UNDER THE SHADOW

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1067, 3 September 1930, Page 5

UNDER THE SHADOW

rvN, .

Elizabeth York Miller.

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

CHAPTER XVI. (Continued)

Now he has the cheek to say there’s no money. Well, if there is no money, who is providing for Enid? Olive will make him prove all that unless he gives her what she wants." David’s hands were clenched until the knuckles stood out whitely. "What are you trying to tell me?" he asked. "That Hurst or your sister is a thorough blackguard?" "Both of them, .1 should say?" Adela replied. # "And what, in heaven’s name, are you driving at?" he demanded. "I only wanted your advice, David. I am thinking of Enid. I happen to know that my sister’s marriage to Adrian Westmore wasn’t legal. He didn’t know it. though, and I don’t know what’s become of her first husband. I’m about the only person who can split on her. Hurst has apparently bagged Westmore’s fortune. But really I don't know what to think. It's all such a fearful muddle." She dropped her hands helplessly and gave David an imploring, melting glance. Perhaps it was more of a muddle to him than to her. Beneath the apparent sincerity of her manner lay something he could not grasp. It eluded him with irritating facility. She might almost be pleading for Enid, relying upon his love for Enid. Again he asked her what she wanted him to do, and again she said she only wanted his advice. "How am I to advise you?" "It would be hateful if there was a scandal, wouldn't It? Billy's prudish family would be horrified. They've never liked me, but they give me a miserable allowance because 1 was poor Billy’s wife. They’re frightfully poor as well as prudish, and I daresay they’d be only too glad for an excuse to cut off the allowance. However, I'm not thinking of myself. I can't absolutely go back on my own sister, although there’s precious little I have to thank her for. She’s a selfish pig, if you like. I really want to talk to you about Enid. Have you seen her?" "Yes,” David replied, digging his clenched fists into his pockets. "And she’s engaged to marry Hurst?" "So she says." He sat passive, while the woman leaned over and ran a smooth, cool hand across his hair. "David, you know there never was any real engagement between you and me." she said. "Enid was first with you, always. Get her away from Hurst if you can. And if you can't —well, perhaps you’ll come back to me." "This is maddening, Adela! What do you take me for? Could I possibly insult you in that way?" He laughed harshly. “I don’t know what to make of you. You begin by telling me a confusing story about vour sister and Westmore and Hurst, and you end by suggesting that if Enid won't marry me you will. What do you mean?" “Principally I mean that as far as> I’m concerned you are as free as air," 1 she replied. "Be a good boy and give me a cigarette.” CHAPTER XVII. "As free as air," Adela had said. Yet of what value was his freedom? Still, it meant that he could go to Lionel Hurst without further delay. The prospect was intensely disagreeable and only the fact that he loved i Enid so much that he could not face

the Idea of giving her up, made him stick to his plan of having it out with Hurst as man to man. Adela's story had puzzled him and filled him with apprehensions on Enid’s account. It was difficult to guess what Adela meant by taking him Into her confidence. She had meant something, beyond a doubt, but obviously was reluctant to put It into words. She had intimated that Lionel Hurst was a thorough-paced scoundrel and had appropriated money belonging to Enid. Somehow David could not-be-lleve this. He had never entertained any great liking for the banker, but that was due merely to instinctive jealousy. Long before Enid knew it herself, David was aware of Hurst's interest in her. After Adela had gone, David sat thinking about it, going over In his mind every word she had said, trying to discover what bearing one assertion might have upon another. The conclusion flashed upon him finally. If true, it placed Adela beyond the pale of decent women. Could it be possible that she was secretly Instigating him to quarrel with Hurst? And did she want him to tell Hurst of Olive Gilder’s previous marriage, because she desired, but was afraid, to betray her sister, herself? Hurst ought to be told if it were true that the Gilder woman was blackmailing him, but it was not David's business to do It. These conclusions were the only one*-to be adduced: That Adela had a private spite against her sister, but was afraid to vent It openly, and that also she did not want to be involved in a scandal as it might Jeopardise her income. Finally, that if David were to quarrel with Hurst, there would he small likelihood of the banker’s relaxing his hold on Enid. In that way, Adela would retain her income and her moral grip on David. He was a modest enough young man. but that did* not prevent him from knowing when a woman hurled herself at his head. The whole thing disgusted him. Of course, he must see Hurst, but Heaven forbid that they should quarrel. During the course of the next day he rang up the offices in Tbreadneedle* Street no fewer than four times, only to be told that Hurst was “not in at present.” The secretary who spoke to him over the wire was courteous, but could not say anything more definite than that be expected his employer back some time during the afternoon. At. five o'clock It was the same. Still, Sir Lionel was expected back, though the secretary could not say when. David put on his hat and went down to Tbreadneedle Street. The offices were emptying, and a solid mass of humanity packed the city streets, which in another hour would be nearly deserted. In the suite occupied by Hurst. David encountered the polite young man who had spoken to him over the telephone. The other clerks were on the point of leaving, or had left. ' "Yes, Sir Lionel has just come in,” the secretary said. "I told him you rang up, and he said he would speak to you if you rang up again. He’s rather busy, but I daresay he’ll see you if it’s important.” “It is important,” said David grimly. In another moment he was ushered into the presence of the great man Hurst sat behind his big flat-topped desk with the usual accumulation of correspondence to be signed. On the j

desk lay his silk top hat, with a pair of pearl-coloured gloves neatly laid across it. He wore a pearl-grey waistcoat with his immaculate morning suit, and there was a white gardenia in his buttonhole. His manner to David was markedly cordial. “Now, my boy, jutht you help youself to a whisky and soda, and a cigar ” He indicated a tray on one of the polished tables. "And give me five minutes. Then I’m at your service. Hot, ain’t it?" "Very. I’ll smoke a cigarette, if I may," David replied. He took one from his own case, lit it, and strolled to a window. A trembling anger had seized him, which he knew he must control. He would have liked It better if Hirst had received him with rudeness. Scratch, scratch, scratch went the pen, attended by a rustle of paper as the letters were heaped to one side. The banker pressed a button and in came his secretary. “That’s the lot. You needn't wait, Curtis, but bring anything else around to the flat after dinner." When the secretary had departed, Hurst turned to his visitor. “Well, my boy, now what can I do for you? Won't you have a drink?" “Thanks, no, I " David hesitated. The frank joviality of the man grated on him horribly and he had to pick and choose his words with care. Hurst mixed a drink for himself, and gulped it down. “Well, well?” he demanded. “You look like a feller what's come to borrow money, eh?" He laughed heartily at his own joke. David winced. He certainly felt exactly as Hurst described. “It's about Enid," he said quietly. “You know we were engaged to be married " “Sure, and you threw her over," Hurst interrupted. "That was foolish, my boy. She was fond of you. But I can’t complain, can I?" "I think you know, now, why I threw her over, as you put it. 1 didn’t want to tie her when my own future was so—so uncertain." "And how has your future improved?” Hurst asked blandly. "You might walk out into the street and get run over. All bunkum, my boy." "That’s quite true." David agreed. "I was a fool and I’m not going to attempt to defend myself on that score. The fact remains that Enid and 1 care for each other " “Speak for yourself," Hurst inter rupted, his voice, a little sharp. “That’s what I’m doing." “Do I take it that you’ve come here -—that you’ve got the cool cheek to suggest I give up the girl to you?"

Only a blaze of red on his cheekbones betrayed David's fury. "Perhaps if you stopped to consider that it was for her happiness " "Her happiness. Ha! That's good. What about your pocket? It’s only fair to tell you that she ain’t got a penny. I guess you didn’t know that, eh ?" A mist swam before David’s eyes. In another moment he might have been at Lionel Hurst’s throat, but something the banker said pulled him up short. He felt as though drenched with ice-water. "Anyway, it’s too late to talk about it. Enid and me got married this afternoon," Hurst remarked with a return to his former joviality. "Come, my boy, be a sport, and drink our good health, eh?" CHAPTER XVIII Enid stared about her with th* dazed feeling that all this could not possibly be true. She caught a glimpse of herself in a long Venetian mirror, and stood for a few moments arrested by the reflection It had not seemed right to be married in black. She was sure that her father would not have wished it, and the old cousin who had looked after her since the beginning of his illness, was vehement on the subject Nothing but ill-luck could follow such a thing. So Enid, in the one day she had for getting together a trousseau, managed to acquire a lovely French model in lavender chiffon and silver lace, with a hat of silver lace tc match. She had rebelled at the idea of spending another penny of Hurst’3 money before she was actually his wife, but he had been both angry and hurt at this attitude. After all, what did it matter? She found herself saying that over and over again—what did anything matter? A sheaf of white roses lay In the hollow of her arm. They were drooping now. Against her breast hung a rope of pearls. Hurst’s wedding gift. They were going down to Old Ways tomorrow for a short motoring honeymoon, but this first night would be spent in the palatial Park Lane fiat, and here Kurst had brought his bride immediately the brief formalities at the registrar’s were over. Then he had hurried off, having many things to do if they were to get away tomorrow, as he had planned. Tears came into the girl’s eyes as she noted the evidences of his care for her. The flat had been done over at eii orraous expense, and he bad been wise to leave it to the discretion of the decorators. It was filled with roses. A wonderful little dinner had been ordered for

eight o'clock. Enid’s own maid had arrived with the luggage, and was es tablishing her young mistress in the gorgeous bedroom which had once been Olive Gilder's. “I owe him so much,” she whis- 1 pered to the white-faced image in the I glass. Then she threw back her shoulders. “Play the game—and play it straight. 1 ’ Tlje maid suggested a gown of soft white crepe for the evening fashioned with Grecian simplicity, that left her arms and neck bare. Its only ornament was a girdle of seed pearls with heavy tassels. She allowed herself to be dressed in it, and was diverted from her sad thoughts by the marvels of the elaborately-fitted dressing-table and the wonderful wardrobes and cupboards over which the maid exclaimed with a delight slightly tinged with criticism. "Most convenient, miss—l beg your pardon, I should say, ‘my lady/ now, shouldn't I?—but not like Old Ways. New-fashioned, but all the same, most convenient. Not a drawer sticks, and it's a treat when you open the cupboard doors, a little light goes on, and you can find what you want as easy as easy.” The maid chattered on. She was devoted to Enid, but lacked intuition. Also, any sadness the newly-made Lady Hurst might display could be set down naturally to her recent bereavement. Enid heard all about the chef who wished an audience with her before dinner. He was French and had taken several medals for proficiency in his art. He had compiled a wonderful frozen sweet for dinner which they were to partake of in the servants’ hall as well, since Sir Lionel had ordered a universal treat. Also champagne. Enid had not yet thoroughly inspected her new home. She was a little shy of doing so by herself, and besides was quite sure that her husband would wish to show it off to her. Lionel Hurst, her husband! Of course she was married to him. Hard and fast married. She looked down curiously at the wedding-ring on her finger. It was slender, but none the less significant. “The game is more than the player of the game. And the ship is more than the crew.** She found herself saying that, too, when she wasn’t saying, “What does it matter?” The two ideas were at complete variance, but they helped her, each in its own way to endure. She wondered, if, in time, this dull thing that lay on her heart like lead, would perhaps lighten? Would she ever be gay again? Would she grow a little coarse like Lionel, become absorbed in food and drink, revel in the luxurious materialism with which he surrounded himself? She would probably be happier if she did. “Ob, my lady, you do look nice!” Orpen exclaimed rapturously. “Can’t say I've ever seen you look better.” “U° I Euid questioned in wonder. It seemed so strange that she .should “look nice,” that everybody in the world did not know from her apI>oarance that her breast was heavy, heavy with woe. All that week the weather had been sultry, the hottest July for 20 years, so the papers said._ Almost everybody who could do so had left town, anil Mayfair in particular had a deserted air. The trees in the park drooped dejectedly in spite of fitful showers. That afternoon a horse had dropped dead of the heat in the street below the drawing-room windows. As soon as possible Hurst was hoping to take her to Switzerland. Enid knew, but it could not be for several weeks yet. She really did not care very much except for his sake. Time passed. She had dressed so as to be ready if he should return early, and at half-past six received

the chef, who was so anxious to he : presented to his new mistress. That, however, did not take very long, and afterward a great restlessness took possession of her. A thunderstorm came up with alarming suddenness, and it was as though the heavens opened. The rain fell in torrents, and great flashes of forked lightning followed by the crash of thunder played incessantly. The servants flew about shutting windows and drawing curtains. The atmosphere in the flat was insufferably close. Ordinarily Enid was not nervous during a thunderstorm, but this evening she had all she could do not to scream when the great crashes came, and even the drawn curtains could not keep out the vivid lightning flashes. She sat huddled on a couch in the drawing-room, her feet curled under her. waiting with set. white face and clenched hands for something definite which must surely happen. Each crash was like the crack of doom. It went on for an hour, and finally seemed to pass over, but there was little freshness in the air in spite of all the rain that had fallen. The lightning ;till crackled in the distance, and the rumble of the thunder sounded like far-off artillery. Orpen, shaking with nerves, drew hack the curtains again, and opened the windows, remarking that in her opinion it was not over yet. But the room was like a hake-oven, and air had to be let in. “I expect Sir Lionel will be a little late,” Enid said, glancing at the clock. They then made the discovery that the hands had slopped at a quarterpast seven, and the correct time was now a quarter to eight, in 15 minutes

the carefully prepared dinner was due to be served. “I think I’d better ring up the office,” Enid said, but Orpen hysterically begged her not to touch the telephone. “You’d get a shock, my lady. i once knew a woman —’twas my aunt-in-law’s sister—what got an awful shock that way, ringing up during a storm. Knocked her flat, it did, and she came down so bard on the hack of her head that she never quite got over it. Silly, she was, afterward.” Later on, however. Enid did try to ring up. but the telephone had become a dead thing. She could not even get Exchange. It was nearly nine o’clock when the distressed chef sent in word to beg his mistress to eat a little something before It was all entirely spoiled. Enid did her Hfcst to comply. It seemed very curious to be sitting in the big room alone at the little gleaming oasis of a table. Only the candles were lit. She wondered if this room was not haunted by the memory of the flushed men and women who had lost their money here, and some their honour. Hurst had changed it entirely. yet something of that restless, fevered atmosphere seemed to remain. It was very hard, indeed, to realise that this was her wedding night. How cross Lionel would he for whatever detained him. He was always cross when he was hungry. (To be Continued Tomorrow.)