“WELCOME THE TRAVELLER”

Wairarapa Times-Age, 22 September 1939, Page 10

“WELCOME THE TRAVELLER”

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT.

By

ARTHUR HARDY.

CHAPTER VI. (Continued). “I had all the candles lit and I received the travellers myself. The fires were roaring high up the chimneys and the warmth of the house most agreeable. After an excusable interval the newly-arrived guests declared their intention of not going on tnat night, especially those whose destination was Oxford. Sir Thomas Lawrence sat up to dinner despite a chill. ‘‘ln the morning Sir Thomas had shaken off the chill and was in high spirits before he resumed the journey to Oxford, this time by postchaise. His gratitude was almost touching. He gave me his hand before he went. ‘Mi’ Berry,’ said he, ‘I shall never forget your kindness last night. You saved my life. When I come back in a few days time I mean to stay at the Traveller long enough to make sketches of your portrait, and. if you will allow me, I shall have the felicity of sending you in due course, from London, a picture which I hope may grace the panelled wall in your hall’ ”. “What a man.” murmured Nora Berry. “Sir Thomas, my dear?” asked Adam Lawley. “Oh. no, although he sounded nice enough. Waterloo Berry, of course.” “You are proud of your great, great grandfather, my dear?” “Who wouldn’t be?” “He is something written in the margin,” said Robert. "A comment. It says —‘This is the portrait which hung in the entrance hall nearly until Welcome the Traveller was sold under the hammer and my fortunes sunk to ruin. Sir Thomas sent it to me from London a month later, as he had promised.” “I wonder what became of that portrait. “Mr Lawley can tell you,” said Mrs Berry sweetly. “You know?” Nora turned from her mother io the solicitor who was smoking his cigar thoughtfully. He nodded. “Yes. I have it at home now.” “You have never spoken about it and we have never seen it,” said Nora reproachfully. “You may see it, my dear, whenever you care to. Supposing you'all come to dinner with us tomorrow night. You can see it then.” “Jessie can’t,” objected Mrs Capstow, a weary-looking woman. “She has to go to London for the show.” Jessie pursed her lips determinedly. “Not me. I have not missed a performance so far, night or matinee, since the show was produced, but it will do the audience good if I give them a rest. I’ll write to the manager tonight, and telephone to the theatre in the morning and my understudy shall play tomorrow night. This Waterloo Berry stuff has got me all jittery, and I'm’ going to see it through."

The guests departed at half-past nine, and at ten o'clock all lights were out at Wood Farm, and its inmates tucked snugly in bed. A mist enveloped the fields silvered by the hidden moon above and a silvery dew lay on the ground, ideal growing weather. When Robert Berry awoke next morning ran was sheeting down. An hour before breakfast time he was boxing in his gym. CHAPTER VII. , ' By ten o'clock the sun was shining, and Jessie Capstow was at the door in her car, with Dan Shelton seated beside her and her father and the wolf hound, Katmir, occupying the back seats. Jessie punished the motor - siren, drawing Robert Berry, and Nora to the door. “We have been telling Mr Shelton all about that fight," said Jessie. “And now we are going along to Hawthorn Bottom to view the place where the ring was pitched. Mr Shelton says he knows it. Get your hat, Nora, and come along. You must come too, Robert.”

“I have to go over to Finch Farm on business,” objected Robert. “Another day. perhaps.” “You are coming today,” insisted Jessie. “I dodged rehearsal and tonight’s show on purpose to stay in Tansworth. You telephone to Finch Farm and fix an appointment for tomorrow. The farm won’t run away."

Dan Shelton grinned al Berry. “You’ve got to come. Bob. We'll all be back by lunch time, and you can go over to Finch Farm afterwards if you want to.”

Robert Berry capitulated. “See that gnarled old oak,” said Daniel Shelton, pointing. "That's the tree whose branches were loaded with spectators when Tom Shelton fought the Nonpariel. Come along and have a look at it. Look here and there and there: see how deep those initials were cut in the bark. Look at the date. March 17, 1819. Men who saw the fight carved those in the shell of the old tree.” ' He showed them the natural basin whose sloping sides had served as a grandstand for the bulk of the spectators. He tramped down to the bottom whore the ground was almost level. The large field in which the bowl stood had been tilled. Daniel took up his stand, threw up his hat. dropped his coat and set himself in an old time fighting attitude, left foot and left arm advanced, right arm crooked across the body. "Here’s where the twenty-four foot ■ring was pitched." said he, "I expect it had an outer ring in which the pugs stood whip in hand, ready to lash out any who might try to stop the fight. Face mo. Dan. and put ’em up. That’s how they stood, with a few feet between ’em.”

Dan began to spar with his father. They shifted ground neatly, they circled they struck, they closed and wrestled, and with a clever chip Daniel sent his son flying fiat upon the broad of his back and tumbled over

him as he lay. the two of them laughing loudly. At that a loud honking of a car’s siren echoed from the quiet lane above. A smart sports car stood there! a youngish man dressed in check tweeds and wearing a cap, sat at the wheel.

“Eh!” he shouted as he opened the door and leapt out. “What’s all this? If there is going to be a breach of the peace I had better run along home and fetch my father.”

Nora looked up theorise as the man came running down it to join them. Her eyes were like stars and her cheeks dyed with a crimson flush. “It’s Tom,” she cried

He took off his cap and bowed to the ladies, smiling. “Morning, Jess. ’Morning, Nora. I never though I should meet you out this way. What is Dan fighting his pop for?” “We were just showing what happened in an old prize fight, Tom,” he explained. Tom Shulgrave grinned as he looked the boxer over. "I backed you to beat Jack Richards on Thursday, Dan,” he said. “And I don’t mean to hedge. Are you going to help Dan in his training, Bob?” “I'm trying to get fit enough to do so," answered Berry with a suspicion of a smile.

“You old fraud. I’ve never known you to be anything else but fit.” Thomas Shulgrave, son of Sir Thomas Shulgrave, the Member for Tansworth, a rich, clever- and pleasant young man, and an adept at making money, although he followed no trade or profession, looked Robert Berry up and down appraisingly. “Why don’t you try your luck in the ring, old horse? When you do, mind you let me know and I’ll back you up, and Daniel here shall train you.” “I’ve already coached him,” Daniel Shelton reminded with a nod. “It’s not my fault that Bob Berry isn’t in my training camp dragging down a lot of ‘dough.’ Anyway, Mr Shulgrave, Bob’s promised to help me handle Dan when he fights Jack Richards, and that is something.” “And I’m going to book a dozen side seats for the fight,” said Tom Shulgrave. “I want you to come, Jess, and Nora too. I intend to make up a nice little party beforehand.” As they climbed up the slope leading to the country lane, Tom Shulgrave drew Nora aside.

“I have not received my answer yet," he whispered. “When are you going to marry me, Nora?" “When your father thinks I am eligible.”

“Haven’t I got enough for two? Don’t keep a fellow on the rack, old dear.” He glanced at his wrist watch and whistled softly. “I’m going to be late home, and the Chief has a scheme he wants to talk over with me before lunch. I must beat -it.” He climbed into his car, raised his cap, and drove off.

At half-past six that evening Robert Berry drove his father, his mother and Nora from Wood Farm to Adam Lawley’s house just outside the town. At almost the same time Jessie Capstow drove up in her smart car, bringing her father and mother. Then Dan Shelton came along, bring his father and mother. Ten minutes later the guests joined the Lawleys in the drawing room.

■As Robert Berry swept his eyes around the cosy and well-lit room he saw Prunella Lawley coming to greet him. Robert and Prue had been friends ever since they could remember, which was almost as soon as they could walk. She was just turned 21, small, with a rounded figure and a piquant face, nose slightly tip-tilted, eyes blue grey, eyelashes long, hair almost black and with a charming natural wave in it. She clung to Robert’s arm. “How nice to see you, Bob," she said. “It is almost a year ago since you last came to dinner."

Robert could not take his eyes oft her..

“Have you ever seen Waterloo Berry’s portrait, Prue?” he asked. She shook her pretty head and drew him to meet her father and the others who had already exchanged greetings. "No. Father packed it up and stowed it away. But it has been brought down tonight. It is in the dining room. You shall see it after dinner."

Crystal glass and old silver graced the table, and the flowers gave life and welcome to the dignity of the setting. Oil painting, mostly landscapes, hung on the walls. But Robert could see no trace of the famous portrait. ‘Prue,” he said, "where is Waterloo Berry?”

She pointed to an easel at the end of the room. "There,” she said. The easel carried a large picture evidently set in a massive frame, to judge from the way the cloth that draped it bulged. Robert strode up to it, took hold of the cloth and was about to draw it aside when Adam Lawley called out to him.

"No, no. Bob, my boy. Leave it until after dinner. Sit over there, between your mother and Prue.” There he sat and would have been glad to sit alone after the meal had finished, but Adam Lawley got up from his chair after the cigarettes had gone round.

"Before we retire to the drawing room," said he, "I will unveil the portrait of Waterloo Berry.” He took hold of the cloth which draped the portrait by one side, top and bottom. Mrs Lawley switched on some wall lights.

i The guests leaned forward eagerly I in their chairs, all eyes fixed upon the J easel. A swift throw, a pull, and me ’ picture was revealed. . I CHAPTER VIII. ? The portrait of Waterloo Berry r showed Lawrence at his best. The flg-

ure was easily posed, the face alive, the eyes bright and the whole personality impressive. Robert turned to Adam Lawley. “How did you get hold of it, sir? I suppose the Lawleys bought it at the auction at the inn?” “No, lad. Some time before that Stephen Lawley, senior partner of the firm, and my great-grandfather, lent Waterloo Berry one hundred pounds, taking the picture as security; Berry was badly in need of money at the time. Things at the inn went from bad to worse, he was never able to repay the money, and the picture remained with the Lawleys.” ' “Who could have sold it had they been so disposed,” commented Robert’s father, looking searchingly at the solicitor. “Most assuredly they could have done so. But the point of selling the portrait did not arise. In a letter he left behind Stephen Lawley said he hoped that some day a Berry might be able to pay the debt and redeem the painting." “Would it fetch big money?” "H’m," Adam Lawley eyed the portrait critically. "It is a very fine example of Lawrence, and for that reason it ought to sell well —not less than two thousand pounds, I think.” “It’s a wonder you don’t sell it, then, sir,” said Robert. "No. I prefer to regard it as a possession kept in trust. Some day your father or you " He stopped abruptly, and crossed to a side table where he took up some faded catalogues and some documents. There he brought to the table and showed them, explained them, and passed them to be handed round. “This is the catalogue which deals with the sale of the inn and its freehold, including the fine old oak panelling ,the fixtures, the stables and outbuildings; these other three catalogues deal with the three days’ sale of the furniture, effects, wines and spirits, beers and kitchen utensils belonging to the inn; and these other papers hold references to the memorable events.” The ladies stayed to examine the catalogues and to enthuse over the splendid painting. Prunella linked arms with Robert and with dancing eyes scanned the pages as he turned them over. It was at once apparent that the Welcome the Traveller Inn had been sumptuously furnished beyond its kind; the prices paid at the sales gave proof of that. (To be Continued.)