THREE MEN AND A MAID.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9057, 17 February 1908, Page 2

THREE MEN AND A MAID.

[All Eights Reserved.]

chapter XVI

WIIEKEIN MAKJORIE RETURNS TO HUDSTON. Mfirjoviu screamed. Though not yiven to hysteric*, she might well be .'uirdoned the outburst. It was Philip Warren who spoke—a quite selfpossessed and sedate Philip-- because o-oblins which assume mortal shape are not usually so versed in Miltonic lore as to cap a commonplace remark vvith an apt quotation. Something seemed t.) crack inside Courthope's head. There was a shrill singing in his ears. He was even less nrepared than Marjorie for this apparition. But he was not a thor-ough-paced rascal without having the nerve and resource which successful rascality demands. _ , "So you have escaped!" he cried, in a queer, cracked voice. "No. That is what you are going to do now. Make good your opportunity, Courthope. You have not many hours." James, never a coward, blazed into a red fury. . ..,,,, "Out of my way, you fool I he cried. "Utter another word and I summon the police. Nay more, 1 shall hold you till they come." "Nut many words, Courthope, but sufficient. I have been taught wisdom by adversity. A detective waits below to resiue me from any further blundering inspired by your hatred. Nay, do not give me the joy of disabling you. That would be folly, man. You need your limbs for flight." Marjorie, standing above them on the stairs, with one hand leaning against the wall and the other clutching her dress, was" conscious of the return of his old time confidence and buoyancy to her lover. Though momentarily bereft of the power of coherent speech, she knew that something of vast import had happened. Here was not the Philip who fled like a self-admitted criminal, nor the Philip of their latest meeting in the tower, but a man rejuvenated, ready to face the world in bis careless cavalier way, and, above all else, ready to listen to her protests thac he must not misjudge her. She wondered why he did not look. at her, but she could not see Courthop's eyes, or she would have known that a penned cobra could not have glanced at Philip with more of murderous venom. The plotter was foiled when victory seemed to be within his crrasp. He "was poised, wishful to spring, yet not daring to undergo certain defeat. And Philip recognised that look and was watchful. So Ja/.ies wetted his dry lips with a quick-darting tongue arc! tried bravado.

"It is not my business to arrest fugitive convicts," he-hissed. "-Yet you must stand aside. You are detaining Miss Neyland, as you see. I arr. glad to remember that you are a gentleman, so I leave your threats to a more suitable occasion." Philip smiled, and Marjorie's heart throbbed to see how the spell of evil had passed wholly from his face. "No good, Courthope," he answered quietly. "I am here to humble myself to the dus 1 ; for having suspected Miss Neyland of deceit. That was stupid—a mere vowing that the sun was sullied because I gazed at it through darkened glasses. One does not make that mistake twice." "I ask Miss Neyland herself to decide between us," cried James, feeling the moras3 yielding beneath him. "My own pitiful weakness makes me decline her arbitrament unless she hears me first," broke in Philip, with a new note of anger in his voice for he only dreaded Marjorie's just scorn.

"I have never doubted you for one moment, Philip, dear," fame a low, sweat murmur from the stairs. Then Courthope knew he had played a bold game and lost; but if Marjorie were actually Philip's wedded wife he would neiter relinquish his pursuit of her nor cense to conspire against Philip. He drew himself up with a proud hauteur which well became him.

"Your word is law to me even more than to Mr Warren/' he said. "I, at least, may claim to have shown constancy. If I leave you now, Marjorie, I go at your bidding. And I do not forget that you have twice made me welcome." Ke meant to stab, but the thrust .■glancedjharralessly off Philip's new armour. It did not come within the scope of a mind like Courthope's to understand the nobility of Philip's temperament. Those fanged words might have hurt another man. In Philip's oars they sounded like the snarl of a trapped animal. It was not for him to doubt Marjorie again, but to plead for forgiveness that he had doubted her at all. So the vilut'i of resentment at •Courthope's challenge lied, and James ■had the "bitter consciousness as he ■ descended the next flight of stairs that Marjorie was clasped in Philip's ■arms. ' He stifled the oath on his lips. VI what avail to curseV Better gather his wits and strike out some new and .effective means of checkmating his rival. Passing into the street, he saw ■ n man standing near the door. Then ■he remembered having seen the .same man loitering near the cab when Philip was arrested. He resolved not to lose 11 second in beginning another campaign. "Are you from Scotland Yard.' he demanded. •"Who are you that you should ask •me that question?" was the reply, .•and flames felt that this stranger was ■ of-different calibre to X 100.

"My name is James Courthope, rand'you or your superiors have set at 'liberty my cousin's murderer. No ••doubt you have your reasons, but they unust be weighty to justify such a .?our*e, and I promise you that 1 shall

By ROBEIIT ERASES,

[Published By Special Arrangement.]

(To be continued.)

use every means in my power to make you regret your action." "We have our reasons, Mr Courthope," was the polite answer, and with that James was perforce content. He slammed the door of his motorbrougham and was carried rapidly to his hotel. The detective rubbed his hands, the night being cold. "1 guess Winter knows what he is doing. Blest if 1 do," he murmured. Then, hearing Philip and Marjorie coming downstairs, for good and bad alike must eat, he discreetly withdrew, merely raising his hat when Philip cried cheerily: "I have routed the dragon. He snorted fire, but he has gone. And I am exceedingly obliged to you and Mr Winter for what you have done."

A hansom is an excellent contrivance for lovers. It insists on a certain contiguity. Not even the shyest of young ladies can pretend that the resultant squeezing embarasses her. And Marjorie was by no means shy during that blissful traverse of London's squares and streets, for Philip was piling Pelion on Ossa to prove to her that the more bitter had been his thoughts the more passionate his love.

At last they calmed sufficiently to ply each other with anxious queries, and Marjorie learnt what had happened since she left Hudston. Naturally, Philp was more eager to tell how he had tried to reach her than to go into the long story of his talk with Winter.

It seemed that when XIOO brought him to the nearest Metropolitan police-station, the inspector in charge was politely incredulous as to Philip's statement that he had been remanded on bail that very morning. He did, however, promise to communicate with Scotland Yard, seeing that Philip neither denied his idenetity or sought to avoid arrest. He also questioned the constable when Philip insisted that the latter should reveal how he came to know the name of the occupant of one hansom out of the many passing through Finchley road, and then the prisoner learnt, to his amazement, that James Courthope was in London. His annoyance and distress (on Marjorie's behalf) were so poignant that they served to strengthen the case against him, and he was, in police parlance, "detained in custody pending inquiries." Fortunately, he had an unknown friend working for him. Winter's deputy found, to his surprise, that Hudston was on the post-office telephone system, a boon which it owed to a county main road passing that way. He went to an important suboffice, telegraphed to Winter, and said he would await a call at that office if made before eight o'clock. The call came at 7.45. Winter said nice things to his aide, spoke most unjustly about X 100, and directed every effort to be made to secure Philip's release. If any departmental red tape prevented instant success in this vital matter, his assistant was to hie to Miss Neyland and tell her everything that had taken place. Most happily, Philip himself was able to undertake that joyful task. "But I have kept my most wonderful news to the last, sweetheart," he said, as their cab entered Regent street, and they neared the restaurant they had chosen for their first meal together. "What, then, are there further marvels?" she asked, turning towards him a face from which sorrow had sped as a summer mist melts before the sun.

"My ring is restored." "Oh, Philip, has Hannah relented? If so, I can forgive her much." "I cannot imagine what has taken place, but Mr Winter charged his deputy to inform me that Mrs Richards, ycur excellent aunt, brought my ring to the Vicarage this evening. My uncle recognised it instantly. She gave no explanation of possessing it. She simply said, 'Please let Marjorie know,'and went away."