THREE MEN AND A MAID.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9047, 5 February 1908, Page 2

THREE MEN AND A MAID.

CHAPTER Xll.—Continued. For behold! Winter was glorified by Spring. The detective's manly form \va3 set oft' by a background of almond blosson'; he stood on a carpet of daffodils and bluebells; and Spring typifies Hope. While genuinely pleased with the sketch when Marjorie handed it to him, he was not blind to its message. "Yes," he said slowly, "it is very beautiful. Art can adorn even a policeman in plain clothes. I admit, a second time, I was wrong, Miss Neyland. London's loss is Hudston's gain." "That is a real compliment," she said, as their eyes met. "It is not flattery, at any rate. Have you any other portraits in your portfolio?" She understood his meaning. Had she in her possession sorr.e such vivid suggestion of Philip Warren. For a moment sha was dubious, not as to the fact, but as to the extent she could trust the detective. Yet, in sending him James Courthope's letter she had burnt her boats, so she answered, after a second's hesitation: "Yes. Oddly enough, I have one little study of somewhat unusual interest. It is in a small packet and you can examine it at your leisure." She ran upstairs and secured a sealed brown-paper wrapped parcel from the depths of a jumble of canvas and cartridge paper. It contained a study of Robert Courthope and Philip fencing in the rectory garden, and was so extraordinarily lifelike and realistic that she had not been able to bear the thought of looking at it since the day after the duel. Hannah, hovering about the upper floor in uneasy grandeur of attire, saw Marjorie go down •to the smok-ing-room, carrying an unobtrusive parcel, and she watched Winter stroll down the street, smoking as usual, and holding this same parcel in his hand. "Ah!" commented Hannah, "I don't like that man. What has she been giving him?" Jonas? Ntyland, judiciously pumped, yielded no definite information. "There was summat aboot paintin'," said he, "but it was just what them artist chaps tell yan another in the season. It seems this detective knows the lingo. An' he's comin' to live here for a bit. Fond o' sport, he is. I s'pose there's not much rabbitin' to be done in London." "For a man as keeps a big 'otel, you're awful hignorant, Jonas," put in Aunt Margaret who was listening. "Mebbe," retorted Neyland, ever ready to he irritated by his sister-in-law's assumption of superior knowledge. "Happen I'm just daft enough to keep, my hard-earned brass i' my pocket." V'Brass!" snorted Aunt Margaret, "you never earned tuppence in your life, Jonas Neyland. First your wife, then Hannah, and now Marjorie has had to keep a roof over, your head. If you hadn't a woman to look after you " But Jonas fled, regretting the boomerang effect of his taunt, which implied that the old lady had drawn a hundred pounds from the bank wherewith to finance Marjorie's needs had she gone to London. At half-past four o'clock, when the village was sleepily composing itself for the long winter evening, Marjorie slipped on hat and jacket, to take some small order to a tradesman. By crossing the churchyard, and thus passing the Courthope vault, where a monumental mason from Nutworth was clipping letters in the - stone to pla"e on record the virtues of the red squire, she reached the quiet lane in which Robert had met the Vicar on that fatal night. Thence, taking a more circuitous path, she re-entered the lane near the moorland gate. The road was deserted. Had any one followed her by either route she must have seen them. She breasted the hill rapidly until she gained the shelter of a clump of gorse. Here a glance at her watch showed that she had ten minutes in which to cover the few hundred yards which yet separated her from Fennell's Tower. This was her first visit to the place since Philip and she left it together hand in hand, tremulous, overflowing with the avowal of their love, yet shaken by the awe of their adventure, and shadowed by imminent tragedy. And now, what was her mission? To listen to the frenzied pleading of another man, to play with him and cajole him until her sister, roused to mad jealousy, unburthened herself of that secret and most potent knowledge which kept James Courthope a smiling and unwilling captive. That was her plan, and she had bided her time until James Courthope himself sought his own destruction. She was bitter against the faithless Hannah. She was a woman fighting alone for thti man she loved, and she clenched her hands now in desperate resolve to watch those two rushing to the brink of the pit until one or other of them shrieked aloud the words which should clear Philip Warren's name. • The wind whistled cold and shrill on the moors. Never had Fennell's Tower looked so bleak, not even on that night of all surprises. Strong in heart and mind as she was, Marjorie shuddered a little at the thought of being shut up in that gaunt old ruin with James Courthope. The desolate heather seemed scarce to harbour a sheep or a wild bird, and it? needed all her confidence to believe that Inspector Winter would surely not fail her at this crisis. And then a notion possessed her which brought back the blood JJto her cheeks. There were, as she well knew, several nooks and dim recesses in the two storeys of the tower. Winter, having read Courthope's note, would assume that the latter

By ROBERT FRASER.

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

would be at the rendezvous long before the lady. What was to prevent the detective from hiding there earlier still? In that case, it was fairly certain that if Marjorie were to cry for help, she would not have to struggle long against the bold, passionate wooer whom &ie dreaded and loathed. There was consolation in the thought. After another slow scrutiny of the deserted country-side towards the village, she stepped forth with , renewed confidence. The ascending path led straight to the door of the tower, which was half open, exactly as it had been left when the farmer's boy unlocked it in response to Philip's shouts. Long | disuse had rusted the hinges and warped the wood, so it was a stubborn doer, ready to jamb at any point; it moved groaningly when force was ( applied; were it untouched it would remain half open for another century or two, until it rotted. Hence, she reasoned, it would be nearly quite dark in there, and she shuddered again, though the quick walk and 1 upward trend of the path had flushed her face and restored the' sparkle to her eyes. Yet she pressed on. With a murmured prayer on her lips, , and one backward glance along the road she had come, she climbed the rough steps and peered within. Her figure dimmed the small space of rough floor which was lit by the narrow opening, but a smooth, pleasant voice welcomed her: "Come in, Miss Marjorie," it said. "Don't be timid. I would gladly have invited you to a mbre cheerful tryst-ing-place, but Hudston, like night, has a thousand eyes. And, when all is said and dope, this crazy old watch tower is more or less bound up with* l your life and mine. Better come in. Don't stand there. Having ventured a mile you may well advance another yard." Although it was James Courthope who spoke, and she had never met any man whom she distrusted so greatly, there was a restraint, a reasonableness, in his words which reassured her. She entered the doorway, and her alert eyes saw him standing in the middle of the big, barn-like room. Directly in front was the steep ladder which gave access to the upper floor. The trap-door was open, and even while Courthope was speaking, she fancied she heard a faint clink of falling stone which sounded to her strained ears as being both within and without the building. But Courthope had either not heard, or, if he did hear, gave no heed to the noise, and, to Marjorie's thinking, it wa& an indication of the unseen presence of her friend and ally, the detective. And she found she must say something, because Courthope, with a fine tact, did hot move. Indeed, he did not so much as offer to shake hands with her. "Well, I am here," she said, forcing a smile, and wondering that she could speak so calmly, when her heart throbbed at such an alarming rate. "It is very good of you, very kind and gracious. Believe me, no matter what you may ' think of me in the future, whether you regard me as a friend or an enemy, I shall never forget your action to-day. I ought to have expected it from one of youi* high character, but there are so many adverse currents in my life that I ad-, mit 1 was afraid you might refuse my request," "Tnank you, but I do not merit any extravagant praise for taking half-an-hour's walk, and thus obliging my sister's promised husband?" "Ah, you have decided to open the battle? Be it so ! A lady may surely claim the privilege accorded to the gentlemen of the Guard. But I have much to say. Will you not sit down? There is a wood-chopping block which I have placed for you, near the door, but somewhat out of the draught. As for m«, I remain here. You see, I am anxious above all things, to make you feel that I have sought this meeting on no unworthy pretence. My j motives are fair enough, from my ! point of view, and most certainly honourable to you." (To be continued.)