THE LUCK OF THE LINDSAYS

New Zealand Times, Volume LIII, Issue 12613, 25 November 1926, Page 12

THE LUCK OF THE LINDSAYS

(PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.)

BY

MARGARET TYNDALE.

[COPYRIGHT.] /

CHAPTER XlX.—Continued. A few moments later Julia went to put on her cloak, with a feeling of excitement that was somehow tinged with fear and uneasiness. The prospect of a pleasant.evening for the moment lay uppermost in her thoughts, and yet subconsciously she felt that her husband was very angry with her, though for what reasou she could not exactly tell. But with a childish eagerness to enjoy the good things of the moment, she quickly forgot his black looks, and chattered gaily as she sat by Edward Conyngham r s side in the cab that took them to the theatre, where, he had definitely arranged by telephone before they started, bis mother would meet them in the i suppose you wouldn’t care to go 'back to your life in the country now, 'after all the whirl and excitement of Itown life, eh, Mrs Gordon?” he said, fMbeu Julia’s flow of chatter had temporarily subsided. * Sometimes I feel I should like to y—when things go wrong; and then they go more smoothly. I forget about home, I’m afraid,’ ’she acknowledged candidly. “But there’s one thing I’m always regretting—” She stopped abruptly, and then went on hurriedly: “Oh, but that is quite unnecessary for me to tell you. I’m afraid I’m much too outspoken—at any rate my husband says I am—” ; and she broke off with a little laugh of embarrassment. “And what i,s the particular thing you are always regretting?—may 1 know, if you don’t think it is too unpardonable of me to ask?” he 6aid gently, encouraging the girl for reasons of his own to tell him of her troubles. “It’s about my own father,” answered simply, knowing that she could trust this man with her confidence, for during the weeks following her first meeting with him, she had learnt to realise that she could count him among tho very small number of her real friends, “I ran away from home, you know,” she went on quickly, not quite sure whether this piece of information would meet with her hearer’s strict approval; “and my father and step-mother quarrelled on ray account. You see, though he laid the whole of the blame upon her shoulders, it was altogether my fault. But that isn’t all. On the night I ran away my uncle was shot by—well, it doesn’t matter—” she added hastily, seeing the keen look of interest that had sprung into her companion’s eyes: “but at any rate my brother Donald was held responsible for it, and so I have made trouble everywhere.- My father has left home and gone abroad, and my step-mother is ill and very unhappy.”

There was a pathetic catch in Julia’s voice; troubles were softening her nature in a wonderful degree, and Adela .wwxld hardly have recognised in this «ad-eyed girl the Julia of a few months ago. “Poor child 1” said Captain Conyngham sympathetically, making a pretty shrewd guess as to the identity of the person who had shot Mainwaring, and pitying the girl with all his heart for the error she had made in marrying such a scoundrel as Stanley Gordon. “But cheer up,” he added rallyingly, “there’s still time for you to right the wrong, as they sav in novels.” “Do you Teally think so?” asked Julia eagerly. “Oh, but that isn’t possible,” she added with swift disappointment. “My father, even if I could find him, would never listen to me now; I am in disgrace. Of course it is entirely my own fault, and I I think I am being punished for it.” She was too inexperienced to understand the significance of her words with their unconscious confession of unhappiness and disillusionment; but the man by her side bit his lip as he called to mind the look he had seen cast by Gordon at his wife that evening. Then acting upon a sudden impulse, he said : “Look here, Mrs Gordon. I think I’ve known you long enough now for you to realise that I am most sincerely your friend.” Julia nodded her head in silence, and her companion continued : “Most people would call me an interfering ass, but that doesn’t trouble me in the least. There come certain times in our lives when we scarcely know which way, or to whom to turn for help and advice; for a man such a case is hard, for a woman doubly so. Anyway, I want you to promise me this, Mrs Gordon—that you will always remember that you have at least one friend who is ever ready and willing to help you in any way he can. Life is far too short to founder in a quagmire of trouble for sheer unwillingness to call for help. Whenever you call, Mrs Gordon, I shall always bo the first to answer you.” The words were spoken with a frankness there was no mistaking, and Julia was only too glad to accept them in the spirit in which they were uttered —the spirit of friendship and true chivalry. “Thank you with all mv heart. Captain Conyngham,” she said, her voice earnest with the gratitude his kindness had stirred up in her heart. “T have often felt very lonely since I came to London, and I am, of course, responsible for that. But the knowledge that I have caused so much mischief, and the sense of separation from

mv family is sometimes more than I can bear. Believe me, I shall always remember your kindness to me: I think you and Lady Violet are the onlv friends I have.” Her husband’s name had not entered their conversation at all. Julia had uttered no complaint w*ith regard to his treatment of her, and Conyngliam respected her all the more for her silence; but nevertheless it only served to confirm a resolution he had silently made," and which he was determined to carry out for the sake of the woman who had come into his life—too late. CHAPTER CONFESSION. Edward Conyngham’s secret determination to seek out Alec Lindsay had not been made in a moment of rashness. His primary reason for doing so was not, however, prompted by his desire to help two people he lull never seen before in his life, which was perhaps only natural. He wanted to find Lindsay in order to warn him of hie daughter’s peril as the wife of a well-known gambler and trickster. He liked and respected Julia far too much to allow her life’s happiness to be ruined without her father being made aware of her position. That very little could be done for the girl from an outsider’s standpoint. Conyngham realised only too well, but he ivas nevertheless determined to take matters more or less into his own hands in a manner which could give as little offence to Goidon as possible, if he ever became aware of the fact. Conyngham’s mind had been greatly occupied with the thought of Julia and her unfortunate position w'hen he had met Gordon and Verakei that afternoon at his club. They, had greeted him warmly, and the former had pressed him to dine at the flat that evening, an invitation Conyngham had accepted without any doubts as to its real motive. But during his talk with Julia on their way to the theatre Conyngham had realised that there was one way, and one way alone, open to him i 1 he desired to help the girl whose own rashness and inexperience had brought upon her the disgrace with which she now found herself to be confronted. He decided that his first step must be to seek out Donald Lindsay and apprise him of his sister’s position, and if Donald would not communicate with his father, then he, Conyngham, would endeavour to secure his father’s address and do his best to bring the older man to a recognisance of his responsibilities with regard to his daughter. Donald was suprised at this interest in the Lindsays’ family affairs on the part of an entire stranger, but he took an instant liking to his visitor, and only too willingly promised to do what he could, since Edward Conyngham put the matter in the light of an urgent necessity from Julia’s point of view*. “Do you think it would be advisable to go' and see Mrs Lindsay?” asked Conyngham. “No, I don’t think so,” was the reply. “She might not perhaps care to interfere, seeing that Julia took matters into her own hands in spite of her warning. Besides, I don’t think she could do much good either. No, Captain Conyngham, I think if anything is to be done it must be done quickly and as soon as possible.” “I am sure you will understand,” said Edward Conyngham, “that I should never have thought of interfering in this matter which is, after all, a purely private one. had it not been that I felt it was for your sister’s welfare. There seems no one else who realises the danger of the life she is forced to lead by her husband. You see, I happen to know Stanley Gordon. I also have very grave suspicions as to the present mode of his life in town. He has got something more than a bad name, let me tell you. Believe me, you would do well to write to your father at once for your sister’s sake.” “I am afraid I can do but little. Captain Conyngham,” replied Donald sadly. “I write to my father from time to time, I have told him of mv step-mother’s illness, but I very much doubt whether he actually receives mv letters. My mother’s brother is with him, and perhaps you will understand if I tell you that it is he who has caused all the mischief in our family.” “You imagine, then, that he dares to intercept your letters?” “I certainly do.” “Then in that case I venture to propose a certain plan. I would have wished that my name was kept out of this affair; your father might certainly think my interference both unjustifiable and undesired, but I see no help for it. I would suggest that vou write to your father under cover of a letter from me. which I will fasten down with my private seal, and send bv registered post to your father’s bankers. They will naturally dispatch it to him with as little delay as possible, and the chances are that your uncle may not care to interfere for once. It is impossible, you say, to obtain your father’s address from his bankers ?” “Quite.” answered Donald. “But T don’t think your plan is‘at all a bad one, and we will just try it and sec how it works.” (To be continued.)