OUR SERIAL STORY

Taranaki Daily News, 15 November 1926, Page 14

OUR SERIAL STORY

“ Love in the Saddle ”

(By

J. C. LOCKE.)

(All Rights Reserved.)

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. Drusilla Cope (Toozle) is heiress of Hurstbury and will lose it if she marries Harry ' Hawkshaw without the consent of her uncle and trustee, Mr. Ringland, who is dishonestly associated with the Fancourts, rich financiers living at Norden, Harry’s old family estate. While Toozle is on the Riviera with her aunt, Lady Nunlash (Aunt Matty), Harry races his own steeplechasers to make the five thousand pounds that will enable him to obtain Mr. Ringland's consent. Gloria Harvey, who has been in- . suited by Gerald Fancourt, asks Harry to marry her. He refuses. Mr. Barter, Harry’s trainer, wins five hundred pounds for him, in spite of Gerald Fancourt’s adverse activities. Harry’s barrister-friend. Tommy Dawson, is staying with him at Chase Cottage when Toozle arrives unexpectedly. There is a quarrel about Gloria 'Harvey. When it is made up she returns to France, and. Harry tells Mr. Ringland that a lawyer’s clerk, Mr. Kewley, has accused him of stealing sixty-five thousand pounds of Toozle’s money. He admits it but defies Harry. Harry wins four thousand pounds with his horse Gunman. A plot by Gerald Fancourt to deprive him of the race is exposed and Fancourt is warned off. Mr. Kewley, Harry and Tommy Dawson are at Chase Cottage when Mr. Fradgeley, Mr. Ringland’s secretary, calls and produces evidence that Mr. Ringland is involved with the Fancourts in Carrington Drift, a fraudulent gold mine. Mary Dobson (Dobby), Harry’s old nurse and housekeeper, hears Mr. Kewley mention certain solicitors. She'becomes very excited and tells him to give her their address

CHAPTER IX. (Continued). Mr. Kewley finished his writing deliberately; put his pen away: rose, and held out the paper to Dobby. “Mrs- Dobson, ma’am,” said he; “I don’t know what you’re springing on us, but from what I’ve seen of you I make no manner of doubt it’ll fail’ surprise us. I bow to you, ma’am!” Which he did, jerkily. “Ah, get away with you, young man!” said Dob'by, taking the paper eagerly. “I know you lawyer chaps and your tricky tongues—Mr. Tommy here’s another of ’em, not but what you’ll be surprised when the time comes.” She prepared to depart, but Tommy grabbed her by the arm and Harry set his back against the door. “Dobby, you can’t leave us. like this, my dear soul,” Tommy remonstrated. ‘’Why, we shall just bust with acute curiosity! Come, tell us, there’s a kind, darling, blessed old angel.” But Dobby only shook her head vigorously, her apple-red face looking as obstinate as a chunk of knotty old oak. “Please yourself about busting,” said she stubbornly, “so long as you don’t make a mess o’ my room; but I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’ till my own due time, so it’s no manner o’ use you sugarin’ me up, Mr. Tommy, an’ you can just leave go o’ my arm.” “But you must tell us, Dobby dear,” Harry pleaded. “We’ll get no sleep tonight, else.” “Keep awake, then! Shan’t tell you, so you stand away from that door, Master Harry.” Dobby looked mute as a mule, the two friends looked helpless; but Mr. Kewley looked contented, and was smiling wisely to himself. “Let her go. gentlemen,” he said: “we’ll get nothin’ out of her. I’m plenty used to handlin’ country folk, and you take it from me the Crack o’ Doom wouldn’t fetch a whisper out of her before she chooses.”

“An’ that's sense an’ truth, young man,” said Dob'by, and bustled out with a triumphant chuckle as Harry obediently opened the door. “An now where are we?” said Tommy blankly. “Harry, I’ll have to chuck these happy week-ends. My nerves simply 'won’t stand the way Dobby bobs in at that door and says ‘Master Harry, here’s Old Nick to see you,’ and so forth. And what, in Old Nick's name, is it this time, anyway ?” “Let be, Mr. Dawson,” saitl»Mr. Kewley, tranquilly. “It’ll be useful when it does come if I know Mrs. Dobson, and, mark you, we can do with another barrel o’ gunpowder, for Mr. Ringland knows as well as we do that Miss Cope’ll dodge public scandal as long, in reason, as she can. And now what about going through these papers more carefully, sir?” “You are right,. Mr. Kewley,” Tommy sighed; “as right, you are, as rain or ninepence, and oh, as wise and wicked as that good fellow I mentioned just now. So let’s read and discuss and soberly decide, and soothe ourselves with this kind and kingly port, but not you, young Harry; you’ve got to keep your head clear for an interview with Mr. Ringland before lunch to-morrow. ‘Quick’ was the word of good Mr. Fradgeley. We’ll drink to that, ingenious lad, Mr. Kewley. what? And quick it shall be; so you’ll just sit and listen to our wisdom and take your fighting orders.”

“Fire away. I’ll contemplate the approaching bliss Dobby prophesied between whiles. I like your ‘soberly’! Much sobriety there’ll be when you’re outside that port!” When he set out for Hurstbury the next morning, well primed with instructions, Harry’s head was as clear as the clay, and that was as clear as crystal ice; the bright sun was no gayer than his face, and the song of the winter lark, trilling away high up against the frosty blue, was not more gay than the tune he hummed, though a good deal more melodious. That four thousand had brought Toozle very near indeed. A trifle more of waiting and fighting for her and the gate would open to a Paradise of glowing joys. He swung along with a stride that was like the step of a dance.

Yes. Mr. Ringland was in. he was told by Tweddell, Hurstbnry’s benevolent butler. It appeared Mr. had just returned from church, which amused Harry.

The sunlight lay in broad bars across the floor of the’ great lib’-arv when Harry entered it. It seemed to him that nothing had changed since he was last there: a vast fire stiff roared and flapped in the grate, and the moon-

faced clock still ticked gravely above it. Least of all was Mr. Ringland changed. He advanced to meet Harry with the same bland courtesy as ever, and a fleck of sun playing on his white hair made him look particularly saintly. “Good-morning, my dear Hawkshaw,” said he, in the old smooth tone. “I am rejoiced to see you looking so happy. I trust,your happiness does not arise from,, the fact that you come —as I assume you do—to give bat tle toe me once more. There is a strong combativeness beneath your amiable exterior, I have observed. I believe fighting is somewhat of a joy to you, my dear boy.” “Possibly, sir; but that is not the reason. Things are going rather well with me, that’s all. Having to badger you would certainly tend to diminish any happiness I felt, rather than otherwise.” "It is kind-hearted of you to say that —and feel it, as I perceive you do. You are still the knight, I see. Well, well: come, sit in your old great chair and tell me of my iniquities again.” “And I hope you’ll not want to murder me again, sir, if I do,” Harry answered with a smile. .In spite of all the sordid and ugly things under the aprface he u could never help relishing the ?odd flavour of his interviews with Mr. Ringland. “But it is no fresh iniquity of yours this time,” he added, more gravely. “It is only that we have discovered you have a companion in your dangerous game.” “I observe with interest that you say ‘we’; though, of course, with all my respect for your qualities, I had never supposed your nose keen enough to puzzle out this tangled scent alone. So you have discovered my regrettable connection with Gerald Fancourt?” Harry’s poker-face almost—but not quite—showed surprise at this; but he did permit himself to laugh.

“ ’Pon my word, sir, your frankness always takes my breath away,” he said. “Well, it is Fancourt I mean, but, forgive me; why -‘regrettable’?” Mr. Ringland spread his white hands in a gesture that was half a shrug.

“My dear Hawkshaw, may I remind you of my objection to useless lying? As for regrettable, your thrusts have points to them, as I remarked before, it is true that a rogue should not be fastidious about his company, but, believe me, it shocks all my instincts to be linked, even in roguery, with a now rascal like Fancourt.”

Harry again managed to hide a vivid and queerly amused surprise. “I believe it easily,” he said; “but the fact is that you are linked with him. Will you like it better if that linkage becomes public property?” “I shall not, indeed; but if I can resign myself to the loss of freedom and my good fame you will realise that I am unlikely to shrink from an additional burden of self-disgust.” Harry contemplated him thoughtfully. Where was the arrow to pierce that surface of smooth steel? He had one more to try.

“I realise the unlikelihood,” he admited. “But you see now how close and threatening our attack becomes; is it too late to ask you to reconsider things and do justice to Drusilla? Come, sir, restitution is a good word.” “It is; but renunciation is perhaps a better, and you know what I am prepared to renounce. As for Drusilla, future restitution is what I intend in her regard, so long as I can effect it without hindrance to my other ends—and that, strangely enough, you may believe.”

Strangely enough, Harry did; which was perhaps why, when he replied, his voice took on a graver note of warning.

“Then, sir, do you know that your confederate is selling you, and that restitution may shortly be beyond your power ?” That arrow got through the smooth steel. Mr. Ringland searched Harry's face with eyes that had become two dagger-points of black fire.

The moon-faced clock ticked out a full minute before he withdrew them, or spoke, or stirred. “Thank you,” he said at last, with a little bow. “I see that yopr warning is honest. Suffer me to think upon it for a few moments. Will you not smoke while I do so?” Harry watched as he smoked. Mr. Ringland sat still as a statue at the big table, his downcast eyes sombre' and brooding; and Harry noticed with a half-smile that one hand again gripped the paper-knife and showed knuckles whitened by the strain. The moonfaced clock ticked on and on, and the cigarette was becoming a stub before Mr. Ringland looked up. He smiled as his glance fell on the clutched paperknife.

“Another murderous impulse, I fear,” he said; “but not directed toward you this time, my dear boy. I was thinking of a traitor, and, thanks to your indulgence, I have now a clear vision of the measures I must take with him. Ah, that twitch of the eyebrow! Your otherwise admirable composure of countenance betrayed, you there, I think. Well, indeed, I suppose the spectacle of the betrayed traitor complaining of treachery is a sufficiently amusing one, but when tiger rends tiger l each ferocious beast will still be lamenting his own cruel hurts. And now, my dear Hawkshaw, will you be so courteous as to excuse me if I let you depart? Your news is somewhat troubling and has given me much to do.” He put his hand upon the bell, but Harry stayed him with a gesture before he could ring. “Just a moment, sir. About the other matter, do we stand as we were ?” “Exactly as we were. I hold to my ' _ “I am sorry it is so, sir, but, so oc it. You may ring if you please.” Mr. Ringland struck the bell. “Kindly order my cob to be saddled, Tweddell,” he said, when the benevolent butler appeared. “And has Mr. Fradgeley returned yet. by any chance?” “Not to my knowledge, sir,” the butler answered. “No, I suppose not. Ah, well. My secretary had to go to town last night on some urgent matter of his own,” he explained to Harry. . ‘’Good-bye, then, Hawkshaw. A thousand regrets that we cannot lunch together. Tweddell; show Mr. Hawkshaw' out.” “Good-bye. sir. I will take the path through the rosc-varden. if I may. It saves a mile, you know.” “By ell means, my dear boy. Goodbye. asrain.” As Harry turned thoughtfully through

the high hedge of the rose-garden his ear caught mechanically the clatter of a hard-ridden horse approaching along the avenue, and he thought to himself that the unseen rider must be a fool to take his horse over a frozen gravel road at such a pace. By the time he was striding over the lonely breadth of the high down his face had returned to its gay mood. He began to whistle. He whistled little better than he sang, but the notes twittered quite merrily. Two miles from Chase Cottage he became conscious of another sound that mingled with his whistling like the tliijob of a pulse. He ceased to whistle and listened absent-mindedly. The sound grew louder; it was the hammer of hoof-beats going at frantic speed. A horse out for a training-spin,'perhaps; rum hour for it, though. The hammering swelled to a low thunderous rumble and he looked round curiously. A horseman was hurtling down the slope behind him, half a furlong away. He started a little and looked more intently. Surely be knew that lumpish figure, riding untidily with flapping elbows and coattails wildly flying! Yes; Gerald Fancourse, by thundering Jupiter! The blood in his ears throbbed an accompaniment to the hoof beats for a second as he turned and walked on. His lips twitched into a savage smile and that red glow began to smoulder at the back of the brown eyes. Fighting, was it, by Hercules! It looked like fighting. The hoof-, beats swept down in a storm of noise behind Harry’s rigid back, and broke into a ragged pounding as Fancourt pulled up brutally, rocking in his saddle and came to a halt right ahead. His inflamed face was twisted into a grin of rage. Harry marched on steadily. “Stand still, you milk-faced mongrel!” .Fancourt,, shouted. Harry was pale, certainly, but his face looked more like grey granite than milk. “So I’m a swindler, am I? And I’ll drag your damned old Ringland into one of 'my bogus companies if he don’t steer clear of me, will I? By God, I’ll drag the lot of you somewhere you don’t like before I’ve done with you, you pack of blasted upstarts. And you’ll pbke your damned, turned-up aristocratic nose into my private affairs, hey? And you’ll have me warned off, will you, you tuppenny tinpot puppy? We'll see about that, my blue-blooded pauper!” Harry's upper-lip lifted stiffly, just enough to show a glimmer of " white teeth. "Get off that horse, my man!” he said in a stiflled voice. “I’m going to lesson vou.”

(To be Continued.)