THREE MEN AND A MAID.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9025, 11 January 1908, Page 2

THREE MEN AND A MAID.

CHAPTER lll.—Continued. "Which warrior?" asked Marjorie, glancing away again over her shoulder. "Why, William de Warrenne." "Oh, please do forgive me. ] don't know why I am so distraught. Yes, of course, he was thy one who fell at Falkirk." "The third seal," said Philip, "is a fine one richly traeened, and contains the armorial device. It dates from about 1350, and belonged to Robert de Warrenne who fell at the battle of Poictiers, where the French we-e routed by the Black Priuce—"Did Robert fall, too?" interrupted Marjorie "What an unfortunate lot! They all seem to have got ■killed." "Certainly, we have not been happy," said Philip musingly. "Our blood has been poured forth in every land. The fojrth seal, however, brought us some luck:, and has ever since been the mascotte of our race. It is that of Philip de Warrenne, who fought with great bravery at Agincourt, where he was wounded by one of the French archers, but not fatally, for he was saved by his shield, which bore the same device as before, but here the shield is placed couchee, and over it, on a helm, appears for the first time the crest, and the motto—'Courage sanspeur.' Here you have it complete in my ring. For centuries now it has been the Warren talisman and pledge of good chance in this world." Philip lifted his hand, and Marjorie, not for the first time, bent over the ring in the fast-fading twilight. "But why do you wear it op the second finger, and on the right hand, too?" she asked. "An old habit of the family," he answered. "I have never been able to discover the origin of it." "Do you always wear it?" "Oh, always, ever since I left Oxford. As you see, the finger has become much too big for the ring, which has accordingly imbedded itself, so that the only way in which it can leave me now is by an amputation " "Unless the gold on the fastenings of the stone were to snap some day,'' said Marjorie. "No, I think it will outlast the finger," said Philip, smiling. "If I were really to lose it —ah, on that day I should feel that my good angel had truly abandoned me." "Not really?" "Yes really. You deem, that statement rather fanciful, no doubt. Suppose I tell you that such a thing is historically ascertained * to have happened, in the case of at least three scions of our house'.'" "Oh, such things may be; I am not a scoffer," said Marjorie. "And now—really—l must go. The night is turning quite bleak and windy—perhaps there is going to be a storm." She stood up, holding her face to the rough caresses of the moorland breeze. "Well, I think now," said Philip, standing up after her, "that you could pass an examination on the Warren seals?" "I'm afraid not yet," she answered, "for I have only been able to listen with one ear. I am sure you will go through it again some other day, when my mind js more receptive. I can't get over the oddity of the fact that I am here at all. Some one must have had some motive. Well, I can only inquire and set my wits to work " "Ah, then the mystery will be made most claar, "said' he. "I should not care, if ever I committed a secret wrong, to have you on my track!" "You make me both an angel and a detective in one evening -" "I mean both!" You never say anything that you don't mean. I know, so I feel duly elated. But come." He handed her down through the trap-door in the slightly arched roof of stone, and passed after her at the very moment when, perhaps half a mile away in the moorland gorge called Ghyll Beck, at a spot where a continual splash of water washing over an old millwhetl broke the silence of the moor, Marjorie's sister, Hannah, met James Courthope, with the awful whisper: "Is it all right?" "Safe—safe —they are prisoners," panted Courthope. "Oh, good Lord, how pale and out of breath you are!" breathed Hannah. "Yes, the vile key," gasped Courthope—"couldn't get it to turn—couldn't get it to turn!—l pulled it out—dropped it—nearly spoiled everything!" •'"But you did at last ?" "Yes, the rotten key—it nearly broke my hands. I don't know how they didn't hear me striving. I .couldn't get it to turn—it wouldn't turn !" "Never mind—never mind—it's •over row ■" "Yes,"confound the key! Yesterday ii. turned quite easily. This evening, before they came, it turned, but when I; wanted to lock them in, I couldn't get it to work —it stuck." "But it turned after! It's all right —do calm yourself, James." "I tell you it hurt me, girl. The very devil seemed to be struggling against me. But at last I got it turned—at last " "Wore you in the tower when they arrived?" "Yes, hidden in the dark among the sacks which old Stuart keeps there. They came in—and went up. They were hardly up the first ladder when I was at the door. I meant to have it locked before they could reach the top, and then the beastly lock stuck. If they had glancei! down the fae<' of the wall, they couldn't have avoided seeing me, for the vile thing wouldn't turn. I tried to take

By ROBERT ERASER.

[Published By Special Arrangement.] [All Rights Reserved.]

it out to see what was tho matter—and the key wouldn't come. At last it came with a clatter—something knocked it out of my hand. >lt made a noise " "I wouldn't make such a fuss about a thing that is done with," said Hannah sourly. "Well, here I am. I crept away like a rabbk among the whins. It's all over now; they're prisoners till morning." "If Mr Warren shouts, perhaps they <:an hear him from the millhouse?" "No fear, I've tried it myself—our pair of love-birds are safe for the night. No one will pass this way. To-morrow it will be all over Hudston that they spent the night together in the tower. Gad! Won't people smile! Our romantic Philip is bound to marry her in a hurry. Where's Robert now?" "I left him at the Greyhound," answered Hannah. "When father told him that Marjone was out he cursed, and said he would wait there all night till she came, so things are in a nice stew at home. . . . Perhapj, by this time these two have found out that the door is locked!" < "Very likely: they'll think it's the wind, or the devil !" "My, I should just like to hear what Marjorie says! What a thing! She'll be glad in her heart, I know — she'll be half dead with fright, but she'll be glad underneath in her heart. It's Mr Warren that I feel sorry for." Courthops wiped his wet brow, and now having recovered his breath, smiled with something of his cold self-control, saying : "Well, we havo nothing to keep us here. I must get back in a hurry to the Court. I came out secretly; the servants must think that I was in all the while. Now, Hannah no weakness of face at home, remember, no strange looks, no trembling of lips or mysterious smiles. Better not sea Robert to-night, but pursuade your father to send him home. Good-night —I feel rather done up —meet me in the morning as arranged." "Is that all, James?" murmured the woman. "Eh? Sorry. I'm rather upset, you seo." Then he gave her the forgotten kiss, off-handedly, as. one throws a bone to a dog. Hannah walked homewards with such a furnace of excitement raging in her bosom, that James Courthope might as well have forbidden the sky to be blue as counsel her to keep her usual face that night. Agitation at the event in itself, a fore-feding of the wide eyes and hushed breath of all Hudston to-morrow, her wonder how Marjorie was taking it, how Warren, what "father" would say, what Mr Isambard and the Squireall these thoughts surged in a chaos through her brain. But what most of all occupied her troubled conscience was the fanciful notion that Marjorie would be "glad in her heart," and this made her bitter. Marjorie would be marrying a "gentleman like Mr Warren," and, amid all her tears of dismay, was secretly rejoicing at being pent up in the tower with him, and it was Hannah who had helped to bring that satisfaction to Marjorie. This made Hannah hiss. It was all very well for James Courthope to go straight to his ends, and be pleased at the success of his plans, but Hannah had a feminine J point of view, and a feminine spite, and she felt more of envy at Marjorie, a prisoner there all night long with her love, locked up, and "glad of it," than she felt satisfaction at the trouble thereby brought upon Marjorie. ' And it was this sick nerve of Hannah at Marjorie's strange way of wooing fortune that wonderfully threw Courthope's scheme out of gear, and complicated everything. Courthope's wish, which he had impressed upon Hannah, was that not a soul should dream where Marjorie was until the morning, when, after her escapade, some farmer or gamekeeper, passing the tower after daybreak, might set free the pair of prisoners; but when Hannah came back to the hotel, instead of keeping herself quiet, she could not restrain her fevered feet from hovering about the door of the room in which Robert Courthope waited in vain for Marjorie to come. (To be continued.)

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