AFTER RELEASE.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10590, 23 March 1912, Page 2

AFTER RELEASE.

OUR SERIAL,

By VIOLET M. FLINN, Author of "The Master Passion, "What Shall It Profit?" "Verenu." "B.y Devious Paths," Etc.

CHAPTER VIII

"Mr Trcsidder has returned," I>r Morrevs saicl as ho rose to leave.

There was a slight difference in his manner which his patient was quick to observe. He guessed at once that the nurse had been talking, and that each had weighed him in the balance and found him wanting. There is no man living wiio does not in his heart despise the man who has brought a slur on his profession. Anger filled Stanton Neal's heart at the younger man's attitude,, but it found no trace in his voice or manner.

"That is good news. I hope to have the pleasure of meeting him now, and of being able to thank him for all his goodness to one so unworthy of it as myself. And I thank you, my dear doctor."

Doctor Kforreys reddened; he had the sensation of having his fingers hit sharply. "Naturally I should do the best I could for my patient,' ho said. "No matter how undeserving of your best you may consider him, eh? lam afraid I was not such an altruist in the days when I was a Fellow of the College of Surgeons, Gold Medallist, and so on- I did the best I could for myself, as it is a simpler and a safer rule."

"It does not appear to have been very successful in its results," the younger man said bluntly. A sudden baleful light shot from Stanton's eyes, but his voice did not lose its softness.

"That was because I was fool enough to-forsake my own theory. It is a fatal error. Take the advice of a man old enough to be your father, doctor, and confide in no man., and trust in no woman. When I was in Portland," he continued composedly, "I became acquainted with some of the modern writers. There was a line in one that struck me as the best bit of philosophy I ever heard. I have always been fond of Books. 'He travels farthest who travels alone.' Heavens, if I could only find the one I was foolish enough to trust as a travelling companion!" His eyes gleamed for an instant, the mask dropped, and the man's true nature gleamed out in all its native ferocity and cold cruelty. " 'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a. tooth."' They should learn their lesson. The one thing that lias kept me; alive for all these years is. the thought of my revenge! Such welllaid plans, such ambition on the point of realisation, and then "He sank back, shaking and trembling, white and exhausted, but with passion rather than failure of strength. "To haye had the prize in my grasp and then to be flung into the abyss of despair! Some men would have gone mad or committed suicide —they do both in Portland—but I—l waited!'! The cruel, tigerish smile parted the lips again. "Yes, I think I could afford to 1 wait."

There was a pause which the younger man did noi wish to break. He contemplated his patient with curiosity. It was hard to reconciliate a Fellow of Surgeons with Portland —a prison.

- "He must have been a big gun in his day. I wonder who he was? He was struck off the register, I suppose. .1 wonder why? Well, I never heard any fellow talk so coolly about himself. He might have been to New York by the way he speaks. A Bad lot all through, evidently. I suppose Rawarde -—" He paused with a suppressed exclamation,, and the invalid looked up sharply and suspiciously. "It's Rawarde he reminds mo of, I am sure. Not in looks—he's no more like Rawarde than I am, but he has his manner. Rawarde lias just got that way of laying down the law and taking his own course. #

"You seem amused, Dr. Morreys!" the smooth, suspicious voice said. "Something you said reminded me of a man who was at Guy's with me. Ho was a clever fellow—one of the most brilliant of his year."

"I-trust he has not emulated me in other ways!' "Heaven foribid. No, I think Rawarde's head i« screwed ou pretty tight —'he is too ambitious to make mistakes, even is—--•" "Even if ho had the inclination to do so." There was a curious sound of suppressed exultation in the man's voice; tys eyes were gleamingl He had drawn himself up in his chair, Ids hands gripping its arms. "Ah, well, I do not grudge other people the good fortune that I was,unlucky enough to miss. Rawarde! It is not an ordinary name. This friend of yours is a medical, is lie?" "In practice in NortKport where he holds a dozen appointments au<l stands in the very front rank. We were together for some years, but he's the butterfly, and I shall never emerge from the grub stage." The doctor sighed, bub there was no envy in the sigh. Ho was too gcneroiis-minded to belittle another's success,-and he was very proud of his'intimacy with the brilliant young surgeon who had left him so far behind. Ho was quite i conscious how much he said, while his patient listened in silence, broken only by some question that he thought was dictated by politeness only. Rawarde was his hero and he could have talked

about him for hours. He made a Utile half apology for "gassing," when ho rose to leave, and the invalid smiled queerly. "I have been most interested," he

said, with a truth that lay deeper than the doctor know. "But I must confess? that I do not know why your clever friend should bury himself in a provincial town. London is the place where

(To be continued.)

fortune is attained." "Yes, but Rawarde will succeed no matter where ho is. Ho is not a man to be lost in a crowd." In his interest he had entirely forgotten his dislike of the listener. "People have often wondered why he went to Northiport, but I believe there were family reasons. He is devoted to his mother, and she can't live in London. She lives with him as London does, .not agree with hor. She always has done, even when his wifo was alive." "Ah!' The _ exclamation betrayed interest beyond mere politeness of a disinterested listener, and a little doubt suddenly assailed the doctor as he remembered to whom he was speaking. He looked at his patient with some suspicion. "Do you know Rawarde?" he asked doubtfully. Neal opened his eyes more widely than usual. "Know him? How should I know him?" ho asked, "I have been in Portland, you must remember." "Yes, I had forgotten," the doctor answered. He was unfeignedly glad that at this juncture the nurse entered, followed by Tresidder. "Beastly uncomfortable the old scoundrel has made me feel!" lie reflected, as he made his way out into the street some minutes later. "Just as if I had done Rawarde a bad turn. But that isn't possible—he could have been only a babe in arms when this chap 'went under.' I wonder who he was? Icertainly never saw a greater contrast EeTween two faces as between .his and Mr Tresidder's. The one's a saint, and the other's as.bad as they make 'em, I'm positive." "I am deeply grateful to you for your kindness, Mr Tresider," the invalid began, directly they were alone. Tresidder noticed how the sknigh of debasement had dropped from him. It semed almost imposible when he picked him up in the street that he could even be better than he was, but now both speech and manner were refined. It could now be believed that he had once been what he had been. , "Had it not been for you, I should probably have laid there ami died, and 11 do not want to die yet. Life is very. l ( sweet." I Tresidder looked at him with grave eyes, under whose glance, kindly as it was, the patient moved restlessly. },> "Surely life can only bo sweet when 1 it has been well livd," he went on, J "But that isn't my object in seeking this present interview, Mr Neal." "Neal? You know me?" His words expressed surprise; he looked eagerly, searchingly at the other.,?" "How much-does he know?" was the question that leaped to his mind. "I never knew you at any time!' Tresidder answered hoarsely. "No, nor I you, and yet we had mutual friends in the—in the Marchams." "Ah!" Neal cank back in his chair and covered his eyes with his hands. He iboT&3' weak arid 'ill, but under the shadow of his hand his eyes had grown hard and intent. "It is true,' he answered guardedly, "that I knew something of the Marchams, but I You are not related to them, aro you?" "I was Geoffrey Marcham's friend, and through him I became .very inti- : mate with his cousin Charles. We ) were three young men together in '.those days, and Charles was the one whom Geoffrey and I united in spoiling, as did all Ms world." "Charles Marcham was " Neal began, then checked himself. "I knew j Marmaduke better,' he said. "Marmaduke I knew very slightly, j - and liked less," Tresidder answered, j "He was, I know, his mother's favourite. But I will keep to the point. You doubtless know, as an intimate friend of the family, as I gather you were, ! that some thirty years ago Charles i Marchaim was charged with forging Ins ' eldest brother's signature for a cou- | siderablo sum of money and for being concerned in other shady financial I transactions- that brought him very. ' close to the grasp of the law. In fact x is was only the immense family mnu- , ehce and the repayment of great sums Itfiat allowed him to go scot-free so far as legal punishment, went." I Neal nodded. His gaze was fixed intently on the other's face. | "I may as well say that I never believed Charles to be guilty. He ac- ' knowledged that he was, but I never , believed him. I have always thought ! and I know Geoffrey Marcham agreed Iwith me, that he had taken another man's guilt on his own shoulders. Ihey I are both, dead now, and I make no harm iii saying that I think _ Charles was made the scapegoat for his brother Marmaduke." It was Marmaduke ! who committed suicide when the news of the death of Charles came home. Charles was packed oft' by his mother and those working with her. I was going to Inuia, and Geoffrey propose! Lhat'Charles should accompany mc We had our reasons for wishing him j -to leave England—reasons dictated by j affection for him. He was hopelessly ! in debt, he had drifted with the tide, and his name had been coupled with that of a notorious actress, a woman whose influence over him could only be bad. We had great difficulty in persuading him to leave, but in the end he saw that it was the only thing to bo done under the circumstances.