THE TREATY

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LI, Issue 304, 19 December 1908, Page 3

THE TREATY

By Singletcjn Pound. Cardigan glanced ill his sleepy way at the other men sitting round the table after dinner. " The baffling thing about the treaty," he said, " is that any one of us might have stolen it as far as a chance to lo so was concerned. It is this superabundance of potential culprits •which makes it so difficult to lis. suspicion on any individual. I might, you see, gentlemen, be the thief myself—and I might not." One or two of the men round the table laughed, but it was rather uneasily. Most people did not know- exactly how to tako Cardigan. He looked younger than his live and thirty years, and he had a soft voice,

» But those who displeased him—especially if they happened to be his inferiors —had a way of shrinking from him. His lips were very thin, and it was never easy to decide off-hand whether he was smiling or sneering. - You've not too flattering, Cardigan," Maitland retorted. He was seated on the opposite side of the table, a frown on his ugly ".bull-doggy " faee. "For niy part, I don't profess to be talented enough to annex a secret treaty, and X certainly think wc might find a pleasanter subject of conversation.™ lie was not looking at Cardigan, but at his host. Sir Marcus Pennard was obviously disturbed. His line, aristocratic features were pale and wore an uneasy, troubled expression, and the hand with which he raised his glass shook so far tliat some drops of wine were spilled on the table. The stolen treaty was the subject of paramount interest at Penuard Towers, though Cardigan was the only one who chose to talk about it openly. The other men were more inclined to merely think and eye each other askance. Despite themselves they were all compellon to share the idea which he had stated so bluntly: Any one of them might have stolen it!

Sir Marcus I'ennard was an ex-diplo-matist, who had served in nearly all the European capitals, and now that nc had retired from active service, was understood to be a person whom the magnates of the Foreign Ollice were pleased to consult in times of crisis. It was unite an ordinary event for aa ambassador to pay him a visit before, departing to take up a new post. He had an only daughter, Maud, and The Towers was one of the.most beautiful places in Hertfordshire, llle was entertaining a large house party. Among those staying in the house were. Cardigan and Maitland, the first in the Foreign Ollice and the second ui attache home on leave from Vienna.

Jiut the guest of honour was the ambassador, about whom had Uoated the halo of the secret treaty. The Foreign Ullice had authorised him to briny the treaty and lay it before Sir Marcus. It was ;l treaty which the British Government had been negotiating with a particular Power, its terms had been so carefully concealed that not even the keenest of newspaper men had gleaned a genuine hint touching them. The Press at large, in fact, had doubted if the treaty existed at all. But the guests at the Towers knew it did. And some of them knew, in addition, that another Power was so anxious to get hold of the treaty that its rulers would be willing to pay almost any price for it.

Perhaps Lord Chilmont, the ambassador, had not been so discreet as lie might have been. He had, been proud to think that he had in his dispatch ibox a document on wihlicb, perhaps, hung the chance of a lirst-elasa war, and he had not been able to resist the temptation of mentioning the fact. And in the night, while he was sleeping, the dispatch box had been wrenched open hy an unknown thief aud the treaty stolen. By whom? That was the mystery. The thief had been very silent and had left no trace behind him. No wonder that Sir Marcus was upset. It was not pleasant for him to think that such a thing had happened in his house ! All his guests were sorry for him—almost as sorry as they were

for the ambassador. The men did not care to sit long over their wine. There was an uncomfortable restraint on all of them, except Cardigan. When they joined the ladies Cardigan would have gone up to Maud Pennard, but she did not give him an opportunity. .She was vcrv pretty, and usually she was light-hearted and gay enough; but the shadow which had fallen on the house was on her also. Yet there was

a dawning happiness in her eyes as she moved into the lovely, softly-lit con- j servalory. A delicate pink stole into, her cheeks as she heard a. man's stepj behind her. She ,bit her lip involun-j tarily as she turned and saw Cardigan. •' 1 .want to speak with you," he said, j " Why do you avoid me? ilaud, Maud! You surely know wliat 1 wish to say to you! 1 love you—l love you as I thought once 1 could never love a human creature!" She would have stopped him Willi « swift gesture, but lie would not heed her, There was a strange, excitement on him—the excitement of a man who knew more than he chose to tell. ■' Listen, Maud," he repeated. " I love you. if you will be any wife I swear 1 will make you happy. \'ou must listen lo mo!"

••Must!" She drew herself up proudly. His face had changed; there was passion in it,| unconcealed now, and there was a hint of a subtle threat in his eyes. Despite herself she was afraid of him. She would have shrunk from him, but lie I put his hand on her shoulder, lie did not know it, but he hurt her, and .she gave a low cry. " "Vvs; must!'' he said in a low, vibrating tone. "1 tell you 1 cannot live without you. I will not! if you under-

stood " , , ~ . Hie was thrown aside so roughly that he sta-'gered and nearly fell. When he recovered himself Mailland was by .Maud's side, and she. was clinging to him. His u«ly face was very angry. '• I think it is vou who do not understand, Mr. fardig.ni." he said. "Miss l'cnuard and 1 are engaged.'

What a fool he had been! It was not often that Maurice Cardigan made such a confession even to himself; but be. made it Hint -.light as he sat in his own room. "I should have Von more careful, he muttered. "I should have remembered that gitU like to bo pleaded with

and flattered. Well, I've made the «ame a bit harder for myself, but I'll win it yet, I'm hound to win it." There was a cruel smile on his thin lips. The man was a strange mixture. He was unscrupulous, hard uf heart, selfish. Yet he really loved Jlaud Peunard; he had loved her for a long time. It had maddened him when she had plainly shown that she cared nothing for him—Lliat she was afraid of and 'disliked him. He had not dared to tell her before that he loved her, because he had dreaded what her answer might be. But lie had told himself that he would be willing ;to go to any lengths to make her his wife. And then the treaty had been stolen. And then he had proposed to her. He had felt so sure that she would not refuse, that she dared not refuse, that he hail not taken the trouble to choose the right words. lie had forgotten tint she did not know what he knew. After all, however, it did not matter much. When the facts were explained to her she would give a different answer. He was certain of that, so certain that he never troubled to take Alaitlnnd into account. It was very lute; the house, was silent. Cardigan thought that he was tho onl/ person in it who was not asleep, flut, looking idly out, he saw a light i:< iinolher window ill the opposite wing. It gleamed from the window which Sir Jl-inus lViinard used as his study. " So!" said Cardigan under his breath. His eyes glittered. "Shall I pay him a visit ? It would be as well. The sooner v.e come to an understanding the bell;;-, and the dead of night is an excellent time when one wishes to avoid eavesdroppers or interfering fools!" lie stopped and added: "But wail a minute, T had better take this in case the old man is dangerous." Ile slipped something into his pocket; then he stole from his own room.

The door of the study was unlocked, and lie pushed it open without a sound. At si desk strewn with papers, over which a shaded lamp east a subdued glow, sat Sir Marcus. His old face was haggard and. bloodless. He held a paper, which he was about to tear into shreds, in his trembling fingers. Cardigan made a spring and a snatch. In another second the stolen treaty was in his hand* The old man staggered to his feet. He would Lave made a spring in Us turn, but Cardigan waved him back. " Be quiet, or I'll rouse the house and let everyone know that you're a thief I" he whispered savagely. ■Sir Marcus sank back into his chair. His expression was ghastly; he was shaking violently. "What brought you here?" ho questioned. "How did you know?" Outwardly, Cardigan was very cool; inwardly, an inferno of triumph and excitement was raging. He could hardly have explained in words how he had known.

It had been mostly guesswork. He had learned by chance that Sir Marcus had suffered heavy iinancial losses—losses which the world at large knew nothing of. And he had watched him after the treaty had been stolen — watched him and thought, and put things together. It had flashed on him that Sir Marcus was the man in the house who could best and most profitably dispose of the treaty. And the few drops of spilled wine had told him a great deal. "I was mad I" Sir Marcus muttered hoarsely. "I did not know clearly what I was doing. I "was threatened with ruin, and—" He raised <his head and there was truth in his eyes when he said : " But I was sorry as soon as it was done. I found I could not be a traitor to my country after all. I would have put the accursed treaty back, but 1 had no chance of doing so. You'll—you'll help me, Cardigan 1" " For Maud's sake." Sir Maurice did not catch the words. " For Maud's sake," repeated Cardigan. He spoke very softly ;nid distinctly. ''On the day she promises to be my wife 1 will swear never to let the irorldj know the tltlth. It depends on you whether she becomes my wife ; you can I make her consent with a word." For a minute the old man did not understand. Then the truth dawned on him : Cardigan was asking him to sell his daughter to save himself. And Cardigan was a villain. A black, selfish soul was looking out of his cold eyes and was reflected on his pitiless face. He would make the girl wretched, and she promised to another who would make her happy. Sir Marcus idolised his daughter and she loved him. She would do anything, make any sacrifice, to save him. He knew that—lie had only to ask her. "But I'll not do it, by Heaven !" he said. His bloodless face contracted savagely, his eyes were dangerous. He leaped at Cardigan's throat. The, revolver which the other man had brought with him flashed, oiit. They staggered across the floor, struggled for the weapon ; there was a sharp crack. Cardigan dropped. An accidental twist had turned his own weapon against himself.

Sir Marcus reeled sick and dizzy. He felt lost, as if an abyss had suddenly opened nt his feet. Tke doorway was Mocked by a crowd of people who had been aroused by tlis shot.

Maitliind ivas there, aud some of the guests and the servants behind him. But Maud was standing foremost, whiter than her white dress, terror in her eyes. "Fatherl What lias happened?" The old man was dumb. It was Cardigan who answered. His hand was pressed to his side when he dragged liimself on to his knees; his eyes were glazing, but he was lookhg at Maud. lie had loved her in his own .w'uy; he loved lier still though he knew that he had lost her. "It means I'm a thiefi" he said, his voice rattling. "1 wanted money and 1 stole the treaty. 1. came here to-night to—to rob Sir Marcus. There ivas a struggle—and—and I'm done." Those, who heard him stood aghast. Sir Marcus made an effort to speak, to deny. But Cardigan's eyes were on him, and he was sure that the last motion of Cardigan's hand was an attempt to point to Maud. The uuuttered words died on the old man's lips. Cardigan died with that lie on his soul. Ho hail played a bold game, but in his last minutes the better part o! him had flared up. He had saved Maud's happiness in saving her father's honour. , Those who hoard him believed hiin, [ |t was only Cardigan hi his grave i who knew the truth.