Silas Dennington's Money.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10660, 15 June 1912, Page 2

Silas Dennington's Money.

OUR SERIAL.)

CHAPTER Hl—Continued. | It happened on the very evening when Jack was dining with Sir Peter ( in Mayfair. He had arrived home to J find Jack away, so motored to the Grange. Ho asked for Sir Peter, and ■hoard from the footman that lie was in town, but Miss Tempest was in the musio room. Grantley nodded, and went to the music room, and Miadge was soon nestling in his arms. "It's just as well that we're alone, Madge. What about a little dinner to ourselves? Your father won't bo home until late—l know what he _ is when bo gets out, .and he's teaching Jack to keep unholy hours." _ • Margaret kissed him, but it was done to hide a sudden embarrassment; she read something unusual in his eyes, and her heart rejoiced. After the dinner, however, as they were in the parlor, the wording of his story was almost prosaic, they had been en-' T'lged for so long, but there was much clasping of hands, find their heads were very close together. "I think it would be most appropriate if the wedding were fixed for the date of the first'number of the new paper," said Grantley. "A month or two after Christmas. It would please Jack, too, and would add to the joyous excitement a.nd (anticipation. We have waited a long time. Madge." "Not my fault. Grant." "You know the reason, .sweetheart." "I was always willing to live in humble fashion." she said fondly. "My heart has ached for you—slaving, always slaving. You could have let the Court to Jack or sold it, and your earnings from your profession would j have been quite enough for us." "Healthy ontimism has its drawj 'backs," ho said, with a .shake of his bond. .',,. .-,._. "Your father spends five thousand a year and if...poor on it. What could we possibly do with n fifth of that sum? The novelty would be a pain- I .fill one." . I "(Then why did you fall in love with | mo at all?" "I.couldn't help it, Madge." J "You knew that we were overhead in debt, and that I had absolutely nothing." "I had too much faith in myself. I ■have'noWjJteflrired to largely discount my expectations.. #ut wg have come . to the end of our waiting, okrliilg. We j will not oniy double" Jadt'B fortune, I but make one for ourselves, too." | These were the happiest hours the lovers had ever known. I Two or three evenings later the ! brothers had settled themselves down to work in the Library. The table was littered with papers, but the task of going through them was full of unexpected little pleasures. The .room looked particularly cozy, and felt so, too,. with the wind booming in the chimney, and the rain beating insistently on the windows. The curtains had been closely drawn, the lights turned up, and a cheerful fire was blazing, in ;the grate. "The printers' engineers ask for a couple of months to install the whole of the plant," Jack observed. "Then we shall have to gather the entire staff of workmen together, and they'll want ta bit of drilling, I expect." "A tricky business at the start, and every department must be cogged together as it were. I like Brown's suggested title: The Daily Echo, Sounds well. There was an Echo some years ago—'and a capital little paper it was. Killed by too much political zeal, I believe." The door opened, and the butler appeared. "A —person to see Mr Jack Bennington," 'ho said doubtfully. . "A what?" Who is it, Bensley?" "He won't give his name, sir. Says you know him, (all right." "Oh," lam busy. What's he like?" "Rather a common sort, sir." "Have him in," suggested Gr>ant r ley. "Somebody after a job, perhaps." Jack nodded, and the butler withdrew. "Confounded nuisance," growled Jack. "Never thought to be distwrb,edon a might like this. Hello! Good Lord!" Ho l:nd risen to his feet, and was regarding his visitor in unfriendly amazement. The man had walked into the room, and was returning Dennington's gaze with smiling insolence. He was a tall, well-set up fellow of thirty, attired from head' to foot in the picturesque dress of an American cowboy, but his face was puffed and blotched with, dissipation. "How do. Jack?" he said familiarly, twisting a chair round, and throwing his long legs over it. his chin resting on the back. "I'm like a breath' from ■the snow-crowned Sierras of &nn Reno, if your looks mean anything. We wore •good pals out there once." "I am the last man in the world to be inhospitale, Jake Mucdock. but we're not in Nevada now, and you know why we parted company there. But why in the world do you wear those clothes in England ?" "Got no others to put on. And what's the matter with them. If they are good enough for God's country, they're good enough for your damned island." He grinned. "I quit Silas Dennington's employ "because you fired me, after ten years service. Now I'm travelling with a Wild West show.'' Grantley's suddenly awakened interest had changed to growing annoyance. Tho mian's insolence was over-

BY F. L DACRE, Author of ; 'Held in Bondage," "A Phantom of the Past," "Sir John's Heiress," "The Shadow of Shame," "A Daughter of Mystery," etc.

powering. "Come, Jake ,what do you wantr" Jack sharply asked. "You can see that my brother and I are busy. If s it's money let me warn you that you won't get a dollar; you iare drunk now."

"When I ask you for money, Jack, I shall get it, you bet. Don't look so upset, the pair of you. I'll call you 'mister' if you like, but it used to'be Jack and Jake and Silas out in San Reno, but I guess this bighfalutiiv country doesn't tolerate such familiarity between servant and boss. However, if I'm drunk, I know what I'm doing. Give me your claw, and let's bo friendly, cousins. Ask me to have a drink, won't you, and pass the smokes."

"The fellow's demented," Grantley whispered apprehensively. "I suppose ho carries firearms." "You'll get nothing here, Jake Murdock," Jack said quietly, hut there was a cold glitter in his eyes. "Now, get!" "A nice wielcome home this is," sneered the man. "A nice cousin you are. living in clover on my money, while I haven't got a respectable coat to my back. Don't 'Jake Murdoch' me no more, either, 'cause my name's Silas Dennington. Speechless, are you, and no wonder. Pass the whisky!" He got up, and reached out for adecanter, but Jack pushed him hack into his chair. G-rantley was standing at the far end of the table, his head and shoulders bent forward, both •hand supporting him. "You are utterly mad!" Jack flashed. "Wait a. bit—wait a bit. I've got a letter her from Ppider Webb. You've heard of him. He's in New York now —been a policeman — and retired on his graft. Used to be old Silas Dennington's pard; they quarrelled over a womaur—my .mother—and Spider Webb'kidnapped me. That sort of revenge is common enough in the States. Four vears afterward Spider Webb sent a"box to Silas Dennington, express paid, from the Sierra Mountains. There was a note saying that the stolen kid had died suddenly, and his body was in the box. Sure, enough, there was a dead kid, and he had him buried in the big cemetery at Carson City. Is that right, Cousin Jack?" "I've heard the same story from my •uncle."

. "Put you. haven't heard that it was j all i part of Spider Webb's revenge? , That was a fake kid, and the real one —meaning me, was passing as Spider s I ■nephew. And when I got old enough he sent me to San Reno to work for Silas Bennington. He told me to , keep mum, but I never know what for until now. He couldn't finish what he had got in his mind because of old Silas turning up his toes suddenly. Here's the letter, and Spider's got all the proofs, if you want to'see them. Look at me, jack. Ain't I the very spit of my father? Look at the mole |on my cheek—the true Dennington copyright!" He got up, and lurched across the ■room for the whisky. Jack did not stop him this time. His mmd was numbed. An awful fear had settled upon him. If the fellow's story were true 1 In his heart he felt that it was true. Grantlv was smiling cynically. "Is this cock and bull story worth Listening to, Jack ?" he asked. ✓ "I'll make you listen," blustered the cowboy. "I'll turn you out of here, neck and crop, if you want trouble. T came in a friendly way. I don't want all the darned money. Let's'share. J ain't greedy. Here, you read what Spider writes. He's got witnesses and certificates and everything. I'm no imposter. We're cousins, me and Jack, and we've been pals. He wars right to fire me, but I don't ibear malice." He helped himself to another drank. •"There can*be no.question of sharing the money, Jake; it's either mine or yours. I will consider what I ought to do, and let you know to-morrow. You will leave this letter?" "Sure. I know you'll do the right thing. Shake hands, Jack, and good night." Jack saw him to tho hall door. CHAPTER IV. THE FIGHT ON THE DRIFTWAY ;When Jack went back to the library Grantley's position at the end of the table remained unchanged. His face was as white as paper. He looked up, and smiled feebly at his brother. j "Has he gone?" ! "Yes; I watched him along the drive. His walk was brisk enough. He can oarry a lot of drink —always could." "What do you make of it, Jack?" asked Gnantely. Their eyes met, and each read the other's thoughts. (To be Continued).