THREE MEN AND A MAID.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9040, 25 January 1908, Page 2

THREE MEN AND A MAID.

CHAPTER Xll.—Continued. The only other witness that afternoon was Felix, who had been questioned as to the "little short gentleman" who had sent him to nsk Marjorie from Mr Warr-n wh-jther she would hi going t.> the tower that evening. Felix, after saying that he did not know who the little short gentleman was, set the whole court in a roar of laughter by pointing to little Mr Bonn ;tt and saying: "P'raps that chap m«n be he; he lakes summat like him," which made Mr Bennett look foolish, and one would ha e thought Mr Courthope Would have had a fit, ho laughed so when he saw Mr Bennett's face. Such was Hannah's report, first at the bedside, and again when lights were out,. and she was in her own bed, which had been brought into Marjorie's large room. Marjorie listened, but said little. Her sister's vagaries of temper left her unmoved. Presently Hannah's inurmurings about the day's history died away, and she was asleep; being quite worn out toy the strain under which she had lived during the past

week. Marjorie could not sleep; she heard midi.ight strilce from the church and in the house, then one o'clock; the moon, which had fitfully lit the duel, now en the wane, had set, and in the darkness of her chamber Marjorie's tired eyes seemsd to see in outlines of pale light a countenance"of sorrow. She turned many times on her bed, ' warily, so as not to wake Hannah, trying to compose herself to sleep, but without result; and she heard two strike.

ilt was soon aftar this that the horTor of the tragedy overcame her ianew. She thought of Philip eating his heart out, of Robert Courthope flying in the cold vault of his race, and her sorrow melted into tears. To

dry her eyes she fe't under her pillow, where she thought that her , handkerchief was, but failed to find ' iit.

A handkerchief, however, was necessary, so she rose quietly, and stole away to her dress hung on a peg of a rack. The chamber was spacious, and the darkness dense, but, knowing exactly where her dress hung, she went straight to it. However, on feeling in the pocket, she found no handkerchief, so she next moved to the dressing-table to get some matches. In groping, her hand struck against a silver powder-box, which fell with some clatter, but the next moment she had found the matches, lit one, and peered about under its fitful gleam for a handkerchief. She could see none anywhere, but, quite near her, over a chair back, hung Hannah's dress, so she put her hand into the pocket of this to get Hannah's handkerchief. By this time the match had burnt out,and she drew out the handkerchief in the dark. Hearing that something else had come out with it, and had dropped to the floor, she struck another match to find and to put back into the pocket whatever had slipped out. At the instant when this second match was alight she had the consciousness that Hannah was awake, that Hannah had started out of her bed, and was darting toward her. Simultaneously Marjsrie' s eye fell upon what had dropped. It was an envelope, and in that one moment it was as though her eyes acquired a triple power and quickness of vision, for before Hannah could even reach her, Marjorie had seen two things—a round spot like red ink, or blood, with a spattered edge, on the paper, and also she had seen that the envelope was directed to "The County Coroner" in the long sprawling handwriting which she knew to be that of ;the dead Squire. And. since all this was naturally astonishing atid interesting to her, Marjorie swooped and had the envelope.in her hand a second before Hannah could rush upon her. Then the second match went out. "Quick —give me that —you thief!' shrieked Hannah, wrenching furiousJy at Marjorie's wrist which she had managed to seize. "Why, what is it?" asksd Marjorie.; "are you mad?" "Give me that thing! Quick'" "Which thing.? You are hurting me!" "I'll show you, you thief " "Oh, Hannah, don't!" , "Will you give it up, you beast?" "Give what up? I shall scream— i"

"Quick, let go! or I'll break your .fingers." "Hannah!—Shame.!—l shall faint "Then, will you give it up?" "Give what? Never:! Never!" Thus the frenzied exclamations imingled together, and the struggle went tumbling half over the chamber, upsetting chairs, setting dogs barking, casting about ornaments on the dressing-table, white the furniture seemed to have suddenly multiplied itself a hundred-fold in the dark, and every moment some new object started up for them to tumble over. Marjorie, however, being weak from suffering and want uf food, ai.d Hannah being a powerful girl, the struggle had not lasted long when Marjorie relaxed her bitten lip to sigh her sense of failure, feeling her gore fingers giving way to the grip that tugged at them. Yet she did not yield, and just then, falling down against a settee which hurt her back, she gave a scream which seemed to iiava the effect of paralysing Hannah n lit le, and a moment later the door flew opsn, they were blinded with light, and there stood their father and mother, Aunt Margaret and two servant-maids, all with lights, staring at Marjorie half on the settee and half on the floor, with Hannah in a rent nightdress, astalk over her. ;, Old Jonas' jaw fell, as he stared at

By ROBERT ERASER.

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

them, for never had the Greyhound witnessed such a scene, and Aunt Margaret, after her first shock of astonishment, flew at the pair, and with her wiry arms soon had Hannah torn away, while Marjories cast herself over the bed, with sobs in her throat and tears in her eyes, and—the envelope in her hand. "She has something of mine ! Tell her to give it up!" screamed Hannah out of the midst of the press who were forcing her out of the room. But no one heeded her; peace at any price wa3 the first need, so she was soon hustled out, and Marjorio was left alone with her aunt, who refused to go back to her room. . "What can be the matter! What a scene in the middle of the night between two sisters!" cried the o'd lady, shaking her head up and down. For a long time Marjorie was in too much agitation to give any explanation. Finally, after an hour, she got Aunt Margaret back to her own bed with only a vague impression that a piece of paper was the cause of all the dark rumpus. Then, when she was alone, Marjorie locked her door upon herself, and she went to her dressing-table and smoothed out the mauled envelope under the lamp. Again now she looked at the red spot upon it, and thought it was hardly ink, but blood, and there, beyond doubt in the dead man's writing, she read the address: "To the County Coroner." But something was inside the envelope. She took it out—half a sheet of notepaper—expecting with assurance to see Robert Courthope's writing on that, too. To her amazement, the writing was Warren's'. She read the words: "If I be found dead, be it understood that I have neither destroyed myself, nor been murdered, but fell in fair and equal duello with a gentleman whom I have as earnestly sought to wound as he to would me.—PHILIP WARREN."

The first effect of these words upon Marjorie was to cause her to drop to her knees with her arms cast up, while a sob of "'thank heaven!" welled up from her heart. There had been a duel, then I Here, it seemed to her, was proof for the whole world.

Then, after this first ecstasy, she sat on the edge of her bed for a long time, though it was cold, with her chin on her hand, and if ever mortal was wholly lost and confounded in perplexities without end it was that aching brain now. There had been a duel! for her lover had said it; though it would have been better i" the eyes of the world if it had been the Squire who had said it —far better that the vanquished should excuse the victor, than that the victor should excuse himself! Still, there had been a duel:! and then—what? The victor, having won her, had—left her for ever! had warned her awfully with his eye ! That was strange; I that was passing pitiful! And Warren's letter in Gourthope's envelope! that was an added puzzle. How had Hannah-come by it? Why had she sought so desperately to conceal it. ... ? j Toward morning Marjorie's head dropped of itself on her pillow, and she fell into a sleep. She was roused by a loud knocking at her door about eight in the morning, and in came Aunt Margaret bustling, astonished that Marjorie was not making the last preparations for the departure for London in an hour's time. "My poor chilcL"":Bhe said, "you'ij have to bolt your breakfast, if you're to catch the 9,15 " "I am not going, aunt," said Marjorie calmly. "What, not to-day?" "No. Not perhaps for many a day." " Well—but—Marjorie, darling—your father and mother " "They must put up with me, and learn to be happy at their daughter's presence." "So they are- so they are, I'm sure. But —still— Marjorie - the point is about Hannah- After what has happened between you, she'll only go away, if you don't, for she vows that she will, and I misdoubt if they can do without her in the house—" "Still, I shall stay," said Marjorie, quietly, "and Hannah will stay, too. Hannah, it seems to me, will have to learn to do as I wish. When is the next clay for the inquest?" "To-morrow, dearie." "All right—we shall see. I'll dress now." (To be continued.)