The Bantyre Fortune FRANK PRICE

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1001, 18 June 1930, Page 5

The Bantyre Fortune FRANK PRICE

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CHAPTER XII.—TOGETHER. “That was perfectly true,” she said. “Then how' do you account for the fact that you showed you knew him when you saw him in the restaurant last night?” demanded Garfield raspingly. “Are you presuming to doubt my word?” She flashed round on him haughtily, “Why should I account to you for anything l say or do? I did answer ‘No,’ to a casual question—or what I thought was nothing more—as to whether I had any friends here. It never struck me to mention that, as I got out of my taxi at the office door, this gentleman saved me from being run into by a boy on a bicycle and”—her eyes went to Mark with a faint twinkle in them—“that I thanked him and offered to lend him a safety pin! As uot a dozen words passed between us, and T. never expected to see him again. I didn’t consider myself entitled to rank him as a friend—then!” “So!” murmured Hector, looking at Mark with new Interest. “He com trived a meeting with you immediately before you were to see us! And now he has thrust himself on you again with I don’t know what story to account. for his interest in your affairs——” “He has told me no story but what you have heard!” interjected Naomi sharply. “Then T will tell you a different one, my dear.” said Hector smoothly; "and mine will have the advantage of being true. He is no Fairy Prince bent on rescuing beauty in distress! He is a member of a gang of crooks who are scheming to blackmail Mr. Garfield and myself.” “Blackmail?” Naomi repeated the word in a shuddering whisper and there was a frightened look in her eyes as they sought Mark’s face. He faced her calmly. “Mr. Cousins is mistaken,’* lie said. "I am no blackmailer.” “Then wbat are you?” For once Hector’s voice was almost harsh. “Where did you get your information —if such a story as you have evidently heard can bo called information?”

“What story ai-e you talking about?” asked Naomi. “The lie that there was a. legal marriage between your mother and Henry M. Bantyre and that you are his legal heiress!” rasped Garfield, breaking in impatiently. “It is nothing but a clumsy falsehood vamped up by a set of swindlers in the hopes of frightening Mr. Cousins into buying their silence; and this puppy is either in league ■with them or baa got hold of the tale somehow and is trying to make capital out of it on his own account! Here, I’ll show you what he is worth!” He took a cheque book and a fountain pen from his pockets and swung round on Mark. “How much will you take down to clear out of this alone and never show your insolent face to any of us again?” He took the cap off his pen. and fluttered the leaves of the cbequrf book invitingly. Mark's lips curled scorn fully. “I am going to see justice done to Miss Bantyre and you could not buy me off with a million millions!” he said. Garfield laughed unpleasantly. “Fine words!” he SDeered, “but they butter no parsnips! I offer you something real. You had better accept it before l change my mind!” Again be fluttered the cheque book temptingly. Mark turned bis back on him and spoke to Naomi: “You said you would go with me. If you are ready we will start.” “1 am ready,” she said.’ As they moved toward the door Garfield backed, placing himself beside Cyprian, w-hose back was set solidly against it. But Hector Cousins issued a soft command: “Let them go!” Garfield glared at him, angrily. “Let them go w’here they will!” he said again, and Cyprian stepped unwillingly aside, “He has been speaking the truth. He is only a Fairy Prince after all, and can do us no harm. Let them have their dream together.” Garfield was still reluctant to move, but Mark swept him aside with a thrust of bis arm ami went out of the house w r itb Naomi. Looking round from the steps he saw that Hector bad crossed the hall and was at. the telephone. As they went, down the drive questions as to that oily person’s motives for allow'ing them to depart so easily began to assail him, but he ignored them in the joy of having Naomi at his side. "Give me your case,” he said and, feeling how light it was: “Is this ail the luggage you have?” “Oh, my boxes!” She stopped tragically. “They are packed aud ready in the bedroom! I must go back!” “Is it absolutely necessary?” he asked. “Of course! I can’t lose my clothes! There are only night things in the case!” “Well, that’s something,” said Mark laughingly. “You can get along for today and we will send somebody to collect the trunks as soon as we know- where we are.” “But will those people give them up?” "Of course. They are after bigger game than frocks and frilly things. But they might try to make trouble i£ w'e returned and, anyhow', it would be a waste of time that may be precious. I’m afraid dear Hector is doing his best to put difficulties ’ in our wmy already.” “How'? What can he do?” She glanced back, but they had passed round the bushes which hid the door of the house and nothing could be seen. "He w'as at the telephone before we were down the front steps. I | think I know to whom he was trying ! to speak, and if he got through he j may have prepared trouble ahead for ; me. it will be best for us to get away ; as fast as we can." j “I will do whatever you say,” she replied and they resumed their hurried walk down the drive. She looked at him expecting him to speak but did not. His lips were firmly set., there was a furrow of thought on his brow and his whole bearing expressed determination. The morning’s events had amazed and startled her but she was uot afraid. The mere sight of him striding along at her side gave her confidence. Then she noticed that he was wearing a different, suit from that of the previous day. and she laughed. “You and I seem doomed to have trouble about out' clothes when we meet!” she said, j "That’s so.- It hadn't, struck me.”

He gave her one of his merry smiles but his face was instantly grave again. “I have taken it for granted that there is nothing in your boxes that could be of use to those rotters,” he said. “No documents referring to youl- - and mother, I mean?” “Nothing. My mother left no papers that it seemed worth while to keep—of course there was her will but the lawyer in South Africa dealt with that —and as for my father, there was not even an old love letter from him. Mother seemed to have forgotten him —or wiped the memory of him from her mind. She never spoke of him, and I did not even know his Christian names until today.” ’“Yes, that is what l heard,.” he said. “Where did you bear it?” she asked quickly. “Who told you? How is it. that you and others seem to know so

much more about me than I know m self?”

“What 1 know is very little, thougl it is of tremendous importance,” b said. They had passed through tin gates, which had been left unlocked walked to the eud of the side turnin; in which the house stood, and wen now on a road skirting the common A disengaged taxi was approaching aud Mark signalled to the driver “We’ll take this,” Me said. "It will hi quicker to drive all the way. Wha was that hotel like you said you wen to on arrival yesterday? Would yot be satisfied to go back there?” “ft seemed quite comfortable,” sin replied and told him the address. They got into the cab, Mark ga\ . the man his instructions and the: drove off. For a minute or two Marl was silent. In truth, it was all b>

could do to control the feelings that were roused by finding himself seated so near to Naomi. He could feel her arm agaiust, his, aud each time the swaying of the vehicle made the touch more intimate the temptation to clasp her in his arms and cover her face with kisses was almost irresistible. “I wish I had a sister or a. cousin or an aunt I could fake you to!” he said abruptly.

“Why?” She was smiling in amusement at his gravity. “Do you think I need a guardian?” “No! It’s not on your account I wish it but on my own! You—you make mo afraid of myself!’ He turned his face from her, doubling up his hands so fiercely that the nails dug into the palms. There was a, momentary silence which she broke in a, whisper. “There is nothing to be afraid of. Treat yourself as I am ready to treat you.” “How is that?” he asked with averted face. “I trust you in all thiugs!” she whispered, and laid her hand on his. CHAPTER XIII. MEMORIES. There was a long silence while the taxi sped onward, and Mark Seymour fought a desperate battle with himself. Naomi’s avowal of faith had stirred him to the depths, and a flood of passionate words sprang to his Ups, only to be beaten back. At length, gaining control of himself, he said with a show of calmness that belied bis feelings:—■ “It is beautiful to know you trust me, but it only makes it the more necessary for me to prove myself worthy of your confidence, and for that I have work to do, I must save you from the villains who are plotting against you.” “But what is tbeir plot?” she asked. “I have heard disjointed scraps about a fortune, and wicked calumnies against my mother, but X don’t know what it all means.” “The fortune is yours by legal right as the daughter of Henry M. Bantyre,” he told her, “but to gain it you must have proof of his marriage with your mother.”

“But of course they were married! If you had known my mother—” “1 don’t doubt it,” he hastened to assure her, “but to satisfy the law you must have evidence that a judge wilt accept. The trouble is that the marriage was performed in some out-of-the-way place where no record would be kept. ■ There was a certificate. I believe your mother had it until somebody else got hold of it—probably by theft.” “Theft! When was that?”

“I don’t know. lam only guessing that there was a theft. Why do you ask?”

“Something was stolen from my mother ten years ago. She never told me —never even told me that she had been robbed, but I was sure she had been from the way she searched the house from top to bottom, and the anxiety she showed. I was afraid to question her. There were things she would not speak about, and I noticed her trouble after she had seen the man and he was gone.” “What man?”

“A stranger—a horrible, ragged tramp. I was coming home from afternoon school, and he was hanging about the street. When I went to the side door —mother kept a milliner’s shop—he came up and asked me who I was. When I told him, he gave me a message for mother. It was to say that Big Dave wanted a word with her.”

“Big Dave?” Mark repeated the name softly. Dave —David Grierson! Naomi’s story, and his experience of the previous night, seemed to be linking up. "Did she see him?” “I’m sure she did, but not then — or at least, not for longer than it would take to arrange a later meeting. She was startled when I gave her the message and told how the look of the man had frightened me; and she wouldn’t want to be seen talking to him or bringing him’ into the house. But late that night I was awakened by noises downstairs, and something made me creep to the door of my room and listen. M3' mother was taking a man into the sitting room behind the shop: he spoke, and I recognised the voice of the tramp. There was no mistaking it.” “Why ?” (To be Continued Tomorrow. l !