THE COLONEL'S ENEMY.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 3135, 11 March 1909, Page 2

THE COLONEL'S ENEMY.

BY WINTH&OP B. HARLAND. Author of "Lady Elgin's Secret," "A Harvest of Shame," "The Elder Son," "Lord Ashton's Heir," Etc.

CHAPTER XlV.—Continued. "I will not believe that he purposely led your father astray," the major continued, "and an error of judgement should not be too severely punished. He must feel it deeply, because he finds an excuse for everyone; and 1 remember how impressively he spoke against what he called the too stern doctrine of bringing a wrongdoer to justice for the sake of society." "Uncle would not punish anyone." Leonard said: "he is very good in that way. He refused to prosecute a butler who stole his plate; and when a drunken cook spoiled the dinner, and nearly set the house on fire, he would not have her locked up or turned out." "Then what on earth did he do with them?" "He sent the butler abroad, with enough money to establish him in busines3, and paid the cook's wages for six months, besides keeping her in a home where such people are cure! of their cravings for intoxicating liquors; and he gives both time and money to those institutions for the rescue and reformation of criminals. He is so well known for his kindness to the dangerous classes that he is safe where even a missionary or a detective would hardly care to go." "He is certainly a man to be admired," the major said. "I call that genuine philantrophy; but I should have found it difficult to pardon the cook; a few ounces of silver plate may ba replaced, but a spoiled dinner—never; and he may have had company." "We had; there were fifteen to sit down that day." "And how did you manage?" "He sent to Gunter, ind we were only about two hours late." "Well," said the major, shaking his head, "I can only say that your uucle must be both a saint and a philosopher; and it was a fortunate thing for the cook that she wasin his service, and not in mine. I never knew till now how much kindness human nature could be capable of, and. I do rot think I should have bsiievtd it if anyone else had told me. "Will you come in? This is HalfMoon Street—not a very handsome thoroughfare. In fact, if it where a few miles out of town we should consider it narrow, and dingy, and inconvenient; but it is in the West End, so we are content to be htifled, and pay a high rent for the ptivil ege." "I will not come in to-night," said Leonard; "but if it were not too late for you, I would ask you tn come with me. My mother particularly wished to see you—at least, I inferred ao by her manner. And I think it is something about the cotanel." "Why did you not say sj before?" Lugard said. "While we have been sauntering from Canon Street, we might have been at your house. Too late? As if I would not go anywhere at any time, to hear a word that mig v 't help to throw a light upon his disapnearance." He called a cab at the Piccadilly coiner of the street he lodged in, and Leonard told the man where to drive. "I do not suppose my mother can throw "any light upon the colonel's disappearance," he said. "So far as I am aware, she or ly knows him as Dora's father; but she was deeply interested in what I have told her about your search for him, particularly when I mentioned, what I really thought, that your search had not been so successful as Mr Dacre tries to n.ake it appear for Dora's sake." "Why should you think that?" "I have no reason —it was merely a thought. But I know Mr Dacre so well, and he is more deeply touched over it than be cares to . let Dora see."

'"You are right," the major said. "Our saarch has not been so successful as we have made it appear. In fact, Leonard, 1 almost fear the worst; but Dora must not havt an inkling of that while a spark of hope remains." "Not for the world," t/jonard said; "it would kill her, and that would kill me. You may think it strange, major, but when you came bfcick fr*>m Liverpool without Col. St. Hilary, I felt thera was something wrongworse than you would confess. I had a presentiment- a foolish one, you will say—when our marriage was postponed, that it would never take place." "All presentiments are foolish," the major said, with an indulgent smile, "and yours was not more foolish than a dozen others. You were disappointed, naturally, and you are subject, I should think, to periods of mental depression." "Only when anything comes between Dora and me." "Nothing has come between you at present," Lugard said. "Your marriage is only delayed. We shall find the colonel soon, Leonard; we cannot fail, witb the men we have at wOfk. Bnt at present the whole matter is an unfathomable mystery. If I could only find a clue —the slightest clue." The cab drew up at a turning in old Brompfon, a dimly lighted thoroughfare, with a row of semidetached, eight-roomed house on each side, Leonard let himself in with a latchkey, and conducted his companion to the first floor, which consisted of two small appartments, divided by folding doors. The apartments were well furnished, almost to the point of luxury, the doors and windows tastefully draped; but the lady who rose to meet her son and the soldier looked so much out of place in a Brompton villa as a queen might have done. She was stately and tali, and of striking b -auty still, with perfect features, a noble figure, ar.cl snow-white hair. It was not the white hair of an aged women; s'jme sudden shock or pro- j

tracted trouble had left that mark upon her years ago, while she was yet young. "Here is the major, mother," said Leonard, with boyish eagerness. "I have brought him with me." "I see "you have," Mrs Dacre said, giving Lugard her hand, with a sweet smile. "I should have known you anywhere, Maj. Lugard. You are one of Leo's heroes, and he is never tired of describing jou. and quoting yuu. I need not tell you how glad lam that he ha* found such a friend." "I have not been able to show much friendship for him as yet," said the major;."but wt took to each other from the first, and shall see mora of each other when this unhappy business is over. You have something to say about it—the colonel's disappearance, I me:m?" "Yes, I wanted (o know exactly what has taksn place. How was it, major, that, knowing him so well, his state of health, and the conditions under which he was travelling, you were not there to wait for the ship that brought him home?" "I wish I had been," Lugard said, "but I was called away on business of my own, a property left by my uncle in Somerset. But Mr Dacre went down as soon as he had St. Hilary's telegram; and even then the colonel had been gone some hours." "Some one had called upon the colonel before Mr Dacre arrived, and could by any possibility have arrived; ir that what you mean?" "Yes, before Mr Dacre or I could, by any possibility have arrived—a strange man, who represented himself as an agent from a firm with whom St. Hilary had dealings of a private nature. Your son a 9 told you, perhaps, cincerning the finding of Mr Crombid?" He noticed that she shivered at the name.

"If you had only been there the night before," she said, "this never would have happened. I am not blaming you, but it is so bitterly to be regretted. And cell me what has occurred since?" The major told her. He explained, step by step, what they had done, and what they intended to do i f their search failed, after a day or two. She followed him with keen attention when he spoke of their discovery that they had been on the track of the wrong man; and she shook her head when he mentioned the telegram he had seen at Boulogne- the original in St, Hilary's handwriting. "And this Mr Crombi3 was the only man who had reason to be afraid of him?" she asked. "MrCrombie, or some one in close connection with him. It cannot be Crombie, for Fletcher, the agent, has indisputable proof that he was dead and buried long ago." "We can be sure of nothing," Mrs Dacre said. "The one thing evident is that the colonel is in the hands of a dangerous enemy. It must be kept from our darling Dora; but unless some steps are taken soon see will never see her father again in this life." [to be continued.]