JOAN OF THE GREAT HEART

Waikato Times, Volume 107, Issue 17973, 19 March 1930, Page 12

JOAN OF THE GREAT HEART

CHAP run V. • (Continued.) i He must be unpopular, then,” ■ retorted Joan, who was somehow irritated by the mockery in those ; "oiled eyes. “ I should hardly have j ‘bought it fair on your neighbours to ’ keep such a dog." : The mockery merged into laughter. “iMost unfair,” said the other, who ; '-poke like a gentleman, “if 1 hap- ’ boned to have neighbours! ‘However, ’ ; have none, and the liens are my • own, so Danjou limits his unpopularity In them and chance passers- May . i. ask you to forgive him this time? j "ou wore the aggressor, you know. I Romo in and make friends with the I .raider." j “i am afraid I can’t,” said Joan, i glad of the excuse. “ I am going to j ica at the Grange with Mrs Baydell.” The man smiled. ! “Good,” he replied: “I may sec i you again, Mien, as I am having lea there’ too. Pity I can’t walk across with you, but I have to clean myself up. T am not bringing Danjou, so all will be peace. Au revoir.” Joan walked on wondering why she resented the shabby man’s friendliness. She had not liked his eyes: ,'herc was something sinister about his mouth, a furtive expression with q U eer .glint of cunning. She looked back as ’she reached the corner of I the road and saw he was still there, | watching her. I “ I shan’t come home that way, j she decided. “ It's a horrid, lonely ! place, and I am sure the wood is I haunted. Who can the man be?” j The Grange stood on the road at j the head of "the lane, and was not at I -Ml Joan’s idea of what a Grange should be. It more ro'wmbierla I dilapidated farm house and the front j door badly needed painting. wonder increased. No one would I have thought the sister of a millionaire lived there. A smart-looking se - i vanl answered her summons and Hit i room to which Joan was shown was | unite luxuriously furnished. IV i Vulies were seated at the tea-lab t, and the elder rose io pcjUij • .. n is Miss Hardale, I am snip, she said, shaking hands- " May 1 mI reduce my .friend, Aline Sandall^Wc I lsu“in town. Sit down ! and °help * 0U ™ c %^\ e T me. for v'-p 1 arc^mostinterested, is you father Derrick Hardale, the artist. -Yes” said Joan- She ieauy could not think of mrttmis »« beyond the monosyllable Mivas evidently one of tho-c 1 w,n do all the talking and all the ! ..Annin"- in whatever interested her. i I-he was not unlike her brother m |:: , cm»nce. hut Lesteriees W i Aolures seemed out of place m his ‘•ujicr’s longer, thinner face, her eye., Awe hazel—or rather green-hazel, •md Joan’s impression was that Erica Bavdell thought herself a very oleser and competent person to whom ought io have been entrusted a large part in Ihe management ot the tvorih H r rrientl was many years yonsOt a h ! looked rather bored with life, she I ~-o3 handsome and well dressed. She ! did not appear interested m Joan oi in fact, anything hut a spri o htly Ca *MMy brother does not often have visitors,” went on Mrs Baydell; m fact, he is horribly unsociable h riblv so! I hope, Aline —and .he turned to her friend— you will mak a special effort this time to erne him of his bad ways, since you _ are the only person with any sort of influence over him 1 understand, of course, Miss Hardale, that you are here with a purpose?' Your father is painting my brother’s likeness for this new ha'll he Is opening m han- “ I did not know what the likeness was for,” said Joan, quietly, as she helped herself to a cake “ but, as you say, it was the painting of the portrait which brought us. My father is not we'll and I am looking aft The h ’two ladies exchanged glances and Joan, who had a strong sense of humour, nearly laughed with amusement. She understood o course, why she had been asked to tea. Anthony Lesteriees’ friends had been afraid some Bohemian adventuress had him in her clutches. ll°w hateful they were! How she wished she could have spoken of Michael as her fiancee- As she sat considering -these things there came a hail from the garden and a man put his head in at the open window. “ I am not late this time, urged the newcomer, “ though I see the teapot on active service. May I come in this way? I won’t injure the paint.” “ Burglar,” mocked Mrs Baydell, her colour rising, “ but come in and give an account of yourself. Anymore thrills from the haunted wood? Is Danjou still hunting the unwary hen?” |

He was saved from hen slaughter half an hour ago,” was the retort. “'Will you introduce me to your young friend, Sonora?” Mrs Baydell did as she was aslced. “Captain Boris Flenton,” she said, “ don’t take any notice of his nonsense Miss llardale, he is a born torment." 'Flenton chucked. “I shall have to re-introduce you, Senora,” he replied, "Miss Hardale, this is my best friend —and a most charming lady. The neighbourhood has not succeeded in digesting me yetThey suspect anyone who chooses a haunted cottage in a wood. 1 was labelled Contraband from the first. Mrs Baydell has championed me nobly and I have ceased to have bills for defunct cats, hens, and canaries, if by any chance these creatures are found dead —slain by a mysterious hand. In time I may become churchwarden and be regarded as a model for youth. If so, you will know to whom I owe it.”

‘‘Don’t be ridic, but eat your tea and give Aline a chance to tell us about a motor run she has just made to the New Forest and back,” said M]rs Baydell. “More tea, Miss Hardale? we are neglecting you shamefully. Will you tell Anthony we shall come to luncheon on Sunday. We mean to see quite a great deal of you during your stay. 1 shall consult my brother.”

“It is very kind of you," said Joan, —and hoped heartily that this neighbourly spirit would be quashed by her bosk, for she did not want to sec a ■great deal of either of the inmates of the Grange. She twice tried to slip away, but Mrs- Baydell insisted on her remaining. When at last she pleaded that she must return to her father Aline Sandall rose. “I’ll walk back with you,” she said, “I want to sec Mrs Alton about a recipe. You won’t mind?” And what could Joan say.

Boris Flenton had settled himself for a long visit. He made himself much at home, and treated his hostess with . a familiarity which almost suggested the lover- Joan

By MAY WYNNE.

was thorou -hly -a-r.’ey.p i as shs said good-Ji-' l . rm ' listened with a great deal of '"sL to the explanation Miss Sandall gave before they had gone a dozen paces from the house.

“ You must think it odd that Tony Lesteriees docs not live with his sister,” she remarked casually, “ but, you see. they soon discovered after Erica’s hubby died that they were frightfully unsuited to each other's tastes and view-points. Erica is a great friend of mine, but she allows no one to have a different opinion from her own. When I stay at the Grange T recognise that, and kow-tow to it. Tony can't. So he bought the Grange and Erica lives there. Since then an uncle left her money and she is wholly independent. Being impetuous she rather threw off the yoke of bondage when she had her money. Not very tactful. Also, Tony does not approve of Boris Flenlon. ‘Nuff said. I thought you'd like to know the lie of the land, and so escape blundering. Tony is a tremendous pal of mine, and he is sensitive. That's why I gave you the cue.” “ 11. is very kind of you,” said Joan; “I will be careful." “Of course you will,” agreed Aline; “you’re- that sort. By the way, I have heard of you through a mutual friend of the Creftons. You know Michael don’t you ? A clear fellow, lie is a thorough Bohemian, lie lias spoken of you and your father to the Halladays.” “How small the world is,” replied Joan. “We know Michael well. He has gone to Italy. Goodbye, or are you coming up lo the house?” “Not to-day after all; I must attend that lecture. I can sec Mrs Alton another time. I must hurry back, for the car will lie round to take me to the station. Erica will be theorising with that priceless churn of hers. Do you believe in platonic friendships? I wish 1 did! Bye-bye.” Joan walked up the drive very quickly. She had been much longer lhan she meant lo be, and had not enjoyed herself at all. “But if we go home the week after next 1 may not have io call again," she decided. “And if I do I hope that horrid Mr Flenlon —is not there.” The sinister impression made on her by Danjou's owner had grown. She saw Flenlon as a man of some mysterious purpose living apart like a master spider in the web of his own weaving .with the love of destruction in his veins. And yet, as Dad told her a dozen times, it was not fair to jump to conclusions! (To be continued.)