The Error of Her Ways

Waikato Times, Volume 125, Issue 20953, 4 November 1939, Page 20 (Supplement)

The Error of Her Ways

(By FRANK BARRETT)

CHAPTER XLV. (continued) “Where do you think she was going, dearie?” “To meet Angus Malcom at some - place appointed by him—possibly the ( railway station. you know, 3 confessed that she heard nis name mentioned frequently in the dispute by that woman. That woman, I j feel sure, was his agent. She came here for the first time about a fort- ] night since, and saw Sylvia privately. Sylvia would not tell me what took ( place at that interview. She pre- . tended to treat it lightly—as a matter , of no importance; but her manner , clearly showed that it was very , grave. You yourself noticed a change in her.” “Change! Why she wasn’t the same gal. Couldn’t get a rise out of hex anyhow. Feared she was sick- , ening for something.” “That woman Seymour came again last week, and Sylvia was more de- • pressed than ever. She appears for the third time yesterday, and Sylvia leaves her husband, after a terrible ; scene ending in the woman being carried by force from the house.” “And you believe she went to that Malcom!” Harrowgate exclaimed incredulously. “Who else can she have gone to? Had it been merely a misunderstand- j ing with Mr Tom, she would have come home to you.” “To be sure. I could have forgiven her that. But to go to that beast Malcom—well, I can’t make it out. Do you think it’s love?” “Not on his side, certainly,” Sibyl said, with conviction. “Then it’s still more incredible. He’s as poor as Lazarus, and what j did he think to get by it? He couldn’t « think I’d forgive that, old fool as I j am.” | “Bendall thinks he saw a carriage | standing in the road near where Tom j was shot. Teddy, I believe Malcom j was in that carriage, and when he saw Sylvia pass, and knew that the woman had succeeded in this horrible scheme, he got out and shot Tom as he came down the hill.” “My gal! Is it possible? Why should he do that?” “To get the money Sylvia would : inherit from her husband.” “That’s it!” exclaimed Harrowgate, starting to his feet. “It’s hard for quiet, law-abiding people, such as we are, to understand a horrid crime like this. But there’s that poor Tom, lying at death’s door upstairs. My poor gal gone, and we’ve got to realise whatever seems likeliest in the way of explanation. I must go down to the police station and see the inspector at once.” Hoping She Would Come “I think you must, Teddy.” “I know I must, dear—l have known it ever since I heard she was gone. But all through the night I’ve been hoping she would come—■ hoping every minute to hear the bell ring, ready to fiy down and let the poor gal in. And this, morning there was the hope that after the operation Tom would be able to clear it all up somehow—trying to cheat myself with*one hope and another. But there’s little hope now; she’s lost, my little Sylvia, lost!” When he was gone, Sibyl bowed her head and wrung her hands. “All my fault, all my fault!” she moaned. “Oh, if I had only told all in the beginning!” A tap at the door brought her to herself in an instant. “If you please, ma’am, Mr Psani wishes to see you,” said the maid at the open door. “Pardon me madame, or, forgive I me!” said Psani, passing the maid and entering the room with starting eyes and haggard face. The maid withdrew at a sign from her mistress, closing the door after her. “I come back zis morning, I go to my master’s house, because I have dream in ze night he want me, and what is zis I hear? My noble master, my dear master, has shoot himself, he is dead. Oh, tell me zis is not true.” “It is not true, Psani.” “Holy Mozer, sanks!” cried the little man, unclasping the side tufts he had clutched in his despair, and folding his hands in fervent gratitude. “The doctor believes he will rer / cover.” “Oh, let me see him, dear lariy, my dear master—just one look.” “He is to be kept very quiec.” “I will not speak—l will be quiet like any mouse—l will only, only once look at him, and coir.ie away.” Sibyl led him upstairs and gently opened the loor. The room was darkened, a nurse sen e in by Dr. Lomax sat by the bedside. She raised a warning finger. S'.Dyl and Psani approached the beds Yde. Tom lay facing ■'them, his head swathed in bandages. His eyes were wide open. He looked first at Sibyl, then at Psani, w : ith no sign of recognition in his regard. Then he closed his eyes wearily. They withdrew as silently as they had entered. Psani, stepping on tip-toe, controlled his emotion until they enterea the room below. There he burst irlto tears.

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“He did not know me,” he ejaculated between his sobs. “He always smile at me when he see me; but not now. He not know poor Psani. But why do I weep like a cow?” drawing himself up and blowing his nose fiercely. “He live, and I should be glad, eh? Forgive me, madame, that I am a pig. You not know' why my master shoot himself?” “The doctor believes that he did not shoot himself, Psani.” The action of galvanism upon a dead frog was scarcely more remarkable than the effect of this communication upon Psani. Overpowered w'ith grief, he had sunk in a chair, where he sat, head sunk in his shoulders, arms hanging by his side, flaccid in every member of his body, and with utter dejection in his face. In a moment he was on his feet, every muscle tense and alert, eyes kindled with eager intelligence, lips tightly stretched against his white teeth, in fierce resolution. “Where that doctor live—that clever man? Where he live?” he asked sharply. Sibyl replied to these questions. “Now I wake up,” said Psani. “Tell me my master shoot himself. I can do nozing by cry like a cow, and go stupid lika a pig. But tell me he not shoot himself, I find out who did, I find him if he down zere” (pointing to the nether regions). “If he not down zere, I find him all same, and make him wish he was down zere.” CHAPTER XLV I On the Warpath “If you find him, Psani,” said Sibyl, “You may find your master’s j wife, and she may do more than all the doctors to bring him back to j us.” I “I find him, oh, I find him,” replied Psani, regarding little else than ; that. j “You have heard what happened?” “I hear nozing—nozing but zis: ‘Psani, your master shot himself last night.’ I can hear nozing else but zat till I see him. Now, I somezing else sing about, eh?” “Shall I tell you what I know?” “If you will be so gracious, mad- • ame—tell me all you know—all you ! want to know—it save time.” “You would like to take some notes, perhaps,” Sibyl said, moving towards the writing-table. He arrested her with a gesture. “What goes in here” (touching his long, bald head), “zat never get lost.” Sibyl narrated with careful precision all that had come within her knowledge, confining herself as closely as possible to bare facts and leaving Psani to draw his own conclusions. She had scarcely come to the end when Harrowgate returned. “Bad job, my poor fellow!” said he, laying his hand on Psani’s shoulder; and then, turning to Sibyl: “I’ve seen the inspector. Most intelligent officer; but he can’t do anything.” “Nothing?” “Well, he promises to send a couple of plain clothes men round to see if there are any suspicious characters in the neighbourhood.” “I will go wiz zose plain-closes,” said Psani. “Why, my poor fellow, what do you suppose you can do?” “Not know till I see. P’raps I learn somezing from zose plaincloses”; and he added meekly, “P’raps zey learn somezing from me.” “Of course, they can do nothing at this hour, but he will start them at 10 tomorrow morning.” “Begin tomorrow morning! When he sink zey finish, zose plain-closes?” Harrowgate shrugged his shoulI ders. “He gives very little hope indeed. As he says, it is most unlikely that they would stay anywhere until they were at a safe distance. They may leave England today.” “Zat why he no begin look about before tomorrow morning, eh?” “Advises me to go to Scotland Yard, and I’m off by the next train. They will telegraph all over the country, and if they are still in it, he thinks it qufte p«rtstole we may find them skiortly.” “If he g,et up top ladder vizout go up steps, he very clever policemans. Wha\ you sink, sir, eh?” For reply the*poor old man sank a chair, lifted his hands, and let them fall heavily on his knees. “Forgive me, sir, if I ask you not \ sink too bad. Permit me, madame.” Psani had his hand on the case of envelopes, and at a nod from Sibyl ; took out half a dozen. “If you get • one of zese tonight viz little black ’ cross on it—zere—very bad news. If r you get one viz nozing on it nowhere ; j —zat good news—hope little bit! If you get none at all, you say zat l Psani dam fool; he learn nozing.” L “Do you expect to learn something tonight, Psani?” Sibyl asked. I “Liddler bit—not much. P’raps I ; send one of zese every day viz noz- , ing on him—all liddler good news—- ■ not much. But —if you find ‘Psani!’ ; written on one of zese, you know I pretty proud of myself—good serr vant, good friend —better zan plain i closes.” I “God speed you, Psani,” said Har- ; rowgate, offering his hand. (To be continued)