Silas Dennington's Money.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10674, 2 July 1912, Page 2

Silas Dennington's Money.

OUR SERIAL.)

BY F. L'DACRE.

CHAPTER Xlll.—Continued

"Very well,*'' said Wayman, "very well. You're squeamish, but you'll get over it. I didnt propose- taking any liberty. I know old Grant and his daughter. My father's the old man's lawyer, and tho young lady's been my pupil. She wants to do some illustrating, and I thought 1 give her a chance. The trouble is ner father being my governor's client. If I give her a start and then drop her, there will be unpleasantness in the family. Lacks experience—too much detail, and a devilish sight too good looking to be of use anywhere."

Ho broke off short, and listened expectantly. Then he burst out laughing. "Don't jump if you hear a bit of a I racket. Miss Jinks, otherwise Cupl tain Aubrey l)e Vere, is in the back room, waiting to mash the editor, and I've prepared a shock for her. Malicious old cat! Well, it's settled alnut that room, Mr Castlemaine. P-ib some furniture in it, ar " '•! of • -irpet on the floor. Now, :f ro;: <.'..'-\'i mind I'll look through -he atorios here, and pick out my subjects for number three pictures." "I'll do that myself, and send triom by mail, Mr Wayman," Jack said sourly. "And as regards "the room upstairs I shall require it for other purposes. The artist stared at him in amazement.

"Must I go on seeing my men in ' taverns, and on the street corners:'" ho gulped. "No; you can tell them to come here. I am the owner of the business ; I am the paymaster here, and I will bo the employer." I "Oh, I say, Mr Castlemaine, this is a pretty come down for me! I've been talking like a tvrant to some of them, and now they'll crow over me,"

"You talk a great deal too much; i Mr Wayman."- . _ ' The artist scratched his head thoughtfully. i "Cuss old Grant and his daughter,'' he'muttered to'himself; then aloud: "What part do I have in the show, J anyway?" j "Two or three pictures a week, if ' you can do them. You are a good man j and I don't want to lose you." I

"Very well, sir. I'll skip. My surprise- packet must have missed fire," • !•.■{.. :*!■':ilifii "Your what?" All at once there was an explosion belojv, the crashing of glass, and pandemonium. Voices came up from the street, and the rush of many feet. Wayman stood aghast, his face pallid,, his lips apart. Jack ran to the window, and looked out. A crowd of people were jostling each other in front of tlie office, and two policemen were elbowing their way into the promises. The artist made for the door, imft bolted downstairs, with Jack clattering after him. .Teddy Brown, in his shirt sleeves, was talking to tho policemen, his fact? hesnattered with ink.

"There's nothing the matter." he was saying. "Only a stone bottle of ink burst. Disnerse the mob, will you." He turned upon Wayman furiously, and grapped him by the throat. "You blithering idiot! You'll kill somebody yet with your practical jokes." . "I'm awfully sorry, Brown. Don't be an ass. I only wanted to startle the. captain. I'll pay for the damage." "This is your last fool prank her.}.'' Brown turned to the bewildered Jack. "The Bedlamite put some ink into a stone bottle and plugged it. Then he stuck it on the gas fire, and you see the result. It was burst to pieces, and the window is broken. Might hove killed somebody. It's the same wherever he goes." "I'm very sorry, Mr Castlemaine. Deduct the amount of damage I'-nm my next cheque —not this week's — the next after. I' wanted to give the 'captain' a jump. Never dreamed it would make such a commotion. Shake hands, Brown." "Go to the devil!"

Brown turned his back upon the half-repentant artist and talked to Jack. A letter for you, sir—special messenger. I suppose it's another order. We've sold out. , Jack tore the envelope, and read the following:— "My Dear Brother : —Don't he too much in evidence to-day. Sir Peter's turned up in London, and is sitting before me while I write this. Of course he is dead broke, and I must raiso money for him somehow. I dare not show up until I've got rid of him, as he .tracks me about like a shadow. Glad to hear that the paper is going off ; so well. Things are rotten with me! Can't work, and I'm all shivery. Doctor says I must go off somewhere, and have a complete rest. Cheerful, isn't it. without a feather to fly with ; Haven't had a fee over five guineas for weeks. I'll dror> in late at night during the week. Yours, Grantley,'' Jack stood in thought for a little white. He was disturbed far more than he cared to own about Grantley. He had a sudden vision of his brother's sunken cheeks and glittering eyes. He motioned to Brown, and they talked together. "I can't make it out," he said. "This puts an end to my wish to have matters cleared up—at least for the present. The worry of it would kill

CHAPTER XIV,

Author of a He:d in Bondage," t; A Phantom of the ".Cir John's Heiress," "I'be Shadow of Shan:v J "A Daughter of Mystery," etc.

THE ENGAGEMENT RING,

jhim—l believe it's killing him now!" I "There's no pressing hurry, sir, - ' | '■! want to yet myself right with the j world.'' He glanced over the way, and saw Theodore Grant moving aboi.it in the shop. " think I'll get a snack at Finch's. The lady 'capjain' isn't about, is she?" "No. she walked off before the rumpus. Knew all about it, I expect. Look at that fool of a. Wayman clearing up the mess! Nobody can help liking the fellow, but he's only ai« overgrown kid!" Jack left the office thoughtfully, his hands in his pockets, his head bent. This was bad news about Sir Peter Tempest, too. There was something unlucky about the man. Wherever he Avent trouble was certain to follow. He had confessed that much himself on several occasions. Moreover, ho was utterly selfish and unscrupulous. He would bleed Grantley to the last shilling, and Grantley was ill. Jack was shrewd enough to foresee the or?d. of his brother's legal career. A reputation once broken may possibly le repaired, some great thinker has said, but the world will always keep its rye on the spot where the crack was. Theodore shuffled half way acrosx the street to greet him, and shake hands. i

"Can you spn-v. a minute or two, Castlemaine? Why haven't you been to see us since Sunday. That was the trouble a while since? Rosamund was terrified." "I thought I was kicked -out?" Jack said, disregarding the latter question. "Nonsense, Jack! Do yon want to break my girl's heart? The mischief's done, and I must make the best of it.** Rosamund came to the door to meet them, her soft brown eyes alight, her colour wavering. With mute, but answering tenderness Jack took her hand, while Tom Wayman watched from the other side of the street.

"Lord!" he gasped. ' "So that accounts for the milk in the cokernut!" He wrinkled,his brows. "He's a good sort; he's got the heart of a lion. 1 wonder if I ought to tell him!' '

Theirs was no prosaic love story, such as we hear of and read of in these materialistic times. It savoured more of the idylls associated with the midVictorian era. Rosamund Grant wa<? not of the order of the new woman. Her voice was not strident, but soft and low; her face and hands were not course and labour-stained; neither did she ape the ordinary affectation in speech and gait. Light of foot, light of spirit, a miniature of loveliness.

"Half light, half shade, She stood, a sight to make an old man young!" And Jack Castlemaine was not unlike the ideal knight of legendary lore. His life on the plains, and under the fervent skies of Nevada, had strengthened and broadened his supple figure until he "Might have sat for Hercules.; \ So muscular he spread, so broad of chest!" He was blessed with a superabundance of healthy imagination, anl V rooted belief in the beauty and good ness of the world. There were clouds in the sunniest of skies, but heaven was always there! It work, and Love will not be denied. So three or four golden days sped by, and the levers realised the true meaning or happiness. There is nothing else like it in all the world, and the fragrance as such love as theirs has no death. But love cannot prosner without business, and if Rosamund and Jack were born idealists, they were not blind to the exigencies of everyday I life. Rosamund told him of her ■ wish j to earn a little money if she poaßiMj* could, and Jock was enthusiastic when !he saw her sketches. They we. ,j good | in a way, but would have been betterI commercial commodities had there ibe.cn less heart and head, and more, technique, They had already discus- • seel the new ladies' paper, and when Jae spoke confidently of her two or three pounds a week Rosamund's delight was boundless. "Business has been very bad in the shop lately," she said. "Not a **hil-. ling taken, last week, and there seems to be nothing at the bank. I was unj able to pay the weekly bills for the | first time since we have been here. ! And the tradesmen looked so surprisI* ed. But for the previous regularity they would not have minded." (To be Continued).