"THE WEB."

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8862, 23 October 1907, Page 2

"THE WEB."

CHAPTER Xll.—Continued. t "And have you noticed, Mr Beeton, ( that the unfortunate girl has been ( exceedingly strange durinef the last £ day or two?—whir.h reminds me that there is something I think I ought to toil you. I only heard it while you £ and Mr Strangways were away } motoring. You remember last night { Mr Strang ways went out alone—and { Miss Rentoul was seen to follow j shortly after?" _, < "Yes, I remember," said Beeton, } trying hard to appear unconcerned. "Well, a pistol shot was heard on ; the moor, and from that direction Mr , Strangways and Miss Rentoul were : seen to come together. They were both much agitated, and Mr Strang- . ways walked as though he were hurt. It is strange, don't you think, that Miss Rentoulshould have disappeared so mysteriously just at this time? By the way, -I presume she is going to her friends in London. When do you meet in order that she may claim the reward of her wager?" Beeton tried his best to give evasive replies, but he could not face the cold searching eyes of the stately Duchess. A new and hideous suspicion began to creep upon him. At first he thrust it aaide, indignant at himself for even listening to it, then, half mad with jealousy, despair, and all the other passions that haunt a healthy man whose mind is unhinged for the pake of a woman, he returned to the subject again as a moth flutters around the candle. Tortured into an ungovernab e and unbearable confusion of conflicting doubts and fears, he could stand it no longer. He made a lumbering and blundering excuse to the Duchess, and rushed to his own room, where he alternately kissed the. photograph of Miss Rentoul and called himself a scoundrel, and then again began to connect up all the suspicions movements to which the Duchess had so delicately alluded. , But distracted and disappointed* love must have a victim. To be angry with Alice, to suspect her, to curse himself and her too was not sufficient. No insane lover was ever happy without a man to kick, and Beeton's thoughts always wandered back to Strangways. Perhaps she was tortured into trying to kill him, because he persecuted her with his love. He was the grim ogre of the whole business. Until that beastly railway accident this trouble never began. Strangways was his man, and he would keep an eye upon him. At this moment Jack Strangways himself was wavering between love and duty. He held in his hand in the hall below a telegram which had just arrived, and he was pining for more opportunities of a few precious moments alone with Violet, whom the Duchess, with the tenacity of a royal bodyguard, persistently shadowed. For several minutes he paced the hall reading the telegram, and then, making up his mind with a quick toss of his hoad, be called out to one of the men to pack him a bag andge,t a motor car round in half an hour. "I am going to London by the next train," he concluded for the general information of his retainers, and moving to the library where the Duchess had taken Violet to write some letters, he made his apology and expressed the hope that they would remain at "The Gappe" so long as they found it convenient, as his visit to London might be only a very short onr. "But it is so unpleasant for you to rush off after such an exciting day," suggested the Duchess. "Must you go at once?" "Absolutely yes. I have received a telegram, and the matter is urgent." Just then Beeton, tormented and bored by his own company, strolled into the room. He had heard the word "telegram," and when Strangways expressed the hope that he would remain at "The Gappe" with the ladies, the American replied sharply—"l will go with you." The protestations of the Duchess and the dutiful appeal of Violet at the instigation of the Duchess, as well as the pressing invitation of Strangways, all failed to move him from his purpose. "I am going with you," he repeated, He would say that and nothing else. The two drove to the station together, hardly speaking a word until they were seated in a first-class railway carriage, when Beeton said abruptly—"You have got a telegram calling you to London. Who has sent it?" Strangways looked at him at first with some show of resentment, and then with sympathetic interest, as Beeton followed up his first question rapidly with another—"ls it from Miss Rentoul?" Jack shook his head, but Beeton was not satisfied With hysterical vehemence he persisted—"But i: is about her; you know where she ■■•■ and you are going to her. When. ;.3 she? I have aright to know." Strangways smiled indulgently at the peremptory assumption of the man, but he smoothed out the telegram on his knee, and handing it to his companion remarked in a softener! tone "If you had said that before, I .might have saved you a journey." Beeton took up the telegram and read it. "On the track. Come at once.— MEDHURST." CHAPTER XIII. Long before Strangways and Beeton arrived in London Miss Rentoul had found her way to some unassuming suburban lodgings, which she had

PAUL URQUHART. [Published By* Special Arrangement.] [All Eights Reserved.]

taken in the neighbourhood of Hampstead. On the mantelpiece, a letter marked "urgent" was stuck in the corner of the clock after the manner of London ap-rtment houses. Before she looked at it, she drew _ some papers from an inside pocket in her American made travelling costume, and hold them hestitatingly in her hand. She took them between her fingers and thumbs as though about to tear them to pieces. Still she hesitated, and, going into the little sleeping apartment off her sittingroom, came back wfthout them. Then she read the letten and standing with her elbow on the mantelpiece, and one foot on the fender, held it limply in her right hand at her side. "What is the use?" she asked her reflection in the mantel mirror. Then looking out of the window abstractedly for several minutes, she crushed the letter in a lump, and thrusting it into her side pocket, walked out of the house. About halfway down Hampstead Road, the lady stopped in front of a comfortable looking middle-class house, standing in its own grounds. Here she paused again, and as though impatient at her own indecision, lifted the latch of the garden gate, The woodwork stuck; the gate was | oftener shut than open; a young man who happened to be passing pushed it open or her. and narrowly watched her as she thanked him. The board signifying that the premises were "To be Let" was only just down, and there was a general appearance of neglect about the whole place. The windows had blind?, but no curtains, and she rapped the big knocker several times before her summons received attention. A dark young man, with a handsome though not pleasant face, opened the door cautiuusly at first and with'alacrity when he recognised the visitor. Passing him with a quick bow, she entered the hall and looked about her, uncertain which of the rooms to enter. The door of one of ■them opened, and a tall man with iron-grey hair brushed over his forehead, beckoned her. He commenced to address her in terms of endearment, at which she impatiently shrugged her shoulders, and taking the nearest chair asked abruptly—"Well, what is it you. want to tell me?" "The mission of the Most High prospers; the elect and chosen multiply, and the doubters are encompassed about on every side." "Surely, uncle, you know me too well to talk like this. Let us get to business. What is it you have to tell rae, and why did you send for me? Be as quick as you can; I am tired after a long journey, and 1 start for another long journey to-morrow." "Another journey, my beloved girl! You will not surely leave us so suddenly. We have news, great news for you." "Then you had better let me have it quick, for I have no time to waste. What is it?" "Impatient, always impatient, like your poor dear mother, jumping too quickly at conclusions, neglecting the blessing of the faithful. Think of the long years of suffering and misery she endured." "I have not come here to be reminded of that. The thought is with me, God knows, too closely. What is the news you have to tell me? If you cannot tell me it at once, I must go." "What, go and leave us-deprive us of all life's hope <md joy?" A look of disgust flashed into the girl's eyes as the dark man who had opened the door thus appealed to her. With an effort she answered him politely; "I am going back to America, there to work again for my living." "No, no, you must not do that;you are leaving us at the very moment when success awaits you, when success awaits us all," said her uncle hastily. "There can be no success for me — now. lam tired of it all—sick to death." ~ "But, my child, remember your promise " I "1 do remember it. I have done my best to redeem it. I have worked and saved, but now all is— is Oh, why did I ever go there?" Affecting a calm and fatherly tone, the old man took his niece's hand in his. "My poor girl," he said, "something has upset you. This is not the brave little woman of whom wo are so proud." Gently but emphatically she drew her hand away, and moved towards the door. She held it open, but stood hesitatingly toying with the handle. There was obviously something she wanted to any; once or twice she tried to speak, but blushing crimson, she still held the door half open. (To be continued.)