UNDER The SHADOW

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1062, 28 August 1930, Page 5

UNDER The SHADOW

Elizabeth York Miller

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CHAPTERS I. to lll.—Sir Ridge worth Bevans, the eminent specialist, informs David Lennox that he has not more than six months to live. David is apparently healthy, a wel-set-up young: man who has done his bit in the war. He leaves Harley Harley Street in a dazed condition. He and Enid Westmore, the only daughter of a man of good position, beautiful, rich, proud and spoilt, have a secret understanding. David Lennox is poor, but Adrian Westmore does not object to him on that count. Lennox has an invitation to Old Ways, Adrian’s country residence. He has been accompanied on his journey to the South Coast by a woman whom he has scarcely noticed, a beautiful brunette. After leaving Southampton, on the way to Stockley, she informs him that she is Adela Montrose, who lost her husband in the same engagement that had crocked up David. 'They were brothei* officers. David tells her of liis death sentence, and about rhe girl he loves. Jt is a shock to find she is also bound for Old Ways, and knows Enid. Her father, Westmore, as host at his own dinner table, tells the story of a man who hung himself because his doctor told him he had not a year to live. Mrs. Montrose blames the doctor. Enid, believing in the survival of the fit. surveys the matter loftily. David dreads his interview with Enid, although she has whispered to him that her father likes him. CHAPTERS HI. (CONTINUED) TO V. —Sir Lionel Hurst, a wealthy Jewish banker, seeks Enid in the library, and, merely alluding to David Lennox, tells her he wants to marry her himself. She laughs at him. While that is going on Lennox and Mrs. Montrose are chatting about his altered conditions, and he finally decides to write to Enid. A week or so later Enid is expecting David to afternoon tea. Six o’clock comes, but no David. A letter* from him is brought to her, on reading which she has every reason to consider herself jilted. She puts on her things to go out. Outside the house, while descending the steps, she hears a newsboy crying “Arl about the Westmore crash.” And “Millionaire goes bankrupt.” She buys a paper, and finds out that not only is her father bankrupt but his honour is at stake This then was the reason why David Lennox had jilted her. Sir Lionel Hurst is shown in. He makes it clear t<> her at last. He will help her father, and put him on his feet again if she will marry him, and Enid agrees. CHAPTER VI. TO VIII.—Sir Lionel Hurst leaves Adrian Westmore’s house in Bedford Square, npd goes straight to Miss Olive Gilder’s flat. She tells lnm that Adrian Westmore is asleep in the din-ing-room. Olivo is Westmore’s second wife, hut the marriage was kept secret. Ffe has become bankrupt in paying her debts Hurst tells her he is going to marry Westmore’s daughter, and that is the reason why he intends to clear her father’s name. 'He buys at once Olive’s flat and furniture as it David Lennox goes to visit Mrs. A V»ntrose. While there Mrs. Montrose’s sister, Olive Gilder, calls to tell her of the great char/es that are taking place. She is go Vg t / Europe immediately. After her si.Ve-'s departure Adela Montrose invites /evself to Share David’s home. Hearts -/aven. Sir Lionel presents Enid with a diamond

CHAPTER VI If. It was the morning of the next day and so quick and sure had Hurst’s aid come to Adrian Westmore that the

Author of “ Conscience,” “ Carry On,” “ The Brass Box,” etc., etc.

crisis was already over. Adrian, himself, lay ill in the flat which still nominally belonged to that strange and secret second wife of his, the woman who had so very nearly ruined him, and whom Sir Lionel had packed off to the Continent. Indeed, it is doubtful if Enid’s father quite comprehended all that was done for him. He was in a thoroughly dazed and broken condition, and could do no more than merely assent to Sir Lionel’s helpful suggestions. Enid had been assured that her father’s trouble was that which many rich men have-suffered, namely, unlucky speculations. He would be. pulled together in no time. “Poohi” said the hanker, “1 couldn’t count how often I’ve been on the brink of the prethepith. And look at me, now?”

Enid found it difficult to look at him without shrinking. Yet, as he said, a bargain is a bargain. She was too thoroughbred to try to get out of her share of it; too proud to acknowledge even to herself that her heart was broken utterly apd for ever. She let him put the heavy ring on her finger and suffered'him to kiss her hand afterward, while a strange wild look dwelt in her eyes. “You are very kind —very good, Lionel,” she murmured. “1 wonder how I can thank you for all you've done.” It would be caddish of her not to express some gratitude, but, oh, why must he take his pound of flesh?—the poor, shrinking flesh that was so unwilling to be taken. “You needn't thank me.” he replied cheerfully. “It’s all in the family, my dear, or soon will be. When are you going to make me the happiest man in the world, eh?” She fought back an inclination to cry out when he caught and kissed her. “I don’t know," she replied, choking a little. “So much depends on father ” “Oh, that’s all bunkum. Adrian’ll come along now like a houth aflre. Put on your hat and I’ll take you around to him. He’s only tired out, not really theedy.” Enid obeyed without, argument. It was a great relief to spend five minutes In her own room —anything to get away from Lionel Hurst. And she was going to spend the whole of her life with the man! When she came downstairs again he was waiting for her in the hall and they went out together to his car. On the way to Park Lane he e.v plained that he had only recently taken this new furnished flat: “Got it off a friend of mine who went broke,” he said. Enid was not specially interested, but it soon became plain to her that

the banker had had her in mind when he took the place. He must have been determined for some time back that she should marry him. Naturally she did uot know that he had only taken it yesterday, and on the spur of the moment. It would have surprised her still more had she known that her own father was legally responsible for that luxurious fiat. - They had put Adrian Westmore in what had been his wife’s bedroom, but the discreet maid, acting under Sir Lionel’s instructions, had removed a:! personal traces of her former mistress. She could not, however, obliterate the fact that it was a woman's room. Waxen-faced Adrian had never looked so out of place. Epid saw him for a few minutes when the doctor was announced, and she wandered forlornly into the adjoining boudoir, suffering from a sense of acute depression. The gorgeous place made her in tensely nervous. Beyond the boudoir was a large apartment that hail somewhat the appearance of a diningroom. except that couches and easy chairs were ranged along the walls, interspersed with several buffets on each of which stood arrays of decanters, syphons, glasses and boxes of cigars and cigarettes. The thick velvet carpet was covered with wine stains and the curtains gave forth a musty odour of stale tobacco fumes. The girl was inexperienced in such things, but it came to her that this room had been used for card-playing on a large and dubious scale. She left it, going into the hall, and there was the discreet maid in whispered colloquy with a woman. The two of them turned sharply when Enid appeared, and the girl recognised her friend, Adela Montrose. As Enid encountered her friend in the hall their surprise was mutual, but, Mrs. Montrose collected herself first. “Enid! How curious finding you here. Do you live here? f thought—” She gazed about with a Mttle air of helplessness. “No, this is Sir Lionel’s flat,” Enid replied. “Do you want to see him?” Mrs. Montrose had every reason to be evasive.

“Well, I’d better explain," she said, with a quick warning glance at the maid. “My sister has just given up a flat ill this building and I thought it was this one. She’s gone away and said she would be sending me a trunkfur of clothes and things. I’m going away myself this afternoon and so I came round to fetch the trunk to save bother.”

“Don’t you know?” Enid asked the maid.

The woman coughed. “Yes, miss. I’ll tell James to get the trunk. It’s already packed,” she replied.

Enid had never heard Mrs. Montrose mention a sister who lived in Park Laue, but after all it was none of her business.

As for Adela, she covered her embarrassment by pouncing on Enid's ring. "You're engaged!” she cried. “I can make one guess ”

“Yes, I’m going to marry Sir Lionel,” the girl sairl calmly. “And what about that dear boy 1 met at Old Ways, Billy’s friend? Somehow I felt you were in love with each other.” A wave of colour suffused Enid's cheeks, it hurt more to have Adela Montrose deal this chance blow than everything else which had’ gone before. And was it really a chauce blow? Adela’s manner was furtive, excited,

uneasy. One might almost call it guilty. Enid’s pride forbade her to lie. Sho tried to meet her friend's glance, but Adela's eyes were wavering. “David discovered that he didn't want, to marry me.” she said. “He found it out last night when father's failure was announced.” “Oh, how shameful!” Adela cried in mock indignation. “I shouldn't have dreamed he was like that. Well, you’ve better rid of him and certainly Lionel Hurst is madly in love with you. Oh. here comes my trunk. Good-bye, dear! I’m so glad to have seen you, if only for a few moments. I’m going away for the summer, down to a little hut in Devon that poor Billy left me, to rest and economise. Good-bye!”

Enid allowed herself to be kissed, but she did not return the embrace. Instinct told her that it had a Judaslike quality. She was frightened of herself, however, for harbouring such ungenerous thoughts. Why should Adela Montrose be glad that there was nothing between her and David? Why had she been sa nervous and evasive? Was it because of the trunk left for her by the mysterious sister she had never mentioned before? Undoubtedly that had contributed to the queerness of her manner. It might be, too, that she felt uncomfortable on Enid’s account, taking into consideration all the newspaper gossip about poor Adrian Westmore.

Yet Enid felt that It was really neither of these two things. Her mind went hack to the dinner that night at Old Ways. Once she had been very nearly certain that Adela and David had clasped hands under the table. Only it was manifestly absurd. .They had met for the first time that afternoon. David had explained their quickly-matured friendship on a perfectly rational basis —Billy Montrose had been his best friend. Then Enid remembered, too, how once when David and she were laughing over their possible poverty if her, father refused to consent to their marriage, and they took matters into their own hands, David had said that" at least they would have a roof over them. He told her all about the cottage in Devon which had been bought jointly by him and his friend, whom she now knew was Billy Montrose. The name of the cottage was Hearts’ Haven. This must be the “hut” that Adela meant. “No! —uo! —no!” her tortured heart cried furiously. Yet, after *ll. what did it matter? David had jilted her heartlessly just when she needed him most He hadn’t even waited to find out if the newspapers knew what they were talking about. There had been something peculiarly indecent in the haste with which he had sent that letter.

CHAPTER IX Sir Lionel bustled into the drawing room presently, whither Enid had botaken herself after Adela’s departure. He began to assure her that her father was, indeed, all right, only the doctor said he must remain quiet aud rest. It was quite unnecessary in the banker’s opinion to inform Enid just now that a lesipn in the brain was feared. She was relieved at what seemed lo be good news, and turned the conversation by telling him about Mrs. Montrose's calling for a trunk, and the maid evidently expecting her, or not surprised that, she had come. Hurst whistled softly between his

teeth. The maid may not have been surprised, but he was. He thought tie knew Olive Gilder fairly well, but the past 24 hours had opened his eyes to the fact that he did not know her at all. She had kept her secrets, and obviously her sister was ojae of them “Did you take this flat from Adela’s sister?” Enid asked. “I took it. from a—a woman,” he replied. “I didn’t know she was related to Mrs. Montrose.”

“Isn’t she a nice woman?” Enid asked in the blunt way for which she was famous.

“Now that's a pretty question for a child like you to put,” Hurst said indulgently. “It looks to me as though she had been running a gambling den.” Enid said.

“You’re tho clever!" “And what had father to do with her?”

The quickness of this took him fairly off his feet and he jumped. After all, he was atj heart a kind man and he did not want Enid to be hurt by unpleasant truths.

“Your f-father!” he stuttered. “Ask me another.”.

End pointed to a framed photograph on a table where it looked as though it had been standing for the greater part of its life.

“That’s a picture father had taken at Nice ages ago. I remember particularly because it was my first term at boarding-school, and I was terriblv homesick that I cried myself ill over a copy he sent me. He seemed so far away. I felt, somehow, that I'd lost him for ever. But he came back and took me to Old Ways and I had governesses after that. He said I should never be sent to school again, f remember how changed he was, too—so grave and ill-looking. Going away hadn’t done him a bit of good.” Before Hurst knew what she was about to do, she swooped upon the photograph to examine it and the frame more minutely. “This is French workmanship,” she asserted positively, “and down in the corner he’s written something—wait a minute—‘To Cara Mia, Jan., 1909.’ ” Hurst took the thing away from her. Well, what of it?” he demanded boldly. “Your father hasn’t spent all hith life in jail, has he?”

“I suppose this is what the papers meant when they hinted about ‘lnvestigations. This would be the disgrace that, threatened. He speculated or borrowed or did something he shouldn't to give money to that woman, whoever she is. I’ve more reason to be grateful to you than I realised.” “You’re too clever!” Sir Lionel stormed. “Dashed if I like it. One of these days you’ll be finding a photograph of me in thome lady’s drawing room, and there’ll be the deuth to pay.”

Enid tried to smile, but all the impudence, which was her greatest attraction, had gone out of her face.

Never before had the grim things of life touched her, although being a modern girl she knew that they existed. But it was difficult to realise that shadows could cloud her own horizon.

Hurst had ordered lunch to be prepared, and Enid and he ate it together on a bridge table in the drawing-room. Enid briefly explained her aversion for the dining-room, and her lover agreed with her. He would have the whole place done over, he said, once he was fairly established. Indeed. Enid should do it to suit herself.

With a valiant effort the girl succeeded in avoiding sinister topics, and

did her best to banish David Lenuox from her mind. She owed it to Lionel to meet his cheeriness half way. It was really a delicious lunch. Olive Gilder had employed a chef who understood his job thoroughly, and he was anxious to sustain his reputation with so well-known a gourmet as Sir Lionel HursL The banker ate ravenously, smacking his lips over the good things that he disposed of in rapid succession. But all the time his mind dwelt uneasily on something quite apart from food, and he made various suggestions to End as to how she should spend the afternoon.

They had nearly finished the meal when the door bell rang, and Hurst jumped quickly to his feet, still holding his table napkin. He appeared to be listening intently. Enid also listened, hut for what in particular she had not the least idea.

And then tlie drawing-room door opened and the butler ushered in a small, gnome-like man, with a great domed head, eagle eyes and a mouth that suggested clamped iron. His glance darted from Enid to Sir ( Lionel

Hurst and back again, and then he demanded irritably: “Well, well —where's the patient? Where's Dr. Corden? Why is my time being wasted like this?” There came another ring at the door bell, and laying his napkin on the table, Hurst said: “That must be the doctor, now. Are you Sir Ridge worth Be vans?” “I am. Who is this young lady?’* "Oh, excuse me .” In something of a flutter, Hurst introduced the famous specialist to Enid. The girl clasped her hands together and spoke appealingly. “Is my father worse? Are you going to have a consultation? Why wasn’t I told? All the time I thought it wasn’t anything serious, and now ” (To Be Continued Tomorrow.)

In Auckland neighbours judge each other by the colour of their washing. Be careful, therefore, to use No Rubbing Laundry Help and earn your neighbour's commendation. Lars* packets Is. Auckland grocers.—3.