Silas Dennington's Money.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10663, 19 June 1912, Page 2

Silas Dennington's Money.

OUR SERIAL.)

CHAPTER V.—Continued. !

Ho slipped on a few garments, a'id stole to the door of Grantley's room, tapping gently. The nurse answered promptly. How was the patient? Oh, the patient was going on nil right. The nascent stages of fever were much the same in everybody. I

Jack breakfasted early, and at ' eight o'clock the motor car vas \ brought to the door by Tonks. With the assistance of the driver he had cleared the snow from the drive, -aid tons of it had been shovelled into the Driftway. They had been at work ;*t j it since six o'clock. The going would j be pretty bad until they struck the main road, but the horses and vehicles of the farmers and milkmen had already pounded a track in the lanes. tonks called out for the luggage rather impatiently. Only a couple of hours in which to get to Eitston to catch the boat train for Liverpool, and in such weather! There might he a block in some of the narrow ways, the snowJhad drifted so badly.

So, at the last, Jack had to hurry with his final instructions to the butler.

"Don't admit that fellow Murdock under any pretence, if he should come here to-day. After to-day he won't come, as I am sending him a letter. I can leave other matters to your discretion, Bensley." / He went upstairs to have a last look at Grantley, and pressed his )ips to liis brother's hot brow, the tears starting to his eyes.

"■Good-bye, old chap," he quavered.

"It was no fault of mine," mumbled the sick mal. "The fool!—the fool!"

"Dreaming about that last case he lost," thought Jack. "He didn't want his client to go to .law, but some men won't be advised." He turned to the nurse. "He'll talk all sorts of nonsense, I suppose; and; make himself out to be the greatest wretch unhanged.' He's no worse?" "Oh, no, sir; just normal."

He bent over Grantley once more before going; then hastened from , the room, Ms heart in his throat. A fine Christmas it would be for all of them that year I Grantley and himself; Madge and Sir Peter. Oh, Sir Peter! There were shadows in the house —around it, everywhere; there was a brooding silence, hushed whispers, m ysterious unreality. The servants tiptoed into the hall to say goodbye to the young master. Jack was •beloved by all. The butler helped into his big furcoat, with a few whispered words, while Tonks peeped anxiously through the upper half of the glass doors. "A quarter past eight, sir," he remarked. "I am ready. Jump up, Tonks. Plenty of time. The running will lie all right on the main road. A good ■ idea of yours to clear the drive. There will be a good bit of traffic with my brother so ill. You must have worked jolly hard to cart so much of the snow into the Driftway." "Yes, sir," Tonks shivered. "It's better there." To the last day of his life Jack

Dennington told himself that he could j never forget a single instance of Line J voyage to New York. The passenger .list was light, but there was the .isual sprinkling of cheerful idiots, who are bursting to tell a funny story, or dolefully sing a comic song; there were th«sick, who stare =at once with haggard reproach at the suggestion of a smoke; the people of mystery, who hide in dark corners, and never open their mouths except to eat; the good sou's j who wish to make a jolly time <i the j trip, and the semile gentlemen with i the never-failing desire to lure the un - J wary into the smoking room for a j game of cards, with a "small stake" ; to make it interesting. To Jack one and all were equally nuisances, and he .worried the ship's doctor by discussing the usual courses of bram fever, how long until the crisis was over, and the re«t of it. Tne doctor was dumb until he knew the reason for such questionings, and then lit humoured and cheered Jack in thef most unprofessional language. On the fourth day the captain surprised Jack with a wireless, and the message was like manna to the chosen. The physician who was attending to Grantlcy had sent it, and Grant-lev was making wonderful progress. "Jack's heart gave one leap, and then life seemed to be momentarily suspended, though he was conscious of a feeling of inexpressible delight. For the remainder of the vovage he mingled with his fellows, and his worry and anxiety dropped from him like a sombre garment. The great Ship floated into her dock, and even the customs officers were civil and speedy that day. Perhaps their movements were hastened by the bitter weather, for New York was ice bound, and the wind that swept from the sea was like a two-edged

knife. ■ ... ~ ' A clerk from the office of Grantley Bennington's legal agents was waiting for Jack, and spotted him unerringly. "•Mr Dennington?" he said, advancing with confidence.

"Yes." "I'm Ackerman and Rust. Got vour description good, sir. Your brother cabled us seven or eight days since. We're his agents this side. "Yes—l know." Jack spoke eagerly. "Any news far me?" ' "Two cables, sir. Here they are, sent care of us."

BY F. L. DACRE, Author of -'Held in Bondage," t; A Phantom of the Past," "Sir Johfl's Ileiress," "The Shadow of Shame/' "A Daughter of Mystery," etc.

Jack thrust liis finger into the envelopes, one after the other.. The latest was of that day's date, and both from the physician. The crisis was over, and Grantley was doing well. All doubt at an end. Jack laughed joyously; he could face anything now. "You are very good," ho said to the lawyer's clerk. "These are from my brother, and I must reply. Is there a cable office handy?"

"liight on the spot, sir. I've collared a cab for you. Shall I have your luggage loaded up? Then we can walk to the cable office, and have the cahmau, follow us. Don't mind these men who arc hanging round. They are only beats, looking for easy money." "Go ahead," said Jack. "I'm in your hands for the'present," Within ten minutes the cable was gone—quite a hopeful message, and plenty of it, for Jack used his brother's business cipher. "Now, sir," the clerk said, all smiling and alert, "if you haven't arranged for your hotel, I'm here to help you. My name is Forrest —here's the firm's card, with my name in the [ corner. It's Saturday, and there'll be j no business until Monday, so you'd I better follow my lead if you're a stranger \n our city."

"I've-been here before, 'but I never stayed a night, Mr Forrest, and I'm much obliged to you. I want a quiet, homely .place, handy to your office." "Stevens House, on lower Broadway, will just fill the bill, sir. A bit old-fashioned, but as clean and comfortable as your own parlour. Five minutes' walk to Chamibers Street, where our downtown office is located." "Yon are making things easy for me," smiled Jack.

"Hap to do anything, sir. Shall we get a.uO the cab, now? I've bargained with the driver, so I know just what we have got to pay." . Jack entered a cosy bed-sitting room on the second floor. The window commanded a fine view of Broadway, and its wonderful skyscrapers. Mr Forrest hovered about him with friendly solicitude, and finally took him downstairs to a saloon bar, where they indulged in a couple of inspiring ■cocktails.

That night Jack went to bed early, after cabling his hotel address to G-rantley's physician, and lay like a log for ten blessed hours. The next day was Sunday, and he devoted it to letter writing, reading the Sunday papers, and generally enjoying the novelty of his surroundings! No one would have dreamed that he had just been called upon to forfeit a pricely inheritance —a call which he was convinced would have to be obeyed. He was glad when Monday came, and with its advent —work. At ten o'clock he was at the office of the attorneys, and was handed over to Mr; Rust's department, and Forrest was Mr Rust's confidential man. He surrendered his papers, and had a consultation, and was finally advised to leave everything in the hands of his

lawyers; "Don't communicate with the mm Webb, or anybody outside of us," Mr Rust'commanded. "This job must be worked on thorough business lines, and I guess Mr Forrest will have to go out to Nevada. You just walk around and enjoy our city, Mr Bennington, but don't wander out of my reach. There's plenty to amuse y»u —theatres and all that sort of thing. A walk or a drive through Central. Park would be worth your money. A picture when snowbound. How was; the weather in the old country when you left? I see by the papers that England is in the grip of a, .regular' old-fashioned winter." "Very like what you have here," Jack replied. "Do you think this job of mine is going to be a long one?" "A month, maybe. Going now? Well, good morning. We'll send to you when wo want you, Mr Dennington." Then began a weary waste, of time for Jack. The days lengthened into a week, and Christmas threw everything out of gear. At last he got a letter in Grantley's own handwriting, a bit shaky, perhaps, but a treasure beyond price. Grantley was convalescent, and naturally low spirited. He wanted Jack home again. Hang the money! If the,worst came to the worst Jack must share Avith him ; he was thoroughly determined, and Margaret would hear of nothing else. The winter was worse than ever, and likely to last. The Driftway was "full of

snow. Nobody had sen anything more

of Jake Murdock, and the show people had been inquiring after him. He had disappeared. v Jack covered a dcteen sheets of note .paper in his reply. He was rather pleased that Murdock had skedaddled. Ackerman and Rust had discovered that he was wanted by the sheriffs of two States. But of ■course this would not. invalidate his claim. - The battle was being fought stubbornly by Spider Webb's legal people and Ackerman and Rust; it raged for a month, and then broke down utterly. Overwhelming evidence was adduced by the other side, and that ended it. (To be Continued).