THREE MEN AND A MAID.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9050, 8 February 1908, Page 2

THREE MEN AND A MAID.

. CHAPTER Xlll.—Continued. "I mean, of course, that she was in no way responsible for tb*.- killing of Kobert Coin-hope, so I pray you do not distress me needlessly by mentioning' her i:::me." "Exactly. You will suffer in silenci. like"what's-his-name in Tennyson's poem. Oh, I r-.member. Geraint, he was called. Tell you what, Mr Warren, you ought to be turned loose in a forest, in a cast-iron suit, there to strike dead every man you met, all for the sake of some fair ladv pent in donjon keep. You are born too late. This is the twentieth century, not ths twelfth. By the way, you want another match." "I wanttotell you, Mr " "Winter—easy name." "Well. Mr Winter, you had best realise that under no circumstances shall I discuss my relations with Miss Marjorie Neyland. Your appreciation of that fact will spare you the exercise of your wit and me some display of rudeness." "Ha, ha!" laughed the detective. "I guessed it. Just touch our knight and you hear the armour ring. Sorry, but you've got to learn a lot about that young lady. Shouldn't be surprised if you had to go-on your knees and beg her pardon. Anyhow, it is cold talking here. We will just step out towards the Vicarage " < "You are unfortunate in your choice of topics," broke in Philip. "That is another matter wherein I am unable to help you. I cannot meet my uncle.'" "Some men would lose tbeir temper with you, Mr Warren; it would be the simplest thing in the world to let you hang yourself on the third Tuesday after next assizes. But I have no manner ot doubt you are a very decent fellow, or a girl like Miss Marjorie would not sacrifice herself for your sake. Now, please, attend to what I am telling you or I shall begin to be impatient. Miss Neyland was acting to-night, but James Courthope was in grim earnest. He wrote her a letter, making an appointment in this very tower. She sent me that letter, to obtain my assistance. Poor young lady! She is crying her heart out now, I suppose, because you distrusted her " "Great Heavens, man, are you speaking truly?" "A queer question! But let it pass. In the second place " "Let me go to her. I implore you, let me have one word, one look! You yourself said I should go on my knees " "i have no doubt you wsill make ' amend* in due course, but not tonight, Mr Waren. I can't have all Hurtston running at your heels, and a number of thick-headed magistrates asking why I did not arrest you in the ordinary way. This case is in my hands, and I mean to conduct it on my own lines. I am beginning to understand it at last, though I own you puzzled me by your continued hiding. And let me remind you, Sir Knight, that you have surrendered. You are bound in honour not to escape." The hint was not given without cause. P'hilip had another frenzied inspiration to run, not for his own sake, but for Marjorie's. He groaned, and passed a hand over his eyes. Yet in his new sorrow there was a wealth of gladness. He could not choose but trust this strange informant. Marjorie was true! He- bad believed in . her as in an angjel, yet, at the first twinge of doubc, he had condemned her as base and unutterably false. How atone? How obliterate those tears of agony? Dear, suffering Marjorie! Had she not knelt to hirr, supplicated with streaming eyes and quivering lips? Why should some kink in the chain of fate ever tighten its folds when there seemed to be good reason for its loosening? Poor Philip! He was, indeed, a man to be pitied. There was a note of sympathy in the detective's voice as he continued: "Now, Mr Warren, pull yourself together. Above all things I demand your clear, full, unhesitating confidence and support. And it must be immediate. A wrong move now may ; lead to untold blunders. At least \ spare me any more argument drawn , from the age of chivalry. Your uncle j has publicly apologised for his treat- t ment of you when you came home on j that night of all mischief. He is now Miss Marjorie's best friend. Mr Isambard is a strong man, and he " does not do things by halves. There is only one thing that will delight him more than your reappearance, and that is the discovery of the man who killcsd Robert Courthope." "I am ready," said Philip, exercising the utmost self-restraint in deference to this masterful counsellor. "Not quite; you want another match. • And kindly step inside the tower until I dismiss my bodyguard." Philip obeyed, with a newborn meekness. The detective whistl< cl twice; two men came from the heather, and were told to await him in the village. After a brief pause, he called Philip, and the pair took the oath by the trier —that which Marjorie had followed in her upward journey. Those few minutes of quiet thought had worked wonders in Philip's troutled brain. He had marshalled his forces, reasoned himself into passivity. Marjorie would surely listen to mm. In the very depth of his scorn he would find for her proof of his immeasurable love. He would show her how to gauge his devotion by his anguish when he believed she was doubly lost to him. As for judge and jury, he gave no manner of heed to them. He was guiltless of his one-time friend'a death; she knew it, and he would demonstrate it to all the world. It was well for Philip in an hour so pregnant with doom that he took this

By ROBERT ERASER.

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

optimist view. It might yet be Winter's task to rivet the fetters of innocence on him, and Winter was well aware of that element in the extraordinary relations existing between them. "I am glad to observe that you are in a more rational frame of mind," said the detective, as they strode down through the bracken. "Do you deduce that undoubted fact from my silence?" asked Philip. "No. If merely silent you might be contriving a plausible tale. I depend solely on half-an-inch of ash on the end of your cigar." Then Philip laughed, with some of the boyish merriment which he deemed lost beyond recall. "You are a Socratic philosopher, Mr Winter," he said. "If that means that I regard one man as very like another when in trouble, I agree with you. At any rate, you admit I was right." "Yes, indeed. I was pondering many things. May I ask you some questions?" "As many as you like." Philip could not see the gleam of amusement in his companion's eyes. Winter wished him to talk. No matter what he said, he would be giving information. "Well, then, when did yoa enter Fennell's Tower to-day?" "At five o'clock precisely." "Did you fly?" "No, Mr "Warren. My wings have not grown yet. When I heard Miss Marjorie approaching the door, I knew that Courthope would be agog for her coming, that you must have long since discovered his presence, and that she would be trembling at her own daring. So the odds were greatly in my favour, and I pulled down a burglars' ladder, which I fixed to the roof while you were in Lancault Churchyard three nights ago, though I little thought then that I would use it under such conditions." "Marvellous! But I might have found it there?" "What! Show yourself against the'sky-line in daylight, when you wished to remain undiscovered? I gave you credit for more sense than that." "Then you heard nearly all that passed beneath?" "I had to wait and take off my boots; but I did not miss much. I take it that Courthope tried to soothe his visitor's agitation at first. He did it very well, too. It is a pity. That chap has qualities." "What dp you mean?" "Eh? Beg pardon. I never state opinions, I deal in facts only. That was a slip." "But you were good enough to express the .opinion that it was not I who killed my unfortunate friend?" "I deal in two kinds of facts, Mr Warren. The one set I state in court, the other I usually retain in my own storehouse. What I really meant was that, for a man who had knowingly cotrmitted a murder —you will note I say 'knowingly,' because killing a man in a duel is plain murder in England—you went about securing your safety in a fashion which would not commend itself to a ten-year-old boy. That hiding of the second rapier, for instance, and the stuffing of a blood-stained handkerchief behind the notice-board- —-" Philip stopped short. The lightness had gone from his voice when he interrupted : "You are far too shrewd to tell me these things if you believe my statement that CourthoDe disarmed me. Are you seeking to trap me into some admission, Mr Winter?" "By gad, you're a terror. Beyond a few disjointed remarks, mostly explaining your high and mighty limitations, you have told me nothing. I hope to get an intelligible story from you after two or three hours of careful note-taking, and, to save time, I have pages of questions jotted down in readiness. But 'trap' is an ugly word, Mr Warren." "I withdraw it, and beg your parlon. My excuse is that I am groping blindly in a maze." "Oh, that's all right. Fire away with your catechism." Nevertheless,; the man from Scotand Yard kept watch, over his ;ongue, wnich was apt to follow a ievice that seldom fails when a crimnal is discussing his crime. Twice ilready, in their brief conversation, lad he tried to catch Philip unawares. (To be continued.)