A Daughter of Mystery

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10256, 7 June 1911, Page 2

A Daughter of Mystery

OUR SERIAL.

by f. l. dacre, Author of "Was fie the Man?" "A Phantom of the Past," Sir John's Heiress," "A Loveless Marriage," "The Doctor's Secret," etc. j

CHAPTER XXIV.— I Continued. "May I go with'you?" the vicar continued. "We can fix up our arrangements—verbally, anyway. lam taking some proofs to my publishers in Paternoster Row." "And I have to make a call in the Strand," Elneth said. They swallowed the tea almost scalding hot, and were ready to start before Mrs Mobbcrly was comfortably seated. "Now, tell me the reason for this unexpected release from thraldom, Mr Stanley said, when they were seated in a street car. "You did not dream of it yesterday. I am gratified, became vou will be able to do justice to my work. I expect this has influenced you a little?" "You are wrong, Mr Stanley. What you proposed was too much in the clouds. You see, lam quite untried, arid shall probably prove a failure. The'truth is, I have received proof of an assured, income, and although it is not large, it means an independence.' ' The curate glanced at her quickly, and his eyes expressed dismay. ."Oh!"

at a bound, and came to the floor with a reverberating crash. Then he paused and stared at Elneth with speculation in his eyes.

"Who do you want, miss? Mr Jones, tlio engraver, is on the first floor, and Mr Foxer, the detective, on the first. I work for Mr Jones, but he isn't in now."

"You're not pleased?" "Not if this money is to come between us —and spoil mv plans. You how selfish I am. You have had the experience I lack, and I want to pick your brains." "Vulture!" laughed Elneth. "But the money will help me. I shall take a holiday with Mr and Mrs Mobberly, and then begin work in real earnest. As for the business side of the undertaking, I need not take any money from you until the labourer has proved herself worthy of her hire." He was silent for a little while, but his eyes rarely left the girl's face. With all his feneration he found her very, difficult to understand. At one moment her beautiful face was radiant with joyous hope, the next, clouded by ineffable sadness. "An excellent arrangement," he said presently. "And from this hour, Miss Tyndall, you and I are in partnership. I propose giving you a third of the. profits, and the agreement between us had better be prepared by a "lawyer—your late employer, perhaps. Your share will be five or six hundred pounds." Elneth gasped. "Oh, I wouldn't accept anything of the kind." "But you are running a big risk If the book should happen to fall flat, you would get nothing. My publisher pays me sixpence a copy upon all copies sold, and from a sale of sixty thou-

"I'll twist you ear, you imp.' ' bellowed the voice of a man from tlio top of the staircase, "if you don't make less noise when you go down the stair.' "It was the postman," the boy retorted, unabashed. "Mr Foxer, I believe there is a lady here wants to see you, or she may be going into the office where they publish the matrimonial Gaette." z After this Parthian-shot he scuttled into the street, with a derisive howl. The stairs creaked under the weight of a heavy man, and Elneth stood perfectly still until John Foxer, the detective, stood revealed. He was tall and elderly, saturnine of expression, and altogether repulsive to Elneth. The brutal tones in which he had addressed the boy had changed to soft plausibility, and he was murmuring an apology. "I wish to see Mr John Foxer," Elneth said faintly. He placed one hand over his heart and bowed. "I am he. Come this way, please!" Mr Foxer could ape the ways of a gentleman to perfection, and with eqpal facility could he assume the brutality of the rtiffian. He had started business life as a Lawyer, served a long time for fraud, and had been struck off the roll. He therefore considered himself fully qualified to correct the failings of humanity at large, and to lay by the heels other unfortunates whose peccadiloes had invoked against them the long arm of the law. Mr Foxer was a spy in the pay of the police.

I sand the author realises* fifteen huu- ( dred pounds. That is the amount my L.last book earned for me, and the next 1 "one-is bound to earn a lot more. So, 1 that's; settled." . "The prospect is most alluring, and I am only Tiiiman," Elneth confessed. "May 1)0 I shall be of no further use in a literary sense after this one book, so I will get out of it all that I can. I have heard that a good many authors breathe out t3ieir souls in a limited quantity of penny numbers. You will get clown at Blackfriars, won't you? I ami going on to Westminster. " "I: should like to accompany you. MissiTyndall," he said tentatively. "No, I prefer -to be alone." Her voice was low, but the tone was almost

—Elnefch followed his upstairs, lie*' face resolute, but her hart quaking. He led the way through a big, dingy office to a smaller room, with the worJ "Private" pointed on the door. There were four people in the big office, two girls and two men. The girls were typ £ ; writing, the men lounging about. Like their surroundings they were shabby, and one of them had remarkably red hair. The scene was photographed on Elneth's brain, to be remembered for many a long day. Mr Foxer wheeled an easy chair into position, and bowed his visitor into it. H etlien seae dhimself directly opposite her, but with the table between them, and favoured her with an unctuous smile. "Now for business!" he said encouragingly. He tapped the table with his long, pointed fingers, and his sleepy eyes contracted. Then he wagged his head gently. "What can Ido for you, Miss Elneth Tyndall?" Elneth started bolt upright. Her courage returned in a flood tide. "You know me, Mr Foxer?" "It is my business to know everybody."

acrid. "Then I will meet you somewhere — anywhere you like." "No —no!" She spoke in quick, quivering tones. "My business may not be finished until late."

"Very well," he said gravely. "Forgive me if I seemed intrusive, I have nothing particular to do myself, and your society is always pleasing, Miss Tyndall."

He got down at Blackfriars Bridge, and Elneth went on to Westminster. Arrived there she walked in the direction of Charing Cross, her mind in an agoiiy of conflict, but never faltering in her determination to beard the detective in his den. When Elneth Tyndall did a thing', she did it with all her might. Of the man herself she had no fear, but was he not lurking in the shadow of Ronald Heseltine? Knowledge of this gave her intense physical

suffering'. ' | She stepped along at a moderate | pace, and had taken this roundabout j way to John Foxer's office so that she could well consider her mode of attack and defence. It was certain that ,th"e man would try to make capital out of her, and tho more she thought of.it •the more -her imagination flamed. She made her way from Charing Cross to the Strand, turtied into Surrey Street, and, with her heart in her throat, paused in front of a disreputable looking building, in the doorway of which was painted: "John Foxer, First Floor." The door stood wide open, revealing a gloomy passage, ending in a flight of stairs, down which there came a boy, whistling and clattering. He cleared the last five steps

"Nonsense !" Her lip curled. "You have a complete description of me from Mr Ronald Heseltine, and it is just as well. It will save time and breath. I am hero to warn you that if you do not' withdraw from the newspapers? certain advertisements concerning me I shall take legal action in the matter." He was clearly amazed. "But you have been missing, my dear young lady." "Nothing of the kind. I have never been missing; and if this persecution does not cease at once —at once, mind you—there will be trouble. That is all." ' : She rose, tall, strong, and swelling with indignation. There was a .fierce light in her eyes, and not a quaver in her ringing voice. \ ' "But Mr Ronald Heseltine——" "I do not recognise Mr Ronald Heseltine's right to interfere with my free dom. Mr Heseltine is nothing to me —nothing whatever." She moved to the door, and, uttesly confounded, Mr John Foxer opened it, a"nd bowed his visitor out. He. bit his lip, and clasped his hands over his eyes. He heard Elneth's lieels clicking down the stairs. "Not missing," he muttered. "By George, not she! What a spitfire! What a, little goddess! What the dickens is.Mr Ronald Heseltine thinking about. All at once he swung into the outer office. "Gre.gson," he said, to the red-haired man, "follow that lady and see where she is living*." Gregson snatched ,up His hat and melted away. (To be Conjtinited).