SERIAL STORY

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 353, 2 April 1910, Page 6

SERIAL STORY

By PERCY BREBXER.

A ROYAL WARD. ',

(Published by Special Arrangement.) CHAPTER XIII. (continued).

They .-vioke only at intervals on the return journey, and then mere commonplaces. Sir Rupert and Dubuisson drove direct to iiury Street, hut as previo isly arranged, Hyde and Baxter dismissed their coach in the neighborhood of Hyde Park Toil House and follows on foot. It was Sir Rupert's idea, so that all chance of causing undue attention ruight be avoided, bo Sir Rupert and his companion came to Bury Street long before the others.

''You are angry with me, Mr. Dubuisson,'' said Sir Rupert as he closed the door of his room, "J. can put niyscli in your place. That a man should behave as I have done requires more explanation than 1 have given. I could not give it before others. Had you refused to return here with me, perhaps if you had Jiever called me out, I should never have made any explanation. The morning'* work has not been wasted."

, "Then you have not been open with me from the first?" said Dubuisson.

' : lt is my nature to be cautious, and you must hot blame me for my nature. I have had conjectures, but you have told me little by which I might judge whether such conjectures were right. You are cautious, too, Mr. Dubuisson." ''Whatever caution I may 'have used seems to have done me little service," was the answer.

"Men have a knack of learning wisdom late," said Sir Rupert, "some leave it so late that they die lacking it, and 'history accounts them fools. Such, last -fright, seemed to be my case. With an opponent thirsting to have your blood in the morning, the past draws very clearly out of the shadows and becomes a pageant of lost opportunities. I sat late thinking of all the good I had missed in life. There was little I could repair or straighten out; indeed, there ■was only one thing that seemed possible of redemption, and that related to you, Mr. Dubuisson. I wrote you a letter last night to be given to you if anything happened to me this morning. If you open the draper in that table behind you, you will find it."

Dubuisson turned to do so. l/he drawer waa locked but the key was in it. As Dubuisson pulled it open, Sir ■Rupert took a letter from his pocket. "T forgot. I gave it to Captain Hyde and he returned it to me," said Sir Rupert. "Here it is." But Dubuisson did not turn; he stood bending over the open drawer. "Under existing circumstances it will Be better to tell you the story than to let you read it,'' said Sir Rupert, as he began to tear up the letter. Then he looked up and saw Dubuisson's attitude. 'What is it that interests you there? That drawer i» a usual receptacle for old patters and rubbish."

"And this, where did you get this?" Dubuisson asked, turning and facing him suddenly. His arm wag stretched and in his hand was a broken silver crosi.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE 'HISTORY OF THE OATH. Sir Rupert continued to tear tlie letter into threads for a few momenta hi silence, lie looked at the broken cross and then into Dubuisson's face.

"1 told you the drawer was full of rubbish.''

''This is no rubbish," said Dubuisson. "Whole, such a cross would bo of small value; broken, it is worthless. Why should it interest you?" "Does it not hold a meaning for you, Sir Rupert?" "It did once; it is a thing of the past. It meant enough then for me to know that it can have no meaning for you now." Dulmisson laid the cross carefully oil the table, and from an inner pocket took the token he had treasured so carefully and laid the two halves of the cross siide by side. They fitted exactly. Sir Rupert let the fragments of the letter fn.ll to the ground, and laying his hand sharply upon Dubuisson's shoulder turned him round so that he might look into his face. For a few seconds he scrutinised his features closely. "1 do not understand,'' he said, '7 can see no likeness." ''But the name?" said Dubuisson.

"The name tells me nothing. Can you be the son of the man I knew?" ''But the name,' ii»cd Dubuisson. "It wan not his own. He called himself Dubuois. yes. that has a similar sound; but his real name, it has escaped me. I thought of him always as Dubois." ■•'Was it Chatellon?" Dulmisson asked eagerly.

Kir Rupert gave one swift glance into his companion's face, as though he were finally deciding whether to trust him or not. "Chatellon! That was the name." "Forgive me the work this mornimr." he said, 'lilot it out from your memory. I have come near to killing my father's friend. Surely something, some memory which my face recalled, must have mailc you fire into the air." ''T did not consciously connect you with that past friend." Sir Rupert answered, "but Heaven alone is responsible for some of our actions. No. I cannot claim the sentiment you would ascribe to me. You were young, and I—well, at least, a disappointed man, besides beimr a seasoned and experienced duellist. I could pledge myself to hit my man in any spot I chose. Were it marked upon him my aim would not be untrue to the varyinr.' of a hair's breadth."

"You malvP me feel very small, Sir Rupert."

"That cross there, joined and eonipieic. means much to oolh of us," said Sir Rupert. "Take up yuur part of it as 1 take up mine. There may be others for whom it may have a meaning." "Can there be others':" "At least we will run no risk. Sit down and tell me all your story I nui eager to know it. eager to hear what your father said—his exact words. 1 may understand their purport better than you can." There was little doubt about Sir Rupert's eagerness, as leaning forward a little in his chair and never once interrupting him he listened to Dubuisson's story. Dubuisson kept nothing back, lie told how Lady Betty had hidden him at Abbots Chase, how she had come to him to the 'house by the river. There could be no need of reticence now.

"That is all, Sir Rupert, and you can judge the diliiculty of my mission," he concluded. "Does it not somewhat excuse me for the hot-headed nature of mv letter also?"

"Say no more of that," was the answer, "but is that quite all?" "Yes, everything."

"Except the love interest that creeps into every man's story," said Sir Rupert. "We are all alike in that. Some woman holds the strings of every life in her fingers. For all their delicacy and beauty they are hard, cruel fingers often." ,

"Is there a woman in your story, too, Sir Rupert?"

'T do not differ from other men very widely," was the answer, "I will ask no questions concerning Lady Betty, but remember she is highly placed in this land while vou—vou "

"I am hiding from Bow Street officers," said DubuUson, "but that you may help me to set right." Sir Rupert leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. His face was grave, and Dubuisson felt that there might be things in Sir Rupert's story which would increase his difficulties rather than lighten them. It was quite evident that Sir Rupert found some difficulty in beginning. "As I told you this morning. T know nothing of these Bow Street officers, nor can I imagine who has set the scandal going about Lady Betty Walmisley, but indirectly we ma}' And a reason." "There is Evertsen," Dubuisson suggested. "Who cannot know anything, beyond what he has been told," Sir Rupert said with conviction. "You guessed I imagine by what T said on the morning when we first met that I strongly suspected that you had been hidden at Abbots Chase. You would gather, also, from my conversation and subsequent events, that I had considerable sympathy with men who starved, and with all those upon whom the war and other conditions of the country have pressed very harshly. In these matters you and I hold different opinions very likely, nor does it matter. You are at heart a Frenchman, and if my heart is not altogether in the business, I am an Englishman." "Your position makos my way easier." said Dubuisson. "I have performed my vow and found you. You will absolve me from the oath my (father took, and say that I am free to go and bear my part in my country's fortunes." "There was rather more in the oath than you imagine," Sir Rupert answered slowly. '"Seeing you were determined to come to me, your father would probably have told you more had he not be struck down so suddenly. It will be rather difficult to make you understand, perhaps; lure that your father used an assumed name here will show you that even in this country he did not consider himself safe. Strangely, too, the men who were his enemies chanced to be mine also. We were both comparatively helpless at the time, but we svrure to be avenged upon these enemies. It is true that he was under an oath to me that neither he nor his should hear arms in battle against Englishmen, but we also bound ourselves together and separately to avenge ourselves vrhen the time came. The broken cross ■signifies the whole of the oath, not a part of it only.' He paused, but Dubuisson asked no question. "lour mother was a very beautiful woman." Sir Rupert went on slowly, ''others recognised that beside your father, others highly placed in this land, do you understand,? Position and money can accomplish much: your 'father here had neither. Your mother lived in fear, for there were plots to steal her from her husband. Who would trouble to right the wrongs of a fugitive and stranger? Do you see the difficulties we had to contend with? Your father was literally driven from place to place, and together we succeeded in .frustrating all their plans, but finally your parent* had to leave England secretly, one night, and cross to Normnndy." "Who were these men?" asked Victor through his fast-closed teeth, and the question came out hissing savagely. '"Wait." said Sir Rupert. "Your father escaped. I was not so fortunate. Truly, in my case the woman was weak, lint it was the weakness that only gives way under strong and continued assault. They told her lies, too, concernin«' me, which smoothed their path. The woman T loved, the woman who was to Slave been my wife, was enticed into the entourage of the Prince. Xeed I say more? She is dead, thank God; she was sinned against rather than sinning; but the man lives, Dubuisson—lives surrounded still by some of the rile fawners upon his favors who were your father's enemies and mine," and he paused, his face red hot with passion, his eyes ablaze with a fire that was seldom kindled there. "Tell me their names," said Dubuisson, still through his closed teeth. '■'lt is legion. The Court, T do not mean the mad King's Court, is rotten, rotten through and through. Two men that lied about me to her paid the penalty. T shot them both. Dubuisson. one in Hvde Park, one on the stretch of

' turf beside the river near Putney, and then i retired to my huuse at KiiiMVear. j They were afraid to prooveute me; they | left me alone. Do you understand I something of the full meaning of that broken cross now?"

Dubuisson sat motionless his hands clenched upon his knee.

"Since them 1 have been ever on the watch," Sir Rupert wein on after a pause. "The down-trodden man lias always found a friend in me. The law was powerless to help me; what should I care for the law? Let men smuggle and cheat the revenue, say 1. If pursuit were hard upon them my lnni-e at Kingswear was a refuge. They could pass as my servants until all pursuit was over. H a man ha . courage enough to take to the road, let him. 'He would rob the rich, and the more lie plundered them the better. That T have never ■been robbed will show how - thoroughly my feelings.in the matter were known. I have sworn to help any man who, directly or indirectly, may further my revenge. I sit alone and pull the strings, not becau-'c I ifear discovery, but because the longer I can live the greater damage I can do. I met yon, Dubuisson. and altthongh I did not connect you with this story, yon were, nt least, a man coming to England secretly. For all T knew you were a spy. so You would do harm; what did I care? I sent you to the Brar.en Serpent. I had no scruple in using you."

"I do not understand why I was kid- ' napped and taken there afterwards." said Dubuisson, suddenly interrupting him.

"Nor T: but ruffians of all sorts frequent that tavern, well-mannered =imo of them, but ruffians nevertheless. Your name, although unknown and suggesting nothing to me, may be known t? some of these scoundrels you and T have io much reason to bate, and having just, cause to fear you, they mar \vi~«. attempted to get rid of you. As you escaped, they set Bow Street upon you. That is my solution. T have made it my business to know something of these ruffiar: nt the Brazen Serpent." "Tt "-.,, ■-., PP „t Captain Hyde to mo, I suppose?' "No. It was nothing to 'do with me that he met you thc:e. His mentioning Lady Betty Walmisley as likely to give you information is curious, but is explained by the fact that he is a Devon man, and it is generally believed in Devon that the late Earl befriended French prisoners and refugees. I do not know whether it is true or not. I knew little of him."

/'The same reason may account for the suspicion- concerning Lady Betty," said Dubuisson.

"It may."

"You evidently do not think it docs."

"Xo," Sir Rupert answered slowly, "and I have reasons for not thinking so. Lady Betty Walmisley is beautiful, she is also exceedingly wealthy, and is, besides, a ward of the King's. Do you know that?"

"Yes, she told me so, but I did net understand that it was common xnowledge." Dubuisson was surprised at the ■accuracy of Sir Rupert's information, ■for although he had mentioned Lady Betty's visit 'he had said nothing about the Prince Regent's letter. The omission was not from any desire to withhold a part of his story, but the letter was so essentially Lady Betty's own affair that he did not consider he had a right to mention it. "I do not suppose it is known to many people," Sir Rupert answered, "mv

knowledge is due to the .nhitant concci.. of my young- relative, Walter Evertsen. Remembering what I 'have told you, you will not blame me too harshly when 1 oonfess that I have made use of Walter. He knows the Prince, is familiar with his circle, and many wine-begotten confidences have been given me. It- was in this matter that I heard 'how Lady Betty was the King's ward, and more, that the Prince now chooses to consider her his ward, to dispose of as he thinks it; a dangerous guardianship for any woman, Mr. Dubuisson."

Victor did not answer; this was no news to him, but in the light of what he had heard that day it had a new meaning for him.

"The Prince has made his choice," Sir Eupert went on; ''he has decider! that Walter shall marry her. Waller is not a scoundrel, and I fancy he is really in Jove wtih the lady, but he is weak and a mere tool. It will lie convenient for the Prince to have the Scarsfiehl fortune to draw upon when his gambling kick is out. Lady Betty would be the wife of his tool, the beautiful wife of a man she could not be in love with, ft it the old story over agaiv " he went on, passionately start'incr to his feet: "i?itrigue and profligacy, lying and dishonor. No one is satfe, nothing is sacred. It was the woman I loved, it was your mother, now jaundiced eyes are turned upon the woman you—you " "Love," said Dubuison, "say it, Sir Rupert, it is true." "Ah, lad—forgive the word, but you are a boy to me—if T could give the coupe tie grace to this rotten societv vfihich governs us, I would willingly dm in the effort. T have watched it pass along the streets to its feasting, its dancinri-. its debauchery, and there has been the assassin's lust in my heart. Tt would have taken shape and action i dozen times but for the conviction that my work was not yet accomplished, that it would be folly to throw my life away doing so little when T might live to do 10 much. But T grow too much of myself, too little,of you. It was not this kind of mission you came to fulfil: in the mystery of our 'broken cross you found no such history as this."

"Xn. Tell mo, Sir Rupert, did nrr father's oath bind me to persevere in tkis re venae?" "Truly T think it did. He was aide to do little from his retreat in Normandy, and I think he mount the work to descend to his son. But T am not going to hold you to that oath. You came to find mo. yon have found me. For you this oath only meant an inability to fight for your country. I ■withdraw that restriction. You are free to do *s you will. T will not even attempt to advise you, nor to influence

you." "You arc generous, T thank you for that." "I can even <lo more than say you are free; I can help you to Sir Rupert went on. "It will be easy to ship you across to the French coa>'. ftnd you may forgot Enalnnd and every man and woman in it. T shall not blame you; I will not, oven in thought, accuse you. .Such an oath as your father and I made between us ought not to bo held binding on our children. Two facts, however, you ought to know before you make any decision." "Keep nothing back from mo. Sir Ttnpert." ''Smugglers arc my friends: every law-breaking ruffian seems to touch a •ympathetic chord in mo." and a grim mile crossed Sir Ruocrt's face for a moment as ho made the confession. "So you may imderstand how many sources of information I 'have, and that I am constantly the first person in England