The Error of Her Ways

Waikato Times, Volume 125, Issue 20955, 7 November 1939, Page 10

The Error of Her Ways

(By FRANK BARRETT)

CHAPTER XLVll—(Continued) “Well, anyway, you’re gone and done it this time, and no mistake. I 1 don’t think,” he added, with that sagacious deliberation which made Malcom grind his teeth at the best of times, “I never knew a more thoughtless or, say, unlucky, blackguard than what you are, Angus.” Mrs Stutter removed her bonnet and cloak, and, sitting down, slowly drew off her gloves reflectively. “I suppose you didn’t pick up any information before you left the place, Hemma?” Stutter asked, addressing her. “I heard that he was shot dead,” | Mrs Stutter replied, and added some horrible and convincing details overheard in the coach-house. “Well, that’s a comfort. I’ll lay you managed your part terrights—you made it; seem so as the servants will run away with the idea that Mr Clifford could have done hisself a I suicide?” “Yes, I think that is all right.” | “Then I don’t see how they are go- . ing to tumble to Angus havin’ shot j him while we keep the gal out of sight.” “How are you going to keep her out of sight, sir?” Mrs Stutter asked of Malcom, with such pointed significance that he started with the new dread brought before him. More obtuse than he, Stutter failed to see the implication, and answered cheerfully:— “I’ve arranged all that—like a pal who should help another pullin’ ’ard against the stream. I’ve made Cox up at the Chequers understand that I’d used his fly to cart your aged parients over to Basted, and that we was goin’ to shut up the house and go away.” Addressing Malcom as if she had not heard her husband, Mrs Stutter said in the same measured tones: — “By this time Mrs Clifford should be at home with her people at Sevenoaks. That is where she would gc under the circumstances. When she does not come they will search for her.” Abundant Self-Conceit “Let ’em search,” said Stutter, emboldened by abundant self-conceit. “I’ve got that door into goin’ order, and we’ll get it locked, Angus and j me, in no time, and likewise all the shutters up. uo ic snow still, Hemma?” “Yes.” “Well that’ll wipe out all footmarks and get a nice drift up against the door, so as if anyone do come poking about, they’ll never dream of anyone bein’ inside. You understand?” Mrs Stutter rose and went to the cupboard in which she kept provisions, took stock of the contents with finger on lip and eyebrows raised in calculation, and closed the door again. “That may do for about two days,” she said; “but if the snow continues, how are you to get fresh supplies without leaving your footmarks on the bridge?” “That’s like you, Hemma—always looking on the gloomy side of things. It’s about the only fault I’ve got to find with you; but you oughter try and cure yourself of it. Of course, there’ll be a thaw to-morrow. It always does thaw after snow, and when the snow’s gone, what’s to hinder me, or, say, Angus, going out with a bag at night and fetching heme a few bottles of beer and some herrings—or, say, a ’addock?” “How did she stand it?” asked Mrs Stutter, seating herself again, reflectively. “A bit troublesome; but not more rumbustuous than might be expected/’ * “That door ought to be closed soon,” she said, after another pensive interval. “Right you are, Hemma. There ain’t much more to do now than turn the key.” Stutter found his cap and relit the lantern. “I can do without your help, Angus, for a pal what gives away to blue funk for nothink at all takes all the pleasure out of a little job like this.” As the door closed upon her husband Mrs Stutter said:— “Do you think, Mr Malcom, considering all things, that you will be able to persuade Mrs Clifford to be your wife?” With the alternative looming dimly in his mind, Malcom dare not confess his belief that such a monstrous consummation was impossible. “I—l will try,” he stammered. “She is a fool.” “You can do a great deal with fools to be sure, sir; but sometimes they are unmanageable. If you find her unmanageable I think you will have to—” Mrs Stutter suppressed a little cough with the tips of her fingers, and dropping them to her leng chin, added, “put her out of sight.” “No, no; I can’t do that,” Malcom said wildly. “Not two. She had

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done me no harm, I couldn’t do it—in cold blood!” “Well, we shall see. We certainly cannot take her away from here safely. Indeed she and we, too, are safer here than anywhere. But We must remember that they will employ every means to find Mrs Clifford—and detectives are very clever. It may be a fortnight, or still more, before their inquiries lead them to make a thorough search of this place. But before that time—if you wish to save yourself—you must find means to silence the young lady—either by imposing upon her simplicity,” another cough, “or otherwise ” CHATER XLVIII. In Captivity “I’ve done it a treat,” said Stutter, joining his wife and Malcom when he had succeeded in closing the great door and turning the massive key. “And I defy a regi’ent of soldiers to bust through it. Now, how about them shutters, and how about her?” dropping his voice and indicating the adjoining room by a jerk of his head. “Can’t leave her there, ’cos her window overlooks the bridge, and if anyone passes, she’s jist capable of busting the shutters, kicking up a row, and giving the whole show away, you understand?” “I have been thinking about that,” replied Mrs Stutter, also in a lowered tone. “There’s the library in the tower over the gateway; it has only the long window looking down into the courtyard. No one could see her there, and she could see no one. There’s a folding bedstead in one of the servants’ bedrooms; if that were carried in, with a washstand, it would do.” “There ain’t no fireplace, but I s’pose that don’t sinify.” “Not at all, since we can light no fires. The smoke would betray us.” “Oh, lumme! No fires. How’s my breakus goin’ to be cooked?” “There’s a parafin stove.” Stutter scratched his head with a fearful foreboding that he had used all the “ile” on the door. “Hows’ever,” thought he, “p’raps w e can light a bit o’ fire in the middle of the night and lay abed all day.” “When the room is ready, I will go in and see Mrs Clifford, and get her to go into it quiet,” said Mrs Stutter. “Of course, you expex me to do all the work for you, Angus, bein’ a pal and too ’aughty proud to stir a hand for yourself.” Malcom, brooding over the fire with folded arms on his knees, threw off his lethargy with a start, rose, | and, taking the lantern, led the way | from the room, Stutter, with a wink and a grin at his wife, following, ! thinking what next he could say i “nasty-like” to irritate his former i master. | Left to herself, Mrs Stutter brewed a pot of tea, and, with a cup to aid mental calculations, pondered evenI tualities very thoroughly. When the course before her was clearly mapped out, she put clean sheets before the fire to air, arranged a tea tray with all the delicacy and forethought of a good servant, smoothed her hair carefully, took the best lamp, and, after knocking at the door, turned the key and entered the adjoining room. In an agony of grief and remorse Sylvia had thrown herself upon the bed, and poured out the misery of her heart in a flood of tears. Of her own terrible position in this unknown place to which she had been brought by her husband’s murderer and his brutal accomplice, of the physical torture to which she had been subjected she thought not at all. These were mere trifles, forgotten in the absorbing contemplation of her loss and its cause. She could only think of Tom, of his love, his constant tenderness and patience and generous forbearance, of his strong purpose to rescue her from the evil influence to which, in her obstinate folly, she had yielded, in spite of his endeavours. She saw him again strong and vigorous—an idea of manly beauty and health, with his bright smile and breezy expression, his kind, steadfast eyes, his clear skin, the glossy ripples of his hair; and she saw him once more with that last smile on his lips, the colour fled from his cheek, the eyes upturned in death —her husband, dead—dead —dead! murdered through her own inconceivable folly and lack of faith by the wretch from whom he had striven by every means that lay in human power to rescue her. Remorse, contrition, vain regrets, vain longings to undo the past, shame, grief, despair, all wrung her heart and soul with an anguish that no single excuse or countervailing reflection could relieve. As the gleam of lamplight through the opening door fell upon the bed she sprung from it. Blinded with tears, giddy, and sick with exhaustion, she reeled, clutching at the bedstead for support. Mrs Stutter, setting down the lamp, stepped briskly forward to support her. Sylvia raised her arm as if to resist* an attack, waved her back, exclaiming incoherently : “No, no! Keep away from me! j Beck —back!’ Mrs Stutter, always with the corj rect demeanour of a well-trained serI vant, bowed and left the room, presently returning with the tea tray, | which she set on the table beside | the lamp. I d-ddrect kLbe eavours 571-wsdß9 | Sylvia still stood by the head of I the bedstead, panting with a dread of I she knew noKwhat. Mrs Stutter | placed a chair for her, and stepped I back to the door, which she closed. ! “May I remove your furs, madam?” I she asked. j “No, no—do not come near me. ' Go!” answered Sylvia. Fearing a Personal Attack “I have put sheets to air, madam, ! and your room will be ready in half I an hour.” Sylvia made no response, but kept | her eyes fixed on the woman as if | still fearing a personal attack. I “You would not wish to see Mr j Malcom just now, madam?” Sylvia caught sight of a knife upon the tea tray. She ran to the table and caught it up. ! “If he comes here —if he comes j here,” she cried, “I—l will put an I end to myself. He shall have to I answer—for my life—as well as his.” I “It was a very unfortunate acj cident —” j “No accident! It was murder—l | saw him do it—him you told me was ' dead—you infamous liar!” “I admit that was an untruth, .but ic was necessary, madam, to make j you hear what was the truth. Mr

Malcom acted on the impulse of the moment, thinking only of the wrongs he had suffered—the wrong put on you by—” “Stop! I will not hear his name from your lips. Away, away, or 1 swear—” She raised the knife, with madness in her eyes, which Mrs Stutter was quick to perceive. It was clear that the overwrought girl was capabl\ of attempting self-destruction. She must be calmed by any means. She would have left the room at once, but her eye fell upon a heavy bolt which might be drawn, entailing further violence and a possible catastrophe. She turned and raised her hand. “One moment!” she cried. “Think of your father!” Sylvia had not thought of him. Now she saw the dear old dad. broken down by grief, suffering for her. She sank in a chair, overpowered by this new woe. “Believe me, madam,” pursued Mrs Stutter, “for my own sake I am anxious to undo the trouble I have unfortunately helped to bring about, and make what amends I can. You shall not see Mr Malcom. You shall receive every consideration it is in my power to make. I will wait upon you dutifully, and if you wish it, I will not open my lips. For a few days you must be confined to the room prepared for you in this

I house. That is necessary to enable ;Mr Malcom to escape. But I swear to you, madam, that as soon as he is safely out of the country I will take you back to your father. Pardon I me if I venture to point out that you must think of his happiness, of your ' duty to him—of the awful sorrow you ! might bring on his head by any desperate act. Ido implore you to submit to this trifling inconvenience ! for his sake. And I only ask you to judge for yourself if there is anything unreasonable in what I sug- , gest.” (To be Continued)