In The Flashlight

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 619, 22 March 1929, Page 5

In The Flashlight

By

Bernard Rowthorne

Author of “The Jewels of Sin,” “The Shadow of the Yamen,” Etc., Etc.

CHAPTER XIIr. She halt' turned her horse, but as ! she did so she visioned another face, the strong, brutal face of the man whom she was pledged to marry, aud for the moment she deliberated, and the vision of the fever-worn face with the amazed eyes which had stirred her compunction was obliterated. She could not. go back except to deal a blow that would hurt far more than that light blow of her switch. It was impossible that. 3lie could ever become Noel’s wife. Her father’s life and honour blocked the way to that. “No! ’ she whispered brokenly, as she turned her horse’s head anew*. “It is better so! It would be impossible to explain \nd . . . and it is all over.” Again she moved forward. There was deep trouble in her eyes, aud deeper trouble in her heart. She did not know what to believe, but the vision of the gaunt, fever-worn face continually came to her, assuring her of Noel’s innocence, condemning her hasty and iudiguant judgment. Her heart cried to her to turn back, to ask forgiveness, to throw herself in her lover’s arms regardless of all things tlse but love; but her will aud the necessity of saving her father from the vengeance of Freedlam kept her moving forward, away from the man for whom her heart yearned. Lost in thought, tormented by anguish, seeing nothing about her, she reached a point where the laue joined another, and then her horse started into a suddenness that, almost unseated her, and as she hastened to steady him she taught sight of a superbly handsome

woman standing in the road. The woman’s face was of the Latin type, birt. almost golden hued with a warm flush under the gold that spoke of southern blood. The eyes were large and dark, the lips a trifle too full for beauty, the eyebrow's perfectly arched but like the lashes amazingly black against the golden ?kin, and under the flowered toque that she wore w'as a mass of black hair with a pronounced wave or crinkle in it. Seen in the quiet English lane there was something strange about the woman with her bizarre handsomeness. The girl felt instantly that the woman was out of place there, that lier place was under a warm sun. warmer than that of England, and iu the same instant she was conscious of an odd sense of expectation which the sight of the stranger had given rise to. a consciousness so acute that almost instantly she brought her horse to a standstill. “Please, my lady,” began the woman, apologetically, “you live in dis Place?” “Yes,” answered Margaret, struck by the woman’s foreign accent. “Is there anything that I can do for you? “But yes,” was the quick reply. “1 desire to find der house of Mayhew.’ “The house of Mayhew.” As she echoed the w’ords the premonition of which Margaret had been conscious was intensified. She looked at the W'oman with her bizarre beauty with painful interest. Her feminine intuition divined what was coming, and though she shrank from it, she desired to know the truth beyond all question and she asked sharply: “You are looking for Mr. Noel Mayhew? “For my husband, Noel! Ja! Ja. answered the woman in sudden excitement. “You do know him, fraulein. You haf him see. you ” “Up the road!” broke in Margaret,

all doubt gone, and quivering with resentful auger against the faithless Noel. “Go straight along. You will find him there. He ” She could trust herself no more, and shaking w-ith indignation, she spurred her horse forward. When she had j gone a dozen yards she looked back. | The oddly beautiful stranger was hur- | vying up the road, almost running, and | as she marked her eagerness, Margaret's face clouded, and a hard look came in her eyes. “So he lied!” she whispered. “Noel Mayhew lied. I am glad that 1 struck ! him with my w-hip!” | For her part the woman to whom j she had given directions hurried along | until she came unexpectedly- on Noel Mayhew, leaning with his elbows on j the bar of the gate by w-hich he had remained. His white face had a set i look, and across one cheek was a scari let mark where the riding switch had I fallen. There w-as a puzzled look in his sunken eyes, as if he were battling with some problem, the meaning of which eluded him, and walking on the grass the woman surprised him completely. “Sir ” she began, and at her first word the man started violently, and sw-ung quickly round. As he did so the woman checked herself and a look of startled recognition came In her wonderful dark eyes, then she cried- “ You! It is you! But the ladv haf the meestake made. You are not my husband. Neln! I haf dat explained before.” i Noel Mayhew stared at her in amazement. The w-oman knew him,

but he hid not know her. Her words, | however, in the light o£ the words he j had so recently heard, puzzling though they were to him, seemed startlingly significant. “Ah,” he cried. “You are the woman who is claiming to be my wife?” “Nein!” she cried. “I haf before said it was not so! When I was in Africa, und I hear dat my husband who was lost is found, I go—l run to 1 the hospital, so glad was I, und 1 vait, und vait, while he sleep like a man i dat was dead; und at last dey permit | me you to behold, and I creep in oh so silently, for I vill not vake you lest der harm be done, and den I behold you with der lamp shining on your face; und I tink dat in dat moment I shall die, for you are not der Noel whom I love, und whom I haf marry. I faint den, and der goot doctor und his friend dey carry me out ” “Stop!” cried the man peremptorily. “Let me get the thing quite clear, you heard that I, Noel Mayhew, was found, you thought I was your husband ” “Ja, but when I you behold I know dat it is not so.” “But I never heard anything of it,” cried the young man. “I—” “Dat is for the reason dat der doctor is taken sick und die of der sickness, und der officer who find you he go away whiles you are not yet recovered.” “But how did Margaret know?” exj claimed Noel. “Did you tell her?” i “Margaret? Dat is der lady whom X haf meet just now?” “The lady on horseback! Yes! Did you tell her?” “Nein. I say to her dat I desire to find der house of Mayhew, and ini stantaneously she say to me, ‘You are for Mr. Noel Mayhew looking?' I say ' ‘Ja, for my husband,’ und she cry ‘Up der road,’ so, und wave her hand dus, and I come up der road. I run, so sure am I dat at last I haf found my mans. 1 not tink of you. I not know dat you haf left Nairobi. But you are not my husband —nein, nein.” There was the desolation of utter disappointment in the woman’s tones und a gleam of tears in her dark eyes, and with the lightening of his own woes, and the partial explanation of Margaret’s strange words and indignant actions, Noel Mayhew was moved to quick sympathy. “I am sorry that you should have suffered the same disappointment twice,” he said gently. “But I am not responsible, and I should like to clear ! up this mystery. If in the midst of I your own trouble you can answer a I few questions, you may save me and the lady -whom you saw much pain. Your husband’s name, I gather, is the 1 same as mine—Noel Mayhew.” j “Ja. dat is so.” “Where were you married?” “At Mombasa. It is in der war, und when we haf been married three weeks my husband he go to fight again, und I haf not him beheld any more. But I read dat he is missing, j und I vait, and vait —” “He was an officer in the British Army ?” “Ja, ja, dat is sure, und he look oh, : so big and brave in his uniform. I am proud of him so fond. ’ Noel Mayhew considered. There were elements in the woman's story that still puzzled him. It was possible that there might be another Noel Mayhew in the Army List, and whilst by a long coincidence his namesake might have happened to be serving in the East African campaign at the same time as himself, it seemed almost incredible to think that this second Noel Mayhew was missing under circumstances, akin to those in which he himself had been lost. There was some mystery behind it all that he could not fathom, and he stood there puzzling over the matter, finding no clue to it at all. But one thing was clear to him. and that was that.

with the help of this woman, he would be able to prove to Margaret that she had done him a grave injustice, and with the removal of her misapprehensions her love would return, and — He broke off his thought and turned quickly to the woman, whose dark eyes were turned watching him anxiously.

“I am afraid I cannot help you much,” he said, “but you can help me a great deal.” “Ah! How?”

“That lady whom you saw believes that you are my wife, and I was to have married her when I returned to England. You will see how difficult my position is until I can prove to her that she is mistaken. T want ycV to come with me to explain to lier how the mistake has arisen, if you do not mind. You understand?”

! "Ja, of course. But first you must i tell me something. The house of Mayhew, it is here, it is your home?” "Yes.” ! "Und you haf cousins—a brodder, perhaps?” Noel Mayhew saw whither her questions were tending, and an odd look came on his face. He was silent for I a moment considering possibilities that made him wince, then he said slowly: "Yes, I have a brother.” | “Ah,” cried the woman hopefully, j “then perhaps—but you comprehend? j There is not any need for the explaI nation. Herr Mayhew, you take me to your brodder dat I may see him, den I go to dis lady whom you love wid you. You will agree?” Again Noel Mayhew considered. The woman’s proposition placed him in something of a quandary, and he did not know what to do. It was easy to guess what was in the woman’s mind, and he shrank from the thought that she might possibly be right. And

there were other reasons to deter him from visiting Mayhew Court at the present moment. There were things that he wished to ascertain before he had an interview with Donald, but the necessity for vindicating himself to | Margaret was paramount, and after a little time he nodded his head. | “Yes,” he said, “I agree. Come, we •will go to Mayhew Court at once, and afterwards we will visit the lady whom you saw.” “Ja, dat is a fair exchange,” answered the woman, and turned with him, an eager light of hope shining in her dark eyes.

CHAPTER XIV. They walked down the lane together in silence, the man still weak from his illness, finding it a little difficult to keep up with tile woman’s

urgent pace. At the end of the lane they met a village policeman going his rounds —a new man since Noel Mayhew had left home, and a stranger to him. The constable stared at them curiously, after the manner of his kind in rural districts, when meeting strangers, and when they had passed him he halted and turned round to watch them. Careless of his scrutiny, the pair continued ou their way until they arrived at the lodge gates of Mayhew Court. The large gates were closed, and Noel Mayhew had a quick premonition that his brother was not at home —a premonition which was

confirmed a moment later. As he thrust open the smaller gate an elderly woman hurried out of the lodge, stopped suddenly, stared at him unbelievingly, and then threw up her hands in a gesture of incredulity. “God save us—it’s never Mister Noel?” “But it is. Nanny.” “Back from the dead if ever a man was,” cried the old woman. “It was in the papers, but I would not believe it, though Mr. Donald he hurried off to Africa the day the news came.” “Donald has gone to Africa?”

“The very day it was in the papers. He was that glad to know that you were alive, Mr. Noel. He hastened to welcome you from the grave." “You are sure that he was glad, Nanny?” asked Mayhew wonderingly. "Never was a man more glad. You would have thought he’d come into a fortune, instead of having lost one, Mr. Noel.” A soft light came into Noel Mayhew’s face, as if the old woman’s words had removed a load from his heart, as indeed they had, though there were yet things that he did not understand. Whilst he stood there silent, the old woman spoke again. “And this lady, Mr. Noel —mayhap she’ll be the new mistress who it told of in the papers?” “No, no,” exclaimed the young man, "I am not married. You say it was in the papers?” “Yes, with my own eyes I read it that when they took you to the hospital your wife came to claim you as one from the grave.” “Ah,” said Noel, more to himself than to her, “that explains how Margaret knew.” Then he addressed the old woman directly. “It was all a mistake, Nanny. lam not married, though I hope to be some day. I suppose there are servants up at the court?”

“Yes, sir. There’s the new butler and three maids —” “Where is old James?” “Dead and buried, Mr. Noel, these eleven months.” “Then you had better walk up to the court with me, Nanny. I want to show that lady something, and it is possible that the new butler might deny me admission.” He laughed a little at the thought, then he turned to his companion. “You heard?” he said. “My brother has gone to Africa, and you will not be able to see him. But there are portraits, and by them the question in your mind will be answered. Let us go.” They passed up the drive together, and presently reached a sixteenth century mansion, at which the Creole •woman stared in awe.

“Dis is your home?” she asked in wonder. “Yes.” “Den it is not any wonder dat he forget me.” As the woman spoke again, revealing the thought in her mind, a worried look came on Noel Mayhew’s face. A few minutes ago he had almost shared that thought, but had ceased to entertain it when Nanny’s words had banished one of the fears that had been in his heart for many weeks. Now the thought that she might still prove to be right returned to him with double force, and it w T as with increasing anxiety that he led her to the great gallery where hung the family portraits; while old Nanny explained things to the wondering butler. Before one portrait which represented a boyish young officer in the khaki uniform so common in recent years, he halted. “You recognise this?” he asked. “Ja!” cried the woman, “dat is you! But your brother, where ——” “Here he is!” he answered, moving forward a few paces, and halting. The woman ran forward, looked up at the portrait he indicated, a portrait of Donald Mayhew, done by the artist

who had painted the other portrait, then she gave a low cry of disappointment, and the light of hope faded from her eyes, while a look of great relief came on Noel Mayhew’s face. He waited, watching the woman, sympathising with her, though glad that she did not recognise the portrait, and at last the woman spoke in a voice that was low and broken. “And dat mans he is your brodder? But I can see—he must be.” “Yes! That is my only brother!”

“And lie is not ray husband for whom I search, nein?” She was silent a moment, then as j some thought occurred to her, she j cried: “But you haf cousins, perhaps; j other relatives ” “No!” he interrupted, understand-j ing that she was clutching at straws, j “Don and I have no male cousius, and j no male relatives who were on ser- j vice in Africa. T think that now you must put that idea quite away from ! you.” The woman bent her head, and then j moved slowly to a settee, into which she threw herself, and for a moment l hid her face in her hands. Noel May- j hew waited in silence. He understood how deep her disappointment must be; and as he watched her. he wondered what mystery lay behind this coil in which he himself had unwittingly been involved. He could make no guess that seemed even reasonable, and after a time the woman’s voice broke on his thoughts. “You w'ill pardon me! It is so great a disappointment, I had hope, und now I am lost as before.” “I am very sorry for you, raadame,” answered Noel, speaking as he felt. “Und I am sorry for myself. It is so long I seek, und it is not any goot! But I must not forget you. Dere was a bargain ” “Yes,” interrupted Noel. “But that can wait a little time. You must rest, and I w T ill order tea.” “You are very goot, Herr Mayhew! Tank you, I wrill haf der tea, und den I will go to my rooms at der hotel in der village, und after a little time you shall come to me und we will go together to see der fraulein who tink dat you haf me married, when dat is not so.” She composed herself quickly, perhaps because in her long waiting and searching she had grown accustomed to disappointment. Noel Mayhew gave her tea, and then made arrangements to fetch her. “After the dinner hour will be the best time, I think. Then we shall be almost certain to find the lady at home.” “As you will. Herr Mayhew. You would me haf helped, und now' I shall help you. Dat is so, is it not?” “You will help me very much, | madame, more than I can tell you,” answered the young man earnestly'. “Den dough I cannot myself help, you will I serve.” As she left the Court, he stood at one of the great windows, watching her go down the drive, and as he did so, notwithstanding her tine carriage, she seemed to him a very' pathetic figure. For three years she had waited or searched for a man who

was her husband, whose disappearance was a great mystery, and whose possible return seemed to be a very doubtful proposition. That the woman had been deceived by some blackguard he was half convinced, and he was glad to think that Donald was not the man, as, when he had brought the woman to the Court he had been afraid he might be. It was a great relief to him to know that his hrother had rejoiced to learn that be was alive, and had hurried to Africa to welcome him; for that, while it lcfi the neglect to relieve him unexplained, disposed of the horrible suspicion which he had reluctantly entertained, the suspicion that Donald had schemed for his death. His thoughts turned to Margaret. She had believed him dead; but now she knew that he was alive by a lying newspaper report she had been induced to believe that he had proved faithless, but when she had heard the truth, she would believe; she would be utterly broken up to think that she had ever allowed herself to be persuaded to do anything else; and then

The light of dreams came in his eyes, and for the first time since he had sat with Barriugley in the hotel at rlymouth, staring at the illustrated paper, hope sang in his heart. lie knew nothing of the John Carston to whom Margaret had pledged herself, hut he knew that she had loved him self; he was sure that she would still do so, when she knew the truth; and he rejoiced that he had arrived in time to prevent her marriage, and was glad and grateful that the Creole woman had so opportunely arrived at Mayhew.

He watched the clock impatiently. Dinner was served to him in the great dining-room, but he was in such a fever of impatience that he scarcely touched it. At a quarter to eight he ordered the car to be brought, with the intention of going to the village for the Creole woman who was to con vince Margaret. But just as he was about to step into the car, a Doy on a bicycle hurried up to the door with ! a note, addressed to himself in a rather sprawling hand. He opened it quickly, and read it through hastily. It was very short, and read: Dear Herr Mayhew,— You must forgive. I cannot go with you to your lady to-night. I have my husband seen and go to i meet him now.—Yours very truly, L*isa Mayhew. P.S. —To-morrow, mein friend. He stood for a moment staring at ; the letter in amazement, then he I questioned the messenger, and after a few minutes’ thought, dismissed the ! car and began to walk slowly down ! the drive, the note crumpled in his hand, a look of deep concern upon his face. (To be continued daily.)