In The Flashlight

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 620, 23 March 1929, Page 21

In The Flashlight

By

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

Bernard Rowthortorne

CHAPTER XV. In the country news o£ interest to j tbe community travels fast, and within two hours of Noel Mayhew's return | the gossips were busy with the new | theme, gathering in the village street, or at the bar of the Mayhew Arms, I to discuss the matter. There was a j little group also in the post office, and Mr. John Carston. stopping his car outside aid entering to send a tele-1 gram, caught a word or two that made | him listen carefully. “So thin as a withy stick he be. j with a face the colour of putty, old Nanny d’say. Must have been through ; terr'ble things.” "It be a marvel that he’m alive at ] ail by all accounts, him having been j given up for dead. But if the news he true, he m here so large as life, an’ I reckon Mr. Donald'll have to leave the Court in double quick time." Carston left the telegram that he had been writing, and there was that in his face which startled the gossips. "What’s that?” he demanded. “Why should Mr. Donald have to leave the Court ?” “Because his brother, Noel, have come back this very day, an’ he’m the rightful heir, zur.” answered one of the gossips. “Noel Mayhew back!” There was a note of surprise, almost of consternation in Carston’s voice; then he gave a hard laugh and asked: “Has he brought his foreign wife back with him?” “No, zur! But at the Mayhew Arms j there’s a foreign woman arrived this ! very day who’s been a-inquiring about j Mr. Noel, an’ Jim Vowler have a- j offered to wager half-a-crown to zlx- j pence that she’m Mrs. Noel. Zo far | he haven’t found no takers, vor in ; these days nobody haven’t a-got | money to lose.” The startled look came back into ' Carston’s eyes. “A foreign woman,” he cried. “What sort of a woman?” “Young, zur, an’ amazing handsome to a man -what never seen a foreign woman before. She'm golden as an apricot on a south wall, with hair that he marvellously dark, an’ her tongue twists English words about in a way that, while puzzlin' to plain ears, is real likeable. Comes from the great continent ov Africa, or so I’d understand.” John Carston did not continue bis inquries. Forgetting his telegram he passed out into the street, and entering his car turned it round and moved off in a direction contrary to his home. ' “So Mayhew is back,” he muttered. “And if he’s seen Margaret, there’s trouble ahead. And that woman at the Mayhew Arms —” Just then he flashed passed the village hostelry where a group of gossipers stood, and his eyes swept the windows for any sign of the visiting stranger. He saw none; but on his face there came a perplexed, thoughtful look, and a few minutes later, as he swung through the gateway opening to Mr. Melford’s property, again he spoke his thoughts aloud. “That’s the way out! The marriage must be hastened. It’s the only way.” When he drew up in front of the house, Mr. Melford himself came out to meet him; with words of welcome that were denied by the clouded look on his face. ■'Hallo, Carston, back again? Very glad to see you. When did you come?” "Just arrived, in time to hear disconcerting news.” "Ah! You’ve heard that Noel Mayhew—-** “Yes!” “I don’t know that he need trouble you, Carston,” answered Mr. Melford, with a cheerfulness that was not simulated. "He’s married you know, and so quite out of the way. “Married! Oh, yes. of course! . . .

Ki does Margaret know that he is back?” “Yes! She's seen him I believe; also she's seen Mrs. Noel, who is here looking for her husband. So you need not let him worry you. Margaret was Hue and angry when she returned, and I don't envy Noel Mavhew if Margaret spoke her mind, as I rather fancy she did. Carston whistled softly to himself, tie could not quite understand the position, but he deliberately refrained from inquiring into it more closely. “Margaret at home?” he asked No. She had an engagement to dme over at Marnhull—Carews, and went off 20 minutes ago. She didn’t l eally want to go. but she has pride, and, well . . . er ” “I understand. I’m sorrv she's not about. 1 wanted to talk to her about our marriage. It has occurred to me that it might be wise to hasten it a little ” Mr. Melford nodded and smiled. “I think you won’t find any difficulty —now," he answered. “As i remarked, Margaret has her pride and the meeting with Noel Mayhew’s wife has keyed it up a little. I imagine she will be quite willing to fall in with your wishes, and so to make her own score. All women are like that more or less; and Margaret is very human.” A little look of relief came in Carston s hard eyes. He considered a moment, then he said; “I’ll run over again about nine o’clock, and wait till

Margaret’s return, then 1 can talk it over with her ” “My dear Carston, is it really so urgent as that? To-morrow— —” “To-morrow it may be necessary for me to return to town. That Is why I suggest to-night.” “Oh. in that case, of course, Carston. Then I will look for you at nine o’clock, unless you care to take potluck and dine with me.” “No, thank you, Melford; I must run along to the Hermitage. There are things there awaiting my atten“All right. I understand. Till nine o’clock, then!” <i y es.” Carston returned to his car, and once more took his way In the direction of the village. It was gl ow mg dusk as he passed through, but he did not stop to light his lamps, and as he passed the Mayhew Arms a second lime his eyes swept the front pai;ticm larly the upper rooms, wlieie guests were accommodated, but again vithOU Lo r S e t SU in S th OU ght. he drove onward, • vin"• little regard to the few pedesfria ? on the road and so it fell that a S‘ and a half outside the village a foot passenger who was also absorbed, disaster was so narrowly avoided, that tor one staggering moment Carston thought it had actually befallen. The pedestrian, a woman, just touched by thei car, fe mo the brambles at the side of the road with a sharp cry, and Oarstom

hastily stopping the car, ran back. When he reached the woman she was just lifting herself from the bushes, and relieved to find that she was able to do so, Carston gave her a hand to help. Just there the trees overhung, . and the dusk was more pronounced I than at other parts of the road, and, | as he spoke to her apologetically, he 1 leaned forward to look into her face. | “I’m awfully sorry ”he began, and then broke off, as a gasp came from the woman, and as she flung up her hands to her face. The gasp, and the woman's odd action, quickened his alarm again. “I hope you're not badly hurt.” he continued, hastily. “It was my fault. I own. 1 ought to have ; had the lamps lit.” . Another gasp, and then a sob came t to his ears, as he waited for the l j woman to speak. She did not do so, | ; and her silence gave rise to a sudden j feeling of irritation. J "Why don’t you speak, woman?” he demanded. “If you’re hurt, say so, and j I’ll drive you to the village. J Still there was no response beyond j a tumultous sobbing, and with his irj ritation turning to alarm again, he suddenly produced a silver match-box, , and striking a vesta, held it toward the ! woman to get a better view of her face. I- As he did so, the woman dropped her hands, giving him a full view of her ’ face. On the instant, Carston stagt gered back, and the vesta slipped from [ his Angers to the ground. i “My God!” he cried. “You —Lisa!” i “Ja'l Noel—I! I haf at last found you, when I had der hope given up. I Why did you not come to me? For , dees years I haf waited; und twice haf I thought I find you, when I haf j had der bitter disappointment. But 3 I am sure—so sure you are not dead; 3 dat you live somewhere, und dat some i day I shall you find; und now ” i The sound of a motor horn up the i road broke on her words, and some ’ distance away there showed the glare - of head-lights. As he swung round i j and saw them, Carston developed a r sudden masterful energy. I I “Quick!” he said. “Into the wood

there. I’ll be back here in two hours, and then we can talk things over.” “But, Noel, you will not me leave ” “I tell you I am coming back. Just now I’m in a mighty hurry. I have to get somewhere in a given time, but I will come back here about eight o’clock. I won’t fail. You must excuse me now, Lisa. I must light up the car before ” He did not finish the sentence, but hurried away, leaving her standing there in the shadow of the trees. With an odd look on her face the woman remained where she was, without any attempt to follow him, watching him while he lit the lamps. The on-coming car drew nearer, and as it swept by John Carston caught a glimpse of the beautiful features of Margaret Melford. A savage look came on his face as he | looked back toward the place where he had left the Creole woman. “If I’d knocked her clean out,” he muttered hoarsely, “instead of ” The great fan of light from Margaret's car, illuminating the full width of the road, showed him the Creole standing in the shadow of the trees, a statuesque figure, the face almost tragical in its intensity, and as he stepped back into the driver’s seat, and the car began to glide forward, on Carston’s own face there was an almost murderous look. CHAPTER XVr. For a little time the Creole woman stood where she was in the shadow ot the trees, and then began to walk quickly in the direction of the village. Arrived there she made her -way to the sitting-room at the Mayhew I Arms, and the landlady turning up the lamp was a little startled by the look upon her face. “You seem pleased, ma’am!” she said in the way of her kind. “Ja! Yes as you say. I haf my husband found, after der long waiting.” The landlady nodded. “I heax-d that I Mr. Noel was back, ma'am. The news | came down from the Court. I supI pose you’ll be joining your husband now?” An odd look came on the Creole’s face. "But, of course,” she said in a voice that struck the landlady as a little odd. “In a little while I go to meet him.” It crossed the landlady’s mind that it was a little strange that two people so long separated, having met, should have pai-ted so quickly, but she offered no comment, and then the Creole seated herself at a table and began to write a letter. “I want a messenger to take a j letter for me. You can one find?” “Of course, ma’am!” | “At once he must go. It is of der | very great importance.” j “Very well, ma’am! If you will let | me have the letter I will see that it j goes off at once." j The letter took a very short time j to write; and when it was sealed and | addressed the landlady took it and

left tlie room. Outside she paused to read the address on the envelope. “Herr Noel Mayhew, Mayhew Court.” That done, she offered comment.

“Can’t have spoken to him yet. It is a queer sort of business, but there! the way of foreigners be past finding out.” She sent the note, and did not return to the sitting room, where the Creole was pacing to and fro, to and fro, in a state of extreme restlessness of mind. Presently, however, the woman seated herself, and, catching up a handful of papers which the landlady had thoughtfully placed there in her absence, made an effort to read. In the first two papers she found nothing to rivet her attention, hut she took up the third. At the first glance she sat like one transfixed. The paper was some daj's old, and happened to be a copy of the illustrated journal which Barringley had shown to Noel Mayhew at Ply-

I mouth, and for her, as for Noel, all | thb interest of it centred in the porI traits of Carston and Margaret Mel!lord. She stared at them for a moment unbelievingly. She read Carston’s name aloud, and then whispered quickly to herself: “But —but”— As she broke off, an almost tigerish gleam came in her dark eyes, and the incredulous look on her face gave place to one of swift comprehension. “Ach!” she cried, “so dat is it. So dat is why I find him not, why I go looking all der time for anoder mans.” Then her face hardened. “But we will see. Ja, I will not like der old shoe be left. Nein, nein! John Carston, you will not marry dat pretty fraulein, for I shall her see, und I shall her tell dat you are mine, mine! Ach! Dat you should treat me so. But we will see. Ja, we will see, und dat right soon.” There was a resolute look on her face, and twin flames of wrath burned in her dark eyes, when a little later she left the inn,

taking the illustrated paper with her. Without looking to right or left she passed down the village street and into the darkness beyond, and presently she arrived at the rendezvous arranged by Carston, which was marked by a white wicket gate giving entrance to the wood, and situated under the overhanging trees. Then she began to pace restlessly up and | down the road, being at least twenty minutes too early for the appointment. It was not quite dark, and except for an occasional movement of some small creature in the wood, the place was deadly quiet, but she did not seem to mind the darkness and the stillness. To and fro she paced, to and fro, driven by restless thoughts which would not allow her to remain still for more than a minute at a time. Once when an owl hooted she stood still to listen, and again when a rabbit, caught by a weasel, screamed like a child, she stood, and was shaken by a sudden tremor, then once more I she resumed her restless pacing. The j

clock in the village tower began to chime, and then struck the hour, slowly, with the leisurely strokes ot such clocks, and she stood to count the strokes. “Eight!” she whispered, and looked up the road in the direction whence she expected the man to come. “It is der hour. Himmel, if you do not come, John Carston.” There was a sound in the wood behind her, and as she swung round, the latch of the white gate clicked, and like a shadow she saw a man’s form moving toward her. “Is it you?” she asked in a sharp whisper before he reached her. “Yes, Lisa,” he answered. “Here on the stroke.” “Und dat is well for you—mein bus band.” Something in her tone made Car- j ston look at her curiously as He ! reached the place where she awaited him, but in the shadow he could no ; I see her face well, and he was left to ! j conjecture what had caused the

| change in her since their meeting an ; hour or two before- He did not, how- | ever, allow it to trouble him unduly. 1 but in a familiar fashion he took her arm. “Let us go through the woods.” he said. “It is a short way to my house.” The Creole did not know that the i words were a lie, meant to lure h»r | away from the highway, where there ! was danger that someone might come ! along and see them together, or overhear the things that might be said: and she suffered he—=elf to be led to the white gate. They passed through together, and, following a grassy patn, | plunged into the darkness of the wood. Presently, though the woman ! did not know it, they left the path, j and entered a natural glade, where ! tall trees overhung, a single star shining through the autumn leafage, ! and when they had this, and were deep in undergrowth on the furi ther side. Carston came to a sudden | halt. j (To be Continued on Monday)