The Hillman

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 164, 1 October 1927, Page 26 (Supplement)

The Hillman

Sir

E-PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM.

CHAPTER I Louise, self-engrossed, and with a pleasant sense of detachment from the prospective inconveniences of the moment, was leaning back among the cushions of the motionless car. Her eves, lifted upwards, travelled past the dimly-lit hillside, with its patchwork of wall-enclosed fields, up to where the leaning clouds and the unseen heights met a misty sea of obscurity. The voices of her chauffeur and her maid, talking heatedly together by the bonnet of the car, seemed to belong to another world. ~ , The maid, leaving her discomfited companion with a final burst of reproaches, came to the side of the car. Her voice, when she address her mistress, sank to a lower key, but her ey es still flashed with anger. "But would madame believe it. die exclaimed. “It is incredible! The man Charles there, who calls himself a chauffeur of experience, declares tnat we are what he calls ‘hung up . something unexpected has happened to the magneto. There is no spark 'Vhosc fault can that be, I ask, but the chatfeur’s? And such a desert we have reached! We have searched the map together. We are thirty miles from any town, many miles from even a village What misfortune!” •■Something will happen.” she remarked indifferently. 'There is no need for you to distress yourself.

There must be a farmhouse or shelter of some sort near. At the worst we can spend the night in the car.” The girl’s face was a study. “Madame speaks of spending the night in the car!” she exclaimed. “Why, one has not eaten since luncheon, and of all the country through which we have passed, this is the loneliest and dreariest spot.” Louise leaned forward and called to the chauffeur. “Charles,” she asked, “what has happened? Are we really stranded here?” The man’s head emerged from the bonnet. He came round to the side of the car. “I am very sorry, madam,” he reported, “but something has gone wrong with the magneto. I shall have to take it to pieces before I can tell exactly what is wrong. At present I can't get a spark of any sort.” “There is no hope of any immediate repair, then?” The chauffeur shook his head dolefully. “I shall have to take the magneto down, madam,” he said. “It will take several hours, and it ought to be done by daylight.” “And in the meantime, what do you suggest that we do?” she asked. The man looked a little helpless. His battle of words with Aline had depressed him. “1 heard a dog bark a little while

ago,” he remarked. “Perhaps I had better go and see whether there isn’t a farm somewhere near.” “And leave us here alone?” Aline exclaimed indignantly “It is a good suggestion. It comes well from the man who has got us into such trouble!” Her mistress smiled at her reassuringly. “What have we to fear, you foolish girl? For myself, I would like better than anything to remain here until the mioon comes over the top of that round hill. But listen! It is just as I told you. There is no necessity for Charles to leave us.” They all turned their heads. From some distance behind on the hard, narrow road, curling like a piece of white tape around the hillside, there came, faintly at first, but more distinctly every moment, the sound of horse’s hoofs. “It is as I told you,” Louise said composedly. “Someone approaches—on horseback, too. He will be able to fetch assistance.” The chauffeur walked back a few yards, prepared to give early warning to the approaching horseman. The two women, standing up in the car, watched the spot where the road, hidden for some time in the valley, came into sight. Louder and louder came the sound of the beating of hoofs. Louise gave a little cry as a man on horseback appeared in sight at the crest of the Mil. The narrow strip of road seemed suddenly dwarfed, an unreasonable portion of the horizon blotted out. In the half-light there was something almost awesome in the unusual size of the horse and of the man who rode it. A few moments later horse and rider were beside the car. “Has anything happened?” the newcomer asked, raising his whip to his cap. He addressed Louise, instinctively conscious, even in that dim light, that she was the person in authority. “I have broken down.” Louise said. “It will take hours to repair the car. Meanwhile —here we are!” “You couldn't have chosen a worse place for a breakdown,” the young man observed. “You are miles away from anywhere.” “You are indeed a comforter!” Louise murmured. “Do you think that you could possibly get down and advise us what to do? You look so far away up there.” He swung himself down, and with

the bridle through his arm, came and stood by the car. “If there is any way in which I can help,” he ventured. “I am quite at your service.” “Well, you have begun very nicely by doing what I asked you,” she said. “Really, you know, to an impressionable person there was something rather terrifying about you when you appeared suddenly from out of the shadows.” “I am sorry if I frightened you,” he said. “You did not exactly frighten me,” she assured him. “but you looked so abnormally large. Please tell us what you would advise us to do. Is there a village near, or an inn, or even a barn? Or shall we have to spend the night in the car?” “The nearest village,” he replied, “is twelve miles away. Fortunately, my own home is close by. I shall be very pleased—my brother and I—if you will honour us. I am afraid I cannot offer you very much in the way of entertainment ” She rose briskly to her feet and beamed upon him. "You are indeed a good Samaritan!” she exclaimed “A roof is more than we had dared to hope for.” She turned to her maid. “Aline, bring my dress-ing-bag and follow us. This gentleman is kind enough to offer us shelter for the night. Dear me, you really are almost as tall as you appeared!” she j added, as she stood by his side. “For the first time in my life you make me • feel undersized.” ; She was of little more than medium ■ height; his first impressions of her were that she was thin, and too pale to be good-looking; that her eyes were large and soft, with eyebrows more clearly defined than is usual among Englishwomen; and that she moved without seeming to walk. "I suppose I am tall,” he admitted, as they started off along the road. "One doesn’t notice it around here. My name is John Strangewey, and our house is just behind That clump of trees, there on the top of the hill. We will do our best to make you comfortj able,” be added a little doubtfully; I “but there are only my brother and I myself, and we have no women ser- ; vants in the house.” “A roof of any sort will be a lax- ; ury,” she assured him. "I only hope ; that we shall not be a trouble to you | in any way. “And your name, please?” he asked. She was a little amazed at his dij rectness, but she answered him with-

out hesitation. “My name,” she told him, “is Louise.” He leaned down toward her, a little puzzled. “Louise? But your surname?” She laughed softly. It occurred to him that nothing like her laugh had ever been heard on that gray-walled stretch of mountain road. “Never mind! I am travelling incognito. We came from the heart of your hills. To-morrow they will open again and welcome us back.” "I don’t think there are any motorcars in fairyland,” he objected. ‘We represent a new edition of fairy lore,” she told him. “Modern romance, you know, includes motor-cars and even French maids.” “All the same,” he protested, with masculine bluntness, “I really don’t see how I can introduce you to my brother as ‘Louise from fairyland.’ ” “Tell me about your brother. Is he as tall as you. and is he younger or older?” “He is nearly 20 years older,” her companion replied. “He is about my height, but he stoops more than I do, and his hair is grey.” Her escort paused and swung open a white gate on their left-hand side. Before them was an ascent which seemed to her, in the dim light, to be absol- | utely precipitous. "Do we have to climb up that?” she asked ruefully. “It isn’t so bad as it looks,” he assured her. “You must help me, then, please,” He stooped down toward her. She linked her fingers together through his left arm, and, leaning a little heavily upon him, began the ascent. She looked around her almost in wonder as her companion paused with his hand upon a little iron gate. From | behind that jagged stretch of hills in I the distance a corner of the moon had , now' appeared. By its light. looking i backward, she could see the road which they had left below, the moor- ! land stretching away into mistv space. I Before her, through the little iron gate which her escort had pushed open, was a garden, a little austere-looking : with its prim flower-beds, filled with .hyacinths and crocuses, bordering the ■ flinty walks. The trees were all bent in the same direction, fashioned aft*=*r ! one pattern by the winds. Before them was the house—a long low building. ! part of it covered with some kind of creeper. As they stepped across the last few j yards of lawn, the black, oak door J which they were approaching sud-

denly opened. A tall, elderly man stood looking inquiringly out. He shaded his eyes with his hands. “Is that you, brother?” he asKea doubtfully. John Strangewey ushered his companion into the square, oak-panelico hall, hung with many ti*ophies of tne chase, a few oil-paintings, here ano there some sporting prints. It lighted only with a single lamp. “This lady’s motor-car has broKeo down, Stephen,” John explained, turning a little nervously toward n brother. “I found them in the roa . just at the bottom of the hill, snail d her servants will spend the nig • here. I have explained that thereno village or inn for a good ma -• miles.” , the , Louise turned grac ouslv toward elder man, who was standing Frup•• apart Even in those few seconds, quick sensibilities warned her or hostility which lurked behind tightly-closed lips and steel-grey - His bow was stiff and uncordial, he made no movement to ocer ha “We are not used to welrolU« ladies at Peak Hall madam. h«. , “I ask for nothing more than a r Louise assured him. noon John threw his hat and wnlp the round table and stood in the of the stone floor. She caught a 6 p which flashed between the two nw of appeal from the one, of icy re ment from the other. f a “We can at least add to the bed and some supper—and a * c <ie r,. .John declared. “Is that not so, h The older man turned de ’‘fsf e arf away. It was as if he had rot nea his brother’s words. w . •• “I will po and find Jenning*. said. “He must be told about tt Va £,u!se watched the dlsaPP^ 0 * figure until it was out John “Stephen is a little crotc „ t^ c o** said. “Let me offer you v.e.i enough for us both.” (To be Continued)