The Colonel's Enemy.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 3143, 22 March 1909, Page 2

The Colonel's Enemy.

;: CHAPTER XX.—Continued. "Yes," he answered bravely, and the while : whether those soft, searching eyes of hers had reached the secret he guarded so jealously. "Anything that made Dora and her father happy would ba mora than a pleasure to me," Dora said nothing. She was conscious that her feelings had undergone a change since she had promised to be Leonard's wife. At that time it was looked upon as a settled thing that she and her father were not to meet in this world, unless she went out to him in India, and the prospect ot a home with Leonard and his mother had been a pleasant one. In spite of the luxury with which Mr Dacre surrounded her, the house in Canon Street was a dull place for a f youug girl to live in. Poor Aunt Hannah, with her oppressive selfdenial and her liking for solitude, -was not a cheerful companion; and her guardian, though his love spoke an every word, and was shown in every action, was very little better.

And she did not care for society; » formal dinner, lasting from eight till nearly ten, was simply an infliction ; she saw nothing to enjoy in a reception, and there was something In the atmosphere of a ballroom from ■which her pure mind shrank. At Mrs Dacre's, with her pretty little house, her limited income, and her simpler habits, Dora had been far happier, for it was in every sense of the word a home, and being married to Leonard only_meant going back to it.

But when she heard that her father was coming home, the whole face of the world was changed; he became the central figure ii> her mind; lover and friends were relegated to a second place; her marriage became a minor consideration. She tried to explain something of this to Mary after the major had gone, for he took his departure when he found they understood each ■ other so well that he was to a certain extent left out in the cold. Miss Walton's visit of ■ceremony became a friendly one, and, at Dora's request, she stayed during the afternoon. Miss Walton, with her trained instinct and her knowledge of the world, saw that there was no love in this for Leonard Dacre; she sounded the girl to her depts, and found that at best her feeling for him was a kindly and affectionate one, no dbeper and no stronger than she might have entertained for any other companion and&playfellow; but Dora thought she loved him, she had promised to be his wife, and if nothing came between them, she would never know the difference^to the e v nd of her days.

Mary had seen a great deal of domestic life in different families during her'ten or a dozen years work as a music, teacher, and she had seen many a man play the tender and devoted husband to a wife who adored him, while his whole life was a regret and a longing for some , other woman whom he had lost or met too late; and she had seen many a bride accepting and responding' to a husband's blind worship while every day of her existenca was a struggle and a prayer against temptation. Still more frequently she had seen what hse thought would be Dora's lot, a .young wife blissfully content in the belief that she loved her husband, while she was always within touch of the man who with a word could have awakened her to the truth. "I wish Cousin Fred would get married," Mary thought; "a single man of his age is always a dangerous nuisance, especially to young girls, who will make comparisons;

he is too simply honest to know how very becoming and attractive is that grave and gentle air of authority he has, and that at fortythree a man is just beginning the handsomest and most fascinating period of his life, lam not going to tell him so, but I will find a wife for him as goon, ns I c,a.n,",

totally unconscious of Miss Waltod*6 benevolent intentions, the major took a cab and went to the silk mercer's and costumer's where he had loitered with Mary on li.e way; he selected and paid for everything on which she had set the mark of her approval; then paid a visit to the jeweller's, where he invested several hundred pounds; then he proceeded to a livery stable, and engaged a brougham, giving instructions for the driver to be at Canon Street by half-past four; then went to his bankers, where he had a thousand pounds transferred to Mrs Walton's account, and a similar sum to Mary's; then

he went to his rooms, and wrote to Mr Kessiver a long and friendly epistle, informing him how. he had found the Waltons, and instructing him to insure the yearly sum of five hundred pounds to each of them for life. He was happier wh«n that •was done; he knew that whatever irneht happen to himself, the dhadow cf care was removed from their future forever. He posted that letter himself, after having heard from Joseph Ditton that no message or messen-

Eer had been with information concerning the colonel. Lugard was satisfied that he had made an excellent investment when he engaged the waiter from the Cornwallis; the man was steady, sober and attentive; let tne major return when he might, Ditton was there, as faithful and watchful as a dog; he never left the house unless sent on an errand

by his master. Thoughtful, as he invariably was for those who served him, the soldier wondered what the man found to do with his time? He was satisfied when he discovered that Ditton was an insatiable reader of every book that came in his way; he was strictly conservative, as became a gentleman's confidential valet; his favourite newspaper was the "Morning Post," and he tr.ok quite a lively interest in the military magazines and the society journals.

By WINTHROP B. HARLAND. J « Author of "Lady Elgin's Secret," "A Harvest of I Shame," " The Elder Son," " Lord $ « Ashton's Heir," Etc.

[to ee continued.]

"lam dining out this evening," the majoi said, "so you need not stay in unless you like, Ditton." "Thank you, sir," said Ditton, lingering, contrary to his habit; "I went out this morning f"r a few minutes; I found I had no tobacco

"You knew where to find mine," the major said, with a smile. "Yes, sir; but I should as soon think of picking a pocket as touching anything that belongs to a kind and literal master; and what I was going to say—you may or may not think it worth mentioning, and to me it seem 3 only a silly fancy- but while I was in the shop a gentleman came in for some cigars." "Weil''"

"Well, sir, when he spoke, his voice made me start; he was a long time choosing what he wanted, and I was just as long, for the purpose, putting my tobacco in nrcy pouch, filling my pipe, and getting a Sight, and I could not help looking at him, for he had just the voice of the man the colonel went away with."

"And what did you do?" asked the major, eagerly. "What could I do, sir?—it was nothing but the voice. This man was tall and straight, on the young side of middle age, if you can understand what I mean by that. He did j not stoop or wear spectacles, and he | had a redish-brown moustache and whiskers, with a closely shaved chin. He had a cab outside, and there was something in his walk, as he went to it that made me think of the one who took Col. St. Hilary away, though that may have been my fancy. But what could I do? I could not lay, hold of him or call a policeman because 1 thought I knew his voice." "No," the major said, in thoughtful assent; "but you might have followed him."

"That is what I thought of doing, sir; but he was gone in a minute. I took the number of the cab, though, and 1 should know the driver again; and by way of hearing all I could I made a remark to the tobacconist, and said what a pleasant gentleman he seemed, and a good customer." "That was right," the major said; "and what did the tobacconist say?"

"He agreed with me; said he was a very nice gentleman, and a good customer occasionally, and knew what a cigar was; he had travelled in the countries where tobacco grows, and been in the army; he was captain somebody, but had left the service, arid was now doing something in the mercantile way."

"This must be inquired into," the major said, with suppressed agitation. "You must find out all about this man, if you have to lay in wait for him day and night. You have almost exactly described a man I have met frequently at a friend's house—met but never spoken to. Was he in his manner and way of speaking what you would term a gentleman?"