THE LUCK OF THE LINDSAYS

New Zealand Times, Volume LIII, Issue 12604, 15 November 1926, Page 4

THE LUCK OF THE LINDSAYS

(PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.)

BY

MARGARET TYNDALL

[COPYRIGHT.] j

CHAPTER XIV.—SEEDS OF MISTRUST. Early next morning, while dressing, happening to glance out of his bedroom window into the grounds below, Alainwaring caught sight <f his brother-in-law pacing the gravel paths in gloomy preoccupation. In three minutes Alainwaring was making his way with assumed leisureliness out of the house. Lindsay returned his greeting gravely, and seemed disinclined to talk—a state of affairs which Alainwaring was determined to alter. He therefore kept up a ceaseless flow of small talk, and then said suddenly: “By the way, Lindsay, I dropped in at the Lawsons last night and met a man there who knew your wife quite intimately a few years ago. He was deeply interested to hear that she was married, as he had fondly imagined that he was the ‘one and only.’ ” “What d’you mean?” queried Alec Lindsay sharply, wheeling round in sudden surprise. “He’B quite a nice chap,” continued Alainwaring. nffably, pretending not to notice his companion’s interruption. “He asked me all about it —how you came to meet your wife and so on—and I told him. It seems that they weio engaged—or at any rate there was a definite understanding between them—only unfortunntely Adela grew tired of him. He made no secret of it, so I am not abusing his confidence in any way by repeating what he told me. But still, he bears no malice, and asked me to congratulate you both if it is not too late.” “What did you say was his name?” Alainwaring appeared to consider deeply for a moment, then he said: “I can’t quite remember.” “Was it—Gordon?” “It may have been,” replied Mainwaring with engaging frankness. “Yes, now I come to think of it, it was—Stanley Gordon to be quite correct I belie 7« lie said. He seemed somewhat distressed, poor chap, about an interview ho had with your wife earlier in the day.” “Yes. I interrupted it, I’m afraid,” put in Lindsay, with a touch of sarcasm. “Really?” said his brother-in-law, lifting his eyebrows in commendable surprise. ' “He didn’t mention anything about it ; for it seems, however, that Adela had an idea that she would like her correspondence with him —which she believed he still retained—to be in her own safe keeping, and had, it seems, written and made an appointment with him for that purpose. She appears to have had that curious kind of reserve which many women show on the subject of their first love-affairs.” “It was a planned affair then—this meeting?” “Oh yes.” “It is more than'probable that the letters contained only what was perfectly justifiable,” said Lindsay Wildly after a moment’s deep reflection. "Of course, if' my wife was engaged to him “We must make allowance for women’s whims eh, Lindsay?” put iff his brother-in-law, smiling. “The letters are probably rather sentimental effusions, and she is ashamed of them now. Every woman is at heart a flirt, I’ve heard, and so wo nefld not he surprised even if Gordon was dismissed rather unceremoniously ” “Thank you, Alainwaring, I would rather not hear any more,” was the cold interruption. “My wife will doubtless explain everything to my entire satisfaction”; and without another word Lindsay turned and walked swiftly into the house. But his mind had been thrown into a state of indescribable agitation by the half-true, half-false report of his wife’s doings which Mainwaring had brought to him; and, although he fully believed that Adela meant ultimately to tell him the whole truth, yet he bad a feeling of distaste, of repulsion, almost of positive disgust, at the thought of her former attachment to Gordon. His faith in her candour and uprightness was rudely shaken. If she had been engaged to any man before she knew him, if she had written him letters of an intimate nature, it was her duty to have let him know before their marriage. She had deceived him, he told himself bitterly; and the only redeeming point about the whole wretched business was her determination to tell him the story in a few days. For what else could she have to tell him? The idea that her communication might refer co Julia and not to herself did not for a moment enter his mind. She meant to tell him—some time. He decided to hold her to her promise; it was at any rate better than nothing. Ho would give her a few days’ grace, and then he would demand the truth from Tier—however bitter and unpalatable it might prove. Adela was painfully conscious of the change in his manner during the next few days. It was as though his natural restraint had increased tenfold. Try as he would to be polite and considerate to her, a half-suppressed irritation and resentment began to show themselves in his manner. She could not understand it. She knew that, in a certain measure, she had earned his disapproval by her refusal to divulge the nature of her interview with Gordon, but she felt that he ought to trust her a little more—especially when she 'had promised to tell. him everything in the course of the next few days. She talked tenderly and sympathetically to Julia, telling her that she had promised Gordon a week’s grace, and that she hoped he would then speak to her father. Julia tossed her head, and looked at her slopmother with soarnful eyes;

“Of course, you will do what you can to separate us,” she said. “What makes you say so, Julia? If your father approves, I shall approve, too.” “But. you will do your utmost to prejudice my father’s mind; I know that!” cried the girl. “I understand it all; Stanley told me.” “Told you—what?” asked Adela as Julia hesitated; but the girl made no answer, and her step-mother could only conjecture that some garbled version of her acquaintance with Gordon had been poured into her ear. Ap air of gloom and mystery seemed to have settled upon the entire household. No two people appeared at ease in each other’s company. Misunderstandings abounded on every side; the whole family seemed to be at cross-purposes. Adela and Donald were perhaps the least constrained in each other’s presence, but they, by tacit consent, avoided all subjects which might engender discussion. Mainwaring had thought it wiser pot to take nis pupil into his confidence on the subject of Julift ! s meetings with Gordon, for of late the boy: had been far from amenable to his wishes, and, had it not been that Alainwaring possessed a somewhat strong hold upon him, it is more than possible that Donald Would have made: a clean breast of' his past misdoings to his father, and bravely faced his displeasure. In view of his sister*s openly confessed antipathy towards; Mainwaring, Donald was therefore extremely puzzled by the new friondliuess which seemed to have sprung up between Julia and her uncle. ’ Once or twice he came upon them in inti-, mate conversation: once he was certain that he had seen Mainwaring give his sister a note of some description, and' he was still more mystified when He found that they took long country rambles together. There was, of course, nothing very remarkable in these facts; but Donald knew Mainwaring too well to think for one moment that he was not bent on some secret mischief. He did not card to confide his suspicions to Adela, who,' perhaps, might have been set on her guard had she learnt of them in time. He pould nlv resolve, to Watch, for further developments. , One night this acute consciousness of something amiss, something of whose existence he could pot explain, .sufficed to keep Donald awake, ami presently he could not rid himself of •the idea that stealthy footsteps passed .the door of his loom. The impression became so strong that he got up and partly dressed himself, then, opening his door uuietly, . weift out into the corridor where she moonlight lav in fitful gleams upon the polished tmards. He had armed himself with a revolver —a pretty,- dangerous toy • that had caught his fancy when in town, and which he was boyishly proud of keeping loaded beside his bed. He crept up and down the .corridor on tip-toe looked into one or two unoccupied rooms, then stood and listened intently. He could hear nothing. A thrill almost of satisfaction took possession of him when, standing outside his father’s study, he caught sight of a faint glimmer of light beneath the door, lie had just time to draw back into i. dark retreat when the door opened cautiously and a man carrying an electric torch came into the hall. The revolver in Donald’s hand almost dropped to tho ground in his astonishment, lor it was none other than Roger Alainwaring. With stealthy footsteps Donald followed his uncle down the long corridor whioh led in the direction of his uncle’s rooms. To reach these, however, a quicker way was for Mainwaring to pass through the gun-room which had a door leading directly int>. the grounds. Alainwaring opened the door of the gun-room with the same caution which had characterised his former movements, and, as he did so, a current of cool air swept into Donald’s face as he followed close behind his uncle, waiting for what he did not know. The room was in darkness, for the moon was, hidden for the moment belling heavy clouds. Donald hesitated whether to follow Alainwaring, for if there was really no mischief afoot, it would be somewhat difficult to explain his motive for following him. Then his quick ear caught the sound of voices, speaking in muffled tones of excitement. He paused to.listen, for he recognised one of them instantly. Julia! But that was impossible, ho told himself. What was she doing in the gun-room at that time of the night? What did it all mean? A feeling of hot indignation against his sister, against Alainwaring, and the third person whose voice he did not recognise, swept over him, and, hardly knowing what ho did, Donald rushed headlong into the room, for •Mainwaring had either forgotten or thought it unnecessary to shut the door, since they were now out of the danger-zone of the house. Donald had a glimpse of his uncle holding an electric torch, of Julia in a long dark coat and small, tightfitting hat holding the arm of a man whom he had never seen before. Then, with a cry of rage. Mainwaring caught sight of him, extinguishing his torch as he did so. There was a short scuffle, and Donald felt the revolver wrenched from his hand and fired —by whom he could not tell. A heavy blow was planted well between his eyeß. There was a moment of bewildering pain through which, far off it seemed, came the sudden closing of a. door; then the blackness and silence of complete oblivion. (To be Continued.)