Silas Dennington's Money,

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10689, 16 July 1912, Page 2

Silas Dennington's Money,

OUR SERIAL.)

CHAPTER XX.—Continued. Mr Dodd was visibly disturbed. Ho touched a bell on the table and spoke sharply to the- clerk who answered the summons. '•'Has Mr Weeks started for Deal? "Yes, sir—wont by the nine-forty-seven from St. Paul's station." "Curse the luck!" said Mr Dock! briefly. "That will do." Fie turned to Jack when the clerk was gone. "We have instructions to buy some property at "Deal." ' "For Mr Grant?"

"You've guessed it, so it's no use heating about the bush. A nice little place n mile out of the town ; 'ngiitroomed house set in two acres if gardens. Freehold; nine hundred pounds. Waste of time now, of course—unless you are inclined to help him again. Mr Castlemaine." Jack laughed grimly, and picked up his hat. "Good morning," he said. "I mink the reverse will do Mr Grant :> ,lot of good. I have no pity for him." "Aha!" Mr Dbdd's eyes twinkled. "Perhaps you are right. Miss Grant won't mind, either," he added slyly. "What an old fool Grant is!" Jack thought savagely, as he strode hack to Nether Street. This man, Dodd, knows everything!" Brown, the pawnbroker's appraiser, and the valuer's clerk were up-' stairs. The clerk had filled a dozen pages of' his notebook with hieroglyphics, and was totalling flic figures. He whispered to his employer. "Eight hundred and ten pounds," said the appraiser. "Make it a thousand," insinuated Brown.

"No. I'm doubtful about that armour. Looks modern. The fourteenth century sideboard was made in Whitechapel. The wormholes were made by shot. Eight hundred and fifty the lot, not a penny more."

"All right, we'll deliver before two o'clock. Three months' contract. Have a drink? I'm going your way." "Don't mind if I do."

Brown borrowed a sovereign off Jack, winking significantly. Then he went out with the appraiser, but was not gone long. , "We shall have the thousand pounds," he said. "I bought the extra hundred and fifty with that sovereign." 't was a busy day—a day of lifo and colour, and continuous movement. The first number of Wedding Bells was sold out before noon, and telegrams began to arrive. The presentation illustration was doin git. It was quite equal to the best of the shilling annuals. Soon after three o'clock Jack paid the thousand pounds from the pawnbroker into his bank, account, and cabled Madge Dennington the needful two hundred.

Oh, everything was going on swimmingly! He began to calculate how long a time it would he now until Grantley reached England. Between six and seven weeks, and he Had eigftt hundred and fifty pounds at his bankers. True, the first instalment of the loan became due in three weeks, but money was coming in every c'ay. There was nothing to worry over now, absolutely nothing—only Rosamund.

What had become of Rosamund? Why not spend the week end at Deal, and trust to luch and plenty "of perseverence for a chance meeting on the promenade? It would he well worth the experiment if nothing happened between then and Saturday, but a very great deal might happen in four days.

"Where's Mr Brown?" ho asked Watson, the publisher, hurrying into the office.

"Upstairs—in your room, sir, with some one else. They are waiting for you."

Watson's lips trembled, and his face was pale. s "Thank you." Jack was always polite and deferential to Ins ••mployees.

"Mr Castlemaine," whispered"Watson, "it's a detective; I know them all! There's another outside. He's coming in noAV."

Jack felt a sudden tightening at his heart, and the blood receded from his face. Seven weeks must elapse before Grantley came. How would the business go on in the meantime? A murder charge was no light thing, and he had been adjudged guilty—by a coroners jury.

He walked up stairs, the \se"ond officer within a foot of him, and stepped into the room, still pale, hut resolute and confident. A plainclothes man was talking to Mr Brown. It was Inspector Brock. Jack nodded to him. "You want me, I think?" "Sorry to say it, but we do, Mr Bennington." The inspector's keen eyes travelled over Jack's face, and he motioned his subordinate to fall back. "En any great hurry? I hardly expected you to-day, and I must have a talk with my manager." "Talk away, sir. Then he said, in an undertone: "Mr Brown's explained a bit to me, and you had beter send I for your lawyer to meet us at Bow Street."When Jack was finished with Brown the inspector cautioned him in the usual way. "When you are ready, sir," he aflded. '"Quite ready. Am Ito be hand-

BY F. L. DACRE. Author of "Held in Bondage," "A Phantom of the I'cz John's Hcue.ss," "Ibe Shadow of £hsrr.i. r - Daughter of Mystery," etc-

cuffed"? " j "No -icpd of that, I hope. We'll ' jvnk qmotiy'.to Bow Street, and nobody will, bo any wiser." j "Thank's for your consideration and you shan't lose by it. Send the lawyer after me, Brown." ( . Brown tried to reply, but tho words were strangled in his throat. CHAPTER, XXI. THEODORE GRANT'S ILLUSION. When Theodore Grant London and from Jack Castlemaine • ho fully intended to go to Paris but by the time lie had arrived at Dover the unusual bustle and strain had begun to tell on him. For years he had just pottered about the shop, crawled up-and downstairs berhaps half a dozen times daily, and his longest walk, except on Sunday's, had been to a mail box in the trand. Ho was an old man, older than his years, and the Exertion of helping to pack and strap the trunks, and the headlong flight to Dover, had upset him mentally as well as physically. From the Dover railway station he and Rosamund were driven to an Hotel. Until now they had little opportunity for conversation. The "(rain had been crowded with boisterous holiday-makers, and the car was sweltering hot. He bared his head to the cool breeze that came from the sea, and sighed a little wearily. "You look tired, father," Rosamund said.

"But he shook his head with -n air of resolution.

"A little bit fatigued, Rosie. The railway car was'suffocating. The air is beautiful her —beautiful after London. I don't think we'll cross the Channel to-night. To-morrow will do. No reason to hurry now." A look of anoyance passed over his face,shut was quickly changed to one of triumph and satisfaction. "I have three important letters to write. No, we won't go to France until to-morrow. Yoo will be delighted with Paris, Rosie; you have never been in Paris. You are looking forward to seeing the gayest city in the world, aren't dear?" "Of course, father. It will be delightful," Rosamund answered bright-

"I am not sure that we shan't go for a nice little cruise," he said dreamily, "Egypt and southern India. I can spare the money for it; I am calculating to have about five thousand pounds Vwell invested when the premises in Nether Street are sold. We can live in moderate comfort on the interest, and I can earn a little with my pen. Oh, Rosie, my girl, we shall be very happy." The girl's lips tightened, and thero was a sickening pain at her heart. She analysed the drift of her father's thoughts. She knew that it was his wish to keep her wholly and solely to himself.

The carriage drew up at the hoiel door, and father and daughter alighted. A porter was in prompt attendanve, and behind him bustled the manager. Two bedrooms were < n.uaged, and the luggage was taken up-

I stairs. There were only two mediumj sized satchels, containing tht things j needful for one night's use. The ma-

jor portion of the trunks had been stored in the station baggage room. After a wash and brush up they had tea in the public dining room, at 1 a table near to an open window. A soft wind' was blowing from the sea, and the air was vibrant with tho mus-

ical strains of a distant band, mingled with the dreamy drone of the ocean. Everything appeared io he restful, enchanting, after the heat and -turmoil of London.

"It would be nice to stay here for a long, long time," said Rosamund, with a sigh of content. "You would soon tire of it. In the season the rowdv element is intolerable."

With this very obvisus exaggeration, Mr Grant rose from the table, and brushed the bread crumbs- from his beard.

"I must get my letters into the mail for early delivery in London tomorrow. I have decided not to soil the furniture. Better have it stored, as we shall want it again when, we settle down. What are you going to do, Rosie? I am going to the writing room."

"I'll go for a walk. dad. The sea is calling me," she said brightly. "It is desecration to have thoughts of work and worry here."

He fidgeted with hands and feet, walked to the door, and came back again.

"I'll join you down there —on the promenade. Don't wander too far." With this he shambled off. It was the old walk of the shop again, nr.d the elasticity of his step was goue. (To "be Continued).