The SHADOW of a DREAM

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 261, 25 January 1928, Page 5

The SHADOW of a DREAM

by

Charles- Procter

Mithor o» A Splendid Butterfly." -The Woman Pay».* “The SocKwet. Combine * *An Innocent Adventuress ** Ac. Ac

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS Chapters 1., 11. and 111. —Monica Moncrief is in tho s.s. Glenogle, returning from South America to England. Jervis O’Neill, the third officer, converses with her. He tells her that he once worked for six weeks on her father’s ranch, and saved her from a nasty experience. He gives her details of his life. Monica tells him that her aunt, Lady Valentine, to whom she is going, is a stranger, and she is full of doubt concerning her new life. Jervis declares his love for her, and Monica responds. She recollects that she is engaged to her cousin, Geoffrey Valentine. That young man appears, enraged. Ho takes Monica to her cabin, and then returns to Jervis, who makes him xinderstand that he, Jervis, is going to marry Monica. He threatens Geoffrey with tho knowledge he possesses of the young man's past. Geoffrey tries to make up to Monica, who is indifferent. She falls asleep, and is awakened by a deafening crash. The Glenogle has been torpedoed by a submarine. Jervis comes | to the rescue of Monica. Valentine shrieks to be allowed to get in one of the boats. The one in which Monica finds herself collides with the sinking liner, and its occupants are thrown into the sea. Monica fights for her life. Everything goes dark. Chapters IV. and V. —Monica awakes to find herself in Leith Infirmary. She has lost her memory. The nurse tells her that she was picked up by a Norwegian boat. Geoffrey Valentine pays her a visit, but she does not recollect him. The nurse dismisses him for exciting Miss Monerief. Lady Valentine insists upon enlightenment with regard to the Moncrief fortune. After hearing details Lady Valentine insists on five thousand pounds as her share of the plunder. Jervis O’Neill calls, and the mother and son agree in stating that Monica does not wish to see him. He will only take Monica’s word for this, and promises to call at five o’clock in order to see her. Monica is coached by her aunt, and knows what to say to Jervis. Chapters VIII. and IX.—Jervis endeavours to get at the heart of Monica, but fails, on account of her loss of memory. He tells her she has at least twenty thousand pounds. Becoming alarmed she decides to return to her own people. She declares she will marry whom she likes. They motor back to her hotel, and he strolls away. Monica hastens to her aunt and cousin, and asks Geoffrey what he has done with* the money her father left her.

CHAPTER X.—INDECISION. “I want you to know that I am at hand ready to help you at any time you r.eed help of any kind,” he said quietly ••I’m staying at the Metropole. and you’ve only to send for me if you want me I’m going to act as your guardian angel, dear lady, whether you like it or not.” Monica smiled almost in spite of herself. The idea of Jervis O’Neik, big and bronzed and clad in a blue serge suit, posing as a guardian angel, was amusing. ‘‘Thank you,” she said. “I suppose you mean well, but I hardly think I shall need your help.” “I guess you will,” commented Jervis. “Valentine won’t give up that money without a fight, I fancy. Think it over and ask questions, and I 11 see you ‘“iTf’ew o minutes later the motor drew up before the private hotel at which the Valentines were stopping- and Jervis courteously assisted Monica to alight, and raised his hat as she nodded curtly and hastened into the hotel. Then he paid the chauffeur, took a leisurely survey of the outside of the hotel, filled his pipe deliberately, and St Monica had hurried into the hotel to find both Geoffrey and I ady Valentine anxiously awaiting her. in -date of suppressed excitement. ‘"••My dear child!" exclaimed the latter embracing her nieceaffectionate y • what a dreadful experience for sou. I "do hope the man didn’t frighten yO --No, not at all, aunt,-” Monica ans-

wered promptly. “I found him most interesting.” “If it hadn’t been for the fear of causing a scandal, I’d have knocked tho scoundrel down,” chimed in Geoffrey Valentine. “It was for your sake, Monica, as much as my own. that I refrained. What did he say to you? How did you get rid of him?” Monica hesitated for a moment, drawing a long breath and glancing quickly from one to the other. “He said quit§ a lot of things, Geoffrey,” she answered quietly, “and told me quite a lot of things about myself and about you that I did not know before.” “Probably all lies!” interjected Geoffrey, looking anxious. “I don’t think so,” said Monica, and looked him full in the face. “What have you done with the money my father left me?” she asked. “Your father’s money?” exclaimed Geoffrey, with a well-feigned loo x k of bewilderment. “I don’t understand, Monica.” He had anticipated the question, and had decided upon a course of action. He had done some hard thinking after seeing Monica drive off with Jervis, had guessed that his rival would tell Monica the truth about her inheritance, and at first he had been in a state of panic and despair, for he feared that Monica might not return. Lady Valentine, however, when he hastened back to her with the disturbing news, had expressed the opinion that Monica would assuredly feel doubtful about the American’s story and make inquiries before taking any decisive action, and she had suggested a plan. “Mr. O’Neill tells me that my father left a considerable fortune, that you have a large sum of money belonging to me, and that is why you are so anxious to marry me,” said Monica quietly. “Ridiculous!” ejaculated Geoffrey, with assumed indignation. “Do you mean to say, Monica, that you believe such a preposterous story, and that you have such a poor opinion of me as to imagine I would be guilty of such conduct? I love you for yourself alone, And am anxious only to protect you from that scoundrel, yet you apparently believe.

“I don’t know what to believe,” interposed Monica. “Mr. O’Neill swore he was telling the truth, and it seems to me that I have to decide which ofyou to trust.” “I had to save you from that scoundrel while we were on our way home,” added Geoffrey. “He took advantage of the fact that he had once worked for your father to pester you with his attentions, and to try to compromise you. He frightened you rather badly until I showed him I meant to stand no nonsense. What his game is now I can’t quite understand, but knowing his past career, as I do, I should say that it is blackmail. It isn’t the first time he has tried to use a girl as his catspaw. and he has wrecked more than one woman’s life.” “How can he blackmail you if you have done nothing wrong?” inquired Monica, looking troubled. “And how can he blackmail me when I have no money ?’ “I don’t know,” answered Geoffrey. “I suppose he hopes to get you to believe this story about the money, then try to exact blackmail—or this may be the first move of some new plot. He has evidently decided to try to take advantage of your loss of memory, and whatever his game is I know he means you harm.” “Perhaps there is some money, and that is why the man is so anxious to try to compromise Monica in some way, Geoff,” suggested Lady Valentine. “He may know something which we do not know*, and has made up his mind to try to get possession of Monica and force her to marry him.” “Possibly,” commented Geoffrey, looking troubled and shaking his head

thoughtfully—playing his part well, for this was the plan he and his mother had rehearsed to dispel Monica’s suspicions. “I will telegraph to my solicitor at once and ask him to make inquiries. It is all very awkward and distressing, Monica, and you won’t really be safe from the scoundrel unfil you are my wife.” “If Mohica had not lost' her memory we should have had none of this trouble,” added Lady Valentine. “You see, darling,” she continued, turning to Monica, “it is really because you have lost your memory that we dare not take proceedings against this dreadful man. He might make the most outrageous statements about you' and you wouldn’t be able to disprove them. Besides, we have to think of our good name and avoid any scandal, otherwise we could simply have him arrested. You don’t really believe the man, do you, Monica?” “No*” answered Monica, uncertainly, “and yet-’ ” “I give you my word of honour that he is simply a dangerous adventurer, Monica,” said Geoffrey, in his most convincing manner. “And I hope to be able to prove it to you within a few hours. I love you* and he shall not come between us.” “I know you won’t break Geoffrey’s heart because of the falsehoods of this horrible American,” remarked Lady Valentine, as Geoffrey hurried out.

“ You will realise how absurd his story is, and how dangerous it would be for you to have anything to do with him. Think it over, my dear, and I feel sure you will do the right thing.” Again Monica thought it over sitting with her chin in her hands and staring abstractedly out of the window, but she could not decide what was the right thing. It seemed to her that she was forced to choose between Geoffrey Valentine, the man she had promised to marry, and Jervis O’Neill, who had been represented to her as a dangerous adventurer. For Geoffrey she cared no tiling. She had agreed to marry him only because she had been told that she had promised to be his wife, that it was her dead father’s wish, and it would be dishonourable to break her word, and because she seemed to have no alternative. Jervis O’Neill had offered an alternative now, but Monica found it impossible to make up her mind about the big, confident American, who was so unconventional in speech and manner. She had read' several novels during her convalescence, and had thought much of love since she had been told that she had been engaged to Geoffrey. Love had always brought new joy and happiness to the heroines of the books she had read, and the heroes had invariably been handsome and

gentle, humble in the presence of the girls they loved. None had been rugged and big and rather ugly, and none had calmly informed the heroine that he meant to marry her : —as Jervis had done. Yet Jervis had 'stirred her, scared her, angered her, and interested and attracted her, as Geoffrey Valentine had never done. She found herself trying again to picture his face, so bronzed and rugged, and the look in his eyes as he told her of his love and asserted his intention of marrying her in spite of everything. “Absurd!” whispered Monica, drawing a long breath and shaking her head impatiently. “He can’t be in love with me, and I could never care for him. It can’t be possible that what he said was true, and perhaps it is unjust even to suspect Geoffrey because of the accusations of an adventurer. Yet—oh, if only I could remember! I can’t decide:” £She was still deep in thought when, an hour or so later, Lady Valentine entered the room somewhat excited. ‘Monica, dear, I have news for you!” exclaimed her aunt. “Geoffrey has got his commission, and has been ordered to join his regiment within' a week. Isn’t that splendid?” “Splendid, aunt!” replied Monica, absently. “He will be doing his duty and serving his country.” , “We women have ou:- dhty to per-

form, too, and sometimes duty isn’t easy,” remarked Lady Valentine, looking slightly disappointed. “Geoffrey has news for you, too, Monica. He has heard from his lawyers about your father’s estate and that American person, and will tell you all about it at dinner- He can explain everything now, he says.” It would certainly have been strange if Geoffrey, with the help of his mother had been unable to offer some plausible explanation. Poker was Geoffrey Valentine’s game; and poker, as most people know, is a game into which there enters a considerable element of “bluff.” Geoffrey had bluffed successfully on many occasions at cards, and he had found bluff of service in other directions also, particularly when he was in a tight corner. The sudden intervention of Jervis O’Neill had put Geoffrey in a tignt corner at a time when he was playing for high stakes, and seemed to have the game in his own hands, but he expected, with the jiid of bluff, to carry things through. The news that he had been granted a commission he regarded as a piece of luck which would help him to achieve his object in spite of o’]i&eill; and he started to bluff as soon as he sat down to dinner with Moniqa and his mother. (To be Continued.)