JOAN of the GREAT HEART

Waikato Times, Volume 107, Issue 17980, 27 March 1930, Page 4

JOAN of the GREAT HEART

CHAPTER • X.—Continued. But, if he did so, he- did not tell her; in fact, for the next day or so, ho seemed to avoid her company. “What a strange man he is,’’ thought Joan, as she tramped through the snow on her way lo the village; “I wish he would come out of his shell so that I could understand him better; If Michael and Tom Webbing, all the old mad crew, were here we might . metamorphose him. And then —should J like him better?” That was the conundrum she could not answer; It was absurd to think of Anthony—so much the 'conventional master of a conventional household—playing Merry Andrew with a hunch of irresponsible folk; ~ He might even look a trifle ridiculous. “•Some people can’t- afford to be funny,” thought Joan, and tried to prove she was not one of those staid folk by driving home in the milk cart,,' thoroughly enjoying the rattling of the cans and the amaze of -the milkman. She met Lesterlees on her way, talking to the Vicar-. He raised his hat gravely to her, but made no other response to her gay saluteAfterwards he signified liis disapproval. “In country villages we are behind the limes,” he said; “it sgjems a pity for no particular object, or self-satis-faction, to make food for gossip.” He did not tell her that the doctor's wife had hinted 'there was a story of his fiancee having graced the stage. Joan Hushed angrily. “On, what rot,” she sighed, “how J hate it!” “It would be - more comfortable to I lie down in it,” was all Lesterlees { replied, and Joan looked after him ! willi stormy eyes. She was glad when ihe went north for a few days. She I knew he would have liked her to go,

too, so that lie could introduce her to j his friends in Lancashire. But her father .was not so well and could not be left. “I shall be better in the spring/’

hie kept saying; “these east winds | j arc trying. Certainly the winds were tempes- ! tuous. Joan fell them so when she I sallied out for solitary tramps, i Martin’s-lane was specially dreary as she took the short -cut through It to the main road. ‘■l hope t don't meet Danjou," she was thinking, and the next moment heard the snapping of twigs as some one moved out on to the patli which j ran alongside the road within the ; wood. It was Captain Fienton, a j

i gaunt, shabby llguro, more disrepulj able Ilian when she had last seen ! him, for his dollies were- no longer | well out; he wore the loose, rough I trousers and coat of a seaman. From | under his cap he peered al [lie girl, j then leaned over the wire ience to ' whisper to her. "Don’t speak to the folk In the house,” he muttered, “and don’t' say , I you have seen me. 1 li' you do, i’ll pay \ ! you and your line bloke to the lull. ! | Remember that." He dived down into | ! [lie undergrowth as he spoke and j I Joan walked on, trembling violently, j

She was frankly afraid of the man with : the hawk features and sinister eyes j of an Indian''brave.

There were men in the collage where Hie lonely tenant lived; as Joan passed two or these came out and looked at her. One was the village constable, the oilier a plainclothes detective. “Did you see anyone on the road, Miss?” the Constable asked, and Joan was glad to be able to reply in the negative. There was no sign of the j dog, and Joan hurried on only anxious !to "reach the high road. But her adventure was not, over, for at the stile leading across some fields she met I'lrica Baydcll, who was leaning | against Ihe wooden step, her face I colourless. Slic made a gesturgj lo Joan, who went to her. “You arc ill,” the girl said. Do let me get help. You arc faint. .Mrs Baydell clutched tier hand, j “Boris?” she pleaded, “you saw I him? Tell me .... tell me. He I has been arrested?” j

".No,” said .loan,, “he is . not arrested. ” I saw him near the 'cross roads, .lie plunged down into the undergrowth.” "And you told —-Simmonds? “No, 1 did not tell him. What would you like me to do?” The elder woman swayed towards her. "Take me home,” she entreated. “I am ill —very ill. 1 cannot bear this pain. Take me home, .Joan and 'I will be your l'riend. 1 will tell Tony how ashamed 1 am. I will do anything. Only' do not go back—do, not let anyone know you saw —him. ’ Joan was shocked to see how ill Anthony’s sister looked, her eyes were circled by dark rings, her lips twitched in nervous spasms. ■ “I will take you home,” said she soothingly.' "And I will not mention that man’s —name. Do let. me help you. Please don't be so afraid.” “You are very kind,” Erica kept repeating, and she began to cry softly to herself as her companion guided her along the road. It was a grea relief when they were safely shcitcicd

in the Grange. “Is Miss Sandall slill with you. asked Joan, when the other was dually deposited in an easy •chair and IPc trim maid bidden bring tea. Mrs Bay dell shook her head. “Aline has left,” she replied, “but 1 think she will return. We had a nuarrel —-about Captain Flenton. 11 is too long a story to tell. I have been deceived, terribly decened. i can hardly believe now tlvat that man has so heartlessly 1 ricked me.« It is m v own fault though. 1 know IhalWill you ask Tony to come and see me child? Will you ask him to lor-o-jvc me?. I acknowledge my own lolly and' I can only plead that I have been deceived by a clever rogue l want Tony’s forgiveness and help. \sk him to come." “I will go for him at once, she replied.

CHAPTER XI. It was late when Lcslcrlces returned that evening from the Grange. Mrs Alton had insisted on serving dinner and llardalo had already ietired when Hie owner ol the house came in. , . , „ , “I only want a sandwich and a whisky and soda." he I old the par-lour-maid. “You can bring them to m °Toan G had been reading before the Are in the lounge hall and stood there, a pretty picture in her velvet frock o soft jade green, her liajr plaited coronet-wise round her head. “You arc too tired to talk,” she said, when they were alone, think you would rather be 101 lto yourself.” lie shook his heac«

... SERIAL STORY ...

By May Wynne.

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“I would rather talk to you,” he replied wistfully, “if you won’t he hored. 1 am very distressed about my sister- Would you like me to explain the meaning of the scene you witnessed? Erica would not object, in fact, it will be better for me to tell you." Joan seated herself on the pouffe at tiie speaker’s feet. There was no need to invite him to go on. “Erica was in love with this Flenton, iiTcrCditible as it seems,” he said | slowly, “I could almost believe it to | be a case or hypnotism so amazing | docs tiie fact appear. She tells me

lie was a gentleman by birth and I education and she believed his story j of persistent ill-luck and misconstruc- ! lion on the part of friends of till his ! doings. He told her he had come |to this retreat to write a 'book. His j zeal for learning first hand how crooks live, excused strange company J and helped him to use her in a variety ' of ways. There is no doubt he was responsible for the burglary here, though lie did not take part in it. Ills object was to fasten on younger men whom ho could dominate, and by that peculiar influence he seems to have established over them to draw them into the path of crime. Again and again, like some bird of prey, lie would bury his talons into some innocent victim and drag him down. This picture is only produced by deduction. Till within the last twentyfour hours Erica firmly believed the scoundrel's story of authorship. Her friend, Aline Sandall, a young woman

for -whose discernment I have a great respect and who ha 3 a vast amount of common sense, began to warn Erica against Flenton some time, ago, but met with reproach and indignation. There is a Mrs Carraford in the neighbourhood, an elderly widow with ' one son—Jerome —-I fancy Miss ! S-andal 1 is interested in Jerome Caij rai'ord, though this is only a surmise; ! but, when l-'ienlon dragged down iiie j younger man who, suspected of some criminal offence, disappeared from his

mother’s house,' Aline Sanded denounced Flenton to Erica, and the quarrel was so sharp that Aline icil I Lite Orange. .My sister acting on my advice is asking her to return.” “And how,” asked .loan, “did Erica find out—the truth?” “It was only to-day. Mrs Cam ford had called to see Aline, and in tier distress spoke in hitter triumph declaring that at last Flenton would suffer. Erica went at once to see the 'man she loved, expecting him to he furious, -and to warn his detractor that he would sue for libel. _ To her horror site found him in a disguise, making final arrangements to escape

! justice. Ho did not attempt to j plead his innocence. With Die gi'oat--1 est effrontery he told her ho was guilty and asked for money and help. He pretended his passion for her was genuine, but lie failed to convince die woman of whose character he had formed a false estimate. l.nca ranged against him;.hut, when it came : to the crisis and ills pursuers were ! near, she aided his escape, parky ; through pity, partly, she owns, for i fear his arrest might lead to un-

pleasant consequences foe herself. When you met her she say? she was so dazed that the police would, she was sure, have arrested hoi* as on accomplice. She is immensely grate i'ul to you, Joan, and intensely ashamed of her folly. She is a proud woman and I can see it hurts terrifically to know she has been made a catspaw and laughing stock. But she has pluck and common sense. She is thankful not to have been rohDed and that the marriage Flenton had urged upon her was deferred. She has had a miraculous escape and I shall, of course, do all in my power

to shield and help her. If Aline re- | turns it will be splendid. I think she will, for she is a loyal friend. You, too, little girl, will do your best, I know/’ “Of course, I will,” said Joan, leaning against the arm of his chair and looking up at him; “it, makes me happy to llntl something l can do for you.” „ . , Pie let his hand fall souly on her hair. , “You will probably never know

what you have done, Joan,” he answered. “You are the first woman, with tiic exception of my mother, I have ever loved. I had believed Love would never enter my life. I was ambitious as a lad, and my ambitions were gratified early. Then I went a step further. I wanted the affection of the men who worked for me. And at comparatively little cost I won it. Then came the third great object- of life —the love of a woman. It is still a goal I have not attained, a prize I have not won. • When I do succeed I shall have my heart’s desire.” fTo he continued.)