The Courage of love

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 930, 25 March 1930, Page 5

The Courage of love

MADAME ALBANESI

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER X. “Never seen him before,” answered the manager. “I take it lie is a Colo- ! nial of some sort. I thought at first he was a.ll American, but he doesn’t speak with an American accent. Got plenty of money I fancy. Tipped pretty lavishly, and did himself very well. He’s only been here a couple of days, you know.” “Did you see the young* lady who came to see him 011 business this morning?” “I just caught sight of her. I don’t know who she was, but she was a very charming, pretty girl. Air. Townley gave orders that she was to wait in the lounge, and then, as I believe you have just been told, she went away with him in the car to London.” “What type of man is he?” queried Waverley, trying to keep his voice as calm as he possibly could. “Oli you know the sort. Air. Waverley! I should say lie’s a man who has got rich suddenly. Not over refined, but lie’s good-tempered and goodhumoured, and I think he made himself popular here. But that was, of course, because as I have just told you, he was very lavish with tips, and money always talks!” “I suppose you don’t know where 110 came from? iam not asking for idle curiosity,” Hugh Waverley added, “it is very necessary that I should know something about Air. Townley.” “He came from town. He hadn’t engaged a room and we fitted him up j with the best room at our disposal, and he told me that he had certain business to do down here, and he would be staying about a couple of days. Beyond that I don’t know anything about him. I daresay we could find out.” “Oh, I won’t bo titer you,” the younger man said, hurriedly. “I’ll find out all I want to know.” Just before they were parting, the manager said: “There was a lady here to see him yesterday, and I think she came in from one of the neighbouring villages because I recognised the man in whose i car she came. I believe he hangs out at a place called Rexbury, that’s somewhere near where you are working, isn’t it?” “Oh yes. lam sorry I have missed Townley, 1 rather wanted to have seen him.” After that short talk with the hotel manager, Waverley went away. He got into his car, and drove through the | streets of the old-fashioned town he j now scarcely recognised. He was a I man faced suddenly with a terrible s disaster. 1 Of course, it was 110 doubt foolish

Author of “ Love’* Harvest,” ' The Road to Love,” ‘‘The Way to Win,’-' etc.. »t«.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

of him to rush to conclusions so swiftly, but he could not put aside the convicition that, for a time at least, Diana was separated from him. Ilis heart was a jumble of fear, of anguish, of the most acute anxiety. What was passing with her? Why had she gone to London? Why had she agreed to go to London? In some way or other he must trace out this man Townley He must get in touch with this girl whom he loved so devotedly, so passionately, so reverently with all thai was best in liis heart, and his nature. After a while he found himself drawing nearer to Rexbury, and then his thoughts switched just a little away from his own overwhelming feelings to the shock he would have to give Agatha Thorp. She had let him see liow broken she was. She had also spoken so beautifully about Diana, and that in itself would have given her a claim to his consideration. Moreover, despite the fact that on all sides he had heard she had been a very grim and hard guardian to the girl he loved, he realised now that there must have been depths of feeling in this unattractive woman, which probably she had never grasped she possessed until now. When lie pulled up at the gate of the Thatch House, lie saw Airs. Thorp standing almost where he had left her under the trees. Susan Thorp, looking out of her bedroom, saw him alighting from his car, and made haste to go downstairs She had only just come in from her favourite tennis, and she had not seen her mother. So she was all ignorant of the big* events that were passing, and she almost persuaded herself she was foolish to imagine anything of a tiresome nature was connected with her mother’s indisposition. When she got downstairs, however, she found that Hugh Waverley had j gone through the front garden to the j back, and was speaking to her mother earnestly. Her mother was facing! l>»r, and as she heard the cry that j c% ne from Agatha Thorp’s lips, and saw the expression on her mother’s face, Susan broke for a brief spell out of her usual self-concentrated con dition, and stood still. Then she saw her mother sway, and almost fall forward, and she saw Hugh Waverley put his arms about that faltering figure, and hold it in close support. Then Susan ran forward. “What is it? What’s the matter, mother?” she cried, shrilly. “Are you ill?” It was Waverley who answered her. “Bring a chair!” he said. “I cannot hold your mother much longer; she must sit down. As the chair was brought, and poor Mrs. Thorp sank into it, her face grey and drawn, Susan broke out into questions again. And once more it was Hugh Waver--1 ley who answered her. “Your mother is terribly upset, Miss Thorp.” he said. “Your cousin. i Aliss Ladbroke, has been taken away ! from her. and as yet we do not know j where she has been taken. I think you had better look carefully after | Airs. Thorp. She has had a great i shock, and to me, she appears very | ill.” i With that Hugh Waverley turned

and walked away, his heart crying out j as he did so lor a glimpse of that fair, graceful, lovely figure which only a | few hours before he had held in his arms, pressed closely to his heart. j It was quickly realised by everybody j in Rexbury that the disappearance ot Diana Ladbroke was something more than a shock to her aunt; in fact, it worked most disastrously on Agatha Thorp, and one day Ellen had come in great concern to Susan Thorp and told her that her mother was speechless and unable to move. Though people were so very kind in the neighbourhood, Susan was not drawn any closer to her mother. In fact, she was furious with her mother for keeping her in ignorance of all that had happened to take her to Middleston, and of all that had passed between herself and Diana after be.return from the town. The fact, too, that everybody in the neighbourhood was not only concerned, but distressed about Diana, was not a particularly pleasant matter for Susan Thorp, and, in particular, the knowledge now that Hugh Waverley was deeply, devotedly in love with her cousin, constituted a kind of wrong-doing to herself. For she had been particularly kind to this young man, and she had let him so easily see that she was quite prepared to not only be a friend, but something more. And to be put on one side by Diana, of whom she was always jealous, and to realise that she was uo more than a piece of wood to Hugh Waverley, constituted enough to make Susan very biter, jealous and angry. Of course, she had to appear very attentive to her mother, who lay stricken with paralysis, but in reality Susan got away from the house as often as she possibly could, and poor Agatha Thorp was left to the care of Ellen and the trained nurse. The one who came more frequently to inquire for her was Hugh Waverley. He always hoped, almost against hope, that there might be some word, some line, some suggestion of what had happened to the girl, but nothing ever was given to him. The anxiety, the suffering worked almost disastrously on Hugh Waverley. Of course, he kept to his work because he was glad to be occupied, but he carried it on almost feverishly. His mother, when she heard from him that he was in deep distress, at once came to be with him and to take care of him. It was very sweet for Waverley to have his mother with him, hut s'he was powerless to lift his spirits, or i to give him any real comfort; in fact she grieved about him unceasingly. | And at last she turned to the people [ for whom her boy worked, and opened j her heart to them. And when they j heard of his condition and of the cause, the heads of this big firm at once declared that Hugh Waverley I must have a complete holiday for a j time. | Naturally there were all kinds of suggestions and theories prevalent in I Rexbury to account for this strange j disappearance. Everyone wanted to ‘ I be of help, but no one knew exactly | where to start. And when his mother j urged him to go right away, and stay | for a time In London, Hugh Waverley fell in with her suggestion eagerly. CHAPTER XI. ! Assuredly matters had not worked j out as Townley had expected. To begin with, he had prepared himself S to meet a perfectly ignorant, country-

educated girl; one, too, who would no douht he cowed and oppressed by her life associated with such a difficult and hard woman as Agatha Thorp. Before, he had gone tp. Middleston and launched the beginning of his attack, he had secretly made himself well acquainted with the character of Mrs. Thorp and with much else that belonged to the life lived at the Thatch House, Rexbury. He had already learnt a good deal about Agatha Thorp’s peculiar disposition by reading most carefully the papers which had passed into his control after the death of James Ladbroke. He had found in them that there had been very bitter correspondence between the brother and sister | touching Ladbroke’s marriage, and un- j doubtedly the dead man would never | have placed his girl in his sister’s ■ care , if there had been any other way ( for him in which to ensure her pro- j tection. Consequently having a pre- ! conceived idea of Agatha Thorp's nature and character he was, as has just been said, prepared to meet a very different type of girl from that which Diana proved to be. It could be safely said that the strong, fearless way in which the girl had attacked him, and more still her determination not to have her will set aside, even by taking such a risk as almost inviting a tragic conclusion to her fall from the car, proved to Townley that he had a very difficult person to deal with. And the part that annoyed him was that Henry Burke, the man who stood in with him, his fellow conspirator, lost no chance in putting before Townley the dangerous position in which they were situated.

While Diana still lay unconscious 1 upstairs, Townley went on pacing to and fro the long room. And Burke continued nervously, and peevishly, to express his extreme doubts as to what would be the result for them of this breakdown in their plans. Like Townley, he had prepared himself to meet an ignorant, foolish, unprotected girl, one who could be blustered and threatened into signing any paper, or doing anything that they determined she must do. The sight of Diana’s still, white face, with the blood running from her head, had unnerved Henry Burke, and as 1 he listened to his partner letting hi 3 | temper get the better of him, his ap- | prehension and his discomfort inI creased. j As Townley continued to walk up j and down the long room, having first | J mixed himself a very strong dose of whisky and soda, the man called Burke | was sitting in a big chair that was put , ! in the window that led on to a veran- : | dah. He was supposed to be reading j i a newspaper, but his hands trembled, ; ! and he kept looking in a furtive way j at the other man who was striding to ! j and fro. j Suddenly Townley stopped. I “Where’s Francis?” he asked. { Burke shrugged his shoulders. | "Who knows? Playing the fool I | round London somewhere,” he said, i “I told him he was to be here. He ; i knew I was coming back today, and he j | knew that I was bringing this Lad- j j broke girl with me.” j (To be Continued Tomorrow.) 1