A SECRET FOE.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10135, 8 December 1910, Page 2

A SECRET FOE.

(OUR SERIALS

ry CERTRUDE WARDEN. Author of "Scoundrel or Saint?" "The Secret of a Letter," 'A Bold TW.nntion," "The "Wooing of a Fairy," "The Crime o2 Monte Carlo," etc.

f ' against her. . That's just like Dagj mar—all purrs one day and scratches I the next, liKe our old black cat. : Bibs." j "I want Miss Travers," bawled ! Jasper, hanging on to Drogo's knees, j 'Nice, pitty Miss Travers! She tolled ime fairy-tails and never slapped me, . and they've tooked her away, and I | won't have nobody else to teach me. Boohoo!" In the midst of the tumult, Mrs Mavrogodato entered, carelessly, made up, and wrapped in a fadev. blue silk tea-gown. "All, my dear Mr Gordon," she exclaimed, as she sank into an armchair, "you find me almost distracted] Of course, I always said Miss Travers was too young. But how could I expect such conduct? It is too cruel! And my children, who are not like other people's children, easy to manage, but strong, oh! very strong in their likes and dislikes, they iked this young person extremely. Since she has arrived, I have had a little repose, a little peace, children have not scratched each other's faces for all of a week. Therefore, I said no more to her than she might have expected. I ask you, what could I say, when I entered and found her kissing a gentleman visitor? It must be remembered that I have a daughter in the house " "Pardon me, Mrs Mavrogodato," said Drogo, interrupting her rather sternly, "but will you not tell me all this when we are alone?" The children had come up one on each side of their mother's chair, and were listening, open-mouthed, opened-eyed, to her words; and Watkins, while ostensibly employed in mending some socks, was drinking in her mistress' statements. Mrs Mavrogodato glanced at tTiem but was too lazy to move. "Oh, my dear Mr Gordon," she explained, "everybody knows that Miss Travers has run away. It is nor a secret, I assure you. I was at the opera, with Mr Fitzalan, and dear j Dagmar had gone to lie/down, being altogether overcome with the scene we had had with Miss Travers over her conduct. And this morning, in comes the servant with my coffee and says 'Ma'am, Miss Travers has gone. Her bed has not been slept in, and jher bag is taken away.' But is it ' not selfish, when I am so delicate, and she could manage those dear children so beautifully?" "I don't understand the details of the story in the least, Mrs Mavrogodato," said Drogo coldly, "nor do I wish to hear them now." "But I want you to know all because of Lord Mallyon," exclaimed the lady; "it is necessary that he should know everything. So soon as I can dress I shall go and see him, and tell him all. I took Miss Travers only because she was his protogee. But he shall hear how she kissed Mr Fitzalan, and went off in a temper because I told her it was not proper to embrace gentlemen visitors. One would have uiought I had offend, ed the queen, to see her march Prom the room with her head up." "I cannot'beliere it!" burst from ' Drogo's lips. "I know Miss Travers —she is incapable of such conduct." "I do not say that it was all her fault," said Mrs Mavrogodato, retreating from her position. "Mr Fitzalan, all the time at the opera, assured me that Miss Travers had not encouraged him at all, and that lie was himself only in fun, and caught her by the waist and kissed her, as she stood by tne window with her back to him. But such things should not happen. Miss Travers is too pretty for a governess, and Dagmar—she hates Mr Fitzalan—and she was so angry, she was like one mad. Really, I do not remember what I said—it was more Dagmar than I; but Miss Travers made no explanation, and no excuses, but she walked out of the room taking no notice of anybody." In spite of Drogo's naturally jealour disposition, the true state of the case became instantly clear to him; from Mrs Mavrogodato's, chatter, and his heart burned with indignation against Fitzalan, and throbbed with pity for Iris. He thought ; of her, forlorn and friendless, smarting under unjust accusations, with no home to go to, driven from the house by the insolent importunity of a coxcomb like Fitzalan, and the insults of Dagmar and her mother, without money, without friends. He could scarcely control his voice when he next addressed Madame Mavrogodato. "Have you no idea where she has gone?" he asked. (To be Continued.)

CHPATER X.—Continued. j Lord Mallyon was glad to receive j this letter. Certain signs of suppres- : seel temper and indignutioii which he J had noted in Dagmar during his ( long interview with her on the pre- j ceding day convinced him that she fully "shared the general belief that . she would sooner or later inherit all ( his property. The impression Lord Mallyon keenly resented. As yet he had felt hardly any of the warnings of old age, and at sixty-two he could almost suppose himself ten or fifteen years younger. Only at times, after a particularly brilliant display of oratory, he would return to his luxuriously appointed home witli the action of his heart depressed, after long-sustained excitemeint, and would feel keenly the lack among his crowds of secretaries, typewriters, and hired servants, of one_ especial person who would take loving and sympathetic pride in his success, and congratulate and make much of him for his own sake. He hated to think that his death would be looked forward to eagerly by his nearest relatives as a possible chance, of enriching themselves. If I Dagmar wanted money to squander, let her procure it at once during her lifetime, from some infatuated husband; and for this position none was so suitable as his friend Sir John Moray. As soon, therefore, as he had mastered the Scotch banker's letter, Lord Mallyon sent for his secretary, Drogo Gordon. "I want you to excutei a delicate little commission for me, he said. "Sir John Moray is passing.through town, and will call upon me this afternoon. I particularly wish my neice and her mother to meet him, so I want you to go over and ask them informally to come and lunch with me. If you could contrive to let Mrs Mavrogodato knew privately that Moray is coming, and to make Dagmar understand that a new and wealthy admirer is expected, I could be sure neither of them would fail | me." "I will do what I can," said the secretary, who, however, as his employer knew, could not be persuaded to infringe upon the truth. Drogo was very willing to perform this commission, and wasted but little time before starting on ■ his errand. He, however, went the ' length of changing his entire suit, with-the idea that a certain morning coat of light tweed which his tailor had sent home was particularly becoming ; and although the least vain of men' he sought cut the prettiest tie in his collection, and tried the effect of : it before the glass. He had already repented of his conduct toward Iris oh the preceding day, and had called himself . a jealous, blundering fool, with much emphasis. No doubt she had told him the truth when she said that she liad not seen Lord Mallyon since her arrival in London; and as to the letter in the latter's handwriting, it was probably'one of good and fatherly advice, such as a man of over sixty might be expected to send to a girl of nineteen. He was bound tor Lancashire Place and fully resolved not to leave the house until he had had an interview with Iris, and contrived to ask her pardon fbr his uncivil conduct. He was beginning to realize that he was deeply in love with Miss Travers, and that*the thought of her disturbed his dreams, and unsettled his waking thoughts. Since that interview in the Flower Walk her face had not for one moment been absent from his mind; an athlete as lie was, standing fully six feet in his stockings, and broad in proportion, his heart was beating in excited J thumps, and his sunburnt, cheek flushed like a girl's as he lifted,the knocker on the door of Mrs Mavro* godato's Bayswater mansion on that autumn morning. The servants who opened the door apologized for showing him into the dining room. "It's so early, sir," she explained, "that we are dusting the drawingroom ; and what with Missis and Miss - Mallyon being so upset like, and the children so troublesome, we are all behind with our work." Drogo knew and disliked the children, and instantly pitied Iris on hearing that they Were so troublesome. After the servant had left to ; tell her mistress that Mr Cordon had come with a message from Lord Mallyon, loud shrieks from the adjoining schoolroom led Drogo to tap at the door and put his nead in. He expected to find Iris with lier charges, but discovered instead the distracted Watkihs vainly trying to separate Helen and Jasper, who were furiously fighting on the floor. At sight of Drogo the children desisted from their encounter, and prec-ipated themselves upon the newcomer. "We want Miss Travers. Where is she? Has she been sended away for being naughty ,or has she runned away all of herself?,'' inquired Jasper. "It's Dagmar's doings, T know," cried Helen viciously. "Dagmar was so nice to Miss Travers thaf I , thought slie'd soon turn nasty