ONE IMPASSIONED HOUR.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9056, 3 April 1908, Page 2

ONE IMPASSIONED HOUR.

By OWEN MASTERS.

o-: of " Nina's Repentance," " Clyda's Love Dream," " Her Soldier Lover," " For Love of Marjorie," " The Mystery of Woodcroft," etc.

C.IAPT3R XXIV.-Continued. They werrf walking back to the hougo now. Miriam was pacing about the lawn, and nor white dress gleamed in tho darkness. "Hold!" the Scotchman muttered sharply, and fixing it strong grip on Allan's arm, "Who's that?" "Miss East-wood." ««N D __„o! The other one—with the black eyes! Her teeth UualseJ like a fox'tf." „ AII "Whera? I saw nobody. Allan shivered. He hesitated. Ought he to tell Mr Wilson that Mrs Eastwood was at the Priory? But the Scotchman was speaking: "Then we must be doubly discreet, Mr Berrington. I'll bring him here safely on tho stroke of twelve. I know we're fighting the law, and I'll bear the responsibility." He climbed into the aatoraobilo, and moved off at a moderate pace. Miriam came to where Allan was standing, and looked imploringly into his eyes. "I suppose We can manage it ! he asked presently. "The place will have to ba made habitable and comfortable. What sort of conditicn is it in?" He clasped one of her cold hands between his own. "My poor Miriam! Don't worry, the clouds are breaking at last." He saw tear.-; in her shining eyes. "I hope so, Allan." }> "What selfish creatures we are, he went on cheerfully. "In a lifetime of ease no trouble has touched us until now, and yet we are grumbling and sighing. We forget the tremendous debt we owe to God for being permitted to live at all!" "I am feeling better already Allan. No matter what happens, I shall have my father back again." CHAPTER XXV. THE SECRETARY TAKES A HAND.

iron-clamped door. So the bars were inside—if there wsre any bars in addition to the two ponderous locks. An owl flew upward with a heartshuddering screech, and perched itself in an adjacent tree. Tho clocks tolled the hour of eleven. Tho deathly silence was oppressive. He saw no beauty in the tranquility of nature, when he was raging within himself. He sat down on a rustic bench in the shadow of the tower, and momentarily held his breath, for something had crossed his line of vision. He strained his eyes, then laughed oddly. "So it's you, Mrs Eastwood?" "I hope I haven't frightened you, Mr Berrmgton." "Well, I did begin to have visions nf the tower ghost. Did you hear the screech of an owl? 1 was only just recovering from the shock of that." "But surely you have no belief in ghosts?" Stella said laughingly. "But surely I have! Ghosts are peculiar to certain persons and families. Fortunately, we don't possess | one, but " "Unfortunately, you mean." "Unfortunately, if you like." He was on tentrehocks. Simmonds migtit begin operations on the door at any moment. "I'm going." "You are annoyed with me, Mr Berrington. 1 saw the tip of your cigar glowing, and I came out here to ask you something, and to tell you something. I fancied this morning that you were a little bit in sympathy with me." He nodded; he dared not trust himself to speak. "I didn't know so much about you this morning as I do now," were his thoughts. "I can read the face of a man like an open book, but I can't see yours in this light." "I am very glad of it," he thought; then aloud: "We'll walk to the house, if you don't mind. Simmonds and I are waiting for Mr "Wil- ' son, the London manager." "Oh!" There was a catch in her voice, and she repeated the old trick of layine a hand over her heart. . "I'd better appear to be perfectly frank with her," Allan reflected. "I think lam a match for most men, but I never did score against a woman." "I would much rather remain in the open air," Stella said. "I feel that I am being suffocated indoors." "Please yourself." But he was walking away from the tower. "It's rather late to perambulate the grounds. I wouldn't be here alone at midnight for the world's best gift. I have heard the history of the Eastwood ghost from people who know all about it, and the gentleman walks at stated times as surely as we stand here. Charlie Eastwood's father does duty now, but it will ba Charlie's turn next."

I After a very short deliberation it was resolved that Mr Eastwood's secretary should be acquainted with the true state of affairs. Miriam was sure that he was loyal to the core and it would be next to impossible to do without him. If Mr Eastwood was ill, he would require a great deal of attention, and Mr Simmonds' movements wjuld create no curiosity or commend The keys of the tower were in a private safe, to which Mr Simmonds alone had access; tools would be wanted to unscrew the steel bars, with which the doors were additionally secured; and then the cleaning'up, and the other hundred and one things were necessary. "I'll tallc it over with Mr Simmonds," Allan said. "And you had better go to your room, Miriam, at the usual time." He did "talk it over" with the secretary, and pretty exhaustively, too. Simmonds was a level-headed fellow, but he listened to Allan, his nerves a-quiver. He jumped up and beat his hands together, and ejaculated all sorts of incomprehensible nonsense. He simply couldn't help it. "You can leave everything in connection with Mr Eastwood to me, sir," he said. "The tower hasn't been occupied for fifty years, but there's a bed there, such as it is—and furniture, and all that. I can easily get clean linen and things, and I can smuggle in all the food he will want. It won't be for very long, will it? After they've arrested the chap at Southampton, we may light on the truth." He knitted his brows and thought for a minute. "There are two doors in the tower—one. at the end of the pasaago beyond the ballroom, and the other outside. It will be safer to use the outside door. Lucky, there's no moon! I'll get to work about eleven. No, I shan't want any help; I can do things cleaner single-handed And the woman is under this very roof! And what a handful you've got to tackle, sir. The terrible search in the mine, the anxiety—the suspense! It's worry that kills; I don't mind a dozen knocks on the but when your heart's like lead, and your nerves on the jump, you get sick at the stomach, and had better be anybody's dog." • "There's one consolation—we shall sxm know the best and the worst. At what time do the last of the servants go to bed?" "The butler makes a final round at eleven, in the absence of orders to the contrary. That is one of his important duties. I am itching to make a start. Oh, I call it splendid news! If you'll excuse me, sir, I'll b<j on the move. I'll get the tools ready, and clean bed-linen, and everything else that occurs to me." "I don't like being idle.' "I'll find you something to do, the secretary said, "when the coast is clear." He started. "Was that a knock on the ddor? Oh, it's the butler. Yes, Hadley, the > London manager is coming back to-night. I 11 be responsible. Good night." "Good night, Mr Simmonds." The secretary rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Now I'll be off, sir." "Away you go. I'll walk about and smoke. If you want me I shan't be fifty yards away from the house. "Keep pretty close to the tower, sir; that's where I shall be at work. And keep you*r eyed open. Sometimes the servants sneak out to meet their sweethearts. Three taps on the door will warn me; so—one—two -three. They might think the ghost was walking, and kick up a hullabaloo. ' Allan lighted a cigar, and went out of doors. There was no moon, but the skies were jewelle"! with stars. He bared his temples to the cool wind, and listened to its many mnrmurings, amid the trees. He walked slowly to the tower, and examined the great

Stella gripped his arm, and he felt that she was shaking in every limb. "Pardon me," he said. "I'm very sorry. Now, then, for our pow-wow. Simmonds will wonder what has become or me. w« Stella was still clinging to his arm, and he remembered, not without a shudder of disgust, that the woman had to all intents and purposes killed her husband in cold blood. "I want your advice Mr Berrington," she said tremulously. "You are a lawyer; you will understand." "Reallyfl never give advice except through a solicitor, madam. I am a barrister." "Oh, don't joke, please! I want some sort of protection." His ears tingJed. She drew in a deep breath. "Since I was a little child my father has been my bitterest foe. He killed my mother; he beat and starved me, until he discovered that I was of some commercial value to him; then he lived upon my earnings, and his petty persecution changed to blackmailing and acts of desperate infamy. Mr Berrington, he is following me here!" (To be continued.)