A FATAL DOSE.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVII, Issue 263, 10 November 1906, Page 14

A FATAL DOSE.

By FRED M. WHITE, Author of "The Corner House," "Craven Fortune," etc. \

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTER!?. An adventuress K n-ir,g Herself out to be , wltln «- «t a Virginian or great wealtn, am passing under uio title of Kleanor -yjit.il, works her way into tbu best Kng- * "' n|y - - No suspicion has been aroused vi ncr origin us a jjamekeepor's daucater and srnduiulon by way or A tobaccoulsfs mop to her position as a ravouritp in bo- ;"| y ; * ,JC lauuehvd herself with £3UUO I iert her by nn old admirer, and at the time uic M.»iy opens Pmiitenocl elrcmnstnuets 'noci an early m . in . lag( , lmporat j ve lor ner. fcbo has set Her heart on l-miip "jirdy, a wealt&y and risiu- young mau wunse name ha« long been coupled with umt of Leva Urey. Invited to a supper Party at -Mrs Marsh's. Uardy, wno teels mat this brilliant woman could rto much to ac.vaiiro lus political ambitions, fails to tell ncr th.it lie has become encaged to iliss «>iey. Ino supper is interrupted by a rattier Hiady jeweller and Hnanciur named MouK.l en, v.-ho. remaining till after the pucsts Had -one, accuses Mrs Marsh of Having Stolen i-10110 worth of diamonds from His pinec, and threatens that unless the amount is paid within a week lie will brand nor a leion. Moiikweli carelessly drops a telefciam on (he floor showing that Jasper ' leave, ii ruined pamblur whom Hloaiinr -Marsh knew earlier. Una returned to the country. Slic dcterialncw to util'=<> Ulm In n Scheme to secure Hardy, and Her butler h""'fl s ! " "''fling; him and t.ablnsf him to nor fiat. Clrav,. has had early Inve pns_.,j" s r.f an on 11 rely innocent nature with L,ctm Grey, and rhese the adventnrpsa proPf'Mf. to turn in iii'eonnl to break the engagement with Philip Hardy. She is instrumental In getting Cleave" invited to the Duchess of DavPWryV, where Il.irdv and I-tua Grey arp of the bouse party. C'lravo Induces Lena to meet him late at'night in a quiet spot for the return of some letters of hers, and Mrs. Marsh, under the suise of a fortune-tPllcr ihavinj: temporarily disposed of the lady who had come dowu specially from London to entertain the Duchess' EUPstS) acquaints Hardy with the time and place of uiO'-tins:. <*> CHAPTER XI. i PROVING THE STORY. "Philip Hardy walked out into the garden with a curious feeling of shanie and irritation upon him. It was the first time in his life he had ever had an experience of this class of impostor who thrives so well on "the follies of Society, an<l so far as he was concerned, he Meant it to be the last. He was annoyed with himself, too. that ho had listened to F.leanov Marsh in the. first instance. He tried to argue it out with himself that the whole thing was a bit of clover impudence on the. part of ■Fiona Dear. And yet the sting remained in his ■breast i he could not rid himself of it. Cold and self-contained a? he usually ■was, his affection for Lena Grey was sincere and genuine. Hitherto, he had hugged himself with the delusion that won a virgin heart, but now the cold doubts were assailing him once niurc. From his earliest days he had been more or less of a self tormentor, which is usually the weakness of the proud, self-contained nature. From time io time he had known cases where the most immaculate men and women had fallen before temptation more or less acute, and he could not see now why Lena, should be more exalted than the re?i. Then again. iheTe was the man whose face was so familiar and yet so puzzlinglv strange to him. AVho was he, and where did he come from, and why did Lena appear to be *o uneasy in his preber.ee'.' These questions pressed upon the mind of Hardy like sp many stabs from a dagger. He knew that his duly was plain before him: he knew that lie should go straight to Lena, and ask her who the man was. If his fears were groundless, she would tell him at once: indeed, he could not have imagined Lena saving anything untruthful, and yet it seemoTl a shabby thing to suspect the, girl on the evidence of a common impostor like Fiona- Dear. Still Hardy hesitated exactly as the adventuress who had fooled him knew that he would. She had assured herself that Hardy would be too reticent to go straight to Lena and demand an explanation" She knew perfectly well thnt at a given moment he would be waiting somewhere on the steps leading to the rose garden. \r>r was the woman with her deep knowledge <v the working of the human mind far wrong. It was a horrible, thing to clo. and in another man Hardy would have condemned him heartily enough, for there he stood, waiting and lingering 1o see what the future held ill store for him. He fell furtive and mean: he slunk out of the way of passers-by, but he could not conquer the desire to verify his suspicions. For the next half-hour he stood there, a lonely and solitary figure, waiting, waiting. Meanwhile, it had been an anxious time for Lena. She would have liked to hnve gone straight to her lover and ■prured out her troubles to him. as she knew she should have done; but then Hardy wa> not of n sympathetic nature. "He iii'l not invite confidences as most men dn. when they have given over all that is host i.'i them to the pare of some worthy woman. Lena eonld imagine her--elf felling any man of her acquaintance i.iT [rouble in preference to linrdy. She passed tlm time as best she could. feverish with anxieiy and full of n htrangu gaiety that somewhat astonished those about her. Even the Duchess seemed to notice that something was wrong, and called the girl to her side. •■'What is the matter with you, my child?"' she asked in her kindest manner. "You seem to be terribly uneasy about something. Now don't tell mc that you have been quarrelling with Philip juet at this particular moment. 1 hnve sei my hear* on having your engagement announced at supper to-night, As you are perfectly well aware, Philip is a gr-at favourite of mine, and it will V no fault of mine if he does not finihli •it the very top of the tree. Indeed, thu party of mine is given, as you know, in bis honour, but if you have quarrelled HZ unfortunate moment——"' "Indeed, we have done nothing of tb< kind," Lena protested. "L hnve not seer Philip for some little time. If I have one fault to find with him it is that h< rather neglects mc when I come in con ilict with his ambilions." The Duchess sighed in sympathy. "\ou must learn to put up with that,' she said "It was just the same in ou«arli« days. It seemed a Grange thinj to mc that th« T>nke. who had every tiling that man could desire, with goo( health into the bargain, should give vi everything for a political office, and neve' have anything but blame for what He ha. tone. But then.. I didn't understant men: I used to think so when I wa k ?T ng, 7> ut 7 know now that l am '^i s I taken. Rest assured Philip is very fon< ol you. ' m "I am quite sure of that," Lena smilej I r^ 0 ? 81 ? , ; " Only H does Re «n a littl A. Hard to be. placed in the background." i.< Lena escaped at length, and made he ; feway in the direction of the garden. I

was very close to the appointed hour now, and if Fortune befriended her the ' letters would pass into her possession in ' a lew moments. Then they could be des-1 troyed. and the recollections of the pust , blotted out for over. There ■would be no occasion To men- i tion this matter to Philip; he need be , none the wiser. All girls had their se- , cret*, as Lena, knew, for had she not I been the confidante of scores of them?! With these hopos to buoy her up she passed down the path leading to the rosu garden. Her heart gave a great thrill as she saw Jasper Cleave standing there. There was a queer, strange smile on his lips that served to eherk the girl s rising \ hopes. She seemed to shrink from the ; man now. as one would from a wild ani- ; mul which is supposed to be tame. ; "So you have come," Cleave said. "1 thought you would not fail mc. I have tiie letters in my possession, and so long as you get them back, the rest matters | little." "You will not detain me,' , Ivena said i anxiously. "I am sure you would not do I mc harm ; the recollection of the past—" "The recollection of the past is no pleasant thing to mc." Cleave, said prim J ly. "When I look back to the past. 1 sec | a young man endowed with all the goods j The gods can givo him —-line health, j plenty of friends, a grand estate, which ' is knovai in history, and when I think that that young man was mc, and when I realise what I have become, my heart ■ does not grow any softer, or my consid- , eration for others increase. It seem 3 al- j most incredible to believe that in those days you were fond of me."' ■'I suppose I was.' , Lena stammered. "But I was very, very young." . Cleave laughed bitterly. His eyes flamed with a sudden admiration for the girl by his side. She looked so sweet and innocent and beautiful, standing there with her pleading face turned to his, that a sudden passion filled him nnd moved him a istep or more in her dircclion. Perhaps that movement had bridged the past three years; perhaps Cleave had imagined himself for the moment to be the reincarnation of his former self. ''You did care for mo."' he said hoarse ly. "You loved mc then as you love that pedantic, prig. Philip Hardy, to-day. I know you will say that be is the affection of your life, and that your fancy for mc was merely the romantic outpouring of the schoolgirl, but you did care; and if I had been wise you would be my wife at the present moment. Instead of which, you hate, and despise me—"'" "Indeed. I don't," Lena protested, was quivering with anxiety from head to foot, anxious and eager to get 1 his distressing interview to an end. "I am moat profoundly sorry for you —" "Nothing of the kind." Cleave said roughly. "Your expression when you recognised mc to-night was one of loathing and contempt. You were startle! and ashamed to meet mc again. You could not. disguise the ffcliugs you entertained towards mc. And yet you expect mc. to come here to-night and plan. , in your hands a record of your ehildisii folly. Why should 1 do it?" Lena looked up in genuine ala.rm; the man's violence -frightened her. It occurred to Tier just for a moment that he had been drinking deeply, but she had put the suspicions from her. "Give mc the letters." she pleaded. "Give them mc and let mc go. I have done you no harm.' , '•Have you not?" Cleave sneered. "I tell you it is easy enough for a man like myself to boa-t that we arc never troubled by the pangs of conscience, but it is a miserable He. and we all know ;t. We know, also, that others know it, too. For mouths together it is possible, to forget, and then something brings it all back to one—the sound of a voice, the smell of a flower, and there cornea up in one's mind the torture almost impossible to bear. That is what I feel to-night, standing here in the full realisation of all 1 have lost. It is none the less a punishment to mc, and such as mc to know that we deliberately threw away our opportunities. But hero ;xrc your letters. You will be gli'.d to have them, and be rid of my coin- | pany. but I am only human, after all, and' I have your promise. It is not much to ask.*' "What is it?" Lena stammered. "What can it possibly be?" ''By Heavens! I beljeve you have guessed it," Cleave cried. "I can see it on your face. For the sake of old times I want you to give mc one kiss. ! Come, just one little kiss upon my I lips, and we can part. It is not the j first time, remember, and surely the I iprice I ask is not a great one for the j happiness of a lifetime." i Lena's face Hushed crimson; the i tears of mortification ro.»e to her eyes. I She could see I hat the man was in earnI est. that nothing would turn him from I his purpose. ' Very slowly he drew .i I slender packet from !>U pocki'l and held jit over his head. I '•Come." he paid. "'Why dn you hesitate r ! The colour faded from Lena's face, j her limbs seemed to be suddenly turnIt'd to stone. The packet in the man's I hand fascinated her as a snake is said jto fascinate a bird. Very slowly she ! came forward; she lifted her white. i dead face to his. ! "Very well," she whispered hoarsely. I "It, shall be as you wish. Place the. ; letters in my hands and take your I price." : CHAPTER XII. IIAEDY. CHANGES HIS MIND. ! Lena stood there, cold and motionless as a statue, so cold, indeed, that she hardly felt the touch of Cleavc's hot lip.i on hers. The world seemed slipping from her; she staggered almost to a fall; then, with a great effort, she was herself again. Once more ihe cruel scarlet llame scorched her j cheek?; she turned as quickly as possij ble in the direction of the house. She j felt contaminated and besmirched. It ' was poor consolation to know that she wa.s grasping the letters tight! y in her hands. As she hurried on, breathlessly, with increased speed, sne. came iiuo violet contact with someone who caught her elbows in a passionate g-np. She was back now within the ring of light cast by the fairy lampe. She felt no surprise whatever to find herself face to face with Philip Hardy. It was the last thing in the- world she j expected or desired; the one cruel stroke that -was possible for Fate to deal her, j and yot she was conscious of no emotion !as yet. No passionate despair or anger. ■ ! She was melting slowly but surely now, i j and coming back to the consciousness

if her own identity. In or did it need nore than a passing glance at Hardy's ■vhite. set face, to prove that he knew jvcrything. Lena waited for him to speak. It was some time, before the words came; when they did come at length they were slow and deliberate, cold and cutting as a well-tempered blade. It did not seem to occur for a moment to Hardy that he had been playing the part of the eavesdropper. The feeling uppermost in lis mind was that he had be?n betrayed. His vanity was wounded on its tenderest point. "Well," ho said, "have you no explanation to offer? J will pay you the compliment of listening to your story. It ivas very unfortunate for you that I happened to be here at that particular moment. "You did not follow mc then?" Lena stammered. Hardy hesitated for a moment. It was his plain duty to tell Lena everything. but ho could not find it in his mind to do so. The whole tiling savoured too much of the cheaply sensational. • ; I paw everything," he said. "I saw you conversing with that man in the most friendly fashion. I saw him hand something to you—those papers you are carrying at the present moment presumedly, l saw y° u iifr y° ur * ace k* se him Good Heavens! It seems almost impossible to think that the woman whom I had chosen for my wife should so far forget herself. And he a stranger, too. His features are familiar to mc, all' the same. Where have Iseen him before?' . There was to bo uo mercy for Lena. She could see that plainly enough in the hard, almost cruel, expression of her companion's face. Yet she was not going to allow her happiness to slip from her hands without a struggle. She knew perfectly well that she cared for Hardy ten thousand times as much as ever she had cared for Cleave; she realised bitterly enough what this parting meant^ "I will tell you," she said. "I will tell you everything. I should have dona so before. That man was Jasper Cleave." ••Cleave': That scoundrel? The man who broke his mother's heart; the man who wasted one of the finest properties in the West on riotous living and extravagance. The man who was kicked out of all his clubs in London. And what is he doing here? Who gave him ihc entree of a house, like this? If the Duke knew the. fellow would bo pitched into the lake by the sen-ants.' "Don't ask mc," Lena said wearily. "I cannot say: it seemed like a dream to mc when we came face to face to-night, and when he saw 1 had recognised him, he stood there smiling at mc. and 1 knew that something dreadful was going to happen." "Indeed. -, Hardy sneered. "You did not seem so timid a few moments ago. Then I should have said that you "' "If you have any sympathy for mc at all," Lena cried, "do not sp?ak like that. 1 am going to tell you everything. I am going to try and clear my character «• your cyftj , . Years ago, when I was a child, (hero was no more popular figure in our neighbourhood than thai of Jasper C'leavp. You were always too studiously inclined and cared little for outdoor aniu.-eraents, but in that line Jasper Cleave was inimitable. 1 was but a child then, and his admiration for mc filled mc with delight. It was impossible in those days for anybody to have forecast, the future of Jasper Cleave, and when ho told mo that no loved mc, it seemed to mc that 1 was the happiest girl on earth. Have a little pity for mc, Philip; do not look at mc like* that. Remember, 1 was only sixteen —I had Vven brought up by a romantic mother. The world was very real to mc in tho.-e days. And so it came about that we were secretly engaged. You see. this packet I am holding in my hand at the present moment— in it are nil the letters —six of them — that I wrote to Jasper Cl. five. You may read them if you like: there is no reason why I should bo ashamed of a single word there. They are only written over a period of six months, during the. time that Jasper Cleave was iv London. In those six months ho passed from a handsome, honourable gentleman into a dissipated roue. To not oue of those, messages did I have a reply, except to the last one, in response to which he told mc that he was not fit to hold the affections of any innocent girl: thnt I was to think no more about it. It was r terrible grief to mc at the time, and yet I was astonished to find how easily I got over it. T know now that. love, in it* best sense of the word, did not enter into my little romance at all, and from that day to this 1 have never set eyes on Jasper Cleave." '"Truly a strange story."' Hardy said. "And you • xpect mc to believe it all. Are you not asking too much?" "lam telling the truth." Lena said proudly. "And yet you say you care nothing for this man. You say that your heart is wholly mine; you would have mc believe that your scorn and contempt for Cleave is absolute. And yet, of your own free win you kiss him " "Oh, do not force mc. to further shamr* and humiliation," Lena implored. "Cannot you see how anxious I was to got those letters which were so n weapon in the hands of .so unßcrupu lous a man. He held them over his hend like the Cup of TantahiK. He tempted m > —tin' price of one kiss, ,i thing that would lie, done and linislinl in un instant. My whole soul revolted from it. but 1 yielded. Philip. [ shall say no more; I have said too much already. If you refuse to believe mc, why, therefore " The girl stopped, and held out her hands in an imploring manner. On one of her slim fingers a glittering engagement ring shimmered in the lights from the tree?. '"Take that oft", ,. Hardy said coldly. "Take it off, and give it to mc." The blood mounted to Lena's face; then ebbed away and left her white, and cold as the marble fountain behind her. Just for an instant she seemed about to burst into a torrent of tears, but her pride came to her aid, and she restrained herself. She pulled the ring from her finger, and (lung it with passionalc force into a thicket of laurels. At the same time she threw the packet of letters in the sumo direction. "There." she cried, "that is done and ended. I care nothing who finds your ring; T care nothing who has the privilege of reading those letters. But one thing let mc tell you—hard and cold and cruel as you have been to mc tonight. 1 shall never cease to care for you; I shall go on loving you to the end. You stand on a high pinnacle now; you are envied amongst men—a brilliant career lies beiore you, and yet Fate has an awkward trick of breaking ! the strongest bowl and leaving the weak ; one afloat in its stead. It may be but j to-morrow that a broken man you will need assistance. If that time ever docs come, you will not have to plead in vain. I tell you with all the force and strength But Lena was speaking to the winds. Long before she had finished her impai-

sioned speech Philip Hardy had turned away in the direction of the house, it was a hard matter to assume a perfect indifference, but amongst the chattering throng there, no one could have guessed what was passing in Harry's mind. Hβ found himself presently face to face with Eleanor Marsh, who greeted him with a cynical smile on her face of inquiry. "Well." she asked, "did you consult the Oracle? I was going to consult her myself, but just on the stroke of midnight they tell mc that she vanished. A good many of the guests seem to imagine that they have been swindled, though I am informed that Fiona Dear always melts away at midnight;. Now tell mc honestly—what did you think of that remarkable woman?' . The question was asked in a perfectly artless fashion. It was a pity, perhaps, that Hardy could not see into the miud of his companion; it might have saved much misery. "I confess I was impressed," he said. "I learnt something that surprised mc; in fact, I am still puzzled and bewildered over it. Still, it served a purpose, and it leaves mc a free man." "Free man?" Eleanor echoed. "You mean to say that your engagement to Miss Grey " "There is no engagement to Mies Grey. So far a? the public is concerned there never has been. To be quite candid with you, we have come to nil understanding. Miss Grey is not altogether calculated to make a fitting wife for a statesman, and therefore' " '■'Then the whole filing is off? Eleanor asked, her dark, Hashing eyes seemed to fairly fascinate her companion. "But, tell mc, why do you favour mc by choosing mc as your confidante?" Hardy hesitated for a moment. He was reckless and desperate —very sore and sick at heart. He was just in the mood, too. to commit the indiscretion which men in his position had often committed before to their sorro"w. "This is why I am telling you," he said slowly. "I am telling you because 1 think you have a right to know. lam telling you because I am going to ask yon to cln mo. the honour of taking Miss Grey's place. In other words, Mrs. Marsh, will you confer upon mo tne inestimable privilege of calling you my wi f c V iTo be continued daiiyO