ONE IMPASSIONED HOUR.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9046, 23 March 1908, Page 2

ONE IMPASSIONED HOUR.

By OWEN MASTERS.

hor of " Nina's Repentance," " Clycla's Love Dream," " Her Soldier Lover," " For Love of Marjorie," " The Mystery of Woodcroft," etc.

CHAPTER XV.-Continued.

anxiously and critically. Then he gave a sigh of satisfaction. "You are better. I was afraid that you might die," he said soothingly. Some of the old fire leaped into Charlie's eyes, and he essayed to rise. "Who are you?" he asked. "Don't excite yourself, sir. I will sit near you, and it will do you good to talk—and me, too," he added, half to himself. He carried the chair to the bedside, and sat down, Eastwood watching him the while with curiously, baleful eyes. "Who are you?" he repeated. "And what is the meaning of this outrage? I was handcuffed yesterday, and— a "Here is my card," said the dark man. "And let me assure' you, sir, that I am your friend. I discovered you were ill, and gave you a proper bed; I scrubbed the floor with my own hands; I disinfected the room; I have fed you, administered your medicine, nursed you, and saved you from an ignominious fate. I know enough about medicine," he concluded airily, "to see you through." Eastwood looked at the card, and read: "MR ALFRED ROSENBERG." "I don't make much of this," he observed, "except that you are a Hebrew—a Jew." The dark man laughed softly. "I am as British as yourself, but have adopted the name of Rosenberg for business purpose?- -as the Jews often assume English names. I am dark and Jewish in appearance, too." Charlie scowled. "You are trifling, Mr Rosenberg, and I hate philandering at any time. I must get out of this." "Have you no sense of gratitude? II admit that our surroundings lack Oriental colour, but a poor man has to dispense with the luxurious and the sensuous. For a whole week have 1 slept upon bare boards, when I could snatch an hour or two from my vigil. This, sir, is practical philanthropy, and very widely different from ths platform vapourings of millionaires who seek notoriety. But perhaps I ought not to mention such trifles in these times of devout altruism!" "A week—a week?" Charlie was dismayed. "Then I have been illdelirious, perhaps? Now, tell me the truth, Mr Rosenberg. . . . I re-

"These are days of idleness for you, Mr Warien?" "After a fashion, but not empty ones, Miss Lii.ley." There was a short silence. "1 believe that your vacation is all a prtter.ee, Mr Warren," Kate said, at lasc. "You are not the man to lie inactive, and confess to being beaten." "You appraise my qualities too highly, Miss Linley." "Oh, don't be evasive and nonsensical. Allan has told me that you are his friend—an old college man, and really a gentleman. If this is-so " She stammered, and ho adf'ed: "You are doubtful about the gentleman?" "Not in the smallest degree; but if you are our friend why do you remain passive while Allan is going to the Priory dai'y?" Her face had whitened, and her hand rested upon his arm. Upton Warren shook his head. "There is one link missing from the chain of my evidence, Miss Linley. '' "Meaning the silvermounted blackthorn?" "Exactly; but in the circumstances," he jerked a thumb toward the Priory, "would it be wise to " The sentence was not finished, but the look and the tone conveyed the whole meaning. "Yes —yes- - a thousand times yes, Kate answered passionately. ''l can see what is going on there with no uncertain misgivings. You may know that the one wish of my dear uncle was —was " He nodded comprehensively, if gloomily. "And it is horrible—horrible, to think that Allan may be led into something which will cause him lifelong regret, from regret, from pity—notniug but pity for the daughter of his father's murderer." She burst into tears, and Upton Warren looked grimly out of the carriage window. The rain had stopped falling, and patches cf vivid blue sky were showing, while the tail of the storm was trailing over the hills. "If it iS your wish, Miss Linley, I will not loss touch with Mr Eastwood. He is still in New York, but has cleverly disguised himself, and assumed another name." "Oh!" She clasped her hands together. "Is not that proof—positive proof?" "I'm afraid so; but we must hav(! the blackthorn. The curate tells me that the handle is almost covered With a plain silver band. The fingerprints may be perfect on parts of it. Allan has'locked the thing away in the big library safe, and he alone knows the combination. If he should destroy it!" The brougham turned into the drive,and Kate pressed Upton Warren's hand impulsively. "Oh, you are so good, and I trust you absolutely. You are the kind of man who inspires confidence, Mr Warren." "1 am highly ' honoured, Miss Linley," he said, with a little mock bow. His face hardened, and he added bruskly: "Home!" Then the brougham stopped, and Upton Warren jumped to the ground. Without another word or glance he entered the house, and left Kate wondering.

member the cab drive with —the woman," hj« whispered the final words. "Have no (inquiries been made? The police must be searching for me." "They are!" the dark man answered significantly. "But wait —wait, and I will tell you everything. lam an Englishman—but I've always been down on my luck. For strong personal reasons, I came among the Jews. Legitimate undertakings never prospered with me, and how often do you find a successful Jew running a show marked up in plain figures? He must have a business wherein he can bargain, and, if need be, misrepresent. I rented this stable and the yard attached, after a spell in prison, where I made the acquaintance of a—gentleman. Upon one point we were absolutely agreed—the recognition of gold. Gold we intended to have, though we were not agreed as regards the means to the end. The problem was under consideration when my partner undertook to kidnap a millionaire—yourself. On the understanding that no undue violence was to be used, I received you; I like the idea of receiving, but I will run no risks with the hangman. .1 have always had a wholesome horror of Jack Ketch! I have a hatred, too, of treachery and everything which is not strictly honourable. I mean as between partners." (To be continued.)

CHAPTER XVI,

!/ MR ALFRED ROSENBERG,

After his introduction to the stable yard in the Whitechapel road, Charlie Eastwood was unconscious for a gocd twenty-four hours. He opened his eyes, and a groan passed his lips. There was a raging pain in his head; it appeared to have its origin at the base of the skull, and travel upward in a succession of violent throbs, until his temples felt that the bursting strain was too terrible to be long resisted. Now and then there was a brief respite, when the pair/ was less agonising, and during these heavenly calms he tried hard to realise what had happened. He was lying on a bed of straw in one corner of a large brick building. The windows were iron-barred, and covered with cobwebs and dirt; the atmosphere was nauseating. He attempted to rise, and discovered that he was hand - cuffed. His feet were manacled, too. "Stella," he groaned. "Stella— Stella!"

Again the pain began to move at the base of his skull. The accumulation was greater than before; there was a sound like thunder in his brain, and he lay back, babbling: "Stella—Stella!"

The days passed—the nights passed —hot and sultry they were —but he knew not night from day—until he became conscious of something shining on the white-washed wall. It gleamed like a bar of silver —it beamed like an angel's smile. He held out one trembling hand, and murmured:

"Sunlight —beautiful sunlight! I wonder what all this means? Is this Biarritz—or the Hotel Cecil—or ' " Then he smiled weakly. He was no longer manacled, and a fairly comfortable bed of a common sort had taken the olace of the straw. There was a chair, and a table, and a Btrip of carpet, and the floor had been scrubbed.

It took Charlie Eastwood a long time to se« and understand, and all at once he realised that a man was Btanding at the foot of the bed. He was a good-looking fellow, of forty or thereabouts, attired in a complete suit of rusty black. His eyes were large and lustrous, his nose was aquiline, and a full beard and moustache nearly hid his blooded, voluptuous lips. He was regarding Eastwood