Silas Dennington's Money,

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10673, 1 July 1912, Page 2

Silas Dennington's Money,

OUR SERIAL.)

CHAPTER, Xll.—Continued

"You two!" said Theodore Grant. •"But youth will have it's way. Why, you have only known of each other existence for the last two weeks, and [ had no idea that matters had gone so far. I've been talking to Mr Castlemaine, Rosic, and lie tells me that lie is in love with you. But as he refuses to give mo satisfaction about his antecedents and the rest of it, I "old him to go away. Now what are we to do with him?" He spoke playfully,'kindly, hut his voice faltered, Rosamund bant hoi head to hide her flaming face. "If Miss Grant bids me go, I will go —for a little while," said Jao.V, "but I shall come again, unless she dislikes me." "Oh, but my daughter must hear the whole truth," interposed Grant. "She must hear that you are a man of mystery, and that your name isn't Castlcmaine at all. She must know rhat you are- unable-or •' •"" to name a living soul who " • "• 'ivour honour." Ho r '■!: v:-: :■:! or-, daughter now. "Isn't that an unusual i state of things, Eosie?. This young fellow. Mr Nobody, from Nowhere, comes here to steal from me the love of my one priceless possession. Now what have you to say?" "No one can take away the love I have for you, father." "You do love mo, Rosie?" "She snatched at one of his hands almost hysterically. "I shall always love you father. How can you talk so? To me you will always bo the first and the best." "This other love," he said sadly,, "will fill your whole life —some day. But I want to defer it for a little while longer; I don't want to he loft alone in this gloomy house. Nay, let me speak. When two people come together, as your mother and I did —■ as you and Mr Castlemaine have—they are impelled by an irresistible power to the consummation of what they fondly believe to be the perfect I life —to live with each other alone, in a world of their own creation. Rosic, ( darling, I don't want to lose you yet." j "No, no!" The girl hid her face on ( his shoulder. "We —nobody has dreamed of such a thing, dad. You have fancied all this. You —you " She ended in a sob, and Jack put I in: | "The bloom is off the wooing, Mr ; Grant. But we understand. There need be no talk of marriage until we know each other better —until my mystery is cleared away, until you are free to leave Nether Street. We will be lovers only, and see each other sometimes." ■ | Mr Grant was careesing his daugh- l , ter's hair with a trembling hand. Then j he spoke in a quavering voice: "You hear, Rosie. What do you : say?" J "Oh, dad, I don't want anybody hut j you in all the world!" She spoke j gaspingly, her face hidden. ' j After a pause, Jack rose from his chair. "I think I'll go," ho- - " He glanced at father and daughter, then groped his way to the door. He took his hat from the rack in the passage, and crammed it upon his head. "Good night," he remarked. There was no answer.

■> CHAPTER XIII. A RUMPUS IN THE OFFICE. Jack was very busy for the next tlireo or four days. All clay Monday th? orders for the first number of the new paper were pouring in from "very important centre of the United Kingdom. Orders by mail, orders by telegram, messenger, and telephone. The > extraordinary newspaper advertise- ] monts were the cause of it,/, and by | midday on Tuesday there weren't ;v j hundred copies of the papciv ; - 1 the j office. "Now if it catches on," said Teddv Brown. "We're all right. Can't tell for a few wcks." "We'll get on with the arrangements for a ladies' imper," said Jack. "A good class publication. Find me the people." But Brown demurred. "The balance at the hank won't stand the drain, sir. Women want a lot of coaxing. Thev'll want to make sure of getting a fashion pattern worth. a shilling before they'll fork out a f penny for a new paper." "You know that' I have all the capital needed, and I, shall claim it soon. I'm not going through life under this cloud." He glanced over at the curiosity shop and frowned. He was forever looking that way. Theodore Grant was standing in his doorway, gazing up and down the street. His face was white and careworn. Brown wondered; then spoke tremulously: , "Better not be in a hurry, sir"? it'll smash the business. The trial may last for weeks, and our rivals will be jubilant. Just think how it will affect us. The proprietor of the greatest juvenile iournal in the world accused of mur- \ Jder!" j "It's damnable!" exclamed Jack'; "but I can't go in living like this. Dyed hair and beard, and all such tomfoolery! I'm sure to be discovered! ' I had to get my hair cut yesterday, and the barber wanted to sell me some dye of his own. They can understand a whitehaired man dyeing black or brown, but a brown-haired man want-

BY F. L. DACRE. Aut'uor of ''Held in Bondage," i; A Phantom of the "Sir John's Heiress," "J'he Shadow of Shan:v"'' "A Daughter of Mystery/"' etc-

■ mg to lie grey is something unusual. f And I have other reasons for wishing . jto bo my natural self. We'll issue the | ladies' paper, anyway, and you'd bet- . j tor get busy about it." "Very well, sir, but these, things take months of preparation. We can't get it out before the early autumn." - He took up his hat. "There are half a dozen people waiting to see you. All ; the copy's in? The printers want to get the Kocond 'number of the juvenile paper on the press to-night." "Anybody down there I'm obliged to see? I've a page of my own stuff to write yet." "Tom Wayman, the artist, and tne 'captain.' I don't, know the others." . "Oh,- t hang the woman.' I won't have her up here Mr Brown. Send Wayman up." Tom Wayman was a cheerful young fellow, with a perpetual smile. He was very good looking, too, with a round face, blue eyes, and a mop of j curly brown hair. Jack had only seen him once before—just a formal "introjdnction. and then hut for a few min- ' J utos. Ho now came into Jack's room, and they shook hands quite cordially. "Good morning, sir," said Wayman. "The paper's going strong, and it's the talk of Fleet Street. I've come for the subjects of number three, and thought you might want a chat about things." "Number three! Good heavens, I haven't scot the second number finished yet." Jack thrust his fingers through his hair. "I see; you're new to the business. .Must work forward a bit. Lend me the copy. Do you think enough 'go' in the pictures?" "Some people say there is too much." ■) "Fossils!" laughed Wayman. "This isn't a Sunday school tract. I say, Mr Castlemaine, who's writing that, adventure story? It's absolutely dead in parts; not a subject in it. You want to break up the paragraphs, too. Boys skip all that solid stuff." j Jack reddened. He had an idea this I was the best thing in the paper. [ "I want to produce something else," Ihe said, "A good class journal." I "Just what I was going to suggest. And if I take on the art department I shall want- an office here. I can't meet the men in public houses to talk business." | "Plenty of room upstairs—similar i suite to this." 1 "Fine!" said Wayman. He walked [to the window. "A good liglit here, !and I have to do a lot of touching up. The trouble with good men—l mean real artists —is the lights and shades. AVc want plenty of blacks and whites for effective work. The true artist I never has nn eye for business. He"s generally as dense as a brick wall to all other i?npressions. Look at me —a living example!" He laughed and wagged his curly head. "I hope I Cart j hove the front room? What an excellent view of eld Grant's place. Funny old codger."

"Do von know them?-" ' ■ "Do I know him? He's dotty—ninety in the shade! But, for nil that, choked with learning. Fool eough for an artist." Jack frowned slightlv. He raised his hand in snddnn protest. "You are rather flippant, Mr Wayman, and disrespectful. Don't forget that Mr Grant's an old man, and a lone - wnv orer our heads." "Oh. I didn't know that you were pals. Jf you knew what T know, yon wouldn't crack him up sky-high —not you. Efis daughter had a few drawins lessons from nr*. n»d when we issue the new paper I will make her the principal heroine. She's a perfect peach!" "You'll do nothing: of the kind," scmvWl -Tack. "I won't have people, insulted in that way." ' "Oh. Lord, Mr Castlemaine. you are Ftreon at tho frame. I'm not going to make a guy of anybody. We all have models, mid those who don't sit forjus are sneeked in unawares when ( we fancy them. Every character ini a story—l mean the important personifies of the stories —are types from lifc. and so aro our pictures of men aid women. You don't w an expressipv>l'osr. dummies, do you?" "I won't have faces of living people put into my pictures. It's infamous to suggest it." (To he Continued).