A ROYAL WARD.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 295, 22 January 1910, Page 6

A ROYAL WARD.

SERIAL STOBY

(IV.ri-h.-d by Arrangement), t HAi'IEU IV. ViL'TUi: IHT.USSON. Lad,' iJet.iy Mnimisley wis troubled. \\ hat' li.-.iK-s-i r..,siin. could th.s I'ivnch.,.iui .i-n.' "!)■ uml.ug secretly upon tin' I'ji.-iish masi; She Mil looked nnu hi.-. ,-,es i:i i.:n- >!!■*!.'•' in«»»»nlij?nl. and hail i.'elieved in iii> I;.nor; yet In- had con.;;i a !...;!!::•.;: when -1m >v;h hardly mis -.:v-s i.i iii-i-'-ii'lf. when her whole being was st>eped i!i dream.- and romantic i.uuasv. Was mi: this Lieutenant Evertsen likny to know the real truth about him? lb' had said that lie expected to make v. more important capture tlian was afforded by a mere gang of smugglers, had spoken of this stranger as a spy; and for two days past soldiers had been scouring the park and the neighlornuod in search ot tinfugitive, a runner proof of hoiv important his rapture was deemed to be.

With the sokhers about, there was considerable excitement at Abbots Chase. The servanis wen. l restless and inqaisitive, and Deborah Cowper, seeming to tint! it. impossible to settle to any ordinary occupation, wandered about the house continually. Betty had 'loanu great difficulty in conveying food to the Frenchman, and, beyond a tew words to assure aim that she would assist his departure as soon as it was safe, had had no further -peech with him.

Whatever hir doubts were, it never occurred to Bettv to betrav him. She had passed her word to help him, and her word meant fulfilment in a generous '■vnse. So early o:i the' morning of tiie third day. tiie soldiers having given ap the search. Bettv released her prisoner from the secret chamber behind the great fireplace, gave him a hat and doak, and, taking him to a small door in the rear of the house, pointed to a distant wood which lay on the edge of the park, and told him to wait for her there.

"I will thank you when you come, mademoiselle." he said, and went swiftly in the direction she indicated along a path where he was unlikely to be ob-

served from the house. It was Betty's custom to ride alone in the early morning, and that she was

abroad earlier than usual to-day causeno comment amongst the stablemen. She might have done a far more eccentric thing with impunity, for it w generally understood that convention bed hut a small part to play in the scheme of Lady Betty's life. She put her horse into a gallop across the par but not in the direction of the wood; she waited until she was' out of sight of the house before she turned towards the meeting-place. The man waiting for her bowed low as she came along a narrow bridle path, and at a motion from her assisted her to- dismount.

"How can T put my thanks into words, mademoiselle?" he began.

"Please do not try." sue returned rather shortly. "Have you any idea o! the risks' T have run?" "Indeed, mademoiselle, I would make mv thanks in proportion to them." "May }'< look into your eyes again?'

she said. "The moon was mistvthe other night; one should lie able to judge better in the honest light of morning." He stood again, bareheaded, b> her. and they looked into each other's eyes for the second time. "Swear to me," she said slowly, "that you come for no base purpose, that you are not a French spy, that T halve not betrayed my country by saving you from the soldiers." "1 swear it, mademoiselle. 1 have come to England to pay a debt, not ot money, not my own. It is a debt of my dead father's. That it concerns me deeply is true, and my difficulties are great, for I do not know the name of my creditor. J can only go and enquire about him in London. I have taken a vow to do so. It sounds mysterious, mademoiselle, but I am bound to Secrecy for my creditor's sake." "Is your name a secret, too?" Bettv asked. "Not to you, mademoiselle. V am Victor Dubuisson. It is not a name unknown, in your country since Englanil gave shelter to the Huguenots. Indeed. I am not, all a Frenchman. My father was in Ame.rica when England'lost her colonies there, and he' married an American." "Was he a soldier?" "Yes. mademoiselle; and fougnt against the English, I fear." answered Dubuisson, with a smile. "Still, j am only partly French, and not many years since I. was in England, my father' having (led from the terrors of the Revolution. You have not told me your name. I should like to know. it. unless vou would rather remain unknown to me." "I am Lady Betty Walmisley." "I shall remember it always as the name of a great friend," he answered. "I could almost find it in my heart to wish that, some ill chance might befall yiiu so that 1' might come to year help and repay something of my debt to you." "I am going to throw nwa.v mv doubts and trust you," said' Betty. "If vou have deceived me. I pray 'that ifl success mav attend you; but if vou are a man of honor, as indeed I think vou are. may fortune fa'vor you. indeed. I ■should have no great quarrel with Fate if I were placed' in need -of your ii,.|p. There is a small shed yonder amom;sl Ihe Ireis; will you fetch me the saddle vou will find there?" Ce v.(.':1l quickly to do her hiddin;;'. and when Ik returned with the 5n,.,;: found (hat she had unfastened her own. "Will you change the middles for nu ,v " she said.

Ye», but. pardon, mademoiselle, :h:s

•"Should von ever know me lei'■■•:'. sir. you will understand that at A'boChase my orders are obeyed with"?;'; question." Dubui.-son saddled the horse within;. another wed. "Now put this saddle in the -' <■ please." lie I'id 'iti he was told, closed the door of the s]|ii!. and returned slowly towards her. ''l can guarantee his stamina," si. said, stroking the animal's head cat'"-'--ingly. "Tread him well, and you wil. find few fleet enough to overtake lr"-. "But. mademoiselle, T couldn't " "You can. and shall," answered ih" girl. "One horse from mv s'.'bles is not of much account. Mav T not d what I' will with mv own?" "Your men will ask questions; hrrv will you account for the animal's absence? T would not have you run further risks for me." ''lf I arranged to have that saddle readv here, yon mav res't assured V shall find an answer to any questions which mav be asked." "You are placing me in such deb!: shaH never b n able to repay." "Who knows? Never is so Inn? - road that few roach the °-"' n * " li " Bettv answered. ''And. stpeakiing o' roads, you would be wise to si'ow yourself as little as 'possible, and have • keen eve. The soldiers have to Dartmouth, but there mav be many ; dangers for you between here ar"' don. Come, sir. mount; you have a long journev before you. and the horse grows impatient. He was in the saddle in a moment. "I will not disobey," he said. '-'P-o----denee has sent me a good angel; I thank it and you." ""Remember, I trust you," she s'ai'l. '"Good-bve."

Dubuisson bent down over the '"i" ' she crave him and raised it to his I'' "T shall die sooner than betrav th'r 4 trust." he whispered; and p. moment later the horse was cantering along '■' path throuch the woods.

Bettv returned slowly to th" and as s'he aimro'iched Deborah came to meet her. anxiety in her face.

"What his happened? Where is your horsi? T J a ,- e v,n n i*eort thrown?" "T? '' pl-oo=e to lend mv horse to a man v 'ho is pnwr to ride hastily on an imnortnnt Tatter, may I not do so?" Ben- asked. "Yes; but "

"And if this F'-en"!i had in some wav secured a mount, is it rnatural that his pursuer should rep a horse to ride after him; and wh"t : more natural than borrowing one from Abbots Chase?" ,

"But asking for yours! Surelv you could have sent him to the stables for one?"

"And give the fugitive another hour's start, Deborah? Spies would have an easy time of it if you were set to ea<"' them. Mv monotonv has been broke" by an adventure, and it has made n e hungry. Come to breakfast:' Victor Dubuisson rode out of the woods and followed a track acros's the downs. He would join the road presently, which he knew lay away to-his right, and as soon as he was far enoagli from the scene of the smuggling a lira v he had little fear of being recognised. He would certainly not have recognised the had fought with *n that strip of e.hu' it was unlikely that the could have seen him more clearly than he had seen them_. He spoke English well and fluently, and. except when under excitement, with scarcely an accent. Had he been cooler when fighting with the soldiers, Evertsen might hare failed to notice his nationality. As iie rode, his own safety and the task before him were not the thoughts uppermost in his nimd. The world to-day wore a cheerful aspect ani his road to the future ran more plainly before him. Providence and a woman had helped him. Circumstances had combined to clos'e "Victor Dubuisson's life in a small circle. His father, so long as Victor could remember, had had few friends. He lived a retired life, first in England, then in Brittany. All his interests were in the past, and Victor had had few companions. Of women lie knew little, and it was hardlv wondenui that Lady Betty Walmisley should be a revelation to him. Yet it was not the girl's remarkable beauty which appealed to him so forcibly as the girl herself, the soul within the fair casket. Sh" ■had indeed proved his friend; surely life's wav was not so intricate that they would .never meet again. If he succeeded in his quest, he must be brought in contact with at leas't one n-aii of note and power in this count n-t this he knew, and he might, therefore, find himself in the world of fashion for a while. Tt would be strange if Lady Betty Walmisley were not to be met witji -there., and he became absorbed in conjectures concerning such a ineetiir.'. They would meet, in some sense, as friends, after what, had happened: '<■ could not be otherwise. There must lie a. bond between such a debtor and creditor.

lie was upon the road now. and had just aroused to the fact, that he must, thrust his daydream aside if he v.ould keep keen wits ahout him, when from a copse In-side him a dozen uion suddenly sprang out and barred his way. lie drew his iiorss sharply back up.iii its haunches and had his hand uixm hi-,' pistol, hut he had 'seen his dan»cr too late, and cursed himself for h[ s ca •(■- lessness. "You're a dead man if you move!" cried -I jjn-at. fellow at t.lic horse's head, levelling a musket at him. "We want money, not your 1jf,.," Sil j ( [ another man. "Tlnow the money down, and t;'o forward. You can sell your lior-v at the next town, and <zo on ton!, same as others leave to." Victor Du'miissou looked at the musket ami ahuicod at the "roup of sturdy men before him. Was it vrnnli while

throwing his Life away in a hopeless struggle, or should he cli.nce the on!.u:nLir: iiis enemies' lwi>i<ed i.i- i rained and courageous enoug!:: b.it .-i:(-■ i urn were usually liiree-i'aris coward wiii-n it came '.o ll.e point, lii- ; had lightened on his weapon, and the ill idle was held a little more iirnily. as he resolved to ~ho-.v lighi, .vhen galoping hoofs struck the road behind >a,i:,,iy. and ■'. man drew rein '-esuie him. j'.:e li veiled musket was low. red in a moment. "How's this? Highway robbery?" saie. the stranger.. "Taking toll on the road, sir," ;:.i----swercd the man with the musket. "•Fortunate for you that J know something of the hard limes, and am not inclined to be vindictive., (let you gone, and drink this guinea presently." lie tossed the coin into the air for anyone to catch, and theci turned to Dubuisson. "Fortunate for you, too. sir, that 1 chanced to be so close behind, you." '"You have my thanks- for vour. kimily help," Dubuisson answered. "Hie odds against me are unpleasantly great." "Were, sir; you see they have gone. Shall we ride on together, since we are journeying the sumii .way?" The men had vanished as quickly as they had appeared, v. ml Dubui.son glanced at his companion with misgiving; but he could hardly rnfu.se the invitation. The stranger was a mat) ot fifty, or nearly, powerfully built, athletic, and he strode the great horse he rode as one who had spent a large part of his time in the saddle. "I wonder I did not hear von behind me," said Dubuisson. after they had pn> ceeded side by side for a little distance at walking pace;

i "]j rock' on the turf,, sir.. E had' noticed you before me for some time, ami should hive hurried after you for tliepleasure of your company, but you seemed so absorbed I feared to disturb vou."'

'■At any rate, I, am fortunate,.as you say,'' Dubuisson replied. "You seem ■*:> have some authority with these fellows,?"

■ Uiily that which a Uttle sympaciiy gives," was the laughing answer, "iw country is in a bad state, and poverty makes men desperate, it isn't t»e "en who go. short while the land is bled to light the Corsican yonder," and lie pointed to the distance, where ti£ oaie waters of the Channel, lay.. "But your sympathy is likely to, encourage them to lie in. wait for the next .unfortunate traveller." "it is each man for himself m tins world; and 1 care not over-much, withe man. who follows me down the road. Besides-, few men. travel alone as you are doing." "Urgent business takes me to London, and I was never a good hand at counting the cost," answered Duduissoh.

"That is a fault, but it is easily forgiven. 1, too, am journeying towards London, and may be of service to you in keeping you clear of dangerous places. The soldiers are out looking.for ja Freney spy." "Indeed!"

"They might mistake you lor the man they are in search of," laughed ut? stranger. "Have no fear," he went on. ''With such sympathies as mine, it is hardly likely 1 should help soldiers to trap i'mugglers, or frenchmen who land upon the eoast secretly, for that mutter." "You seem to be laboring " "I think not." was the answer. "1 heard of the search; r find you alone as soon as the soldiers are withdrawn, "At any rate, you seem strangely interested in my movements/' said uubuisson. "1 am. Truth to tell, 1 have been expecting someone, to land upon the eoast an tins lasinon who would seek me out." "Then you j\o; you are not old enough for that." "Of course, I. do not pretend to know your secret," the stranger went on, "irat I think 1 can help you to iini the pe.T(so'n you are in search of." i "1 think we must be talking at cross sir?" j "Not if your name be Dubuisson." I Had the stranger had any doubt ot ! his companion's' identity, the start Du- | 'buisson gave would have heen confirmation enough; and had Dubuisson not I been so absorbed in his meditations a* I 'he rode out of the woods 0 f Anno. Chase, he might 'have looked back and seen tlie stranger leave mem siioiuy i afterwards. "Your knowledge surprU'.s me," said Dubuisson, after a pause. "Possibly you are aware of the very hole T crent into to escape the attention of the soldiers?" "No; hut yon must have contrived I cleverly. If your mission in town be a ! difficult one it would appear that you have valuable (|ualities u> help you." "1 should distrust the man who knew of that hole," said Diibuis.-on. "i might have to \tse i- again."' "Then : : will not even hitzard a guess." was the answer. "I know i hat smugglers contrive strange hiding-place,,, and may have helped von to one of them, i XaturaMv, you w: nid not ko'rav vonr friends." "Does your knowledge eV.end to the diM'ieull'ics of my mission?" •'I am glad of i'mi." nn-.\verod Du- j imiss'on. "If you knew 100 much, you would certainly appear nmiv like' an > enemy then a friend. Perhaps yon will tell me all vmi •do know.'" "I'niy. sir. he reasonable.'- was the answer. "My a;-: ion i.;s t now uim-t. prove that I wish you.no ill, but in so short an acquaintance I can hardly judge whether you are worthy of my whole confidence. We each have a score! : it may be mat they are identical or closely allied, bni there may ]». point- where! they would clash. \\Y mu-l learn m under,taml each other by drives. |... me, at lea-t. take ; k,/ 11j -1"~ step a)in name myself. "I am Sir Paper! Asliton. "I rr-gi-ii. that your name is unknow to me." "I h 0;.,. :.. make ;;:,,; ~!: n| ('mil we !l ' lv '- !;:; ' : '" |,|; " fli-iiioe,. S \Y mi-ht -o ia-i!y have met to,, j : .,e. ■■ fancy you would have mad.e a light of it ju-t „'„»■. and I ieel equally certain the iellnw with tl,e mu-k.-L. u.-.-uM '.aye jhvd |„ Lllll(l "" ! I" 1 !"' to be of milch M , n .i,,. 1,1 y«'": ii'i'l -:nce ih-y ■•■■, inquisitive at tnc inns -i>.; ; -; j;;n- -. | n M.,,.-. days especially a- the ii'-v,.- „f -, n ~.,.•,..,','( | ''...,,■•) lia - , '""l « *"<<■■'■ ntany in,,,:-- m '.d us, I may ensure your safety on t'-io ! journey. Shall we mend onr'paec aid ' ride on together?" ' '" j "■Verc you an enemy. I -li„ ;1 |d be inclined to keep you in sight, -im-c you already know so much,-'' answered Dii-hui-'son: "besides, there comes M time Whet! enemies must be punished." "I like that spirit," said Sir Knpert. The horses' hoofs (|uickened oa the road, and these men who had come so strangelv together began in earnest the first stage of their journey towards London. .(To be continued in Wednesday's <\