THREE MEN AND A MAID.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9039, 24 January 1908, Page 2

THREE MEN AND A MAID.

CIIAPTEIi VIII. Continued. Marjnvie thought that over tor a While. Then she said quietly: "You shouldn't be a foolish dreamer, dear."' ''Foolish dreamer, is it?" said Hannah with a lau,j;h, "you see that sun shining there? What I tell you is just as sure as that that sun will set to-night." "What, Jias Mr Jaim-s C.uuth.>pe promised to marry you?" asked Maijorie. "He has," and Hannah turned sharply round, drawing herself .up, with a superb, calm smile, her chin in the air. " When?" "Oh. long Ego." "But—haven't I told you? I don't think that this man is honest and true. Whatever promises he may ha\e made you when he was poor, you are not to build any castles on them ff "And why not, pray?" "Must I tell you? Well, then, if I must - because he has pestered me several times with his attentions, has lain in wait for me, has declared himself enamoured " "He was only playing with you, my girl," and Hannah smiled again calmly. "I hope so, for your sake. _ Eut wasn't even such play rather disloyal to you?" "Oh, men are all like that. He was only haviiu a little game with a pretty girl like you. I don't mind so long as he- never kissed you. Did he ever?" "You are joking." "Ah, but that's not answering the question, though!" ' "Do you, then, hold me so .cheap.? Don't be absurd. But, as you say., his advances to me may have been without much meaning, and if this good fortune is really to happen yoa, I, of course, shall rejoice with you. Only, do be careful " "It's sure," said Hannah, Smiling serenely. < "Won't you explain yourself?" Hannah burst into a laugh, and tripped out of the rcom, humming a lively air, and from the village end the church bell knelled after her. The next forenoon the inquest was resumed, again with the same crush in the schoolroom. Hannah had to ba thera, but Marjorie, having neither will nor power, remained at home, though she had risen from bed, and during the inquest was sitting at the drawing-room window, her eyes fixed on a book of which she did not read a word. Her hair and forehead were just visible to any one look it g from the opposite side of the street. The village folk were all in or near the schoolroom, and the main stx-eet was a dead place. The hotel, too, was lonelv. her father and mother being at the inquest. Aunt Margaret had gone with them, curiosity conquering reticence and shyness. Suddenly some instinct caused Marjorie to lift her eyes, and there below in the street she saw a man gazing at her fixedly. He raised his hat as his glance met hers. It was James Courchope, who, knowing that she was alone, had stolen out of the court in the hope of holding some talk with her.

looks was no little 1 agitation—the looks of a man engaged on an adventure in which his heart and passions are genuinely concerned, and the moment Marjorie's head slightly inclined itself in answer to his salute, Courthope seemed to take his resolution into both hands, hurried across the street, and entered the Greyhound, t'o come to her. In thess days, of course, Courthope was still fresh from his sudden exaltation, heir-at-law to the dead man, so that, as lord of all he surveyed, including Marjorie, his steps were light, and his head was no doubt somewhat intoxicated. As for the girl, at his first movement to dart into the house, she sprang to her i'eet, pale with anger, murmuring to herself "If he only Jares

But James Courthope was daring, and in a minute he was within the drawing-room door, with ready and smiling ease. They looked at each other, while all the woman in Marjorie read into the man's heart. But, before 0110 word was spoken, a third person was with them. Hannah had noticed Courthope's going out from the court, had wondered, followed, spied: hot on his trail, with the thievish swift feet of a jaguar, came Hannah! The situation was tense, Hannah stood bla-ched, fists clenched, while Marjorie had a guilty feeling of being caught and compromised, and could not repress a blush, which Hannah noticed. But James Courthope was at once himself, and smiled, saying:

"Ah, Hannah? You here, too? I want to see Mrs Richards (meaning Aunt Margaret) to ask her some questions about that evening before the tragedy. Is she in?" "No," answered Marjorie, "she has unfortunately missed the honour of your visit." "Not irretrievably," he said. "I always try again." "I thought it would be Aunt Margaret you wanted," remarked Hannah in a strained voicj. "I came to get some wafer. . . ." Hannah and Courthopc then turned and want down the stair together and out into the street, Courthope feeling like a prisoner and detected thief, and for a time no word was uttered between thorn, till Hannah asked casually: "What could you have wanted to sec Marjorie about?" "What do you think?" grumbled Courthope sullenly; and nothing more was said.

They went back into the Court, but Hannah only for two minutes. At the end of that time she was again

By ROBERT ERASER.

[PciiLisHivD By Special Atirangement.] [Alt, laights Besehved.]

outside the adioolrooiri side door, standing there with hor father and mother in lonference, and in a low voii'u of passion she murmured: " Which is it to be -Marjorie or mc? We can't both live in the same IIOUSP. " "Why, what's up fiow?" asked Jonas, gazing helplessly, first at his wife, then at his elder daughter. "Choose quick between us!" hissed Hannah peremptorily; "a disgraced thing like her—found on the top oi a tjwer at midnight with a man who c.unmits murder —my good name is at at stake, i don't sleep under the same .roof with her two more nights " "Well, I'm danged!" protested the unhappy Jonas, "you must be ali mad together. What harm has the lass done you all of a sudden now?" "I've just made up my mind to it," said Hannah, "ancUnothing is going to move me, so it's useless arguing the point. Is it she or me? I've got a few pounds laid by, and if she doesn't go, I go, so you know." "Don't you dare speak so to your father, Hannah. For shame on you !" cried Mrs Neyland. "What a flaming tantrum you've worked yourself into, to be sure! And nobody knows where to take ye—yesterday you was arguing and praying for your sister to stay and not to go to London, and now hark at you —'—! People should learn to know their own minds, I think-"

■"Oh, .stop it!" muttered Hannah. "I've -told you what I've got to say, and that's enough." So the talk went on for a while, the innkeeper at first refusing to turn his child out of doors and Mrs Neyland making a struggle on behalf of the daughter of whom she was so proud. But when it became certain that Hannah was in the deadliest earnest, Martha and Jonas exchanged glances which maant that they cnuld not affond to let Hannah carry out her threat. They knew full well that the "business" depended on her,'and they were equally aware that Marjorie had, in some indefinable way, passed out of their lives. Later in the afternoon a family council took place, at which such things were said by the infuriated Hannah as caused Aunt Margaret to approach Marjorie toward evening with the words: "Mow, dearie, you'll be thinking of going back to London soon, an' you can depend qn me to make it easy for you." y Marjorie sobbed her utter indift'ere ice, London or Hudston being all one to her, since in her then low state of mind and health, she had little faith in her own powers of unravelling the mysteries that surrounded her, even if she stayed on at Hudston.

"Yes, I think you'd better, dearie," said Aunt Margaret, "if only for a time, till things blow over; your father and Hannah aren't too over glad of your company just for the present, it looks like, and you've only got your mother and me, poor dear. So unless you're waiting for the result of the inquest ■" "Ah, I know what the result will be," answered Marjorie wearily. "Then don't stay another day where you're not wanted," said Aunt Margaret with a proud head; an J an hour later Marjorie was packing to go by the next morning's 9.15 train, with Hannah helping her.

Hannah who seemed to have recovered a certain gruff good humour, said not a word as to James Courthope's secret visit co the hotel, and all that evening was full of talk, telling Marjorie how things had gone at the inquest, which again stood adjourned how it began to look more and more true ;that Mr Warren had assassinated the Squire, since witness after witness from the Hall had been examined to see whether anybody had noticed the Squire going out on the evening of hia death with a sword, but no one had seen him; and then hovv Mr Ilardinge, Warren's lawyer, had tried to get some of the Hall retainers to say that one of the Squire's swords was missing from the 4'ack, but none of them could remember exactly how many swords the squire possessed.- That, too, had broken down, aid now people were guessing that when the Squire went to Lancault in the morning, on hearing from Archibald, the groom, that Marjorie was there with Mr Warren, he must have had a talk with Mr Warren, must have made an appointment to come back in the evening to discuss matters finally, and Mr Warren, knowing that he was to return, had made up his mind to kill him. So he went to the Vicarage for hiR sword, and when the Squire appeared had stabbed him. But there were a lot of people in the village, though not the majority, .vho swore, that Mr Warren never would have done such a thing, and some of the young men looked like coming to blows over it. (To be continued.) - j