The Dark House at Highgate

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10682, 31 July 1912, Page 2

The Dark House at Highgate

OUP SEkiAL.)

—— ' CHAPTER Vir.— Continued. Anne never expected to be fluttered, like, the women one met in the ordinary society in town — sophisticatei jivaid-o'n-s and i-anart young mitrons, for tlie meet part, whose unvarying egotism and perfunctory, interminabl, chatter only wearied one. Anile possessed '.vliy, unr-usipocto:!- graces, too tlil.it peeped out now that o:i-o had the opportunity and the leisure to observe them, it was good to seller, youmg and shapely, silhouetted agaiiiiiit the bho sky as she sat at hm- work, >so happy in it that she would remain eloquently .silent all through a long morning, ever an! aiiow looking out across the country with grave eyes from "under her shady hat; now seriously watching the effect of a cloud shadow crossing a green cornfield below, now following, with some apprehension,, the movements of a cow en. the far side of the 'iield; now giliiicing aside f..r a moment at me with the same delightfully grave air of preoccupied, indusftry. On one of uicse occasions while .' was sketching, and Anne came over to view my work, our eyes met, and we broke into laughter siimultaineous- ' ly. !

"Anne, you're wonderful," I said. "Your moods never clash with mine, .and that's a thing I've never noticed in any woman before." "You've a pretty good conceit of yourself, Peter," she replied, smiling, "if you think, that that is any particular merit in a woman."'

"J'ue," I observed, "and yet I'm not so conceited as you think. For I firmly believe you have been quite umwa.re of my existence during the pus'j hour or more." "I haven't.,'' replied Anne. "Tf I had been I should have decamped long ago."

"That's rather nice of on, Anne," Said. I.

"I've,felt protected, you see," expJained Anne. "That's nicer sf'fi," I said, "fou see, I 'kn : ew you would get up and shoo away that cow," she explained mischievously, "if he be- 1 came curious about my easel. 1 wondei'ful how interested cows nro )» ] my pointing—-more m than human J ...i'liigiS','' she sighed. i

"We must hope that human, being* will some day show as much tisto as the cows," I remarked soothingly. "And I shall iviwayV, be glad to sho'y iiway cov.is!, oritn's;, or otliOr horrors. Be sure cf that, Anne."

"1 wish you could shoo away one very big horror," said Anne, with aruother sigh.

"Well," I replied, "what is thi> other horror you speak of?"

'She hesitated a moment. "Have you ever liea.rd of an act res.-; named. Cynthia C'ourtcnay ?" she asked in -an altered tone, and looking at me with anxiety apparent in her eyes. "What," I cried, "Doesn't she show her teeth on picture post cards in. every shop window? But. what on earth can she Jiave to do ~witii you - "Tony is in.love with her. He told me so." "Oh! Good Heaven!" I dropped my brushes and felt for my pipe. .1 filled it aaid lit it in silence, and Anne watched my .lace intently. "Peter, is she. — is she a very h y v "; woman ?'' she asked. "My de.ii" Anne," •■[ said, "I speak ill of no one if I can avloid it. sip is the very deuce. Ettit men talk freely among themselves- about celebrities like -Cynthia Courtenay, and I'm, afraid, from what I've'he.ird, she i iif the natuVe of a liuma l spider. 'But she vrn't try and 'lure Tony into her web. He hasn't any .money to isneak of." "P'eter," continued Akuie, looking frightened, "I want to tell you sometiring. Yesterday amm canio to the house, a very civil iina.n,, hut he sa ; d he was a. detective. I :s<aw him, beoiiuse .mother w,as not .well. iTe told me itlhat he had ti'aced a hank note to a jew-elle'r; then to Cynthia Courtenay, and through her to Tony; and that Mr Betsworth had drawn it out of the hank the day he fore he died—he hud drawn some .money in notes, and he had jotted the numbers down in- a pocket-book, and have been trying to discover the .notes", .wlricl were not to be found in iMr Betsworth'g house, in. the place whore he usually Icept .money." '"Why did the- detective come to you?" I jasked, suppressing shivers of apprehension. "He asked if Tony .was in. He (wanted to .learn how he got poasepiouii of the mote." "Borrowed it, of course," I slid, decisively. But there was a chilly

BY DERWENT MIALL A thor of "Lady Rosalie's Lunacy," "Bellamy's Warning," "The Strange Case '*r Yincent Hume," "la thoWes." Etc Etc.

(To -be Continued.)

dread at my -hoiwt. "Ihxrcvrd it. Didn't .you pay that !jo had confessed to a Sfvere ik'f.t'iirc fir.™ ,Mr 13-Is.-worfch?"

"Yes, he did." "Well, the lecture accompanied a loan, I'vo no doubt," I mid. Mai 1 had a vision of a young -man, an infatiured. (young Mian, madly longing to lavish gifts upc,:i- a .l;rain.'c'.-'.-, hc-.irt-loss siren, in order .to keep her favour, as thousan Is '.of men had d<.,:i<f'inee the world began ;' J pictured the young anan tempted, left alone for a few raiiiutc-s, in the prosonce cf money, stealing to the place where it was kept, thrustiv.ig the .crisp paper stealthily into fc pocket, and —shame, and ruin, and horror!—sur..prised in the act by a kindly friend, I pictured the momon- of awful do-' ispair, the unreflecting act of self protection; ,tlie swiftly drawn pistol—'"Oil,, Peter!'" wailed Anno, "they will believe that he borrowed it, .wcu.'t they?"

'''Yes, yes; <u% not?" I replied gently. ' "I had "no idea you had anything Iflce this on your mind. Now have I dirven away your 'horror 1 '?" "Not quite, Peter, I murafc admit."

"Ytou want me to ,go and 'shoo' Cynthia Courtem.iy away frua Tony ?"

"Oh, no; I 'wouldn't have you go near that sort of erea'tur'e- on any account," exdlaimed AAnne, with uupfece dented vehemence; and then was (instantly smitten with utter confusion. "I mean," she added, blushing trcsilj], "I wish you would sperk to Tony," I 'stretched out my hand and took possession of hers, which, was white and flovely. "Anne," I .said, "J don't want to make icaipital out of your trouble, but please consider. If il go to Tony and isay, 'Tony, my iboy, you will hrc.u your mother's heart and make yourself unfit for your sister's company unless you give this woman -up'''—ii I >say that to Tony- he will tell ine, with the politest circumlocution of which h'e is capable ,to mind my own busings. He is more worldly wise than I am,, you fallow, though he is several years younger. He has lived in the busy and exciting metropolis. | I'm onfy an old, wuidering bohemian. who lias :seen nothing of iifa a , s n 'a account's life; ]' ve had my' fun, ttlO. : UK I m ixcd in a.ll sorts of s range company; but it was mostly made up of disinterested wutnersi, at till events; Cynthia Cburtenays have been c.utelde my experience. If I tell him she ly a base and designing harpy, ho will say that I know nothing about her and the expensive class of society in wh;kh she shaica;, .i.:ul ho will rc&ant my advice. But if I goto him and say, 'Tony, I'm going 'n in,:>rry your sister, so thus tone-hew r.v.very marly, he wi'il listen to me. You fjoVtlmt?" The dimples were .restored i > Anne's cheeks, hut hev eyes weiv swimming. "I'm not a heartless schemer, to spring this* .upon, you at such a time?" "No; oh, no!" "And you will .marry me, Anne?" "Would it really make you happy. Peter?" questioned Anne, with a earo-si-ng note in her voice. I said I thought it would, tli.it I knew it would fi "If aily trouble conies, , through Tony, you won't be ashamed of us—yon .won't regret?" "Never, never, dearest Ammc," I vowed, wondering how I could ever have contemplated the possibility •/[' existence being even tolerable apart from her. To have done with vain, misleading fancies, for Mr faces will bring disquiet into the life of every unappropriated son of Adam; to feel certain that, in whatever else I might fail, I had made a triumphant success of what is, after all, one of the most hazardous of human enterprises*, was like casting anchor in a peaceful harbour after weathering perilous storms and narrowly escaping innumerable recks and .shoals.