A Hunge into the Unknown

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 295, 5 March 1928, Page 5

A Hunge into the Unknown

SSL

Charles D. Leslie

Author ot - A Wild Wager,' “ Loved t©» Herself " •* The Errington I‘earlt Mystery.** "The Power of the Purse.** &t.. &c

CHAPTER XVII. —Continued. Lord Doulton accepted these apologies, both for Berlyn and Mr. Berlyn’s fiancee, frankly and unreservedly. He hoped to have the pleasure shortly of meeting Miss Wantage. The two men shook hands warmly. “I still feel guilty,” said Arnold. “Is there anything I can do to make amends?” “You can stay and dine with me. I’ve got the blues, and am sick of my own company; but I expect you’re engaged.” “No,” said Arnold, seeing the other really wanted him, “I have no engagement. I’ll stay with pleasure, if you like.” 4 “Good! Take off your coat. I don t know what sort of a dinner . . . Baldwin. Mr. Berlyn is dining with me. * * • It was an hour later, and host and guest over coffee were feeling most amiably disposed towards each other. The dinner had been above criticism, and Arnold, who had really been too happy at tea-time, to do justice, after all, to the cake Eva provided, had satisfied an excellent appetite. Lord Boulton had made an amazing stride towards recovery. His appetite had come back, and he was now feeling equal to a cigarette. Out of the chaos of last night's happenings two events had emerged—his wife was alive and well, and the problem of her ( a PP‘J>--entlv) questionable association with Arnold Berlyn had been satisfactorily explained. The humiliation and perplexities and mysteries of yesterdaybelonged to the past, and though Eva was still missing and his head still spirits were higher than they 'had been since his wife had left him. He feft almost affectionate towards , a f rtT - having set his doubts a.t rest And Arnold, having discovered f?®. xCancis Do 111 ton was the best of fellows, had taken a genuine liking to hi sut. of course, the chief reason for midden friendship was the race that their Individual ladies were, acthat then accounts, exactly alike, cording to a* naturally curious ord hs°wife”s double and Arnold as *° JV S rvfl’s history as he had p Ve him E\ afternoon, and, mellearned it that the feeling of lowed by wm existing between camaraderie now friendship with them, an account of «is met at her from the time And then his sisters hous . of the he went , ° dian Jond necklace, and theft of the_d kin „ to clear Eva the st ® ps a noiv resting upon her. from the stigma Doulton lent an T °. ear and so eloquently did attentive ear, an love's cause Arnold espouse his iaciy

that the auditor fully agreed with him that Nield must be the thief; and then he was led to talk of his own troubles. He had been hugging them for days to his breast, and it was a positive relief to unburden himself. “Miss Wantage was no end lucky in getting hold of you to fight her battles. You’ve earned her gratitude. You’ll start matrimony under most favourable circumstances. I hope you’ll find it plain sailing. But married life isn’t invariably all beer and skittles, even when you rfarry for love. I did And look at me—playing the comic role—of the deserted husband! “Berlyn, Eva’s treated me abominably. I’ve been a good husband to her; and, mind you, she’s been a good wife up to a week ago. I’ve had nothing to grumble at. She never flirted, and she wasn’t particularly extravagant. She was really fond of me, just as I was of her. We were perfectly happy. Well, I got involved in an absolutely innocent way, with a Mrs. Gordon—a lady I’ve known for years. It didn’t really amount to a flirtation, but Eva resented it and said so; and I suppose I was rather off-hand in telling her there was nothing in it a sensible wife could resent. She just retired to her room, and next morning early she bolted, leaving a brief note, saying after my unkindness she’d decided to leave me. Not a word or a hint where she was going. That's what’s been worrying me. I’ve even thought of suicide, for she’s emotional and loving, and I’d evidently hurt her badly, though goodness knows, her little fiinger is more to me than Mrs. Gordon and the rest of the women I know in a lump. Polo ponies are little cattle,” continued Lord Doulton, sighing, “but wives ” “She’ll come back,” Arnold assured him. “Yes, she has —for her cheque-book

last night. Isn’t that like a woman? Never thought of writing to the bank for a new one or calling there. But comes to the house, somehow sure that I was out, fetches it, and strolls out again. If only I’d been in! I’d give a thousand pounds for her address.” “But you must have an idea. She’d

go to some of her relations, surely?” Lady Doulton’s husband shook his head. “My Eva’s an on ban—like yours Brought up by an aunt in Bexhill, and the old lady died suddenly just after our honeymoon. I went down there to pick up after getting smashed at polo, and she—Eva, I mean, not the aunt — bowled me over at sight. And I never repented marrying her till now. My dear chap, she's treated me damnably, but I’d forgive her everything if she’d only come back.” Arnold cast about in his mind how to aid this deserted husband. “Your accident,” he said, “is it in the papers?” “No; I tipped a fellow two quid to keep the affair out of type. I’m not proud of it.” “Better have tipped him two quid to magnify it. Lady Doulton would see it and hasten back to you.” “Eva never reads the newspapers.” All at once a confidence of his Eva’s came to Arnold. “I know who knows where your wife is, he ejaculated suddenly, shocked at his remissness for not remembering earlier. “In the name of all that’s amazing, whom?” “Lord Swayne.” No sooner had Arnold uttered the name than he repented his precipitancy. He had no hesitation in using the information Eva had acquired. Lady Doulton had no right to desert her husband, and Lord Swayne no right to keep her address from her legal lord. But it would have been better to have gone to Lord Swayne without first telling Lord Doulton. However, the name was uttered, and an incredulous husband was repeating it. Aronld was forced to tell, and then re-tell, what Eva had communicated. The information had to soak into Lord Doulton. His wife and Lord Swayne w T ere, he declared, bare acquaintances, nothing more. Then from blank disbelief he suddenly veered to acceptance, and boiling rage against the middleaged president of “The Society.” He cursed him fluently, and declared his immediate intention of repairing to his house and demanding the address and an explanation. He was manifestly unfit to go out, and to quiet him. Arnold volunteered to go in his stead and telephone the result of the interview. Baldwin was rung for, a directory and a taxi ordered. The first supplied the needed address, it was Eaton Square, and the second carried Arnold on his errand, musing on the fortune which had involved him in the destinies if the two Evas, so like, yet unlike: and as he drove he speculated on the coming day—it could not be long delayed—when the two women would be brought face to face. It would be an interesting occasion. But much was to happen ere that moment came. The Swaynes of Swayne. a little village in Lincolnshire, first acquired more than local importance in the time of Charles the First, when they espoused the monarch’s side in the Civil War, and suffered accordingly. Unddr the later Stuarts and Queen Anne they were country squires, nothing more. But their wealth and importance gradually increased as the 17th century grew, and Walpole for political services made George Swayne, M.P., a peer. He assumed the family name for his title, and became Lord Swayne. The present lord was the

B————■ sixth. Non© of the intervening noblemen had made the barony famous, though one came perilously near being hanged by a silken halter for killing a man in a duel, and another, a young soldier of promise, fell in Spain under Wellington. But one certainly made the name notorious. That, of course, was the fifth lord who died five years before the date of this story. He was a flamboyant individual, who, as a showman or second rate actor might have made a success of his life. As it was he only degraded his name. Certainly the ring owed him not a little, though even in the boxing world his methods were open to Criticism. At one time he raced, but after the "Gentle Alice” scandal he was warned off the Heath. He handsomely supported the stage, or rather ladies connected with the lyrical form of it. Certain of them were the only genuine mourners, and they for selfish reasons, when he died; owing to a chill caught lying in a damp ditch in the hope of catching some poachers. The fifth Lord Swayne was in short about the last of the wicked lords whose deeds live in history, and whose lives form convenient texts on the immorality of the upper classes. The present lord was his antithesis. Yet it was remembered, by various middle-aged gentlemen, that as a young man Gilbert Swayne had gone the pace while his money lasted. An attack of rheumatic fever chained him to his bed, and he rose radically changed. Also a pauper. His cousin had just married, there was another life between him and the title, and the prospect of his succeeding was remote. And then Gilbert Swayne vanished from London. But there was no mystery about his domicile. He went to Marseilles and became English master to a big school. And for 22 years he held the post. Then Lord Swayne’s death, without heirs, the cousin between being long dead, made him the head of the family, and he came back to London, which had practically forgotten him. His temperament was retiring, and he studiously avoided publicity. He

was bookish, but did not altogether shun society, witness his presidency of “The Society”—the members of which he was discovering were more interested in themselves than in sociology; he was in short a quiet reputable peer, and it was easy to believe that no scandalous interpretation could be placed on the fact that the missing Lady Doulton and he were in correspondence. Arnold had never met him, but knowing him by repute, and recalling Eva’s enthusiastic eulogy of him, he looked forward to the meeting that lay before him. Nor was his curiosity long delayed. The servant who admitted him said his master was engaged, but on the visitor declaring his business urgent, accepted Lord Doulton’s visiting card which Arnold had brought with “introducing Mr. Arnold Berlyn’ written across it, and carried it away. Re- < turning, he conducted Arnold into the ! library, a big, sombre room, little altered by its present owner, and seldom used. Lord Swayne usually sat and i worked in a smaller room upstairs. He descended from it to greet the caller. Though he had been so long a schoolmaster Lord Swayne had not let the , work of teaching French boys English prematurely age him. His hair was scarcely touched with grey, his figure slim, and his back straight. But for Debrett he could have passed at a ; first glance for a man in his thirties. ; Yet, on a close inspection the lines round his eyes, and a tired look in the , eyes themselves, showed that he had i :

left youth and disillusionment behind him. He wore a dinner jacket, and an impeccably tied black bow. (To be Continued.)