smoking & pipe. He'stood at the top of the steps and waited for me. It was Colonel Ray. He took me by the arm. ‘I have been waiting for you, Du- calne,” he sald. “I was afraid that T might miss you, or I should have come down." “I am on my way to the Duke, sald, “and my business is urgent. “So is mine,” he said grimly. to know exactly what has “I am not at all sure, Colonel Ray.' T answered, “that I am at liberty to tell you. At any rate, I think that I ought to mee the Duke first.” His face darkened, his eyes seemed to flash threatening fires upon me. He was emoking so furiously that little, hot shreds of tobacco fell from his pipe. “Boy,” he exclalmed, “there are limits even to my forbedrance. You are where you are at my suggestion, and I could as ecasily send you adrift. I do not say this as a threat, but I desire to be treated with common con- sideration. Is it well to treat me like an enemy?’ “Whether you are indeed my friend or my enemy I am not even now sure,” “l am Jearning to be sus- picious of every person and thing which breathes. " But as for this matter between the Prince and myself, it can make little difference who knows the truth. He shammed a fal over the €iff and a sprained ankle. Lady An- gela and T started for the house to send a cart for him, but before we were half way across the park Grooton fetched me back. I found the Prince examining the papers on which I had been working, and when I charged him with it he offered me a bribe.” “And you?’ “I struck him!" Ray groaned. “You struck him! And you had him in your power—to play with as you would. And you struck him! Oh, Du- calne, you are very, very young. I am your friend, boy, or rather I would be if you would let me. But I am afraid that you are a blunderer.” 1 faced him with white face. “I seem to have feund my way inta a strange place,” I answered. “I have nefther wit nor cunming enough to know true men from false. I would trust vou, but you are a murderer. I would have trusted the Prince of Malors, but he has proved himself a common adventurer. So I have made up my mind that all shall be altke. I will be nefther friend nor foe to/ any mortal, but true to my country. I go my way and do my duty, Colonel Ray.” He blew out dense volumes of smoke, puffing furjously at his pipe for several minutes. There seemed to be many things which he had it in his mind to #say to me. But, as though suddenly altering his purpose, he stood on one “You shall go your own way,” he sald grimly. “The Lord only kuows where it will take you.” Tt took me in the first place to the Duke, to whom I recounted briefly what S MAACHEY S — “MR. DUCAINE! PRINCE! had happened. 1 could see that my story at once made a deep impression upon him. When I had finished he sat for several minutes deep in thought. For the first time since I had known him he seemed nervous and 11l at ease. He was unusually pale, and,there were deep lines engraven about his mouth. One hand was resting upon the table, and I fancied that his fingers were shaking. “The Prince of Malors,” he sald at last, and his voice lacked altogether its usual ring of cool assurance, “is of royal blood. He is not even In touch with the political powers of France today. He may have been guilty of a moment’s idle curiosity—" “Your Grace must forgive me,” I in- terrupted, “but you are overlooking facts. The fall over the cliff was pre- meditated, the sprained foot was a sham, the whole affair was clearly planned in order that he might be left alone in my room. Besides, there is the bribe.” The Duke folded his hands nervously together. He looked away from me into the fire. “It is a very difficult position,” he declared, “very difficult, indeed. The Prince has been more than a friend to Blenavon. He has been his benefactor. Of course he will deny this thing with contempt. Let me think it out, Du- caine.” “By all means, your Grace,” I an- swered, a little nettled at his undecided air. “So far as I am concerned, my duty in the matter ends here. I have toid you the exact truth conecerning it, and it seems to me by no means im- probable that the Prince has been-in some way responsible for those former leakages.” The Duke shook his head slowly. “It is impossible,” he safd. “Your Grace is the best judge,” I an- swered. “The Prince was not in the house last night when the safe was’ opened,” he objected. “He prodably has accomplic I an- swered. “Besides, how do we know that he was not here?” “Even if he were,” the Duke said, raising his head, “how could he have known tne cipher?” I made no answer at all. It seemed useless to argue with a man who had evddently made up his mind not to be convinced. . “Have you mentioned this matter to any one?” the Duke asked. “To Colonel Ray only, your Grace,” T answered. “Ray!” The Duke was silent for a moment. He was looking steadily into the fire. “You told Ray what you have told me?” “In substance, ves, your Grace. In detail perhaps not so fully.” “And he?” A“Hfl did not doubt my story, your c I said quietly. e Duke frowned across &t me. either do I, Ducaline,” he declared. ‘It is not a question of veracity at all.. Tt is a questiom of constfuction. You are yvoung, and these things are all new to vou. The Prince might have been trying you, or something which you did not hear or have forgotten might throw a different light upon his actions and suggestion. I beg thatsyou will leave the matter entirely in my hands.” I abandoned the subject then and there. But as I left the room I came face to face with Blenavon, who was loitering outside. He at once de- tained me. His manner since the morning had altered. He addressed me now with hesitation, almost with respect. “Can you Mr. Ducaine detain vou long. “l am at your service, Lord Blen- avon,” I answered. “We will go inte the hall and have 2 smoke,” he suggested, leading the way. “To me it seems the only place in the house free from draughts.” I followed him to where, in a dark corner of the great dome-shaped hall a cushioned lounge was set against the wall. He seated himself and motioned me to follow his example. For sev- eral moments he remained silent, twisting a cigarette with thin nervous fingers stained yellow with nicotine. Every now and then he glanced fur- tively around. I walited for him to speak. He was Lady Angela's brother, but I disliked and distrusted him. He finally got his cigarette lighted and turned to me. “Mr. Ducaine,” he sald, “ I want you to apologize to my friend, the Prince of lulo?. for your behaviour ternoon. “Apologize to Princel” I ex- claimed. “Why sho I “Because this is the only condition are me a few mintites, he asked. “I will not on which he will consent to remain i here.” 1 should have thought,” I sald, “that this at- - his immediate departure was inevitable. 1 detected him in behavior—" “That is just where you are wrong,” Blenavon {nterrupted eagerly. “You are mistaken, entirely mistaken. T laughed, a little impolitely, T am afraid, comsidering that this was the son of my emplover. “You know the aslked. He nodded. “The Prince has explained them to me. It was altogether a misunder- Standing. He feit his foot a little easler, and he was simply looking for & newspaper or something to ,read until you returned. Inadvertently he turned over some of your mamuscript, and at that moment vou entered.” “Most inopportunely, I am afraid,” circumstances?’ I I answepad, with an unwilling smiie. “I am porry, Lord Blenavon, that T cannot Pt this explanation of the Prince’s behavior. 'I am compellied to take the evidence of my eres and ears as final. Blenavon sucked at his cigarette flercely for a minute, threw it away, and commenced to roll another. “Tt’s all rot!” he exclaimed.” “Malors wouldn't do a mean action, and, be- sides, what on earth has he to gain? He is a fanatical Royalist. He is not even on speaking terms with the Gov- ernment of France today.” “1 percelve,” T remarked, looking at him closely, “that you are familiar with the pature of my secretarial work.” He returned my glance, and it seemed to me that there was some hidden meaning in his eyes which I falled to catch. 4 “I @m in my father's confidence,” he said slowly. There was a moment’s silence. T was listenling to a distant voice in tag lower partiof the hall. “Am I to take it, Mr. Ducaine, then,” he said at last, “that you decline to apologize to the Prince?’ “I have nothing to apologize for,” 1 answered calmly. “The Prince was at- tempting to obtain informatien in an illicit manner by the perusal of papers which were in my charge.” Blenavon rose slowly to his feet. His eyes were fixed upon the opposite cor- ner of the hall. Lady Angela, who had just descended the stairs, was standing there, pale and unsubstantial as a shadow, and it seemed to me that her eyes, as zhe looked across at me, were ful} of trouble. She came slowly to- ward us. Blenavon laid his hand upon her arm. “Angela,” he sald, “Mr. Ducaine will not aceept my word. I can make no impression upon him. Perhaps he will the more readily believe yourg.' “Lady Angela will not ask me to disbelieve the evidence of my own senses,” T said confidently. She stood between us. I was aware from the first of something unfamtliar in her manner, something of which a glimmering had appeared on our way home through the wood. 2 “It is about Malors. Angela,” he con- tinued. “You were there. You know all that happened. Malors is very reasonable about it. . He admits that his actions may have seemed suspicious. He will accept an apology from Mr. Ducaine, and remain.” She turned to me. “And you?" she asked. “The idea of an apology.” I answered, “appears to me ridiculous. My own poor little possessions were wholly at his disposal. I caught him, however, in the act of meddling with papers which are mine only on trust.” Lady Angela played for a moment with the dainty trifles which hung from her bracelet. When she spoke she did not look at me. “The Prince's explanation,” she said, “is plausible, and he is our guest. I think perhaps it would be wisest to give him the benefit of the doubt.” “Doubt!” I exclaimed, bewildered. “There is mo room for doubt in the matter.” Then she raised her eyes to mine and I saw there new thing: T saw there trouble and appeal, and behind both the tha':!ow of mystery. gt - “Have you spoken to my father?™ she asked. ! “Yes,” I answered. .Did he accept your view?” “He ald not,” I answered bitterly. “T could not convince him of what I saw Wwith my own eyes.” “You have done your duty, th’-n." she said softly. “Why not let the rest go? :&wlau ‘nr.mnu_m- matter, ere are reasons i “he_ Prince to Soyavisn he dia earnestly “What trio Ah!™ o The Prince hadl seen me, and he stood WHAT 18 THE MEANING OF THIS EXTRAORDINARY EX HIBITIOM still. T faced him at once. “Prince,” 1 sald, “it has been su gested to me that my eyesight is prob- ably defective. It is possible in that case that I have nqt seen you before today, that the things with which T charge you are falsé, and that in all probability you were in some other place altogether. If this is so, I apolo- fize for my remarks and behavior to- ward you.” He bowed with a faint smile. “It is finished, my voung friend,” he declared. “I wipe it from my memory.” It seemed that I could hear Blena- von’s sigh of relief, that the shadow had fallen from Lady. Angela’'s face. There was a little murmur of satisfac tion from both of them. But I turned abruptly, and with scarcely even an at- tempt at a conventional fareweil I feft the house and walked across the park. CHAPTER XV mirthless 'Twe Fajr Callers - FTER three’days the house party at Rowchester was somewhat unexpectedly broken up. Lord Chelstord departed early ons morning by special train, and the Duks himself and the remainder of his guests left for London later on in the day. I remained behind with three weeks’ work, and a fear which never left me by day or by night. Yet the relief of solitude after the mysteries of the last few days was in itself a thing to be thankful for. , For nine days I spoke with no one save Grooton. For an hour every after- noon, and for rather longer at night, I ‘walked on the cliffs or the sands. Here on these lonely stretches of empty land 1 met no one, saw no living thing save the seagulls. It was almost like a corner of some forgotten land. These walks. and anm occasional few hours’ reading, were my sole recreation. Tt was late in the afternoon when T saw a shadow pass my window, and fmmediately afterward there was a timid knock at the door. Grooton had gone on his daily pligrimage with letters to the villagé. so I was obliged to open it myself. To my sur- prise it was Blanche Moyat who stood ypon the threshold. She laughed a littie nervously. “I'm no ghost, Mr. Ducaine,” she said, “and I shan't bite!” “Forgive me,” I answered. “I was hard at work and your knock startled me. Please come in.” T ushered her int, my sitting-room. She was wearing what T recognized as her best clothes, and not being entirely at her ease she talked loudly and rapidly. “Such a stranger as you are, Mr. Du- caine.” she exclaimed. “Fancy, it's get- ting on for a month since we any of us sew a sign of you, and I'm sure never a week used to pass but father'd be looking for vou to drop in. We heard that you were living here all by your- self, and this morwwng mother said, perhaps he's jll. We tried to get father to come up and see. but he's off to Downham market today, and goodness knows when he'd find time if we left. it to him. So I thought I'd come and find out for myself.” “I am quite well, thanks, Miss Moyat,” I answered, “but very busy. The Duke has beén giving me some work to do, and he has lent me this cottage, so that I shall be close at hand. 1 should have looked you up the first time I came to Braster, but a matter of‘fact I have not been there since the night of my lecture.” She was neérvously playing with the fastening of her umbrella, and it seemed to me that her silence was pur- poseful. I ventyred some remark about the weather, which she interrupted ruthlessiy. “It's a mile and a half to our house from here,” she said, “not a step farther. I dou’t seé why you shouldn't have made & purpose journey.” I ignored the reproach ln her eyes, as I had every right to do. But T be- gan to understand the reason of her nervousness and her best clothes, and [ prayed for Grooton's return. “If I had had an evening to myself,” I said, “I should certalnly have paid your father & visit. But as it happens, “the Duke has required me at the house every night while he was here, and he has left me enough work to do to keep me busy night and day till he comes beek™ <7 H out long wearily. foolish if you had acted differently. I The San Francisco Sunday Call, don't see how else you could have acted.” “Oh, I don't know,” she said. “We were always brought up very particu- lar—especially about telling the truth.” “Well, you haven't said anything that wasn't the truth,” I reminded her. “OI I don't know. I haven't said what I ought to say,” she declared. - “It seems all right when you are with me, and talk about it,” she continued slow- 1y, raising her eyes to mine. “It's when I dom’'t see you for weeks and weeks that it-seems to get on my mind, and I get afraid. I don't understand it, I don’t.understand it even now." “Don't undeérstand what?” I repeated. She looked around. Her air of trou- bled mystery was only half assumed. “How that man died!” she whispered. “I can assure you that I did net kill him, {f that is what you mean, her coolly. “The matter is over and done with. 1 think that you are very foolish to give it another thought.” She shuddered. “Men can forget those things easler,” she said. ‘“Perhaps he had a wife and children. Perhaps they are wondering all this time what has become of him.” “People die dway from their homes and families every day, every hour,” I answered. “It is only morbid to brood over one particular example.” “Father would never forgive me If he knew,” she murmured, irrelevantly. “He hates to have us do anything un- derhand.” I heard Grooton return with a sigh of relief. “You will have some tea? I sug- gested. She shook her head and stood up. I did not pgess her. “No, I Won’t,” she said. "I am sorry I came. I don’t understand you. Mr. Ducaine. You seem to have changed altogether just these last few weeks. I can see that you are dying to get rid of me now, but you were glad enough to see me, or at any rate you pretended to _be, once. My breath was a little taken away. I looked at her in surprise. Her cheeks were flushed, her voice had shaken with something more like anger than any form of pathos. I was at a loss how to answer her. and whiie T hesi- tated the interruption which I had been praying for came, though from a strange quarter, My door was pushed a few inches n and T heard Lady Angela's clear young voice. “Are you there, Mr. Ducalne? come in?" Before I could answer she stood upon the threshold. I saw the delightful lit- tle smile fade from her lips as she May I looked in. She hesitated, and seemed for a moment about to retreat. “Please come in, Lady Angela,” I begged, eagerly. e came slowly forward. I must apologize for my abominable country manners,” she sald, resting the tips of her fingers for a moment in mine. *{ saw your door was not latch- ed. and it never occlurred to me to knock.” “It was not necessary,” I assured her. “A front door which does not boast a knocker or bell must expect to.be taken liberties with. But it s a great sur- prise ¢o0 see you here. I had no {dea that any ome was at Rowchester, or “expected there, except Lord Blemavon. Has the Duke returned?” S}le shook her head. “I came down alone,” she answered. “I' found Tofidon aull. Let me ses. I am sure that T know your facs, do I not?" she added. turning to Blanche Moyat with a smile. “You live in Braster, surely ™ “I am Miss Moyat,” Blanche answered quietly. * “Ot course. Dear me! T ought to have recognized you. We have been neighbors for a good many years.” “I will wish you good afternoon, Mr. Ducaine,” Blanche sald, turning to me. “Good afterncon—vour Ladyship,” she added a little awkwardly. I opened the door for her. “I will come down and see your father the first evening, I have to spare,” I said. “T hope you will tell him from me that I should have been before, but for the luxury of having some work to do. “I will tell him, audibly. v “And thank you verr much for com- ing to inquire after me,” I added. “Good afternoon. “Good afternoon, Mr. Ducaine.” I closed the deor. Lady Angela was lounging in my easy chalr With a slight smile upon her lips. “Two lady callers in one afternoon Mr. Ducatne,” she remarked quietl “You will lose your head, I am afraid. “l can assure you, Lady Angela,” I answered, “that there is not the slight- est fear of such a catastrophe. She sat looking meditatively into the fire, swinging her dogs.in gloves in her hands. She wore a plain pearl gray walking dress and deerstalker hat with a single quill in it. The severe but im- maculate simplicfty of her toilette might have been designed to accentuate the barbarities of Blanche Moyat's cheap finery. “I understood that you would be in town for at least three weeks,” I re- malrlked. “I trust that his Grace is well.” “I trust that he is,” she answered. “I see nothing of him in London. He has company mestings and political work every moment of his time. I do not belleve that there is any ome who works harder.” “He has, at least.” I remarked, “the compensation of succes: “You are wondering, I suppose,” she said, looking up at me quickly, “what has brought me back again so soon.” “I certainly did not expect you,” I admitted. She rose abruptly. “Come outside,” she said, show you. Bring your hat. ‘We passed into the March twilight. She led the way down the.cliff and to- ward the great silent streteh of salt marshes. An evening wind, sharp wjth brine, was blowing in from the ocean, stirring the surface of the long creeks into silent ripples, and bending land- ward the thin streaks of white smoke rising among the red-tiled roofs of the village. I felt the delicate sting of it upon my cheeks. Lady Angela half closed her eyes as she turmed her face seaward. she sald almost in- and I will “I came for this,” she murmured. “There is' nothing like it .anywhere else.” We stood there in silence for several long minut Then she turned to me with a little sigh. “T am contént,” she sald. “Will you come up and dine with us tonight”’, Bilenavon will be there, you know.” 1 hesitated. “I am afraid it is rather a bother to you to leave your work,” she contin- ued, “but I am not offering you ldle hospitality. I really want you to come.” 2 s b “In that case,” I answefed, “of course I shall be delighted.” ° .. * She pointed to Braster away on the other side of the I mo- ticed for the first time L it was all 1t up. “Have you heard anything of our new neighbors?” she asked. > “Only their pames,” I answered. T @id not even know that they had ar- rived.” “There is only a woman, I belie: L ————— she sald. dislike her—greatl brother speids mo: her, ard that he last tHree nights. It is wise of him, fo rea to stop it. T you to come to us." “It is quite sufficlent,” I ¢ ¢ you want me for ¥y 1 come. I am two days work.” . We threaded our wa - o creeks. All the tir blew upen us, ar seaweed seemed ozone. Just the road we heard the 1 behind. We tur Blenavon, riding lady who was . a strang figure was slim but a glimpse of her by, and it puzzle almost straw was negative, her fea tainly not goed. Yet thing about her attra which set me gue the color of her her voice if she s avon reined in his b € “So you have turnmed up, A remarked. lookin ously. “You r Lessing, don't ghera, you know." Angela shook her head glanced toward there with ex as we ored “T remember a good mar Bordighera, but Mrs. ing. I shall see yo I have sc¢ whip con lo woman's hor look inte h smothered oath a sister, galloped aft Lady Angela, wh cefve her! capital in creature whose soul are to be sola.” “What on earth ca want here?" I k “In hiding, very lik remarked. “Or additienal ¢ ¥ I laughed a “You. too getting h déclared. “The Pri Lessing are a str “Be careful too strong smiling. “I of Mrs. Smit man nor a loc I though it in the hal of delicate color! life of me I could ave shiv Lady Augela ! surpri “Are you cold?" she Let us walk more quickly.” “It is al cold at this time in the evening.” I remarke It is the mist coming up from t feels it at umexpected 1 “I am not going to farther,”. she deciared, you ares comi B tanisht. o'clock, remem{e; G0 and Wy consclence with some worlk.” I protested, but she was firm. So T stood by the gate and watched her siim young figure disappear i the gathering shadows. DINED that nigh Lord Blenavon was sul Lady Angeld was only It was not altoget! party. Lady Angela left ment Blenavon produced r case. “Do not stay too long, Mr. fi-:-:..J she said, as I held the door open for her. , “T want a lesson at billiards. I bowed and returned to seat. Blenavon was leaning back In his seat, smoking thoughtfully. he remar ed looking at e celling and speaking as though to himself, “would make an admirable heroine for t ychological st She is a bund ancles; one can never rely upon what she is going t do. What other girl in the worid w get engaged on the Thursday, and down here on the Friday to think over—leaving. of course, r flance in town? Doesn't that strike you as singular?* “Is 1t," I asked calmly, “a genuine case? Lord Blenavon nodded. “I do not think that it Is & secr he sald helping himself to and passing the decanter. has made up her mind at to marry Mostyn Ray. falr has been hanging about than a year. In fact, I there was something sald sbout fore Ray went* abrodd. Persona I think that he is too old. I mind saying so to you, because has been my opinion all along. How- ever, I suppose it is all settled now. I kept my eyes fixed upon the wine glass in fromt of me, but the things which I saw no four walls had ever inclosed. One moment the rush the sea was in my ears, another I was lying upon the little horsehalr coueh in my sitting-room. I felt soft white fingers upon my pulse an head. Again I saw her lean from the saddle of her g horse and heard her voice, slow, tionless, yet always power to play upon And yet, while the spair were closing over my sat there with a stercotyped sml my lips, fingering carelessly the st of my wineglass, unwilling guest an unwilling hos I do not know how long we sat ther silence, but it seemed to me an eternity, for-all tha time I knew that Blenavon was watc emo- with its strange my heartstrings. head, T ing me. I felt ke a victim upon the rack, while he, the executioner, held the cords. [ do not think, howeve that he legrned anything With a Mttle shrug of he abandoned the subjec om my fa o shoulders “By the by. Ducaine.” he said, hope you wom't mind asking yo rather persomal questio: “If it is only personal” I anawered quietly, “not at all. As you smow, T may not discuss any subject connec with my work.” “Quite so! I only want to k whether your secretarial dutles beg and end with your work on the Co clil of Defense or are you at all in father’s confidence as regards his pri vate affairs?™. “I am temporary secretary of Council of. Defense enly, Lord Bl von,” I answered. “T- know n whatever of your father's privat fairs. He has his own man of o ness.” I am not sure whether he belie me. He cracked same walnuts commenced peeling them. (To be comtinued.)