Flotsam

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 100, 19 July 1927, Page 14

Flotsam

By

Coralie Stanton and Heath Hosken.

A athort of " The Real Mr,. Dare, ” The Man She Never Married,” “ Sword and Plough,” &c., £rc.

To have Flotsam, 1.e., goods floating on the water; Jetsam, i.e., goods cast out of a ship during a storm, and Wilsam. i.e., goods driven ashore when ships are wrecked. These wrecks were called by the vulgar. Goods of God’s mercy. (Ancient Charter of Dover.)

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CHAPTERS 111 and IV.—Lady Maud wanders round the gardens and tomes upon Jacqueline. She gets Into conversation and tries to win the girl, apparently succeeding. Maud discovers that Jacqueline is well educated. John Bolton arrives about five o’clock. He is pleased that the two women are friends Lady Maud goes back to her hotel, where John dines with her that evening. When they are taking coffee the subject of Jacqueline is introduced. His fiancee refuses to be dragged into mothering her. When John asks her to do this she says, “Not on your life!” She leaves the ultimatum with him that he loses her if he keeps Jacqueline. CHAPTER I.—John Bolton kneels on the shingle beside the animate form of a lad who has just been rescued from drowning. The sailor who has brought the boy from the shipwreck can give no information about him. Later, inquiries proving futile, John Bolton carries the lad to his motor, covers him with rugs, and drives off. The boy refuses the stimulating drink that John offers and wants to go. This request is refused. Questioned the lad states that he is Jack King. He and his father were bound for South America. Complains of feeling sick and collapses. Arrived at Saye Castle, John Bolton’s home, Mrs Manton, the housekeeper, undertakes to get the boy to bed, but he fights, kicks, bites, struggles, and makes off. John Bolton catches him and he capitulates by fainting. He is got to bed and Dr. Goring is Sent for. About six in the evening Mrs. Manton seeks her master and informs him that Jack King is a girl,—a young woman about eighteen. Dr. Goring says the patient must be kept perfectly quiet for a few days. John Bolton communicates with the steamship offices in London. Scotland Yard tells a sordid story. The girl’s father is really Michael Dennis Croft, company promoter, whose gigantic failure has engulfed the savings of millions of hard workers. His daughter, Jacqueline, is penniless. CHAPTERS I (Continued) and 11. John Bolton writes to his fiancee, Lady Maud Genge, tells the whole story of Jacqueline, and asks her to help him. He has his first interview with Jacqueline. She reveals herself as a striking-looking girl, full of character. She has taken the news of her father’s death quietly. Lady Maud Genge, in the Swiss mountains, reads In the paper of the death of Dennis Croft. She talks it over with her maid, Clarice. Later she muses over her past life, her runaway marriage, her divorce, her father’s accession to the peerage. A letter comes to her from John Bolton, giving her the history of the arrival of Jacqueline, and expressing a wish for her presence and advice. Lady Maud gives her maid orders to pack. She is returning to England. She spends the night at Folkestone after crossing the Channel, and in the morning hires a car and motors to Saye Castle. John Bolton is not there to meet her, but Parker, the butler, and Mrs. Manton, welcome her. The housekeeper gives her the latest news of i:ho new protegee, and says how fond the master is of her. CHAPTER VII. That was sheer impertinence; but Stone ignored it with a lofty smile, saying: “Certainly, I am in a position to marry. But. since you are becoming personal may I be permitted to ask if Miss Jacqueline Croft is an heiress? Has she money? Is she independent?” “She has nothing in the world,” said Bolton grimly. “So much the better. I rather feared that you were not only her guardian but the trustee of her fortune.” Bolton winced imperceptibly. “I hope I have made myself perfectly clear and that you will accept my explanation at the same time as my apology for any unintentional discourtesy I may hare shown you a few minutes ago.” “Please don’t refer to it again. I quite understand. And you, on your part, will I trust make allowances for my feelings under the circumstances.” “Quite so. It has been a silly misunderstanding. I am to take it, then, that I have your permission, as Miss Jacqueline’s guardian, to pay my attentions to her with the object I have explained in view?” "I,” said Bolton, “have no desire or right to interfere with the full liberty of action of Miss Croft. If she wishes you to see her, she can, of course, do so. If she wishes to marry you, doubtless she will do so. As far as I am concerned, I should only feel justified in protecting her while she is a guest in my house from annoyances in any shape or form. You will oblige me by not pressing any unwelcome attentions on her or persecuting her in any way.” “Naturally.” The two men eyed each other coldly. It was as if each were taking stock of the other. It would have taken very little to set them both at each other’s throats. Of the two, Martin Stom was the more in hand. Perhaps that was because he knew he had Maud on his side and that Bolton was in a temper. But he came very near to overstepping the mark of caution. “One might justifiably think,” he said with a little cynical laugh, “that you were more deeply interested in Miss Jacqueline, but for the fact that one knows you are about to marry the charming Lady Maud.” Bolton cleared his throat. “The best thing w r e can do,” he said, “is to leave the matter where it is. I see no good purpose served in discussing the matter further. Let us join the others. They want us to play bridge.” “Let us play bridge by all means,” retorted Stone. “It is a much better game than quarrelling with one’s-host.” How Bolton hated Stone! How Stone hated Bolton! Later on that same evening when most of them had gone to bed, Bolton had an opportunity of a quiet talk w ith Maud. “There’s nothing the matter with your precious Miss Jack,” Maud said with a merry. inconsequent laugh. “She’s just a bundle of nerves; that’s all. Martin has fallen in love with her, or thinks he has. And, as far as I can gather, she doesn't reciprocate the feeling. That’s all there is about it. As far as Martin Stone is concerned, he is as much alarmed as you were, and quite naturally. My dear John, that girl isn’t in a fit state to mix in ordinary society. At the smallest inducement she goes off the deep end in hysterics.” “I know, 1 know*. That is w’hy I am so anxious to protect her in every way from upsetting circumstances.” “But my dear old boy, you can hardly blame a man for making mild love to a charming young thing like Jacqueline under the circumstances. If every time some man starts an innocent flirtation with the child she shrieks murder. well, all I can say is that she’s going to be a perfect nuisance about the house. What do you think?” What John Bolton thought he kept to himself. As a matter of fact he was not at all sure what he really did think about it all. What he said, however, was to the point. “Miss Jack,” he said, “is an invalid. She must be treated as such. As you know, she has had a terrific shock and you can’t expect her to get over it in a hurry. Goring says it may take years.” “Oh, that old dodderer. Goring! That’s the sort of thing he would say. As ■ far as I can see, the girl’s perfectly ■ well. Only she’s got an uncontrollable ■ temper and is scared to death lest any-

one should find out who she really is. However, I've undertaken to look after her; so you’d better leave her to me and cease worrying yourself about her any more.” Maud launched her last shaft with a certain malicious pleasure. Bolton winced. He wanted to say so many things; but he could not. Maud experienced a certain amount of enjoyment out of his discomfiture. She liked playing with fire. But those who play with fire sometimes get burnt. Stone left early the next morning. He did not see Jacqueline. Bolton bade him farewell in conventional fashion, and, as far as anybody was concerned, there was no outward and visible sign of anything out of the ordinary having happened. And when Bolton and Jacqueline met later in the morning, the matter of the last night was not referred to, and Jacqueline was herself again, a little wistful and silent perhaps, but then she was always shy and retiring when there were strangers about. It had been Bolton’s intention to ask her about it, to inquire if she were better and so on; but Miss Jack was so obviously all right and normal and so palpably anxious to talk of other things, that, in a way, it came as a relief to him that he was not called upon to reopen the painful subject. During the stilly watches of the night he had, so to speak, taken himself to task and had a lieart-to-heart talk with himself.

This sort of thing could not conceivably continue. That was certain. That he had fallen head over heels in love with Jacqueline he was bound to admit, and that nothing in the wide world he desired so greatly was to marry her and be her willing slave for the rest of his life. One part of himself told the other half that love was all, and to achieve its highest fulfilment justified the sacrifice of everything—convention, reason, honour. Love was the basic object of life. Deep down in the innermost recesses of his mind and soul he knew that the girl was attracted to him, that she would assuredly respond to his call; he knew that he could do anything he liked with her, knew that she was acutely unhappy because of him, and was madly jealous of Maud Genge. She was so honest and transparent. One could read her mind like a book. She was such a child—a wayward, undisciplined child, that he had snatched from a tragic vortex that so nearly engulfed her. But the other part of him said with no uncertain voice: This is all moonstruck madness and futile folly. Jacqueline is a mere slip of a girl. You are a man of middle age. When she is your age, you will be in your grave. And, quite apart from all other considerations, you are not free. You are bound in honour to marry a woman who is most eminently suited to be vour wife. You must stick to Maud, it is unthinkable that you can let her down. Even if you have ceased to love her as you did before this girl was washed up by the sea at your feet, and took possession of your heart and mind and soul, you must still be true to yout* plighted word. You must strangle this hopeless passion—take it by the throat and choke the life out of it. You must put the girl out of your mind and let her be as one who never \yas. You must think of no woman other than Maud, who loves and trusts you. You have no other choice as a man of honour.

And so the jangling argument went on in his brain and he fell asleep at dawn, having fixed up a specious compromise with himself. Of course, he would put Jacqueline out of his mind; of course, he would marry Maud and be true to her in word and deed. But was there any reason why he should not look after Miss Jack as a guardian? Was there any rhyme or sense in sending her away and losing touch with her? No! Maud and he would look after her. She should be, as it were, their child. The sudden realisation came to him that one day some man would hold her in his arms and press his lips to hers—that one day she would be the wife of another man. Then he saw red, and the universe seemed to slip beneath his feet, leaving him in a whirlpool of phantasmagoria. It was then that the little devils in hell shook their sides with satanic merriment, for they knew again that there was a hell upon earth. CHAPTER VIII. When Maud had invited Martin Stone to lunch with her at Druet’s Hotel on Thursday, and confidently assured him that Miss Jack would be there, she had reckoned without her book. “I’m going up to town for the day on Thursday, dear,” she said to Jacqueline, “and I’m going to take you with me. It will be a little change for you. London is pretty empty; but I must do a little shopping; and we’ll have lunch and, if there’s time, we’ll

go to a matinee or something. What do you say?”

A look of positive terror flashed into the g-irl’s eyes. “Oh, no, Lady Maud.” she said, curiously agitated, “I’d really rather not, if you don’t mind. I don’t want -to go to London. I can’t bear London. I never want to see Lrrdon again.”

"My dear child, what nonsenseL I never heard such nonsense. Come, come, come, you must really pull yourself together and shake off these fits of nerves and depression. Of course you’ll come. You want a heap of things. We’ll stay overnight if you feel that it will be too much for you to come back the same day.” "No, no, I couldn’t,” the girl protested stubbornly, shaking her head and looking for all the world as if she were on the point of breaking into tears.

"John will be awfully disappointed,” said Maud at a random venture, though she knew quite well that Bolton was going to Paris for a day or two on Thursday, and knew nothing of her projected trip to town. “I can’t help that,” retorted Jacqueline. “I am very sorry to disappoint Mr. Bolton, and to appear ungrateful to you for all your kindness to me, but I will not go to London on Thursday. Please forgive me, Lady Maud.” “Oh, very well, my dear,” exclaimed Maud, shrugging her shoulders. “Let’s leave it at that. You may change your mind before Thursday.”

She said nothing more on the subject for a couple of days but on Wednesday she reopened the matter. But Jacqueline was adamant. She was a most exasperating child. Maud would have liked nothing better than to have given her a thorough shaking. Obstinate as a mule, ungrateful, illmannered, hysterical little wretch! How like her father in every way—selfish to a degree, utterly self-centred, domineering, impossible! But though these thoughts were Maud’s, she was most careful to keep them to herself, but she registered a vow that before long she would bend this tenacious spirit to her own inflexible will —bend it or bi'eak it. She was not used to having her desires thwarted. Opposition to her wishes aroused a grim fighting spirit within

Jacqueline succeeded in placing her in a somewhat embarrassing position later on that same day, when Bolton announced his intention of going to Paris on business on Thursday for two or three days. “Oh, I am so glad,” Jacqueline exclaimed. “So it won’t hurt you if I don’t go to London with Lady Maud after all?”

John looked puzzled. Maud had murder in her heart, but she smiled unconcernedly as he exclaimed: “What’s all this about going to London? First I’ve heard of it. Who’s going to London to-morrow?” Jacqueline turned questioningly to Maud, who promptly, and with a nonchalance of which only she was capable, explained the situation in a perfect cataract of words, leaving no loophole for interruption. She told Bolton that she felt the dear child wanted a little change, and so suggested that she should go to town for the day and accomplish a little very necessary shopping, and so on and so forth —all most natural. “And quite right, too,” assented Bolton. “Splendid idea. Push it along.” “But I understood you were going, said Miss Jack. “I? Oh, no, I’m off to Paris to attend a bothering board meeting, but I shall be back on Sunday. “Then you don’t really want me to go?” . „„ “But aren’t you going . “No,” she declared decisively. I “And you don’t mind?” she asked nervously. ~ “Of course not—what an idea. uo just as you please, my child. You are as free as the air. Perhaps, after all it will be just as well. You are still under doctor’s orders, and he says J ou are to take everything very quietly. Jacqueline turned on Maud, unci for the first time there was a look ol suspicion in her strange, mobile eyes. “So there, you see, Lady M au d« it doesn’t matter a bit, does it. Mr. Bolton doesn’t mind. It was only wliat you told me about him that worried me. You never said that he was going Maud parried the attack adroitly and with her natural savoir faire airilv turned the conversation into another channel, and dear simple John never so much as smelt a rat; but Maud remembered that swift look of misgiving she had seen in the eyes of Jacqueline. At all costs that must be eradicated. It must be nipped in the bud. She was adorably sweet to little Miss Jack, and the question of the London trip was never again mentioned. She laid herself out to make dear, little Miss Jack —hateful little nuisance!—forget all about it. . And Jacqueline responded, all unsuspicious. Jacqueline thought Lady Maud was the most beautiful and charming woman in all the world. And Bolton, too, was pleased. He observed them from afar. It gave him immense satisfaction to see how well they got on together. By Gad! Maud was a brick! She knew how to play the game. _ . ... 1-Ie started off en route to Paris with a tranquil heart and an easy mind to carry out his affairs. Everything was altogether most satisfactory; everything had turned out so differently from what he had feared. He lulled himself into that fatuous condition of mind that postulates the theory that a man may have his cake and eat it. (To be continued.)