SERIAL STORY

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 383, 7 May 1910, Page 9

SERIAL STORY

By PERCY BREBNER.

A ROYAL WARD.

(Published by arrangement with Cassell and"Company, Ltd., publishers, of London and Melbourne* the proprietors of the Copyright). CHAPTER XXVI. ALL IS FAIR IX LOVE AND WAR. For the man who has almost achieved success yet just failed at the last moment there must always be a particular bitterness. Since fortune and good luck brincr him to the supreme moment, he must feel that the reason for failure rests with him, and as a rale, when it is too late, he will not find it very difficult to understand the reason if he chooses to toe honest with himself. Tins was Walter Evertsen's case. Fortune had favored him in a truly remarkaole manner. On returning to Almacks last night, after walking with his friend to •hear the important news concerning Dubuissou, he found that Lady Betty •had left suddenly and unexpectedly in the interval. A lady who was just coming out to her coach stopped to scold him for not being there to dance with her, and since she was with Lady Lannesley when Betty's message was delivered,' she was able to give him parti-' culars. . "1 think it is quite curious, she said. "Even if the Duchess is ill, why should she send for Lady Betty Walmisley? Perhaps we aie in for a mystery tomorrow, Mr. Kvertsen." I Then a porter at Almacks declared that the carriage in which Lady Betty had left was not the Duchess of Petersham's, which he knew well; and as though fortune were determined to heap favors upon him, as he hurried into St. James' Street, he met a friend who had been at Petersham House all the evening. The Duchess was perfectly well, had spoken of Lauy Betty, but had certainly never sent to Almacks for her. Evertsen immediately hastened to ms lodging, calling on a friend, who was always ready to do him a service on the way, and together they were in pursuit of Lady Betty a good hour before Dubuisson and Baxter had left the inn by Tyburn turnpike. Evertsen did not doubt for a moment that Dubuisson had run away with Lady Betty, possibly with her consent; he was fully persuaded also that Dubuisson was a spy, even if he were not concerned in the attempt on the Regent's life, and persuaded himself that Lady Betty's rescue from an undoubted scoundrel was the thought uppermost in his mind. The process of reasoning which made him follow the Exeter mail-coach road out of .London he would have found difficult to explain"; possibly the fact that Lady Betty had already 'hidden Dubuisson at Aobots Chase had something to do with it. Fortune again helped him. At a hostelry some eight miles out Of London he had news ot a coach. He jumped to the conclusion that it was Lady Betty's, and he went on perfectly satisfied. Twice during the following day he got news of a coach, once at least'it probably was Lady Betty's. A man by the roadside, spoke of furious driving, and mentioned that the coach had come from a side road and might purposely have avoided the town a couple of miles back. Evertsen was quite aware, therefore, that by keeping to the main road he might very likely get in front of the fugitives, and having all trace of them, he came to the conclusion that he had done so when towards evening he and his companion came out upon the piece of common across which the road swept in a quarter circle. If he were right, the coach could hardly avoid this piece of road, and so they waited. So good luck had attended him, and then, in his excitement, he had become careless. As the coach came into view, he called to his companion and they dashed after it, never calculating upon so sudden and determined a resistance from the coachman. By the time Evertsen had picked himself up and realised what had happened, the coach had disappeared into the woods. Neither of them was really hurt, although Evertsen's companion had had the wind knocked out of him by his fall, and stood in a doubled-up position for a few moments. There was nothing for it but to take their saddles and bridles, ana walk on to the next inn, and try and procure .other horses. They had just learnt from) the landlord that horses were not to be had that night for love or moneyj when Victor Dubuisson and Finley Baxter entered. Evertsen made one step forward as though he doubted whether he had seen the strangers clearly. • •'By gad, Pellant, m - e haven't failed after all!" he exclaimed, flinging out his arm towards his companion. "This is the man."

The loose-limbed friend jerked himself into a position of attention, but did not speak. "Where is Lady Betty?" Evertsen demanded.

"I have ridden out of London to put that question to you," Dubuisson answered. For a moment it seemed as if Evertsen would fling himself upon his enemy without another word; his own sense of dignity may have come to his aid, or perhaps he was steadied by a sudden movement of Pellant's; whichever it •was his twitching fingers were locked behind his back.

'•'Cleverness is a necessary part of your profession, I take it, Mr. Dubuisson," he said, with fine scorn, "and I grant you honest men it difficult to deal with men of jour stamp. They are driven to dirty means and scurrilous agents if they would hold their own. This time you are over-reaching yourself. I know you were at Almacks last night, and upon my honor I feel a sneaking admiration for your impudence. You went there to see Lady Betty Walmisley. Xo sooner had you left than she was sent for. such was the story, by the Duchess of Petersham. It was a lie, Mr. Dubuisson. She was villainously abducted, and at the very moment when my friend a.nd I had succeeded in coming up with her, double murder was attempted on the King's highway." "We passed the dead horses on the road," said Baxter. "1 have not the honor of your acquaintance, sir," returned Dubuisson sharply. "Better late than never., and I think we are well met to-niaht. Mv name is Baxter—Finley Baxter.'' ••Another of your profession, :T presume. .Mr Dubuisson." he said, "'•'orike moment let that pass; we were speaking of Ludv I'ettv Walmislev. Knowing so iiiii-li you will easily understand me when f say that I intend to know more. I'artlv by my own fault, which I most deeply regret, Lady Betty was ~/ induced to take some notice of yon. Your profession does not display itself outwardly, of course, or you wou'd be likely to have small success in it; I will even allow that you, personally, have certain attractions which have been ex-

ceedingly useful to you. Thoy have inclined Lady Betty to the belief that you arc an honest gentleman. I am here to prove to her that you were nothing 01 the kind."

Pellant had kept his eye* fixed upon Dubuissou, who would certainly have broken in upon .Evertsen's studied insolence before this, only that he hoped, by letting him talk freely, to gain some information about Lady Betty.

''l think I have done you one injustice," he said quietly,, when Evertsen paused. "I came in pursuit, confident that you had run away with Lady Betty Walmisley by force. I have altered my opinion. I wonder if you will believe me when I say that Lady Betty's sudden flight is a mystery to me?"

•'I should not believe you on your oath," Evertsen replied, his hands still behind him.

'"After all, I am afraid vour good or bad opinion is of little moment "to me." Dubuisson answered, with a short laugh. '_ "Xo?" said Evertsen, in an insolent, interrogative drawl. "Have you entirely forgotten the events of "yesterday, when you had to run for your life, when you had to desert your lodgings to avoid arrest? Have you forgotten a certain night on tne coast of Devonshire, when you landed secretly, one of a crew of smuggling vagabonds", when you had to run, and even then succeeded'in playing upon the sympathy of Lady Betty Walmisley? Let me tell you. Mr. Dubuisson, that in this country, honest men do not run away and hide from the law, and for the most part Englishmen are honest. A word from men and every man in this inn will take care that a. French spy who walks into it shall lpave it only as a prisoner." '•'Heaven alone knows whether vou believe such evil of me or not." said Dubuisson, "nor does it matter much. It is false from start to finish, but in hunting me you may have been sincere. I am not your judge, nor are you mine. I repeat, your opinion does not trouble me, and I should strongly advise you not to attempt to molest me here."

"Why not? Two gentlemen to twowell, gentlemen, and half-a-dozen other men on the premises! Why not?" "Because you are face to face with a desperate man, Mr. Evertsen. The first ■word you uttered to raise an alarm would be the last word you would ever utter. T would shoot you like a dog." "If I do not say that word at "once. Mr. Dubuisson, pray do not think me a coward," Evertsen returned, with a bow. "Believe me,.. I have a fair reputation for courage. To-night, x the circumstances are peculiar, and I am willing to bargain with vou."

"Wisely said, Evertsen," iremarued Pellant. "Upon my honor, lam inclined to think you are mistaken somewhat in your opinion of this gentleman." . "Thanks, Pellant, thanks, it is always pleasant to succeed in satisfying one's friends," and for a moment Evertsen became the self-satisfied dandy, a manner which Dubuisson had become familiar with during their short period of friendship. "Yes',"T am willing to bargain. "Your presence here to-night, Mr. Dubuisson, leads me to suppose that you •have some pretensions with regard to Lady Betty Walmisley. If my memory serve me, I once explained my own to you. Be reasonable, sir. Frankly, you are impossible. If the lady has unwittingly given you cause to think otherwise, you may take it from me that your own ambition has exaggerated her gracio'uness, and that any thought she has given you has been merely a passing one. She is young, impressionable, and your career in this country might appeal to a young girl's sympathy." "Your bargain!" said Dubuisson irritably. "What is it?"

"My lips are sealed concerning you, I will make no attempt to follow you. you are free to leave the country, if you give up all pursuit ol Lady Bettv. Tonight, you shall let Mr. Pellant and myself have your horses—you will be able to'get others to-morrow—and we will ride forward. It is a good bargain; your life probably against an insane ambition. Lady Betty is not for you. She is a royal ward, and her future rs already provided for."

Dubuisson's calmness had deserted him. He had seized (Evertsen by the throat almost before the last words had fallen from his lips, and forced him back against the settle by the fire. "You miserable huckster, curse your bargaining!" he said savagely, although his voice was hardly raised. "You are a tool only, a cur which goes yapping at its master's bidding. Were it otherwise I would strangle "the life out of you here and now. You are the man Lad" Betty is to marry if your royal master has his way; you are to be the convenient husband who shall not count. T j know the whole vile plot you and your master have concocted, the Prince's let- ' ter, the, charge of treason, subtly made, to frighten the girl into obedience. I know the whole scurrilous business from beginning to end, and more, far more, j You live because you arc a tool, a par- j tially deceived tool; if you were other- ! wise' I would kill yon. Curse your bar- ! gaining and your insolence! ] love |

Lady Betty Walmisley, love her, do vou hear? AH your efforts have been wasted. She loves me. do you hear that? She has promised to be my wife, and you will take her \name upon your foul lips at your peril. Nonv> Taise your cry of spy if you will." Evertsen had not attempted to struggle. He had been taken by surprise, and Dubuisson's knowledge and accusation surprised him still more. He continued leaning back against the settle for a moment after Dubuisson had.released him, with perhaps a vague wonder whv Pellant had not interfered. Neither Pellant nor Baxter had moved; they were taken by surprise, too, and the' torrent of accusing words seemed to have fascinated them. With a shake of his shoulders to straighten his disordered coat, Evertsen stepped slowly up to Dubuisson. "Before raising an alarm I will at least settle mv private quarrel," he said, striking him across the mouth. "Take back your lie."

This time both Baxter and Pellant came between them. ' ••You mav have your satisfaction at once.'' said Evertsen. "The moon is up and the light is good enough for me." Dubuisson nodded to Baxter.

--I*ll find some other waiting place until vou are ready," and he turned and went out.

-It is for us to arrange, sir." said Baxter to Pellant. "and as quickly as passible. We are not giving a show for ihe benefit of the inn's customers. Shall we walk" out and choose a likely niece of ground."

■'it's all rather irregular." said Pelbin, "but our respective friends seem to have -uch a pretty quarrel it would be a sin to spoil it." Fierce as the nuarrcl had been, the voices had not been loud cnou-h to arouse anv narticular attention in the bar ..u the o: !rr s ; V of the Two or three men were there, wood-cu! i ers probably, and with a view not to attract ina: notice. Dubuisson ordered some wine, which lie barely tasted, and asked about the roach.

"Aye. it passed not long before the other gentlemen arrived; going at a

great pace it was. I thought the horses were running away, but the driver had them in hand wonderfully." "I met them a mile away and they had quieted down then," said one of the men. In the other room Evertsen was standing before the fire when the door opened stealthily and a man entered, and tiptoed to his side. "Why not borrow the two horses, sir, if you're in a hurry to go on?"

"Borrow the horses!" ami there was more a note of exclamation in Evertsen's tone than of interrogation.

"Easily done, sir. I could lead them round the back of the house to a bit o' green sward not thirty yards up the road. The only thing is I couldn't come back here for a bit. It wouldn't be easy to explain the difference between borrowing and stealing to angry gentlemen." "Xo. What's it worth?" "Would five guineas hurt you, sir?" "Gad, you're a smart fellow; the idea is worth the money, and there it is. I don't suppose I shall use the horses." "T shall take them there in case you should," said the man. "All's fair in love," Evertsen reflected, "and the scoundrel lied. Besides, if I have the luck to shoot straight enough, Pellant and !•' can go on tonight. They wouldn't want the horses. Gad, it's a good idea, and Dubuisson lied. His wife! Lady Betty his wife! Curse him. About me he lied, why shouldn't he have lied in every other particular? I shall punish him for the lie, but perhaps not to-night. If the fellow is not responsible for Betty's flight, who is? She mav be in deadly peril. It's a good idea about the horses." He went to the door of the room listening for Pellant and Baxter's return. As they' came into the house he called for Pellant.

"In a. quarter of an hour," he said, "not before. I have something to do first."

"A quarter of an hour, will that suit you, sir?" Pellant asked, turning to Baxter.

"Perfectly," was the answer. "Is it all arranged?" Dubuisson whispered as Baxter joined him. "Drink this wine. I ordered it for the sake of appearances. There's no suspicion of our intentions, I fancy."

Baxter drank his wine, and pushed his chair back towards the window. "Tt's all arranged, but my heart isn't in this busines,s," he answered. "I'm not very fond of, your friend Evertsen." •■Hardly a friend," said Dubuisson. "Fine night, landlord," said Baxter, lifting a corner of the red blind which hung across the window; "and a pretty lonely spot." "We get used to it, sir, and it's not so lonely as you would think.' West Hal ton is not more than a quarter ol a mile down a side road, and West Halton's a goodish sized place. Then this is the main London road, you see, and there's always something doing on the road." "A quarter of an hour away, eh?" "Xo. sir, a. quarter of a mile." "Of course/' said Baxter, still holding ii]) a comer of the blind to admire the moonlight night. In the other room Evertsen w r as talkin.::eagerly and rapidly. ... "HibtlL "'"% vou ale ,;1 coward," said Pellant.' W* "Does' it matter what they think? We must think of the woman. I am not afraid that my reputation will suffer the opinion of these fellows."

"f don't like it," Pellant answered. "Xor do I," said Evertsen eagerly, "but in love and war—you know the saying. Love and war are both in this. Heaven knows I love, and to overreach a spy is a part of war."

"I am in your hands," Pellant said, somewhat reluctantly, "but whether I'm playing the part of a good friend, I don't know, for I'm acting against my conscience." Stifle* conscience for a little and come," said Evertsen.

They went quickly, noting that the door of the other room was closed. There was talking and laughter there, too; it would be impossible to hear them. They would have seven minutes' start at least. Once outside Evertsen touched his companion's arm and they ran lightly and swiftly.

It was at that moment that Baxter dropped the corner of the red blind. "Come! . Quickly!" he said, and to the landlord's consternation he dashed the chairs aside and flung himself out of the door, followed by Dubuisson, and after a few seconds by everyone else.

"Our horses!" shouted Baxter to Dubuisson, who was asking questions as he ran after him rather reluctantly. The moonlight struck upon the piece of green sward by the roadside. A man was at the horses' heads. Evertscn, who was the faster runner of th« two. had his foot in the stirrup, and Pellant would have been in the saddle in another second when Baxter fired. Pellant stood still within a yard of his horses; the man who had been holding the bridles flung them out of his hanil and plunged among the trees; Evertsen's body, as he sprang up, showed above his horse for a moment and then tumbled back.

"Quickly!" shouted Baxter. "We're not called upon to do surgeon's work." He had jumped across Evertsen and was in the saddle in a moment.

''Stop til em!" Evertsen cried, trying to rise and fumbling in .his pocket. "Never mint! me, stop them!"

Pellant had rushed to him, and Dubuisson had just time to catch hold of the other horse's bridle as it started to gallop. He had to run with it. '•'Stop them! Shoot them! Anything!" Evertsen cried, and fired point blank at Baxter. His race and exertion proved too much for him, and he collapsed -with ;i groan. The men came running from the inn. shouting questions.

"Leml a. hand," said Pellant. "Ho'ys hurt badly. I'll answer questions presently."

'"'There's a bone setter in West Hal ton." said one.

"And a surgeon," sain another. '■Aye. and there's Waller, the horse leech, who should hnow something o' doctoring," said ;a third. "One of you get on" sharp for the surgeon," said the landlord, as they carried Evertsen back to the inn. "He's a good man, sir,' lie went on, turning to Pellant. "Most of the people who die has him. My own wife was under his care when she died, and T think he made it as oasv for her as he could." Meanwhile Dubuisson bad mounted, ami Ihev galloped down the road in silence. ••Evertsen fell awkwardly." he said, after a nause. "Do you think you killed him?"

"I can't siiv I took much precaution when 1 final," was the answer. "If my horse hadn't swerve,! and Ihrowu nte forward in the saddle vou'd have had to Lio on alone. I'm thinking. He was

alive enough to fire pretty straigUt. He's let daylight into my hat." •'l'd sooner he didn't ~ie in an affair of this sort," said Dubuisson. after a pause.

"Why, yes, it's a poor end to make, but in love and war. if all is fair, you have to take your chances." So thev rode on under the'moon in pursuit of Lady Betty.

Evertsen had taken his chances. They had brought him to a weary bed of pain and left him in the not too .skilful hands of a village surgeon. (To be continued on Wednesday).