A SECRET FOE

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10134, 12 January 1911, Page 2

A SECRET FOE

iy uERTRUDE WARDEN. Author of "Scoundrel or Saint?" "The Secret of a Letter/' "A Bold TW.ontion," "The Wooing of a Fairy," "The Crime o2 Monte Carlo," etc.

CHAPTER XXVl.—Continued. Within an hour of her departure Lord Mallyon had left, as pre-ar-ranged, for Sevenoaks, a little after Drogo Gordon's departure for his father's home at Surbiton, and Iris was left at Mallyon Court alone. Her husband took an affectionate leave of her. At sight of his pallor she begged to be allowed to accom r pany him, but he laughed at her fears.

but I will have justice done me yet!" "For your own sake I hope not, Miss Mallyon," returned the lawyer sternly. "It is true that he, on the Wednesday of the week in which he died, sent for me, and drew up a will in your favour, but. before - twenty,four hours had passed he realised that lie had acted under a misapprehension, and, telegraphing for me to Sevenoaks, he destroyed the first will, and drew up the will which you have just heard, in the presence of Lord Hedmoutli, and witnessed byLord Hedmoutli's servants. By Lord Hedmouth's earnest entreaty, he refrained from making public the reasons of his message to you, "but he deputed me to hand you this sealed packet." Within it were the evidences collected by Drogo of Dagmar's guilt. The girl stared at the papers, arid | ~then, dropping them- on . the floor, broke into vacant, hysterical laughter. The shock* turned her. brain, and for the test -of his -life, Edward. Fitz*alan, forever in difficulties, and eyed aslance iyiliis acquaintances, was tied to a hopeless lunatic. Two years after Lord Mallyon's death Iris was very quietly married to Drogo Gordon. "Smart" society knows her not, for she is a woman of domestic tastes, devoted to her husband, and her children, to the old colonel, her father-in-law, and to such few friends as she really loves. Her wealth is spent wisely, and in the peaceful love and gracious charity of her daily life she is enabled to forget those few eventful months of trial which have been recorded in these , pages. ' v THE END.

" "l am rather fatigued, my dear,'' lie said. "I am an old man, and I am tired of playing at being a young one. Lord Hedmoutli is an invalid, and has only an old bachelor establishment. I cannot put off my visit - ..again, but I shall remain only two nights at Sevenoaks, and you may , expect me back on Fridayat- latest, I will write to you to-morrow, and you will always be in my thoughts, until I return.''.. . . ;

" But'-«n the foHowiiig Friday-morn-ing Iris received a telegram, which she opened without apprehension, supposing that it would fix the hour of her husband's arrival. It was from Lord Hedmouth, and ran as follows: :: : : : : : " :

"Lord Mallyon seriously ill. Come at once." Within a few minutes two other despatches followed in quick succession :

"Prepare for the worst. He- is in no pain." Finally, as Iris was: stepping into the carriage to.drive-'to -the station, the third message was given into her hands: ;

"Deeply regret. Lord Mallyon died of syncope at five minutes to twelve ibis morning. My most earnest sympathy in your bereavement. Hedmoutli."

Tears rushed into Iris' eyes, when a few hours later she bent over her husband's face, to which death had restored the delicate beiauty of early manhood. She had never received aught -from him but the most indulj gent kindness, and his ascendancy I over her mind had been .o great ' that it seemed almost incredible to think, that five months ago .he had, neV'er"crossed her path. "My poor friend spoke of you constantly, Lord Hedmouth told her. "My wife is the first wholly good woman I have ever known.' Those were his . words. From' the moment < he arrived here lie was illr-r o ill, indeed* that last- night I telegraphed to my doctor, the local practitioner having already seen him. This morning his valet found, him almost too weak to rise, and in a half-dazed con--dition'.: /But he /was extremely anxiotis" to return to town in order-' to, see-yoiiiv -Mally<m to-day' he said aigain and again until about eleven .o'clock, when he fell into a stupor, fvpm which it was impossible to arouse him. He was a great man and a good friend." * . * * * * , *

. The reading of Lord Mallyon's will I „took place in the library at Mallyon Court, whither Mrs Mavrogodato and her daughter, deep in crape, repaired, accompanied by Edward Fitzalan in the sliaracter of Dagmar's affianced husband, it having been deemed by him and Dagmar advisable to let the mind of . the public be prepared for the announcement of their marriage, r now that Dagmar was certain of being her uncle's heiress. Only the coldest of bows were exchanged betweeh the niece and widow of Lord Mallyon, the latter who,. looking very pale and ethereal in her widows' mourning, sat alone on the right hand of Mr Wilcox, the lawyer. Farther away in the room were grouped the servants,- to each of whom handsome legacies were bequeathed in proportion to the term of their service, the man Wheeler re-; ceiving a further -present pfra htjii-. tired pounds "in cansideration -of [services rendered."

"To my niece, .Dagnlar..-- r lfltzalan,; formerly. Dagihar Mallyon, and : nmv the wife of the Honorable Edward Fitzalah, I leave my free and full forgiveness for all the wicked schemes by which she tried to destroy my happiness, and that of my dear wife, Iris."

The lawyer read the words clearly. JDagmar sprang to her feet,, her tongue parcliedvliereyes-startirigrtfroiri their sockets. But the lawyer, unheeding her, proceeded with his task. "To. my wife, Iris, I give and be-, queath," then followed a list of the dead ; man's possessions, ''Mallyon Court , Knightsbridge, Old borough House and lands in Oxfordshire, a villa at Nice,: with plate, furniture, jewels, carriages, and horses, and investments to the value of two hundred and thirty-five thousand pounds." ■"lt is forgery!!'* hurst from Dagmar's white lips, "a forgery concocted"! by that woman, who was a wretched, j penniless adventuress when she made my uncle marry her, and her lover, Drogo Gordon. Uncle Jasper found out her wickedness, and you, Mr Wilcox, the very man whom he sent for to make a will leaving everything to me, you dare to read aloud this impudent forgery, instead of the genuine document. You have been bribed,