THE CURSE OF THE CARDEWS OR AFTER THREE HUNDRED YEARS.

King Country Chronicle, Volume III, Issue 145, 5 April 1909, Page 4

THE CURSE OF THE CARDEWS OR AFTER THREE HUNDRED YEARS.

(All Right* RmtvH )

» 4ny \v. Mf nn\Y OHAYPOJf. Author of Th'- Hin<:knuul«T».' "Heaping tb»' Whirlmnd." "Tba H«ir of the Loudouns," Etc. TAKT XIV. Just a week later. oiler Cooflri-y had resumed his hard lalwurs. a thrilling incident clwwl a day ol rain nml mist. The evening Endows *prr shrouding the yellow tide *»l the Manruni. «nd the (»«•• command to cratw work had (alien «»n the expectant car* of (he toiling convict gang;*. Sheldon. *ht wax at the further end of the r|i»arry. and at some distance from hi* cell-mate. straightened his l**nt hack, and throw a quick. sweeping glance around him. The next instant he struck the t* order nearest him to the ground, seized the man's rilJ*. nml liounded like o de«-r Hp the precipitous stony slope. A hue and cry was instantly raised, and al»ove th»> e.vrited clamour of convicts ami warders rong n spluttering volley of shots. Intouched aiuid the hoil of bullets, favoured l»y the dim ami uncertain light, the "daring fugitive s| ed on. He scrambled over the cii|»-likt rim ol the quarry, stood l»oldly ev on the for n fraction of a »xond. and then plunged int. the dork recesses ot the for>-*t. which j>wiillo*wi him from * i*'W.

The alarm-gun al the prison iiMin traking sullen crhoe* for and iH'ar. .«|<rpflilln(; the mm* to wirh wandering Imlintis a* might '><• in the virinil*. All night long " M ' n searvhrd with torches, and through thr day nnd ihr r.e*l they continued thvir clTorls. Hut at the cn«l <»' n week No. J *— ««* *till nbsing.

tHAITKII MX. AFTKIt I.oNi: MONTHS. \ >mr had gone In. (ranghl *ith the usual happi"''** «»"•' pros|>crity for «»mr of the world. and with tragedy anil sorrow for others. »ino< ilif-olal ion gml siicncc it'll upon the stately man-iinii of HcuhinmlH aft«T it» l>ricf tenure by the luck-|>->s \ uutig heir of Ihp Cnnlcivs. ,1 line hail come round ngnin. the iirrrj month wh«-n I.omlon of thr ttvMinil bloaeoms into a riot of continental colouring ami gaiety, ami 11%« l.' l'ark that morning. l»*tween cl'-ttn anil twelve o'clock won thronged with tb« n»»«l i-rmii v ami fashion of th*? gri-nl city. Two well-known clubmen were standing l»y the rail near Alkit tiate, idl> wnt«liing the ino\ing stream Ihnt (lnshe I with nil the hue* of n (t«lri<lim°o|it'. and one of llwn raivil h'.x hot to a couple who just then rnrtf by. mounted on thoroughly h<>rs«-s. I say. Connor." rwlalmi-tl hicompanion, "wasn't that Itrian l»>-s----monrt ? I didn't know he was hack to town." "He returned a fortnight ngo," ■"•flutl .lobn O'Connor. "And who was with him?" Th« 6 wnf Mi»H lV»niowl." I thought so." said Ha»r> \eriiriff.r. "I only raught a gl»m|>s >i hj« r A lucky chop. iKwuoml. lie ilift h>* sister have inherited a pile >i niiinn. Itow time fii>» ! That wfaii irf last summer is at»oul forby now." ' I »a°» not aware." t'i»nnor sai'l. olrtly. 'that it ha>l Iwcn generally ,?tow n." \or wot. it." replied Verrinder. >ou managed things neatly—not a w«s|m|»-r had so much as- a paragraph. Hut in a limited cirvle. of ourse. thr facts leaked «»ut : though I don t dearly know to this day what led to the duel, or whether Desmond was actually wounded or uot." "If** had a narrpw escape, I can n..»»ure you. The l»ullel struck a *il»er un»tch-l>ox that was in his *n»«tcoal pocket, and droxe it just t,ir enough betwren his ril »to rentl»r him unconscious for an hour. IVr iVarrd he was dead at first, but (ort.inntrly the injury was not serious*. and a couple of 'lavs at my plare at llanipstend put him right lgain." 1 A duel op Engjish soil ! Whot a sensation tbo public missed ! laughed Verrimfcr. "IJy-the-bye. whatever became of UeofTrey Cardew ?"

"I don't know." re[ilW Connor, "and I don't believe any one else »!»«••*. (!•■ has dropped out. poor d»*til. and thrrp* »n eml of him. Living or dead, he is not likely to In- hfard ot again. It's not a pl«-a*ant subject. Come along. Ver-rind»-r. 1 want to write a letter bvforv we go to lunch."

Meanwhile (Irian on«l his sister, having reached the end <•( tht tad* V Milt*. alter fr«-«piei»t Interrii|itioni from fri'-niJs and nc»|uaintancv-. had turned out of the park and were riding slowly down (Sal' to wants the l»ig. lonely house which they occupied tngcl her. Thi'j «iTt- orphan* now. (or Colonel Ik* ii»>n«l hail died suddenly in SeptemIwr of tin' previous year. The lo»» pt her father. liillowing so wion or |he tragi" event* of |he early miniimT. had |iruftlralnl Violet witti grfct and Itrian had |*»r?i»iaded hei |ti with him to Italy, where <»h»- »)<mt the winter and the entiling spring. Sh«* gradually regained her health, and to s«»u»e extent her fpirit* fti *•■11. ami had return.*! to Kngland with a and a richei I cauly that were due to the southern air and sunshine; but thl* niomlng the roses in her cheek! were not as bright a* they should hate lieen. and sbc looked fragtk and sad. It io occurred to Briat as he stole a furtive, uneasy glanc< at his sister. 'I am afraid you arv not stropg (enough yet lor our rugged Eng|i«t» climate. V|." be said. "It would have U.vn wiser bad *c stopped It Italy." •• Xo; I am glad to lie a* home." she replied. - I feel quit# well and strong. Urian,"

"Then von linvf «;.>m-thine; on youi mind—somel hinic thftt u oni'-s v on. " I can tn-vcr forget. it «hnt is wha i>u ui'-nn," the girl answered. wist* i' U\ . "It is just a >cnr ago toi.v. Mure that morning—thnt bright June morning, when vou in>i I slept at Ikechcombe. and 1 ! «t dawn to watch the sun rist "-r the park. And then" she alt-red and stopped. Yes. a whole year." assenteo llrian, in a hard voice. A year «>f many changes. So you arc still thinking of hlni ! Forget hint. Yi> 1 t. lie was unworthy of your cove. He was a traitor to both •f us. Surely von are convinced >r that. <»r can it lie jKtssible that you still doul.t—that you believe the King assurances he gav? vou in that last letter he wrote ?" "There are at times." Violet replied. sadly. "when 1 don't know what to thinW or believe." "Ily his own lips his guilt was proved. lie could not have Iwen innoteut. in spite of his mysterious protestations." "At least I am sorry for him, llrian." "Soir.v ? Yes. that is only natural. To b"* stripped of everything almost at one blow, to low friends, fot tune, and position—it was a heavy punishment. lint his )>erfidy is U"i0111I forgiveness." "He has paid a bitter price." the girl replied. In a low tone- "1 wonder whnt has U-cotne of him ? lie must have gone far away, to •»ome foreign country, for that advert isenient was in the 'Times' again this mnrning. It appears aiiout once a fortnight. 1 suppose the address given—il is in Chnncery I .one—is th- office of his solicitor." ■'No doubt it is.'. Brian assented.

11.- might have stated, though h< did not do so. that he was positively awnre of the fact, as well as of the fruit I" s.* r» suits on the part ol Archibald Menzies to open communication with his missing client. Firm and unshaken as was his belief in Geoffiey's baseness. Itrinn vet took an interest in the fate of the man who had l»een his Imsom friend, and that ni-ling had recently led him to make s-veral visits to the solicitor. "I am sorry tin* malt *r was brought up." he said. "It wakens memories that are much Iwtter forgotten. You banished tin* shadow of the past while we wer-* in Italy. Violet. If you are going to yield to its depressing influence now that we have come home. I will take you away again. Would you like to s|»>nd the summe.' and autumn in Brittany ?"

"If vou wish it," Violet told him, indifferentlv.

It was all one to her. she reflected whether she remained in F.ngland or went abroad. Such was h-r present mood, but in a few short hours she was to lw looking e»i«;ei ly forward to a journey compaied to which France was u trifling step : for the dav that had liegun with a ride in the park and an Allusion to the dork cloud of a >ear tiefore wn« to end in the most sim-iling and tut-dreampl-»i events. Brian had persuaded his s'ster to accompany him to a concert that evening, and she had no more ihan joined him in the library, where he was enjoving his after-dinner cigar anil liipieur. thnn some one rang the door-lx'll. A visitor was shown into the drawing room, and a servant brought a card to Violet. Her face turned white and cold as she gl»n«"d at it. "Cormen Torrona !" sin* exclaimed, in surprise. "Carmen?" echoed Brian : and the cigar fell from his twitching fingers. "Ye*, it is she." said Violet, as the servant diserc-*ll> left the room. "That woman has the audacity to •ome here ! But we cannot »-e her. It is im|»ossiblc." "The interview would certainly lie a disagri eable one," Briun assented. "Perhaps she has some urgent reason for"

"She must leave the house, and at once. I will ring for Tremlett." "Wait. Violet. Don't l»e hasty." '• I refuse l u see her. Ifj ou care to"

She tin- siit.-nce stifled on her lip*. ns Carmen Torrona glided noi? clfs-ly into the library. She .-liiwil ihn door ln'himl her. threw her cl.iuk back on her ifhould-rs. and ronfrmtti-ri the two «l(h a pleading ih'|>ivciatiiig look. II«t eyes wer.* -lighiK swollen. ami ln*r whole a|>-|-p»ranc>' was i-lfKpi'iit of distress .mil prif»". "Forgite iiu'.*' she s.iid. qiiiclJy. * 1 hail no right to enter. This is .111 unpardonable intrusion. lint I kn«*w vou v.i re here. nnd 1 feared ion would not Ih; willing to s-f m«*.'

There ws.s a moment of awkward sil«-nc«-. Vi«.li-t'.H fnp* was hard and uinvlenling, and Brian, though ho tried to im-et the situation with the dignity and haulier it called for, ;ouid not conrcal his agitation as he saw for the first time in many months the woman he Mill loved, tvhoiu he felt he must always love, in spite of the barrier of shame and jnilt she had raised lictwoen them. "Wc are going out. senorita," he liegan. with forced coldm-ss. "but 1 ran spare you a few minutes if th«*re is anything jon wish to say." " You will Iks glad to listen to me. the lieautiful Spaniard replied. "I will not detain >P" ly n 6- 1 lin>c a confession to make." "A confession ?" exclaimed Violet and Brian together. ' Yi-s. I came here to-night—you will believe it is a bitter penance —to con fens my sin and reveal the great wrong 1 did to CSeolTrey Card«*w. He was absolutely innocent. Not in a single word or art was he fait hies* to you. Miss IHmoml."

"(•itiflrey Innocent ?" cried Violet. "Oh. can this lie true?" "I swear that it is. Heaven l»e my nitners that 1 am not deceiving vou. 1 am a wretched, consci«*ncestricken woman, and 1 have no Jther object but to atone as far as |H>*sihle for my sjn ; " "The proof ?" demanded Brian. l»o you assert that CJeofTrey Cardew was not your"—

"M.v lover ?" broke in the girl. "Xo : he was never that. Listen. I will lell you all." In a low and earnest voice, which at' tinir« wellnigh failed her, she went on : "My vMt to Ilcevhcombc a year ago was not an accident. I had not lo«t my way. I rode there pun»osrly late that night, and knocked at the library door, and Mr. Cardew could not flmv nw the brief shelter I nuked for. though he granted it with the gr«-at?j»t reluctance. -He luoW uic in—it was raining at the

Time —and promised to show the *ny to Marlow when 'ho storm was over. I lagged for champagne, and when he brought i' I made him drink with m-\ He was anxious to Ik* rid 01 iiif. hut I sat smoking cigarettes aixl talking until his patience was nearly at an r-nd. and then—then I drugged him. I dropped something into his wine-glass, and he flrank it. In two minutes he was unconscious, and thus you found him in the morning, under circumstances which I knew well he would not be able to explain. And afterwards, such was his noble, generous heart, he suffered and bore all in silence, voluntary screening my wickedness. I know this from a letter he wrote me on the eve of his flight. in which he implored me to clear his honour."

"And you refused ?" cried Violet, who was standing, white and tear ful, with her brother's arm supporting her* "Oh, how could you ?" and her eyes flashed with anger ami scorn. "Vou are a base and wicked woman, ami I can never forgive vou. Consider what you have done —the lives you have ruined ! Hut (."eoftrey was innocent—innocent Thank God that I did not lose faith in him ! It is true, Hrian. Aftei that terrible morning, after I received his last letter, I have felt that he was guiltless." "And I—God forgive itic !—called him a lying hound, and drove him to his ruin." llrian moaned, bitterly. "Senorita, Geoffrey Cardew was uiy trusted friend, almost my brother," lie continued, his voice shaken by th* agony of remorse he was suffering. "Vou know what this confession of yours means to me. I do not doubt it. but—but it is not complete. What purpose took you tc Beei-hcouiljc that night ?" "I will tell you only in confidence —on your word of honour." "Vou have it : and I will answer for my sister," "Then you may know," declared Carmen, "that I went to Beechcomlte to get possession of a certain paper—a parchment hundreds of tears old—to which 1 hail at least as good a claim as Geoffrey Cardew had. I knew where it was hidden. and I took it away with me." Brian, though puzzled by the girl's statement, was convinced that she was speaking the truth. "It was bad enough," he said, "to drug the poor fellow and then rob 'him. But why. after you learned the consequences of your folly and wickedness, did you wait a whok \t-ar Itefore confessing?" "B«*ause 1 was a coward —I oared mil sj»eak. And 1 have l»een away for months. I went to Spain with my aunt. This morning I returned to find a letter awaiting me, and then, when it was too late, I realised how deeply I had injured one who never wronged me. That letter urged me to confess, brought me here to-night. It was from a friend in British Guiana. and it told me tltnt Geoffrey Cardew, who is also in that far country, has met with a misfortune which is worse than anything that happened to him before" Carmen pressed both hands to her heart, as if in pain. " The letter was vague," she continued. " I do not Inow the nature of the evil that has befallen him. He is not dead, nor is his life in danger, but his existence day by day is a dreary, hopeless torment of suffering and misery. If you are his friends, if you, too. feel the stings of remorse. find and rescue him." On the silence broke a pitiful cry of distress, and Violet swayed limply against her brother. Seeing that jhe had swooned, Brian placed h<-r tenderly on a couch, then turned to the Spanish girt with a face almost as white as her own. •" Vou are keeping something back," he said, fiercely. " What is it?" "There is nothing else. 1 war it." vowed Carmen. "Did Geoffrey Cardew write- that Utter ?" "No." "Who was it then ?" "Vou will never force that from me." was the reply, "and you would lie none the wiser i( you did- J have told you all I know, ami 1 revealed that l>ocau.se I myself can .10 nothing. It rests with you to save your friend. Go to British Guiana and search till you find him. That you may succeed, Mr. Desmond is my hope and prayer. I have been a wicked woman, but 1 am truly repentant. At least believe that, and some day, perhaps, yon and your sister will even forgive me."

With that eho was gone, and tho sound ef the street door cfosing fell upon Brian's ear as he sank into a chair and bowed his hcati upon his arms. .V minute later—it seemed more than that —the bell pealed sharply* A familiar voice was audible for an instant, shaking to the butler, and then, to Brian's amazement, Archibald Menzics was shown into the library < His face betrayed the importance of his errand. "Pardon me, my dear sir, for forcing uiy presence upon you," he l>egan/ i'Only the most urgent roasons, be assured—— Hut what is wrong here? Miss Desmond" ''She had fainted." Brian said, fcoarsely, —You fin«i us in some distress. Mr. Menzics. We havr had a visitor who brought us bad news of (Jcoflrt-y Cardew. He is in British Guiana, 1 am told." '•Why, this is strange, indeed cried the solicitor. *'l hav; come on the same business. You art quite right, sir, Geoffrey Cardew i§ in Cuiana.'4 'And you know what trouble he is In ?'i "I do, Mr# Desmond. The poor fellow is a convict at the terribk penal settlement on the Mozaruni River, and under the name oi .Julian Hardingc he is serving a long sentence Cor a crime of which Ijj is undoubtedly innocent. CHAPTER XX. PLANS FOR RESCUE. The solicitor's precise statement following on and supplementing Carmen Torrana's mysterious revelation, was less oi a shock to Brian than it otherwise would have been whilo Viofet, to whom the news wa* broken when she recovered from hct ;«roon, bore it bravely and then slipped away for a time to b« alone with her sorrow. They the worst now, ami the woi'f=t was boner than unr.-rtainty. (To I'C C<wjt:iuicd / ).