THREE MEN AND A MAID.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9058, 18 February 1908, Page 2

THREE MEN AND A MAID.

CHAPTER XVl.—Continued. "Dear, good Aunt Margaret!" cried IViaric-rio. "I feared it cuii'ri not i.v! Hannah'ii free act. Philip, my sister has been so unkind and bitter. It would seem that some malign inrlueiicc <.k sanded on our little village that day when we—when we " "When we met in Eiysium, otherwise known as Fenncll's To wo-? No, it was there already. Our meeting was part and pared of a villainous scheme already calculated. We were puppets in the hands of a master craftsman. You must be prepared for a Grange recital, Marjorie. Today, during long hours in the train, I reviewed events in the new light given by Mr Winter's and my uncle's statements, and I am appalled by the horrors through which we limvo wandered blindly. But there, sweetest, sufficient for to-morrow are the crimes of vaster day. Just now we are bidden to a banquet of the gods." So Marjorie dined with the man of her choice, and the man in whose company she had started for the feast ate a solitary meal with affrighting thoughts as unbidden guests. It is not to be wondered at if Philip forgot to telegraph to Hudston until'long after official closing time, nor that Marjorie's charwoman, whom she had retained for a week, should be overwhelmed with curiosity when an exceedingly radiant young lady came home, much later than ten o'clock, and tuok an affectionate farewell of a different young gentleman than the one with whom she had left Turner Studios three hours earlier. Bw sure that Philip wa? there early

enough to taku his betrothed out to breakfast, and a mid-winter sun , smiled kindly on them as their han- ' som scampered across London to that self-same restaurant. It was arranged Lclween them that they should return to Hudston by the afternoon train from King's Cross; and it was a very ordinary coincidence, thdre being but two fast trains available daily, "that James Courthope should see them hurrying along the platform like children, on a holiday. He, too, was going back to the north. Philip's slightly-veiled threats warned him that a mine might be fired which would hoist him to destruction, and its secret wires lay in Hudston; So James, flushed and pale alternately, sought in desperation what he could do to mar the happiness on the two young people, and his warped genius evolved a scheme which might, he thought, have unpleasant results. It must be remembered that he knew nothing of Philip's appearance bofore the Nutwortn bench, so he sent telegrams from-Grantham to three persons in Hudston whom he could trust as newsmongers. "Philip Warren, accompanied by Marjorie Neyland, will arrive at Hudston by the 8.30 p.m. train from the south."

Philip, too, had announced their departure in messages to his uncle and the detective. Winter was about to stroll toward the Vicarage, where he had arrranged to meet Mr Isambard, when he discovered hundreds of people—nearly every man, woman, and grown chikl in Hudston—pressing along the short road to the station.

The unusual gathering, at an hour when the village was mostly preparing for bed, excited his suspicion. • "What's up?" he asked, stopping a farmer whom he had met in the Greyhound. "Hev'nt yo heard?" came the cry. "Why, maister, that dare-all, Philip Warren, be a-comin' here frae Luunon wi' NeylancVs girl, as bould as » brass." Winter knew it was hopeless to think of dispelling that crowd of gapers with a denial. And he felt that an enemy had done this thing, because Philip's massages were unsigned, nor was Marjorie specially mentioned in them, so no babbling on the part of a telegraphist would explain it. "James!" he muttered, viciously. "If I had time 1 would go now and tie a string round his neck. But what is his motive? Does he hope to force my hand? By. gad, a dare-all is James, if you like." But Winter acted while he growled. There was yet half an hour, assuming the train to be to time, which was seldom or never the case. He ran, and the outcome of his running was that Philip and Marjorie were surprised to be summoned from the train by Mr Isambard at Fenthorne, the station before Hudston, while Winter smoked a soothing cigar on a crowded platform at Hudston. In the darkness Courthope had not noticed the Fenthorne development. Hence, if there be any species of joy in doing evil, he experienced that subtle emotion when he saw the Hudston station and its approaches packed by an unruly mob. None knew better than he that the hectoring, hard-riding squire was dear to Hudston and 'he counted, too, on some display of the dour Yorkshire spirit of righteousness, which regards an excursion to London as an act oi licence, and would be ready enough to deal harshly with such escapades as Marjorie had been guilty of. He foresaw that the public condemnation of Marjorie would react on Philip. The police would be unprepared, and there was a chance of Philip's reception being actively hosIndeed. James pictured himself rescuing Marjorie trom a position of • some danger, and, if this roseate fortune were denied him, there remained the certainty that next day's newspapers would bristle with con-I jectures as to the motive of the

By ROBERT ERASER.

[Published By Special Arrangement.]

[All Eights Reserved.]

authorities in permitting a man suspected of a serious crime to be at large. When the train drew up, alter much whistling by the astounded engine-driver. James leaped forth quickly. He turned in the direction where he knew Marjorie and Philip had been seated on leaving York, out all he could discern was the appearance of the very small number of local passenger?, and the surging of a horde of gapers up and down the narrow platform. As the expected pair were at that moment comfortably ensconsed in the Vicar's carriage some three miles away it was obvious that James looked for them in vain. An excited station-master appealed to the people to "stand clear," the engine snorted its warning and the train rumbled away, leaving Hudston gazing blankly at itself, and Courthope gazing blankly at Hudston. Then there came to him Hannah. Like all others, she was drawn by the loadstone of her sister's expected arrival. "So you have come back from Darlington," she said, with a quiet restraint foreign to her nature and boding no good for James. The mere sight of her seemed to rivet invisible fetters on his limbs. "Yes." He answered carelessly. He was sick of disappointed spleen. If Hannah wished to quarrel he was ready to oblige her. "You came a long way round," she went on, wondering what misfortune had befallen him.

"Yes," b° said again. "Are you ill, James?" Her voice softened. He was the one human being she loved, and she had never before seen him so dejected, while he seemed to shrink from the jeering Babel that surrounded them

"Not ill, but tired. Have you seen any servant from the Hall? And why has this crowd gathered? Whom did they expect to meet that, there should be such a gathering?" Now Hannah had been the prey of mad jealousy for two days and a night. She knew full well that Courthope had gone to London, and she would have followed him thither but for a timely hint from Winter that Philip would surely bring Marjorie to Hudston. Notwithstanding his manifest weariness, therefore, she yielded to wrath when he tried to make out that he was ignorant of any reason for a popular ferment. "As if you didn't know!" she blazed forth, "you, who travelled in the very train she was supposed to come by. I believe you hava some Jiand in her disappearance. Don't 'think you can humbug me, James. I won't stand it. I tell you now "

"Oh, go away. You worry me. Hi! Archibald! Here's my bag. Is the carriage outside? See you tomorrow, Hannah. Sorry 1 must be off -" Thrusting right and left those who barred his nassage, Courthope forced a path for himself, taking care that Hannah should not follow. Winter, though he could hear no word in the confusion, saw Hannah's face, and read it as an open book.

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned. Winter had no time for reading Comedies of the Restoration, yet he knew the sentiment if not the lines. But he wished to learn what had taken plafe in London, so he, too, made his way out of the station, and was in the Vicarage porch when the carriage drove up. (To be continued.)