The DESTROYING ANGEL

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 819, 13 November 1929, Page 5

The DESTROYING ANGEL

BY

LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE

copyright by Public l-cdgcr.)

CHAPTER HI (Continued) Turning away from the centre of the town, they traversed slowly long streets of residences set well back behind decent law ns. Warm lamp-light mocked them from a hundred lonely windows. They passed few people •' pair of lovers; three bareheaded stealing girls in short, light frocks strolling with their arms around one another; a scattering of men hurrying home to belated suppers. The gul lagged with weariness.

Awakening to this fact. Whitaker slackened his impatient stride and quietly slipped her arm through his. -Is it much farther?” she asked. I -No —not. now.” he assured her. ! with a confidence he by no means | felt. I lie was beginning to realise the ' tremendous difficulties to he overcome. It bothered him to scheme a way to bring about. the marriage without attracting an appalling amount of gratuitous publicity, in a community as staid and sober as this.

He who would marry secretly should i not select a half-grown New- England j city for his enterprise . . . However, one rarely finds any j really insuperable obstacles in the l way of an especially wrong-headed j project. Whitaker, taking his heart and his | fate in his hands, accosted a venerable gentleman whom they encoun- \ tered as he was ou the point of turning off the sidewalk to private i grounds. "I beg your pardon," he began. ‘‘There is something T can do for you?” he inquired with punctilious courtesy. | "If you will he kind enough to direct me to a minister . . .” "I am one." | "I thought so,” said Whitaker. I "We wish to get married." "A FOOL'S BARGAIN" The gentleman looked from his face ; to the girls, then moved aside from the gate. • This is my home.” he explained. TViTI you be good enough j to come in?”

• Conducting them to his private j study, he subjected them to a kindly ; catechism. The girl said little, 1 Whitaker taking upon himself the ; brunt of the examination. Absolutely 1 straightforward and intensely sincere, ; he came through -the ordeal well, 1 without being obliged to disclose < what he preferred to keep secret. The j : minister, satisfied, at length called in ; 1 ! the town clerk by telephone, who j ; j issued the licence, pocketed his fee. j | and, in company with the minister's ■ ! wife, acted as witness. ... I And they were man and wife. The i \ door had closed, the gate-latch clicked j ' j behind them. They were walking i | quietly side by side through the i l scented night. Man and wife! Bride and groom. 1 'already started on the strangest, ]■ : shortest of wedding journeys—from ! the parsonage to the railroad station! j Neither found anything to saj r . They walked on. heels in unison , pounding the wet flagstones. They arrived at the statiou. Whit- | aker bought his wife a ticket to New j

York and secured for her solitary use a drawing room in the sleeper. When that was accomplished, they had still a good part of an hour to wait. They found a bench on the station platform, and sat down. Whitaker possessed himself of his wife’s handbag long enough to furnish it with »a sum of money and an old envelope bearing the name and address of his law partner. He explained that he would write to Drummond, who would see ! to her welfare as far as she would i permit—issue her an adequate monthly allowance and advise her when she should have become her own mistress once more: in a word, a widow. “MRS. WHITAKER” She thanked him briefly, quietly, with a contraint he understood too well to resent. People began to gather upon the platform, to loiter about and pass up and down. Further conversation would ! have been difficult, even if they had found much to say to one another. Curiously or not, they didn't. They [ sat on in thoughtful silence.

Both, perhaps, were sensible of some relief when at length, the train thundered in from the east, breathing smoke and flame. She caught him suddenly by the shoulders with both her hands. Her eyes sought his with a wistful courage he could not but admire. “You know I'm grateful . . “Don't think of it that way—though I’m glad you are.” I “You're a good man,” she said ; brokenly. i He knew himself too well to be able J to reply. | “You mustn’t worry about me, now. | You’ve made things easy for me. I | can take care of myself, and ... I i shan’t forget whose name I bear.” He muttered something to the effect I that he was sure of that. She released his shoulders and stood back, searching his face with i ; tormented eyes. Abruptly she offered him her hand. “Good-bye,” she said, her lips quiv- . ering—“Good-bye, good friend!” He caught the' hand, wrung it . clumsily and painfully and . . . real-

[ ised that the train was in motion. He i had barely time to get away. . . . He found himself on the station platfrom, stupidly watching the rear : lights dwindle down the tracks and • wondering whether or not hallucinations were a phase of his malady. A sick man often dreams strange dreams . . . A voice behind him. cool with a trace of irony, observed: L “I'd give a good deal to know just what particular brand of damn fool- ; ishness you’ve been indulging in this time.” He whirled around to face Peter [ Stark —Peter quietly amused and very [ much the master of the situation. “You needn’t thiDk,” said he, “that t you have any chance on earth of escaping my fond attentions. High. I’ll go to the ends of the earth after * i you, if you won’t let me go with you. 1 I’ve fixed it up with Nelly to wait until I bring you home, a well man, - before we get married; and if you refuse to be my best man—well, there t j won’t lie any party. You can make up - , your mind to that.’’

It was one o’clock in the morning I before Whitaker allowed himself to be persuaded; fatigue re-enforced j every stubborn argument of Peter Stark's to overcome his resistance. It was a repetition of the episode of Mary Ladislas recast and rewritten; the stronger will overcame the admonitions of a saner judgmentWhitaker gave in. Peter put him to bed, watched over him through the night, and the next morning carried him on to New Bedford. where they superintended the outfitting of Peter's yacht, the Adventuress. Beyond drawing heavily on his bank and sending Drummond a brief note, Whitaker failed to renew communication with his horn* 1 Within the week the Adventure, s j sailed. (To be continued tomorrow)