SERIAL STORY

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 343, 19 March 1910, Page 6

SERIAL STORY

A ROYAL WARD. By PERCY BREBNER. (Published by Special Arrangement.) CHAPTER XVI FRIENDSHIP OR LOVE. The room on the upper storey of the house overlooking the river was, if possible, more one-sided and twisted with age than Finley Baxter's. From time to time heavy rains had found their way into it, discoloring the wails and cracked ceiling, and it seemed so ini- ) : probable that anyone would want to inhabit it that the landlord had left it and its meagre contents to go quietly to ruin as they pleased. The fact that the, room had suddenly become a source of income again eil'ectually stopped any curiosity he may have entertained regarding his tenant, and Victor Dubuisson might have searched London from en.i .to end without finding a more seem e retreat. "He present is no time for luxuries," Bax:er remarked, when Dubuisson seem*?, rather appalled at his new lodging; 'and a hunted man, like any other animal, must creep into the safest hole he can find. Besides, you will spend your waking hours in the glory of my abode. Where a man sleeps doesn't matter. He has got to come to the narrowest of beds at the last. Thers's pnilosopohy in that, Dubuisson, for those who slumber on down and nightly draw dainty hangings about them." If Baxter's philosophy failed to give the apartment any special attraction, Dubuisson's dreams served to obliterate its many imperfections. With the American by his side, he could only linger on the irontier of that dreamland, but when alor.e he passed quickly into its pleasant shady meadows and lost himself completely. And he was much alone, for Baxter had succeeded in persuading him, using Lady Betty's name to support his own opinion, that it would be wise for him to" remain in , hiding for a few-days. "Enemies from the Brazen Serpent may be metjind punished, perhaps, but ■watchers out of Bow Street are a more complex business," he explained. "You keep close here while I endeavor to find out how matters stand." In consenting to this arrangement, his own safety was not a prominent con- ' sideration, but Dubuisson recognised that it would be much better not to •run the risk of meeting Lady Betty Walmisley, and allowing her to claim iriendship with him, as she certainlv would do. Those who had set the lawsearching for him might possibly keep a watch on her, too, and for him to be ► seen in her company must do her harm. That she wished to'protect him was delightful; that she might injure herself ! by attempting to do so seemed only too j probable. I | Finley Baxter did not explain his ' methods of gleaning information. He . had told Dubuisson that he was a spy, ! and no doubt he heard news, more or ..less valuable, which he communicated to his countrymen fighting thy English |in America; but how he wcrked, or i what agencies he employed, he had not j explained, nor did Dubuisson want tq, I know. It was the man, not the spy, I who was his friend, and the American was wise enough to understand that the more, his profession was kept in the j background, the better it would be for : that iriendship. Dubuisson d;.l not enI quire what he was doing on his behalf, 1 asked him not questions. When Bax- | ter had got anything definite to tell, he I would tell it. i "French- spy—that is what you are so ; far as Bow Street is concerned," was j Baxter's greeting, as he came in early I one evening. "How they got the in- | formation, or from whom, I cannot discover." » "Is no one else implicated?" asked Dubuisson. "I can hear of none other, nor any suggestion of your particular a ; m. Who do you suppose they would give you for a partner or partners?" Dubuisson shrugged his shoulders. He had not explained, nor did he confess now, his fears concern ins Lady Betty. He had never told Baxter that she had hidden him at Abbots Chase. That was her secret, and no one should ■ hesr it irons his lips. "As a matter of fact, I ratlier cxpec?- - ed to fiiul that the law would connect you with some more or less well-known malcontents," Baxter went on; "but, *no, you would seem to be a tfree lance in desperation. Strangely, also, the - law seems to be taking no particular t | interest in the Brazen Serpent and its a frequenters, which, after my timely 8 rescue the other night, I fancied it d might do. I've had a man drinking a quietly there and absorbing news." "'Yes. What do they say at the Brazen Serpent?" ; "They seem* to be rude enough to y rejoice in your death. Pinfold is con-' t vinced that you died in an'attempt to t : escape, and that you served as a pro-. '-• digious banquet for the rats. I think :- you could easily avenge yourself on Pin. : fold by just walking in and saying goodd night to him one evening. He would s assuredly take you for a ghost, recognise that his hour had ccme, and j promptly die of terror." e | "And his wife?" ?, j "He does not connect her with you at ~! all. She left him, and if he is a little g i afraid that she may tell tales about n him, he does not seem to regret that he i- is rid of her. The old reprobate is considering all the other women of his acquaintance in the process of deciding *■ which one he shall ask to come and fill her place. Dubuisson, I'm all ior living and let live, but I should like to see Jacob Pinfold a corpse." "All the information doesn't amount to much, does it?" said Dubuisson.

I "No. I think our next move must be to gut at the man who first told you to go to the Brazen Serpen; and in- | structed you in its jargon. He had some definite intention, and may be the cause of all your trouble.'' "I have thought of that, Baxter." "Well—who was it?" Finley Baxter assumed a listening attitude the moment after he had asked the question, but he was not waiting for Dubuisson's answer, who was suddenly alert, too. There were footsteps on the rickety stairs, such footsteps as were not often upon them. ''The devil knows there's often a heap of danger in the delightful swish of a petticoat, but it is not one I have ever been able to run from," Baxter whispered. "There are two!" said Dubuisson. "Listen!" A moment's silence was followed by a hurried whisper on the landing without, then came a knock at the door. Baxter glanced quickly round the room, to make certain there was nothing visible which ought to be discreetly hidden away, and, satisfied, said: "Come in." As some fair beauty may suddenly become visible in the midst of sordid surroundings, as a flower may sometimes rear a perfect blossom in a gaWea of weeds, so was it now, Dubuisson thought, as, after one short, hurried step forward, he stood look'ng at the picture that framed the doorway. "I came on purpose to see you," said Lady Betty, 1 with the prettiest pink tinge in her cheeks, "It is important." "You're more welcome than sunlight," said Baxter, with a "lower bow than ho had ever made to a woman, perhaps, and as Mary followed her mistress into the room lie added, "and you are welcome, too. I. never knew this garret of a place was so beautiful." Dubuisson appeared uncertain whether he were in dreamland or not. It was only when three pairs of eyes were turned upon him enquiringly that he was roused to speech and action. "Lady Betty, this is my very good friend, Finley Baxter,"he said. "He has become a perfect tyrant of a gaoler." "I am glad to thank you. M-.\ Baxter," said Betty. "Unfortunately, I :<m the bearer of bad news. T womL'r " then she paused, and looked slowly round the room. "I'd welcome the very worst news 'in the world from such a bearer," said Baxter; "and there's an eloquence in your scrutiny of this apartment which .might serve as a sign-post to a blind man. Mistress Mary, there is a view of the river from the end of this street which I should consider it an honor to show you, and if the idea in itseli doesn't sound altogether attractive, I can supplement the view with some recent and interesting information concerning your husband." "You know me!" Mary exclaimed. "Certainly. When I've once seen a pretty woman, I never forget her." "I think you ought to hear all about your husband," said Lady Betty. "Will it take half an hour, Mr. Baxter?" "It shall," was the emphatic answer, as the American opened the door for Mary to pass out. . As the door closed updn -them, Betty turned to Dubuisson. "Is your friend to be allowed to express all the welcome?" she asked. "No fitting words would come to my tongue," he answered. "I hardly thought you were real when you opened the door. Even if words had come, I could not have spoken them for others no hear." , j "And now I must not waste time in hearing them," she said. "Do you know that your lodging in King Street is being watched night and day?" i "Ties; 1 know that. Baxter and i j went there the other night, and. only \ escaped with difficulty. For the present, I am lodging in this house, in a ' room even more mis-shapen than this. : They are hunting for a French spy, Lady ! Betty. There is no mystery about those j enemies—they are Bow Street officers.'"' "That I know," she answered. ' "Who told aou?" Dubuisson asked. i "Mr. Evertsen, in the Mall, only this j morning. When I returned home I j wrote you a letter, which 1 intended | Mary should bring to Mr. Baxter. Later j I tore the letter up, and—and have j come myself/' i "How can I thank you? and how, without seeming ungrateful, can I per-1 suade you not to run such risks for j me?" | "We have to do with the future, not | the past," Betty answered; "and the, time Ms not far distant, perhaps, when j the risk may be on your side, if you I would serve me as 1 think you would."! "You know it, Lady Betty. I dare j not say more lest I should say too' much." j "And, indeed, it is for me to talk, and | for you to listen," she said quiefdy, as though feared that he might be tempt-1 ed to say too much, as though she I heard a question in his words, and | would not answer it. "This man Hyaes' suggestion that you should apply to me tor information concerning spies was not said merely as a sensational remark, as you suggested it might Lave been. No doubt he had heard that I was guilty of such an offence; others have i heard it t00,." j "Someone saw me leave Abbots Chase. I then?" "I do not think so," Betty answered; "but, since thea soldiers were so close, upon you that riight, a suggestion that I had hidden you would naturally appeal to anyone who wished m<- harm or sought to force me into certain actions." "Who has accused you?" "As yet, no one, openly. I have been .warned. T am a woman—rich, and therefore desirable; it is assumed that I shall be easilv frightened into obedience. If I do what I am told, then, nothing more will be said," and Betty laughed a little angrily. "Do T look the kind of woman to be managed in that way, Mr. Dubuisson?" "I cannot conceive your bring managed in any way," he answered. "Oh, please, there must be some way, ;Or you make but a shrew of me; but I talk a great deal and tell you very

little," she went on. "The warning came from Mr. Evertsen, not the accusation. I am inclined to think that he honestly believes you to be a spy, and his warning to me may have been kindly intentioned. You smile; evidently you do not agree with me." "I will only say that when a woman crosses a man's path, he sometimes walks erratically," Dubuisson answered. "That may be true," Betty said thoughtfully; "but the most <anguine ] person would hardly expect b> frighten jme with so thin a device. There is a | larger plot behind me than that. The ; accusation, spoken privately in Mr. Evertsen's hearing, was made by no less I a person that the Prince Regent." "Then it is serious, more serious than i I imagined," exclaimed Dubuisson. "I : have indeed brought you into a difficult j position. I wish I had never found you | on the terrace of Abbots Chase." "A pious wish, perhaps; but my diftii *ulty is not so great that I shall endorse ' it. The Prince would never Lave made the accusation, probably, if he had received a humble answer to a letter he had sent me. It had been brougrit by Mr. Evertsen earlier in the i'j'teriioon of the day you brought Mary r.o me. Its | contents had made mo angry. I was in i a mood to be ill-tempered when you ! came. You can bear me out when I con- . fess that I was ill-tempered. To-day, when Mr. Evertsen came to warn me, he suggested that I should temporise with the Prince, answer the letter eva- ■ sively. 1 was of another opinion. I ■ answered the letter by tearing it up j and throwing it in the fire, and request- ■ ed Mr, Evertsen to be tue bearer of i that ::^wef." ", '"Wa s wi?e?" | "You shall jiuige," said Betty. "My father made me a ward of the King, and it is not for me to suggest that he acted unwisely. I am the' last and the only representative of a rich and powerful family, and therefore it was not deemed right that the iuture should 'be left entirely in my hands. If I chose to marry, I must obtain the King's conj sent, and, as I should never be likely to marry /oolishly, such consent v.as purely a mauo;- e;' form, and would have been easily oltaLr-... Tl.j ondition did not trouble ::v. But tlie King is mad—jit is said he will nt, r : rover—and it ; seems that amongst the onier duties dei volving upon th.e Prince Regent is the disposal of me. I am to be told who I may marry. I have been told. The Prince's commands were contained in that letter." "And his suggestion did not please you?" "He could not possibly have made any suggestion that would," Betty answered. "Were I in love with any man, and the Prince had named that very man, I should have refused to marry him iorthwith. lam not a slave, to be put up for sale in the market-place. Was it a time to temporise?" "It is difficult; to judge," Dubuisson answered. "I do not know how far the law will uphold the Prince's authority." "Nor does it matter," Betty answered. "There is no law that can make me marry a man chosen for me. You see the position, Mr. Dubuisson? It is posfsible that this story will be used against me in an attempt to force my obedience. It is impossible to say wha"t treachery may not 'be practised against me. I have powerful friends to support me, but against unscrupulous enemies a man's friendship might serve me even better. Amongst your enemies are mine also, perhaps." "Yours are mine, Lady Betty." "A letter by Mary would have sufficed to warn you of your danger," she went on, "but-1 could not write what I have told you ; and there is one other thing. I spoke of Almacks' the other day—it was foolish. You mu-.t not attempt to obey me. You must not risk coming. It is too dangerous. - " "Not more dangerous than my going into the street," Dubuisson answered. "Lady Betty, is it your wish that I give up my quest, and return to 1-ranee as best and as speedily as I may? Would this help you?" "How could it? Indeed, if you are successful, may it not help us both? Besides, I may want your help. If you returned to France you could not serve me." "Then I stay, and you must not ask me to forget that you have promised to dance with me at Almacks'." "No, no; it would be iool'isV "A few days may produce great events, Lady Betty. I had almost determined on a course of action before you came to-night; what you have told'me confirms my belief that it is the right course to take." "Tell me." "I think I know the man who has given currency to this story about you. He shall tell me the truth." "You will quarrel with him?" "Most bitterly. I will know the truth." "You mean Walter Evertsen," said Betty. "I forbid any " "Is he so much to you?" Dubuisson asked. He had walked across the room m his excitement, but now be was beside Iter, and he looked into her face, bent on discovering in it more meaning than any words she spoke might convey. Betty met his steady look unflinchingly. • "I believe Walter Evertsen is innocent of any great treachery," she said. "That is hardly an answer to mv question, is it?" "Have you a right to demand any answer?" she asked; and her lips closed firmly as soon as the question was uttered. "Yes; bv the " "My what?" "No; 1 suppose I have no n.»ht. I was not thinking of Walter Evertsen. however. He is a mere tool in the hands of others. You need not fear ior him. I shall wring the truth from the man I mean to question, and when I dance with you at Almacks' I will tell you." (To be continued on Wednesday) j