The Splendid Sacrifice

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 224, 10 December 1927, Page 22 (Supplement)

The Splendid Sacrifice

J.B Harris-Burland,

Author of; '* The Half-Closed Door,** ** The Black Moon,” “ The Felgate Taint ’ " The Poison League.” Ac.. &C

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CHAPTERS I. and II. —Mrs. Eden sobs because Joan, her young daughter, engaged to Sir Richard Pynson, is going to marry and will soon leave her. Mary, the elder daughter finds Joan sobbing. She confides that she cannot bear Sir Richard, but declares she must marry him because she wants luxuries and a life of ease. They go to London to get Joan’s trousseau, and Mary takes her sister to a jewellers. Joan sees a wonderful diamond ornament, but the price is £1,200. A few minutes later it is missing. Customers are searched, but the ornament is not found. Her sister surmises that Joan is meeting the man she is in love with, nicknamed “the rotter” by Mary. Two men come to the hotel. One of them is the proprietor of the jeweller’s shop, and the other is a detective. The diamond ornament has been found hidden away in some of Joan’s underwear.

CHAPTERS 11. (continued). 111., and IV.—Joan denies all knowledge of the theft. Mary confesses to having stolen the ornament. Mary, in her defence, says it was a sudden temptation, and goes to Holloway Gaol for a month. \Vhile Mary is waiting for her case to come on, Joan confesses to her that she took the diamond. Joan must marry Sir Richard and all will be right. This gentleman arrives at the home of the Edens, and takes possession of Joan, who tells him about Mary’s breakdown. Sir Richard tells her that he knows Mary is in prison. Joan begs Sir Richard td keep Mary’s disgrace secret, and pleads her sister’s cause. Mary returns from her month’s imprisonment in the best of health. She meets the Rev. Arthur Britton, who has a poor living in the town. He falls in love with Mary. CHAPTERS IV., V., VI., VII., VIII.—In the letter to Mary, Joan informs her that some brute had told Dick, and demanded money. Dick had paid and said he would do all in his power to keep her secret. An allowance of £SOO made to Mary by Sir Richard allows her to get married. Sir Richard has a hobby, the collection of jewels which have caused crime. One night the Pynson “ghost” rows up tlie shallow lake and that night Joan’s mother dies. Mary pleads with Sir Richard to let her see more of Joan, but he refuses. Sir Richard also refuses to give the blackmailer any more money. CHAPTER IX. During the month that followed Mary’s declaration of independence, she saw her sister on seevral >ccasions. Joan was delighted to find that her husband had withdrawn his objection to their meeting. Mary even stayed a few days at Carne Court, and no one could have wished for a more courteous host than Sir Richard. Joan paid frequent visits to Mirchester, driving backwards and forwards in the big car. Arthur was thankful ibat the two sisters were able to see so much of each other. He was very busy—working hard from morning to night—and he realised that Mary was lonely and wanted the society, not of an acquaintance, but of an intimate friend. It seemed to Mary as though the quick storm that had stirred up the waters of her life, had died away, and left nothing behind it but sunny skies and unruffled seas. The danger was still there, but it was beyond the horizon. Of course, she knew nothing of the interview Sir Richard had had with Mr. Smith. This gentleman for reasons best known to himself, had quitted the field of battle. And then, when a month of happiness and security had come to an end, Joan came to stay at the cottage. “Dick’s away in London,” she wrote, “and is going to be away for a fortnight. May I come—just for a little rest? It -will seem like the old doys.” Mary telegraphed an eager, “Yes, dear—pleas© come.” But she knew that it would not be in the least like the old days. For the present was, in some respects, so much brighter than the past had been. Mary’s love for her husband filled her life with sunshine. Joan, naturally, had fallen back into the second place. But Mary would never betray Joan —would never give away poor little Joan’s secret. And when Joan arrived in her splendid car, and her costly furs, and clothes which Mary could not have purchased with the whole of a yearly allowance: when Joan arrived, so small and white faced and oitiful.

in spite of all that money had bought for her, Mary caught Joan in her arms and held her tightly, and vowed to herself that whatever happened she would protect Joan. She knew then that things were not going very well at Carne Court —that Joan was wretched. And soon afterwards Joan poured out

her troubles. “Yes, he loves me, dear,” she sobbed, “but he —he is so difficult .to get on with. I feel as though I were a slave he had bought. I have to do just what he wishes. 1 am his, body and soul; I am his, Mary, and I can’t stand it. I can never love him. Oh, it is shameful—horrible!”

Yet that same night, when Arthur Britton had returned, and they were sitting over the fire in the “parlour,” Joan seemed as happy and vivacious as she had been before her marriage, and Arthur Britton, who had seen traces of the tears at dinner-time, said to himself, “Joan’s only a child. Sorrow goes as easily as it comes to her.” At 10 o'clock there was a ring at the bell, and Arthur Britton was called away to the bedside of a dying woman. An hour later he had not returned, and Mary, with a yawn, said: “I think we’d better turn in, Jackie. Arthur may not return for an hour or two. He may be out all night. That’s happened before.”

Joan said that she was not in the least ready for bed, and she had some letters to write.

“You don’t mind me stopping up, do you, Mary dear?” she said. “No, Jackie—of course not. But turn the lights out when you go to bed —all but the lamp in the hall.” They kissed each other, and Mary went up to her bedroom. She did not undress, but lay down on.the bed. She wanted to be alone—to be’ cut off from Joan’s tears and laughter. But she had no desire for sleep. Yet she slept, and when she awoke, the room was in darkness. She lit a match, and saw that it was two o’clock in the morning. Her candle had burnt itself right out in the socket. She lit another, but she did not begin to undress. She felt very tired and cold. She wondered when her husband would return, and suddenly she remembered that she had left no food out for him. He would certainly be hungry when

lie came in, and too tired to seaxcli about for food.

Mary went downstairs with the lighted candle in her hand, and, as she reached the kitchen, she heard a door close with a crash as though it had been blown to by the wind. “The hall door,” she said to herself. “Arthur has returned.” “Jackie!” she called out.

But Joan did not even turn her head. She vanished in the darkness of the landing.

“Jackie!” cried Mary again, but there was no answer save the closing of a bedroom door. Mary heard the door close, and the sound of the key being turned in the lock.

“Joan must have just come in,” she said to herself. Then she went to the hall door. It was locked and bolted. It could not have been the hall door that had closed with a crash, for Joan would not have had the time to lock it, and shoot the two stiff bolts. Neither was it the door of the parlour, which stood open. But the door

of the study, as it was now called, was closed. Mary entered the study, and found the window open. The sudden draught blew out her candle, and she could not light it again until the door was shut. It was quite evident that Joan had come out of this room, and that she had been unable to prevent the door closing with a crash. (To be continued.)