TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10421, 12 September 1911, Page 2

TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

CHAPTER Xi!.—Continued. "You had." "I put it to you, on your honour, as to whether you suspected anything, no matter how doubtfully and remotely, as to the theft of the will." . "I know you did." "Ydu told mo that you knew and suspected nothing—that you had been and were as utterly amazed and bewildered as I was.' r "It was the absolute truth. Con-, found it, Severance, what do you " "I believe it was the truth. I believed it then, and I believe it now. I had as I expressed .to you, an entire faith in your denial. I would have declared upon oath that you were entirely ignorant. My question is— What do you know now?" Both were now on their feet, the one pale, the other crimson. Sir Derek made a furious gesture; for the moment it seemed that he was dumb with rage. Severance's powerful fingers caught his arm, gripped and mastered it. He was as cool as his companion was hot. ■;■ "What did I tell you a moment ago?" he said sternly. '"I tell you man that you can keep all that you have. JBut it happens that I have a fancy for 'getting at the truth of this, jif- only for the reason-that my own crass folly was to blame. The will is destroyed— ■* I have no doubt of that—and probably if I knew the whole truth to-morrow I should be as helpless as I am now as far as the restoration of the money is concerned. I don't look for it—l do hot desire it. One© mOre, I believe that you knew as little of the theft when it was committed as I know now. But that you are. .still ignorant I do not believe." He had released the other's arm, and Sir Derek had drawn back a pace. His flush of rage had faded, although his eyes-were still fierce. He had a power of self-control and self-repression I which, in its way equalled Severance's I own.

"What do you mean?" he said.] "We must thresh this out. Put it plainly." "I believe that you know who took the will." "I thought s-ou knew that yourself. Perhaps I also know why it was taken?" "Undoubtedly —as well as I do. Were that the only puzzle it could soon be discovered. There could be but one possible motive." "What motive?" "Pooh! Surely that question is unnecessary!!!" Severance half knelt upon the chair from which he had risen. "Anyone acquainted with the subject must know very well that the theft of the will could have been committed with ' one object—to benefit you." "Ail" Sir Derek laughed. "You think your mysterious lady visitor stole the will for my sake, do you?"' "I think that exactly." ' 'And that I know who she is ? " "Candidly, I suspect that you do." ' "Perhaps you will say outright, Mr Severance, that you consider me a 'scoundrel ?" v "I am bound to confess, Sir Derek, that my opinion of you, is not what it used to be." There was.a pause. Sir Derek wheeled round upon) his heel, walked slowly .to the end of the fernery, and returned.,, .Short as the interval had been he had entirely regained his ordinary manner and expression. He had hot the islightest trace of anger about him, arid he spoke in his usual, tones. "At any rate,-1 can compliment you upon a pretty .good grasp of the subject from one point of view," ho said. j "There is not much doubt that tie will is destroyed, and consequently if I knew all that you suspect ma of knowing you would stand preciie'y! where you are. But, as it happeis, you are entirely wrong. I'll givo vou your own words back again- —belice me or not, as you like, I know no more I now than I did nine months ago." • "You affirm this?" • "I'lj swear yb', if you likell don t care a'hang for your opinion of me—you're welcome to it-—but the fact remains that I don't tell lies without a P re tty good reason. It's a, risky trick, and calls for a better memory than 1 possess." He paused and laughed "And, as to the suggestion that the will was stolen for my sake, it's flatt«jr r | mg, but upon -my life and honour IJ don't think I've treated. any one of J the sex -so wonderfully well that she \ should be willing to run the risk of j penal servitude to oblige me 1" Severance believed him: Why, he could not have told. He had no more doubt of the truth of this denial than of the denial which he had believed implicitly nine months ago. Let his present opinion of his kinsman be what it might, he felt-that Derek Willoughby was speaking the truth. As an honest man his one course was to say as much and tender his apologies for having put the question. In the fewest words that if was possible to use he did so, and turned to leave the fernery. To his surprise the other checked him, speaking with a tone and look of the lightest good humour. "Oh, no apologies!" he* said airily. "Quite unnecessary! Mistakes will arise—have made them myself. And if we were to quarrel with every fellow of whom we didn't quite approve what a life we should have of it I Good for the legal profession, though, no doubt. But that's not the point. It's my ! turn now. By your leave I'll ask you l a question, Severance." "What is the question ?"

(OUR NEW SERIAL.)

By CARL SWERDNA, Author of "A Mere Ceremony."

" 'Make a remark' would perhaps be the better way of putting it. You are a lawyer. Did it ever strike you how uncommonly different the two sides, of the appear, and what a good story each of them can make up about it?" "I don't understand you." "No? Yet it's pretty plain. Does it not occur to you that there are two sides to this little matter of ours, for instance? You've stated your point of view—the will was stolen to benefit me. What about the contrary explanation?" "Clear enough, my dear fellow! I'm candid with you. I tell you frankly that I really can't flatter myself that I've ever treated any woman so uncommonly well as to make her willing to risk the chance of penal servitude to oblige me. I don't inquire into your moral record —no business of mine—but I know that sometimes you quiet-going fellows And your unknown lady client always did sound a bit mysterious to me." "Speak out! What do you suggest by that?" "What? Oh, nothing special 1 Merely that she might not have been quite unknown, and you might have given her a pretty strong reason for wanting to get even with you I" "You know.that that's a lie, Sir Derek, as well as I know it." Severance turned with the words and walked out of the fernery. Only his resolute strength of will had taught him to control a temper naturally fiery. He recovered in a minute or two, and laughed at himself, amused that he had allowed so palpable a pretense to move him. He confessed that the tables had been turned upon him cleverly. Any partial observer ; might have considered that there was something to be said for view of Sir Derek Willoughby—as much, perhaps, as for his own. He shrugged his shoulders. "Only," ho said to himself, "I honestly believe my view, and the fellow 1 knows very well that his is a pretense and a lie. Strange that he should not know the truth, but I am bound to believe that he does not. With every predisposition to disbelieve I am forced ito believe. Mrs or Miss Lydia Moncton has kept her secret well. Ah, Mr Seton,'how are you to-night?" "Me? Oh, much of a muchness, thanks!" Harry, offering his hand, still looked extremely gloomy. "I don't much care about this sore of thing, to tell the truth, nor do you, Mr Severance, I should think?'.' "Not particularly, I confess." "Not hut what this is a very nice affair, and the Moorfields are very nice people," Harry hastened to .add. "Jolly nice woman, MrsMoorfield,-and has been most uncommonly kind. So has her husband. Friends of yours, aren't they?" i "My particular friends." '; "So Clare—Miss Throckmorton —J said when she introduced me, I re« member.. All the same, between ourselves, I think I shall cut it soon. Arej, you off yet?" ' V "Not yet. I have been here only aj short time, and I am engaged to: dance with Miss Throckmorton, Thei next, I think." "Oh!" With a deepening of his gloom Harry gave his fair moustache j a nervous tug. "Her card was full up when I asked her. And I know who did most of the filling. Here she is I j I say, how different they look, don't they?" T I Harry subsided as Clare approached j them. She had dismissed her partner, and Lorraine was at her side. The contrast between the smiling, radiant aspect Of the one and the somber gravity in the face of the other wa* as great as between the white and black gowns that they wore. Clare addressed Severance gayly. "I am certainly the most obliging of partners," .she said: "I actually condescend to remind you that the next is our dance. And—oh, I only hope and trust that I shall contrive to get through it safely." I "Safety?" Severance looked amused. "My skill is not very great, it's true, but I'think I can undertake with fair luck to get through without upsetting you." "I don't mean that!" She turned her pretty head with a comical endeavour to see behind her, and then clasped her hands with' a tragical gesture. "Oh, do you know how it feels to be afraid that your dress is coming undone?" ''l can't say that I do. Is that your condition?" "It has been my condition all the, evening. I shan't know a moment's peace until I get home and find myself intact—if I do. I have the greatest possible confidence in Lorraine—my firm belief is, as somebody said of his mother-in-law, that she could storm a town with a hearth broom and capture it—but she is not used to the duties of a lady's maid. And she was the only one I had to-aiight. (To be continued.)