THE BANNANTYNE SAPPHIRES

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 770, 17 September 1929, Page 5

THE BANNANTYNE SAPPHIRES

BY

FRANK HIRD

FOR NEW READERS Gervase Daynesford, head of a great stockbroking firm, is about to take into partnership Guy Meredith, the orphaned son of an old friend. Guy is engaged to Daynesford’s daughter. Patricia, and the partnership was to be his wedding present. On the day before the articles are signed Daynesford tolls Guy that by rash speculation he has brought about the ruin of the firm, which in a few weeks will cease to exist. That same night klenry Bannantyne and his wife Alice art; giving a ball in honour of Patricia and Guy. Henry Bannantyne is a wealthy banker and a cousin of Daynesford’s, and he and his wife have introduced Patricia into society and practically adopted her. Daynesford begs Guy not to let Patricia hear of the disaster until after the ball, and Guy agrees. On his way down to join Patricia, Guy meets Maxwell Wryce and his sister Julia, and Lady Latohmere, all friends of the Bannantyne?, who will be at the ball. Feeling unfit for company, however, he travels alone. He finds Patricia, and she detects at once that he is worried. He evades the question, being unable to tell her of the disaster that has overtaken them. Pretending to be cheerful. Guy takes Patricia on to the ball. They are received by Mrs. Bannantyne. who is wearing a sapphire necklace of immense value. Mrs. Bannantyne is suddenly attacked by violent headache, and lias ! o go to bed. She asks Patricia to help her put away her necklace in a *afe, the whereabouts of whicn are known only to herself and her husband. The safe requires two people to it. When Patricia and Guy return home in the early hours of the morning th®* notice with surprise that the hgnts a still burning. Guy goes ford s study and comes out marieai}, barring Patricia's way into the ro °E • She notices with horror that one or ms hands is covered with blood. CHAPTER 111 (Continued) Meredith looked older, years older, thought the elder man, and lie was beginning to look tired, too. But *hat a time he had gone through, and with what pluck! A pity he was so pig-headed over this Mexican business. Really, it was the one point in all the hideous muddle Gervase Daynesford had left behind him, on "’hich Meredith and Patricia showed no common sense. Sorry as he was for both of them, Meredith's belief that a considerable sum of money could be made out of Daynesford’s Mexican property and Patricia’s belief in Meredith’s opinion, made Bannantyne impatient. “Drop the matter. Guy!” he said. “Cut it right out! The moment you do, as you know', there’s a place ft>r J’ou in my office. I can’t, have anybody here peddling in stuff like that. It's suspect.” Meredith set his lips, shaking his

head. “It’s the only chance of getting' a single penny for Patricia. I don’t mind about myself,” he said. “There’s still a month before the authorities out there seize the property for the taxes. I shall go on trying to get the money until the last minute.” “In that case,” said Bannantyne in his curtest business manner, “we will leave the question of your coming into thq office until that, month is over. And we won’t mention this rotten business again.” “Of course not,” Meredith answered, rising from his chair. Bannantyne’s refusal to lend him the money to pay the taxes was the heaviest blow he had had in the dreary months since Gervase Daynesford's death. Its definiteness left no chance of appeal. But he gave no sign of the dismay and disappointment which gripped him as he held cult his hand to say good-bye. *“Well, I suppose we shall see you and Patricia at Brentland for the { week-end,” Bannantyne said in his j | usual kindly way. I “Not this week. I'm afraid. Pat--1 vicia has to give lessons both on Saturday and Sunday, and I don’t like ' i leaving her to spend evenings all alone in London.” Bannantyne could not control a j sudden movement of impatience. “There would be no need for her to earn her living,” Bannantyne blurted out hotly, “if she would be sensible and make her home with us at Brentland, as Alice and I want her to.” Meredith saw a well-known sign. Bannantyne’s eyelids were blinking UP and down. He was getting really angry. , They were standing on the hearthj rug, and, anxious to avoid the repe--1 tion of a scene he had gone through many times before, the young man turned toward the door, saying: “Well. I must be off, I’m wasting I your whole morning.” ; Bannantyne looked at the strong i young face. He was not an imagtna- | tive man. but it seemed to him that i Meredith looked even more tired and worn than when he had come into the room. With a sudden compunction he put his hand on Meredith's “I’m very sorry, Guy, I ve dragged this up again. But Alice is so unhappy about Patricia. She worries about her all day long. Do you think vou could persuad* her to change her mind and come to Brentland just for Alice’s sake?” “It would be useless, absolutely useless. even beginning to try,” was Meredith’s answer as he opened the door and went out. At first, the chaos of Daynesford's affairs had seemed beyond unravelling. Meredith worked night and day ; at the office, tracing every transaction. ' following up every record for several i vears back until he had worked out j i a statement of affairs. As Bannan-

ty no himself admitted to his wife, but | for Meredith, Daynesford’s estate j would have been declared bankrupt, j That statement proved Daynesford ! and Daynesford to be just solvent, and no more, except for £3,000 owing; to Bannantyne’s bank. Bannantyne j paid that money out of his own j pocket to save Patricia the distress of bankruptcy following her father’s suicide. Arlstone Lodge, everything, had to be sold. Even a small fortune left to Patricia by her mother had been ! swept away in the maelstrom, save j for one investment which produced £SO a year. There was nothing else! besides the property in Mexico. I This, Henry Bannantyne considered; one of the “maddest of Gervase’s wildcat schemes.” It was the only »asset left to Come under a clause in Daynesford’s will dividing the residue of his property between Patricia and Meredith. To Mrs. Bannantyne’s distress her husband made no secret of his opinion of the dead man. In the weeks immediately following the tragedy, I when Patricia had been at Brentland, Mrs. Bannantyne was on tenterhooks lest her husband should voice the in- [ tense contempt he now felt for her father before the girl herself. Bannantyne was too fond of Patricia to hurt"her wilfully, but although ho re-; strained his caustic criticism when 1 she was present, his silence or abrupt change of conversation whenever her j father’s affairs were mentioned were as eloquent to the girl as if he had spoken outright. Within a few days of his tragic end

she realised that Henry Banna7ityne condemned her father and despised him. The realisation came as an outrage to her love and loyalty. Patricia and Henry Bannantyne had always been very good friends, but now a resentment against him grew steadily in her mind, a feeling which had its beginning when Meredith had first broken the news of her father’s ruin. “But surely, couldn’t Henry Bannantyne have helped?” she asked. “That’s# what. I suggested, but your father said it would be useless to ask him.” The old story.” Patricia said bitterly. “Fine-weather friends!” “But, Patricia, think, Henry Bannantyne has been awfully kiud to you.” Meredith expostulated. “Yes, I daresay, but what is his kindness to me compared with what he could have done so easily, for Daddy? He could have saved him.” Meredith could say nothing. To defend, or even explain. Bannantyne’s attitude would have given Patricia the knowledge which, above all else, he wished to keep from her, the knowledge of her father’s blind folly. In her own case the folly amounted to crime because, except for the remaining pittance of £ 50 a year. Daynes-! ford had used her own private fortune which was in his trust. Patricia had loved her father more j tenderly, more devotedly than most daughters. And because she had had to take her mother's place in the house • there was something protective in her love. She could not understand how j anyone, and least of all Henry Ban-

nantyne, his own cousin. should hesitate for a moment to come to his help. Thus, because of her love for her father, and because Meredith dared not tell her the truth, the longer she stayed at Brentland the deeper grew her anger and contempt for Henry Bannantyne. Meredith himself did not realise the intensity of this feeling until the day when Gervase Daynesford’s financial position was definitely set out, and Patricia found herself with nothing in the world except the £ 50 a; year. That evening Mrs. Bannantyne. i with great tact and kindness, unfolded ] a plan to Patricia which actually she and her husband had made some weeks before. Briefly, Bannantyne proposed! to give Meredith a place in his bank, j It could only be a subordinate post' to start with, but the opportunities! were just as good as iu her father's | office, and although a partnership couldn’t be promised. Meredith had every chance, especially after his experience with Daynesford and Daynesford, of rising to a position which would enable him and Patricia to marry. Until that time came the Bannantynes wanted Patricia to make her home with them. To Mr. Bannantyne’s amazement, without a moment’s hesitation. Patricia said: “Oh, no! That’s impossible!” For a moment Patricia was touched by the distress in Mrs. Bannantyne’s kindly, gentle face, a distress which was eloquent in her voice. But it. was only for a moment. Rising abruptly from her chair she

went to the window and looked out over the wide distance of the Weald. It was hateful to be forced to hurt Alice Bannantyne. Alice was always so good and ever so kiud. But all that Alice liad came from her husband. Henry Bannantyne could have saved her father, but now he was dead he abused him . . . spoke most cruelly. Only yesterday Mary Latchmere had told her . . . Here Patricia's anger against Bannantyne flamed to a white heat. To remain at Brentland indefinitely meant that she would be living on Henry Bannantyne. After what lie had said about her father she would rather starve. If it weren’t for Alice she would never see him again. Then through the surging thoughts she heard Mrs. Bannantyne’s gentle voice behind her. “Impossible to live with us! My dearest child, but why?” Patricia turned, vehement, burning words on the tip of her tongue. CHAPTER IV. Patricia stopped the words on the tip of her tongue. She could not hurt Alice Bannantyne by telling her she re-

t seated Henry Bannantyne’s treatment . of her father. t “It’s awfully good of you, Alice,” she ; said. “But I could not do it. I must [ be independent.” “Independent?” I “Yes, I must earn my own living,” ? Patricia answered steadily. “My dear, dear child, don’t be so L foolish! What can you do? It sounds so easy, ‘Earn my own living,’ but - liow are you even going to begin? » You see. you’ve never been trained to do anything. Put the silly idea i out of your head, and come and be 1 : quiet and happy here, until Guy can l make you a home.” - “I shouldn’t be happy,” Patricia j said, steeling herself against the ap--5 ! peal in Mrs. Bannantyne’s voice. ? j “Not happy with us? Oh, Patricia!” There was a silence, then Mrs. Bannantyne. deeply wounded, moved to the other side of the fireplace. = Patricia looked out over the Weald. 1 “If you wouldn’t be happy here. Patricia, there’s nothing more to be said.” The gentle voice quavered as Mrs. Bannantyne added, “But whata ever you do, you will always look ? on Brentland as your home, won’t you?” “Of course I will,” Patricia cried.

Meredith shared Mrs. Bannantyue’s disfhay when Patricia told him of the offer and her refusal. To him, as to the Bannantynes, it seemed the j only solution of the tragedy created 1 by her father. It would be two j years, at least, perhaps longer, be f fore they could marry. Bannantyne j had been explicit on that point when

he offered Meredith a place in his bank. In these two years what was Patricia going to do? The thought recurred to him many times each day as the tale of Gervase Daynesford's losses grew disastrously longer. Often the same thought kept him awake a* night. And always he took refuge m the hope that “the Baanantyoes would do something. They must do something!" Now he felt that Patricia was burning her boats behind her. (T.. he continued tomorrow.)