HELD IN BONDAGE.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10526, 13 January 1912, Page 2

HELD IN BONDAGE.

OUR SEBIAL.

BY L. F. DAGRE. * *v, f Mffi«>»ii»« VaJHev " A Phantom of the Past," "The Shadow

CHAPTER XlV—Continued

y H glided out of the window, land he \ sprang ;.v:o his car. Soon it was buzzing .a'vay at .top speed.

"You lie!" gurgled Aston. "She wa.< drowned nearly six years siii.ee. j earao to the inquest-; I saw 'her bunec in .Weal Churchyard." "No; your wife was in hading here ill I rtihe time. Your' fiendish cruelty drove iher to me. In my anger I repulsed her, as «foe had married agamsl my wishes —my commands. one attempted suicide, but Mark Jordan am I <rot her out of the waiters under th< Black Tor. Weeks later the body ci an unknown, woman was found lnSilear Bay. She was (practically unrecognis able and I swore she was my sister Mark Jordan and his wife wall beai me out. Then wc went abroad, and J pretended that I had married. I hav< no wife— 'never had one. The womar was your wife, Amy, my sister, whom you had driven insane. The child yoi saw with Miss Thornton was your owi child." , ,„.„,, Patrick Ward 1/aiughed lightly, contemptuously. He had .no pity for tht man before him—an unscrupulous destroyer of human souls. • ( There was a. (long silence;, Aston * face was covered with his hands. All at once he sprang xip, with* tigerish iniirl, and gripped the heavy chair at the back. . "I'll kill you, Patrick Ward—l'll kill you in this room! By God, I mean it! You have driven me to it! Now bake the consequences." He wihirled the chair over his head, and in an instant- beheld a revolver looking him coldly and steadily be-t-ween the eyes. "Put that thing down, George Aston,—or I ,will cripple you! I wa.nl you to ihear the rest of my ,< J —- and for your child's sake, give you a fighting chance to right yourself if you can "I'll kill you!" panted Aston. "To nveigle me here like this —you!" * picked you out of the gutter when you ivere starving. But for nie your subnarines and aeroplanes would never iave been, heard of, and you would l iave died in your misery like the dog fou are!" . ' , He dropped thei chair with a crash, ind turned to the door. "Stop, for vour child's sake, if not ! or Ward said sternly. "My sister's child. You'll thank m« before I have done with you.unless you wish to'walk into the arms of the police." Aston swung round and glaired at him; then be reeled against the door, and his trembled -under torn. "Go on —go on; let's tbave itihe whole of the cursed comedy." "If you were not so-utterly food!* J could feel it in my soul (to be sorry foi you. Now I will get to the heart oi the thing at once. Your real name is John Fanmiloe, and you were born at Newcastle-on-Tyne, and money you began with was stolen from your employer—Countess Zobrenski. You araconvioted, you cowering wretch! The por lie are on'jorr track, and I can leave 58 at tEat. No doubt your miserable mind waii be able to concoot a scheme to get out of the worst of the difficulty —you might marry the countess, he added flippantly. . '••• George Aston crept to a cliiaar and sat down! feebly pressing a shalang hand to his olam*ny : forehead. .His Shoulders heaved, and he moistened his, tongue, while his dazed eyes roved tinseeingly round the room. ~;.'..''* ':• "Youv'e got me to nights this tune, Ward," he whispered huskily;; then his voice grew stronger. ''Give me some brandy— a. tumbler full, Itonk you " He gulped down (half ot the fiery drink. Go away tor five minutes and let me think. I seem to have lost xverytliing, but how. coukV.l help myself "from wronging (Margaret Thornton ? That was your fault. You swore ; dfaat mv wife was dead. Iv'e ridden for a fall, and Iv'e come a cropper What about my child? You will core for her, and be a father to her? On these conditions I will instruct my le*al man to withdraw all contracts between us; I have no further claim oir ?ou. Patrick Ward." He got up iand.steadied himself; He a-upfaed .and snapped sns fingers. "I ought to lie grateful to you tor rarning me. and perhaps I am. Ive jot plenty of mmiev. tt-nd money stops ill argument. I can be arrested and Charged with, certain ■misdemeanours, .nit it is quite another thing to prove >hem. My bond is worth half a million ingold:" '■■-.;■■ : He -laughed',"' bivt Ihis laugh was a jackle. . . "_ ■■•' - __.,

• "I suppose you have quite done with me, Patrick.?' Are you gloating over mv'downfall? The big bubble is pricked,and lam flopped arily. But I'll fight' them—you wait and see!"

"f am glad to' get a bit of my own Iwck, Astea, but deep in,my heart 1 pity you!" "Oh, you are after Margaret Thormton. I'm not blind! That is one reason thiat I determined to bang onto my claim. She is good-looking, a.nd I love beauty. I'm somewhat of an artist in that way. It was the same with Amy, only sihe was a fool. You were I .might marry the countess yet—the old hag, • I'll gei even with her, never far. If you don't mind, I will leave the bouse by tbe French window. Ido not want to give the police work till I am ready, land they may be about. I want to get my blow in first; I'll, let you know the result, Patrick.." He paused; every sense alert. There was the sound of wbeels grinding along the drive.. "Give me that gun, Ward. I won't be taken alive." "Nonsense; it's only the undertaker in bis waggon. They are bringing the ! coffin." | "I'm off, then; goodnday.''

(To be Continued.)

CHAPTER XXV. MAKING GOOD. A few mornings - later a itaxioab rolled into Bloomsbury Crescent, and' pulled up opposite the house wherein Edith Janson rented a flat. The door of the dab was flung open, and Alfred Maxwell jumped down to the pavement, beaming and eager. ' "I can't tell you (how* long I shall be," ho said to the driver, <'but wait." 1 He ran up the stone steps, and was !' making for the stairs tatfc the same ratewhen the caretaker called after, h-im: "Miss Janson's away sir." "Oh; confusion," ejaculated Alf. '."And such glorious news won't keep. . Where has 'she gone to ? What is she doing?" "Don't know, Mr Maxwell. Didn't know herself. A letter came from the, office, special delivery. Perhaps she i£', wianted to take a commission for to-?| morrow, but there's no telling." "I'll leave a note. No, I won't; I'll? wait about; I'm going to send a. wire? If Miss Janson comes in, don't let her go out again until she has seen mo, for, worlds without end! Understand, Mrs Kemp?" The caretaker nodded and smiled. She was getting to know Alfred Maxwell, and to appreciate him. He seemed to possess an 'inexhaustible mine of Shialf crowns.

"Wait here," he said to Ms cabman. "I'm only going to tihe telegraph office round the corner." He walked away . whistling; his shoulders were squared; he faced the whole world with, an exuberance of spirit that was irritating to the worried and itoilwom. "Where 'are yer goin,' loony?" 'snatrled a' female hawker of stale fish, whom he had nearly bowled over ** the street turning.

"To paradise, Mary." "Bloomin' idiot, you are! Knocked my bloaters into tihe mud,! Vkk >e: u< up again, you flashy mug, or I'll swape you in the f ace "with one of 'em. Doiv t you Mary me, neither." '"■'■■,' "I apologise," said Alf cheerfully, "but I can't oblige you in the matter of the bloaters. < I prefer the scent of violets, and would rather pay for them as they stand,, or rather He. Here's a. bob for you. Now say' something nice tO; hie." - - . ' "You'll ge£ smacked, for comin' out without your mar" "scoffedthe wonlau as sliecarefuly.gatheiHjd up foer fish. ■ "I wish I didhH look so confoundedly young and 'irresponsible," thought 'Alf,'as he turned into the telegraph office. "Nearly four and twenty, and everybody treats me as if I were a kid."

He wrote a lengthy telegram, filling three of the official forms, and chuckled when he attached his signature. "That will give the governor fits." ;

When he got bock to Bloomsbui-/ Crescent, Edith was looking out of her

window' down into the street. She bad evidently just arrived, for she was still wearing 'her that arid.gloves. .He lifted liis cap iand waved it in the air"; then, bounced upstairs' <and into her room without 'knocking. , "What is .the matter with you?" said Edith, 'watching him narrowly. That look pained Km. » ' 'Can' b I ■ be « bit tempestuous without liaisiiig those old arid lliorrid sus-:. picions?. ""You thought, just, for a moment that had broken, loose again." "I certa■inly.did; but look at you/, antics in the street. lam sorry,■■ old ? boy." ■;■■'■■.'■'. "Don't be sorry, Edith; be glad foa-my-sake! Iv'e got news—splendidnews!" ''- .', He lay back.in his chair and kicked up ibs- heel's. ' Well, what is it ?',' Edith was taki n 3 the pins out of Iher Qiiat. "I have a, busy day in front of me, for I am making a two days' holiday: A week-end w-ilh; •Margaret. She is staying with her aunt Ellen for a little while. Hurry up. Alf." , \ And then Maxwell (began:. "The divorce business is off —.no trial —withdrawn from the record. JVly.kiwyer got a letter from Aston. Simply amazing, wonderful, magnanimous! Never believed ia word of his affidavit, and wants to pay .my costs to date, Of oourse the skill pay them. Good, isn't it ? I-feel as jolly ias ia sand boy. - Just sent off a three-mile telegram, to dad. Won't he lie pleaseid ? The fatted calf for the prodigal. Good, isn't it?" Edith's eyes were thoughtful, her gaze never faltering. '.' ,