THE SILENT WIFE!

Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 41, 24 December 1920, Page 2

THE SILENT WIFE!

By MARK ENGLISH.

Rem&rk&ble Drmms. of Lifs.

THE FIRST PART. Doris Thobury, the sister of the chiidrens's ward, was telling the little ones * stories, when the door opened and the matron and Dr Weston came in. Doris's cheeka took a deep tint, for she loved the kindly, grave-faced young doctor deeply As the doctor went his rounds, she held each little patient's hand, for the pain never seemed so bad when Sister Loris was near, and when all the patients nad been examined her duty for the day was over. As she was going out of the Cottage Hospital gate, Paul Weston overtook iier. "May I accompany yc I?" he asked, and she smiled and nodded. They spoke of many things, and at last when they had reached a more secluded spot the doctor seized her hand. "Miss Thobury," 1 e said, "I love you — I love you with all my heart and Will you be my wife?" She looked ai steadfastly as she answered "Yes. was some time later when they parted, and when they did so Doris was the happiest girl in the world. The next morning she received a telegram : "Come homo immediately," it ran. "You are wanted at once. " And a little later she was speeding towards her home. At the very moment she was answering Paul Weston on the previous night, an interview was going on which was to alter her whole life. "Those are my terms ; take them or leave them. Aecept them and I pull you through ; refuse and you are ruined!" The speaker, Roger, Armer, was a strong, hard man ; he was Walter Thobury 's manager, and the man he faced as he uttered thcse words was Walter Thobury himself. j Doris's father was a failure ; he was | weak and lazy,. and. as he faced his man- ) ager he looked frightened. His uncle had , died and left him the huge business of j Thobury and Co. But he did not trouble j himself about the business ; he left it all j in the hands of Roger Armer. And now j he found that he was on the brink of j ruin, and only Armer could pull him 1 through, and that he would only do so on i one condition, and that was that he should marry Doris. And in his weakness and fear of ruin the crnshed man agreed — actually agreed to sacrifice his daughter to save himself. When he told Doris she was horrified. "Father,". she cried, "you are not in earnest. Marry Mr Armer? I couldn't. You can't mean it." At last she casfc j aside all her hopes for the future and j promised. That evening she wrote a j short note to Paul Weston tc"ing him ! sh9 had changed her mind and could never be his wife. ; Her engagement to Armer was announced, and eventually Doris Thobury became Doris Armer. She found her husband domineering, and determined to break her proud spirit. She discovered, too, that she had been won by a trick, for her father's business had never been anything but perfectly solvent. . Paul Weston, a young doctor and her former lover, with whom she had been forced to break her engagement. He obtains for her a post as a nnrse at a private house, which ske thankfully accepts. A few days after, she reads in the paper that the "missing Mrs Armer" has been found drowned, but actually the unrecognisable body that was discovered belon.ged to an unknown girl to whom Doris had given her clothes. Then one day a new housekeeper arrived at Mr Farr's house, and Doris was horrified to recognise in her one of her thief-husband's accomplices. One day Mr Farr's house is burgled and Doris, recognising her husband's work in this, rushes off to her old home to warn him. From the garden, she sees

the figures of Armer and Isobel Vane silhouetted on the blina Then one day Mrs Vanderdecken, the owner of a famous pearl necklace, is invited to dinner. Roger who is there, manages to steal it and in the excitement passes from the house, and is soon in a train speeding away from the scene of his theft. Meanwhile Doris, who knows that he is the Thief, bicycles over to Westways Court to warn him that a celebrated detective in on his track. She arrives at the lodge gates to discover he has had a motor accident, and that Isobel Vane is nursing him. ,"ROGER, ROGER! I'M HERE!" She paused. A deaaly faintness came over her as she recalled the character of the man whom .she now knew she loved better than all the world. A thief of the worst description — a man vho set all the laws of God and man to defiance ! Well, it didn't matter what Roger Armer was. She loved him ! Any moment, too, the police might come, Sick, helpless, Roger would be at their merey. He could not defend himself. j Was it in her power to do so? She didn't know. Her mind was in a ■; whirl. All she knew was she must be be- ! side him — that no power on earth shouid prevent her taking her rightful place bcside her husband's bed. i Mrs Beasley had re-entered the lodge and shut the door. No one saw the slender figure flit up between the trees. The front cloor was shut, probably bolted. No use to try that. | But on the upper landing, leading to j the veranda that ran round her own rooms, ! Doris noticed an open window. With swift, unfaltering steps, she ran j light-ly up the staircase, and, crouching down, gazed into the well-remembered room. Except for the fact that the arrangement of the furniture was different, it was exactly the same as on the day shg ! had left it — as she thought, for ever. No one was in the room, though several electric lights were still on. It was an easy matter to slip in and gain the .arridor that led to Armer's room. The door of his was ajar. "I won't be five minutes, Miss Vane," she said. "Th© water should be hot by now." bne waddled away. "Well, be quick," Isobel said. "I'm afraid to be left alone. He looks awi'ul!" Doris went boldly forward, and entered the sick room. "I am not afraid, Miss Vane, she said quietly. "I will relieve you of fuxther att'endance on Mr Armer. I am his wife. Isobel started so violently that she almost dropped the bandage she was clumsily ro'i'iing. But it was not on Isobel Vane that Doris's eyes rested. It was on the still form, the face of which was almost hidden by medical bandages. She dropped on her knees beside the bed. "Roger! Roger. I'm here! I'll never leave you again. No matter what happens, I'll stand by you, my dearest!" "YOU MUST REMAIN DEAD." Doris's passionate appeal to Roger Armer fell on deaf ears. His eyes remained closed to the anguished face that bent over him as he lay upon the piUow. "Roger! I'm here — -beside youi £kmr wife — Doris! I'm not dead, as you imagined, I'm with you. This is my hand on your forehead" — she laid her cool hand on the pallid brow — "my lips that touch yours." She pressed her warm lips to those unresponsive ones. "I've come to be with you, and nurse you back to life. I'll never leave you again, Roger ! I'U save you, too, my dearest!" By this time Isobel had recovered from her amazement.

"You'll do nothing of the kind, Mrs Armer!" she said, in a hard voice that shook with anger. "1 do.n't know by what trick you made everyone — Roger included — believe you to be dead, but you succeeded only too well. And so you must remain dead ! You are not wanted here. I am in charge of the sick room, and 1 must ask you to leave it!" Doris rose from her knees, and faced her enemy. "It is my right to be here, and I remain. It is for you to leave this house, not me!" "I decline to leave it," retorted Isobel Vane. "It was by Roger's express wish I and my aunt left our cottage, and came to the Court. Roger doesn't want you, and I don't wonder ! Your sulien temper, your silence, made life unbearable to Roger Armer. It is not likely that, should he recover — which is unlikely " Doris went whiter than ever. The expression of agony pn the lovely face would have touched most people. But not Isobel. She rejoiced that she was able to cut her rival to the heart. "He will never want to see yon again," she went on bitterly. "If you had not appeared again, one day he would have mar. ried nie. Were you not satisfied with ' making his life wretched all those months of silence, without wanting to ruin it for ever ?" The cruel, lying words, as Isobel well knew, stung the young wife like a whip. There was just sufficient truth in them to make Doris wince. Her vow of silence had set up the barrier, crushed the little seed of love that, unknown to herself, had taken root o her heart. But on barren soil it liad lived and thriven, until it ha,d grown to De part of herself. "Is this true?" she asked. " Yes, it is true," Isobel said. "Roger always cared for me. What madness induced him to make you his wife, Heaven only knows! He has bitterly repented his folly ever since the time you disgraced him at the wedding ceremony. Why should he love you? He has.no reason to love you, I nothing to thank you for. And when the 1 news of your supposed death came, I teli you he was glad — glad! 'I am free!' he said. 'Free once more! My life is still before me, unfettered by a woman I could never love, a cokl, silent woman who disgi'aced me!' " "Is that what he said?" Doris put out her hand, and steadied herself against the the bed rail. Isobel spoke in a low, hissing whisper; Doris's clear tones were also subdued. The man on the bed knew nothing of the fight that was going on so near him— the unequal fight that must end in defeat for the weaker of the combatants. . And love made Doris weak — lamentably, deplorably weak. "Is it true he said that?" "Is it true he said that?" For just a moment Isobel Vane hesitated to deal . the final blow ; but only for a moment. "Yes, he said that — and more. I will spare you as much as I can, for once you were his wife " Here Isobel made a fatal mistake. "I am his wife!" Doris's pride was roused. Her spirit, that dauntless spirit that had helped her through so many trials, rose in revolt. "I am his wife," she repeated, "and until Roger Armer bids me to leave the house, I stay i ' ' Going quieCy from the room, she sou.ght the housekeeper. Like Isobel, she was tremendously amazed at seeing the mistress they had all believed dead, standing quietly before her. "Is it a ghost?" She sank into a chair, trembling violently. "No, Mrs Spry. It was all a mistake. One day — if the master wishes — you shail b,e told how it all came about. In the meantime, I am going to remain here." Then she went back to Isobel. "I am taking np my place here," she said quietly. "I am very much obliged to you for anything you have done for my husband, but I must ask you to relinquish

your position of mistress in this house. I shall be delighted for you and your aunt to remain as our guests." Isobel lost her temper. She literaily choked with rag,e. "I won't remain a day in your house!"* she said. "Only wait till Roger regains consciousness. It will be you who will go then!" "I shall be quite ready to obey my hus. band's wishes," Doris said coldly. "Oh, ho ! So you're going to play the model wife as a change from the silent one!" sneered Isobel. Doris did not take yn the challenge. The undignified scene was cut shcrt. Doris re-enter,ed iier liusoand's room and closed the door. Every movement in the house startled her, for she thought it might be the police, eoming to question her about the robberies. She was sure that Mark Lewis I suspected that. she was shielding someone. I Suppose they ar rested her, and put her 1 in prison ! She woula be powerless to help Roger then. Of course, he had met with this accident on his way home from Mr Farr's. She wondered what had become of Mrs Vanderdecken's necklace. Was it m Roger's possession, or had he managed to pass it on to one of the gang? In this miserable state of apprehension she remained till Dr Weston arrived. His amazement at seeing Doris seated beside his patient, instead of Isobel Vane, can be easily imagined. "Doris!" he cried. "How did you come here? Is it prudent?" She looked at him with her beautiful, haggarcf eyes. His heart aclied for the gir] he had once hoped to make his wife. "I had to," she said simply. "He is m danger." I He strove to cheer her. "Oh, you mustn't despair. He certainly is in a serious condition, but it is by no means hopeless." "I wasn't thinking of Roger's injuries though, Heaven knows, they seem bad enough." Paul looked at her closely, but he made no remark. This was not the tim© to force confidences. He was ready to hear all Doris had to t-ell him, to sympathise, advise and help her to the best of his ability ; but he was willing to await her pleasure. He thought it a mistake, coming to her old home like this. But he reflected that she had the right to nurse Roger Armer. She was his wife. "Have you brought a nurse?" she asked, and he wondered how she knew one was expected. "No. I'm sorry. The nurse I hoped to engage was suddenly called away to a case in my absence." "I am glad, for now I can nurse him alone. If only I could get him away from here ! It is not safe for him to remain at the Court." "Not safe?" "No. Paul, I can't explain everything. I've told you ,as much as I dare. If you knew all you would understand " S'ne broke off, unable to go further. He took her hand, and gazed gravely down into the beautiful, troubled face. "I think," he said slowly, "that, in a measure, I do understand — now." She sighed restlessly, and then murmur,ed half-u'nconsciously : i "If only I could get him away from | here ! If only I could hide him away safej ly, where they couldn't find him! Just he and I — alone together!" Paul Weston, not having the key to the situation, imagined her anxiety to get her husband away from Westways Court was due to her very natural jealousy of Isobel Vane. Most certainly the young wife was placed in an extraordinary position. Believed by husband and friends to be dead, she was yet alive, a living, loving, emotional woman ! And oh, how he pitied this victim of an unhappy marriage. Yes, he would help her to the utmost of his power, in any way pos'sible.

"Do you really wish this?" he asked her. "More than anything else in the world," Doris answered, so earnestly as to leave no doubt on the subject. "I had thought of suggesting that Mr Armer should be taken to a nursing home. I have an interest in one. A friend of mine is the physician in attendance; the matron is my cousin." "That would be splendid, if you don't think tlie removal would hurt him." Doris's eyes sparkled with hope. "Not in his present condition," Paul said. "Later on he would have had to be moved. An operation will be necessary." Doris went white. Is it as bad as that?" She clasped and unclasped her hands. "Don't look so unhappy." He comforted her as best he could. "All, I hope, will be well. In the nursing home he will have the best advice, and I will arrange with my cousin that you shall nurse him." And so it was decicled ; and so quickly wero Dr Weston's arrangements made, that in a very short time Roger Armer was conveyed in an ambulance to Dr Graham's nursing home in London. Isobel had not yet left the Court. She did not intend to yield up her position in the house without a. fight to retain it. Much depended on her liolding her own, for Roger Armer, believing Doris to be dead, had made a will practically in Isobel' s favour. If he dicd, Isobel would be a very rich woman. She had tlius a two-fold reason for her hatred of Roger Afmer's wife. Isobel's apartments wcre situa-ted in a distant wing of the house, and as soon as she reached'them after her interview with Doris, she retired to rest. "I shall need all my strength," she thought. "I am worn out, as it is. A few hours's sleep will fit me to fight for my rights." This was how Miss Vane looked at it. Unfortiuiately for her, she slept so soundiy that she heard nothing of Roger's departure. It was from Mrs Spry she heard that the master had been taken away to a nursing home by Dr Weston's orders. "And Mrs Armer?" Isobel cried, "Did she go, too?" "Yes, tlie mistress went with the master. After all," said the good woman, who did not like Miss Vane or hermethods of rnling the household, "it's quite right an' proper for a wife to nurse her own 'usband. I can't think however it got aboufc that the roistregq was that poor thing they buried by mistake." Mrs Spry was apt to get a litt-le mixed occasionally. "No, Miss Vane," in answer to Isobel's frenzied queries, "I don't know w'nere they went. The motor ambulance came, and tliey put the master in, and drove away, that's all I know." "And if I did know, I wouldn't tell her," Mrs Spry said to herself as she waddled away. "Comin' between husband and wife like she does ! She thought to have been missus here one day, and now she's mad because the rightful missus has turned up ! " WHAT IHE DETECTIVE LEARNT. Needless to say, the search revealed no trace of the stolen pearls. To Mark Lewis it was a mere farce ; for he kriew it was not on either Mr Farr's guests or servants Mrs Vanderdecken's pearls would be found. The woman who held the clu,e to the mystery was gone ! But it was Lewis's intention to follow Nurse Angela, and watch her movements. And then into his head flashed an idea so extraordinary, so wildly improba-ble, that at first he dismissed it as nnpossible But was it? Was it so impossible as it appeared? He had no doubt at all that Nurse Angela and Doris Armer were one and the same, and that she was screening someone dear to her. Who was she screening? Was it Roger Armer? H,e took out the handerchief with the initials R.A. upon it. Did they stand for the name of "Nurse Angela's" husband, for Roger Armer? If they did not, it was certainly an extraordinary coincidence. But in the course of his professional career, Mark Lewis had come across many stranger coincidences than this. The female searcher had found nothing of an incriminating nature in Nurse Angela's room. "Not so much as a tom letter," she reported. "l'll go to Westways Court," he decicled. "It's absurd, of course, but somehow i can't help thinking that Roger is in this ! The affair of the telephone confirms me in the belief. And yet, Armer is a power in the city. His credit is good, his reputation as a sound man is beyond reproach."

For some time the detective sat deep in thought. Then he went to Morton Farr, and asked if he would be so good as to place a car at his disposal. "Of course. Take any you like. I have three. Robbins is a capital chauffeur. " "Thanks ! But I'd sooner drive myself," Mark Lewis declared ; and soon he was seabed in a small car, driving rapidly tovvards W estways Court. As he approached the magnificent mansion, his retentive brain recalled the occasion of his previous visit. Every detail was clear to his mind. The words of the anonymous letter Roger Armer had shown him, of which he had made a copy, came vividly before him. The writer had referred to Mr Armer's "double life" — warned him that "exposure was boLind to follow." Suppose Doris Armer had written that letier ! Now that he knew Doris was alive, the detective went back to his original theory, that Mrs Armer wa.s the writer of the anonymous epistle that had mvstlfied both him and Armer. And, if she had written it, she knew as much aodut the robberies as the gang who were responsible for them ! [ Only a couple of hours had elapsed since Roger Armer, accompanied by Doris and Dr Weston, had left the Court, when Lewis's car drew up at the front entrance. His quick eye noticed the traces of wheeis on the ctamp gravel. A car has been here lately," he thought. "Can I see Mr Armer?" I m afraid not, sir; but Miss Vane is at home. What name, sir?" The dectective drew out a card on v/hich was inscribed tlie name of Jeffrey Smart. Ihe footman was new, and did not recognise it as tnat of the detective Mr Armer had engagecf to trace his wife and the jewels. But Imrnediately Isobel recognised it, and was all excitement. "Show him up at once ! l^uick ! Don't Iose a moment!" Though Isobel had not met Jeffrey Smart personally, she knew all about him. Roger had confided many things to Miss Vano he would have withheld had he not believed Doris to be dead. She went eagerly forward. "Have you brought me news, Mtr Smart? Did Mr Armer send you with a message?" He looked his surpri&e. "No. I've come to see Mr Armer, but I understand it is impossible to see him. It is ! shrilled Isobel. "Roger Armer's wife has been here. Where she came from, j ci whare siie hcks oeen inciiiig' evcr since | the news of her supposed death, I don X know. But Doris Armer turned up during the night!" • "Are you sure it was Mrs Armer?" Jehrey Smart watched Isobel closely. He saw at once that slie hated beautiful Doris. He could have no better tool for his purpose than tliis red-haired woman, who evidently regarded Roger Armer's young wife as her rival. "Sure? ' Isobel cried contemptuously. Of course I ra sure!. She took her place as coolly as though she had a right -to nurse hira— — " "Then Mr Armer is ill? Too ill for me to see him ? It is important, or I wouldn't press the point." "IB — terrihly ill, But she has taken him away, and Paul Weston has helped her. "Try and cairn yourself, Miss Vane," the detective urged quietly. "Tell me every thing. I am acting in Mr Armer's interests — not in Mrs Armer's." He emphasised the last words, but Isobel looked at him suspiciously. "How am I to know that?" "Isn't it to my interest to be on Mr Armer's side?" he said quietly. "Mrs Armer did not seeic my services. It is Mr Armer's interests I am watching." Jeffrey Smart drew from Isobel all that there was to know ; which, after all, amounted to very little. "I supiDose," Smart rose to go, "Mr Armer was coming from Mr Farr's dinnerparty when the accident occurred:" "Oh, no. He wasn't there at all! He was coming from London. He sent an excuse to Mr Farr that important business would prevent him joining the party. It's a pity he was not there. Ile would have avoided the accident, and might have been of assistance in helpirg trace the thieves who stole Mrs Vanderdecken's pearls. Is there no trace of the gang?" "None at present. Only a clue that I am following up. Did Mr Armer write or 'phone to Mr Farr?" "He said he would ring him up. But, really, I don't know. I only know he left for London, and was brought back unconscious." "Was no one wdh him?" Isobel shook her head. "No on.e. Mr Armer prefers to drive his own car, and leaves it in a gurage near the station. You will lefc me know whoie Mr Armer is?" (Continued on page 4. ,

THE SILENT WIFE. (Continued from page 3.)

"Certainly," said Smart, "when I find him." "Surely that should be an eas'y matter. A man in the condition Roger Armer is in cannot go far." "Oh, I don't know. In Wese days of motors, one can go a long way in a very short time." Mr Smart bowed himself out. He left his address with Isobel, who promised to let him know direetly she had any inl'ormation of Roger and Doris Armer 's movements. But days merged into w.eeks before any news came of the Armers, Paul Weston would give no information as to his patient's whereabouts, even thongh Mr Smart called upon him, and warned him that he might be placing himself in a very unpleasant position by withholding Roger Armer's address. "Surely," Dr Weston said "you can't imagine that either Mr or Mrs Armer are .concemed in these robberies, beyond the fact that Armer's house wa-s burgled. It's ridiculous, Mr Smart! Mr Armer is a friend of mine. He is a hard, man, but he is honourable and straight as a die. His wife is an old friend of mine, and witliout their permission I cannot give yon their address.'" "I think," the deteetive urged, "that if you would inform Mr Armer that I want to see him, he would agree to see me. You see, in a manner, I am acting for him." "Mr Armer," Weston said gravely, "is quite incapable of seeing anyone. I may tell you there is danger of permanent loss of memory. The operation has not been as euocessful as we fjoukl have wished. His health is gradually improving, but his brain — that is quite another matter. So you se,e that even if I consented to your request, you would gain nothing by seeing him." Jeffrey Smart's face fell. His one hope of solving the mystery had been taken from him. Bad luck indeed ! For the present he could do nothing. He had come right up against a dead wall, and could only await.the cours© oi events. Not that Smart left it quite at that. He began a search for the bogus housekeeper, the woman whom Doris had called Wanda. "I PIAVE GROWN TO LOVE YOU SO DEARLY!" And whilst they were searching, Doris was going through a season of trial. The house to whieh Roger had been taken lay in a quiet, unfashionable suburb a few miles out of town. This house was run more as a hobby of Dr Graham's than for prolit. Miss Weston was practically responsible for tlie perfect arrangements of Dean House. Only a limited number of cases were ad_ mitted. But everything connected with the hoase was perfect in its way, and Doris was charmed with everything. She regarded Dean House as a haven of rest; a quiet spot away from the world, where she could have Roger to herself, and nurse him back to health and strength What wonld happen to them both when this was accomplished, she did not dare think. j She lived in the present — her sole thought her husband's welfare. faxe. Panl Weston had hesitated to tell the devoted young wife how very serious Roger' s condition was. Of course, Doris saw that her husband's brain was in no normal condition. Her hospital trainui g had been sufficient for that; and she had hoped ninch from the operation, and was bitterly disappointed at the result. "Ha doesn't recognise me, matxon," she told Miss Weston, with teara in her eyes. "He taies me for a siraagsr ; calis me 'marae.' "

"Yon innst he paiient, my dear," Mary Weston consoled the giri, of whom she had groxvn very foad. "Papl think® it poa axble that Mr Armer's memory may retara to him snddenly. The canse remsved, his h-ram inay heeoms normal any mirnit© Now, don^fowony, my dear. Cheer up; all wffl weH3" Tt wa® easy advice to give, but difScul& j to fo Jkm, as n© one realiaed m&vs 4 hssu ] poor Doris in th® long days and weary 1 j nighiffl alhs spetai waiiiag, watsMtag for' a j i sign oi reTOgnulisBi ia tla® msm sh© aovV j loved deaaiy. Onffi dsy, a® they sat ha 4Ls shsllferesl,, j oM-wcaM gasrdsaa, ba,«Mug ha Ihe spiiaig 1 mmshme, Doris we afkhcg, Bager rgsdiisg a papsir, she Hooiked np, srad caugh-fe Ms «jrggs : fixed npam Ihsr with a sftsasag© ®!^®ess>ii55ai.. I Lnsfemtiy ®3ae wa® all a#t©nfsi©aa, "D® yo® waint snytlmig?"' j H© lo® haad. i J*No, tlbKn.ks.. 1 was -only tayhag fe) rg1membei- wsao it as J»a xemiad aaa® m scwssli oLM

He pressed his hand to his brow, and Doris's heart leaped high with hope. Was . memory about to return, as Dr Weston had predicted. "Do I remind you of Doris?" His hand fell instantly on his knee. "Doris? I can't recall anyone called Doris, and, yet, the name does seem familiar. But it hurts my head to think. He sighed. The light died out of his eyes," he looked tired and worn. It was a bitter disappointment to^ Doris but she bore it as she had done all her trials, bravely. "Don't try," she said. "When you are stronger you will remember everything." "Shall I?" he said dreamily. Day by day Roger Armer's health improved, till at last he looked quite his own self once more. "He is quite able to leave Dean House, ' Paul Weston told Doris. "The question is, when is it best for him to go? Personally, I think he should return to his own home. Already there are unpleasant rumours go. ing round." "That Mr Armer is being kept out- of the way on purpose?" Paul hesitated to repeat all he had heard. "By me?" Paul nodded. "You see, Miss Va-ne has been talking freely. She sent a notice to the papers contradicting your death. I purposely kept the paper from you. I didn't want you to be worried more than is necessary." Doris uttered a little exclamation of annoyance. "I might have known Isobel Vane would do a thing like that. Ah, well, if the papers have published my return to life, ' she smiled wanly, "perhaps it would be best to go hack to Westways Court." "I certainly think it is your wisest course. Armer's health is perfect. The return to his home may even prove beneficial." And so it was arranged that Armer and Doris were to return home together, Paul Weston undertaking to inform Mrs Spry of their coming. By doing this the secret of their present hiding-place would be kept from inquisitive neighbours. No sooner had Doris Armer consented to this arrangement than she began to regret it. That Roger would be watched by the tectives she felt pretty sure. Mark Lewis had his reputation to consider, and now his suspicions, about Roger were aroused, he was not likely to let them off without very close questioning. He might even go further. He might cause them to be arrested, and brought before a magistrate. For the first time, Doris was glad that Roger had lost his memory. Anyway, he could not be questioned- The condition of his mind precluded this. Paul Weston had mentioned a certain date for his patient's removal to his old home. True to his promise, he had seen the house-keeper, and bade her- prepare to receive her master and mistress. Much to Dr Weston's indignation, he fonnd Isobel and her aunt still installed in their comfortable quarters. In plain language he told Miss Vane she mnst leave the Court. Isobel defied him, hinting that it was to his interest to deprive Mr Armer of his friends, that he — Paul — wa® in league with Mrs Armer to keep Roger in the condition of mind she understood he was now in. "If he is as bad as you say," she said vindictively, "he is more fit for an asylnm than to come here." "And yet," Panl spoke firmly, "Mr Armer is coming here, and Mrs Armer will aceompany him. It is her wish that you should leave before her arrival." In vain Isobel stormed and raved. Paul was firm, and at laat, in a rage, she hang out of the house. "A good riddance!" Mrs Spry declared, and all the servants agreed with her.' They did nct like Isobel; she was too arrogant and overfcearrn c.

"It's my belief," the housekeeper confided to Jenkins, "that Miss Vane made a deal of mischief between master and missus. I shculdn't be surprised if she was at the hottorn o' the mystery of missns's disappearance. " "Myself," said Jenkins, "I hate my"tei'ias, I only hope there'll be no more here. We've had our fill. Whai with mistress's death — as wasn't a death at all — - and them robbers, and her never speaking to master " It was Doris's task to prepar© Roger for a ehang® of resid.ence. Sbs found him basking in the sun, his eyes fixed on a bfid of daffodils in full bl.oorn. "How heantiful the fioweis rm'd, loak at Westways Gourt now," So shs opcned tlio eonve?'&ation. "Westways Conrt? Whez@'* iha&T' JU lookeei ai vmtfully, "DriY t yoa remember, dcarf She sat down besido h'im, aasdi iexsfe lbfe> Itesd ha both her own, Tecrs fdUjd How he wa« from ihe S&Sia, full of Hfe and vigour, had

known, and sometimes feared, in the old days that seemed, now, so far away. She wondered if she was doing right in taking him from this quiet spot, and bringing him up against the hard world that can he so cruel to the weak and defenceless. v And when she recalled that Paul Weston had said her husband mighP at any time recover his memory, and it was only right and fitting that when that longed for and yet dreaded moment should arrive it should find Roger Armer in his own home. "Where you used to live, Roger — you and I." "T don't want to go," he said, "unless wou go with me, nurse. Can they spare you?" "Yes, they can spare me. I am going with you, Roger. Don't w'orry about anything." "How can I help worrying?" he said; and his hand went to his head with the pathetic gesture that wrung Doris's heart afresh each time it occurred. "I've forgot. ten everything, you see, except the fact that I met with an accident, and have been very ill, and that you've been an arsg.el and nursed me back to health. You see, I don't even know if I'm married or not. And so — -and so I can't tell you somethinfg I want to tell you." He paused, and Doris's heart leapt with in her, for she guessed what it was he wanted to tell her. "It wouldn't be fair to you," he said presently. "Yes, yes, it would!" She pressed the hands she held more tightly. "I've grown to love you. f'm never lxappy unless you are with me. Your voice is music in my ears. The touch of your hands on mine thrills me as no other woman's touch has ever done. Angela, i have grown to love- you dearly. If ever i regain my memory, and I find there is no reason why I should not ask yca to be my wife, will you marry me?" Surely, thought Doris, when she had time to think at all, never was woman placed in so extraordinary a position. Her own husband was asking her to be his wife ! Just now &he could think of nothing but the fact that Roger loved her, that the past of which now she was bitterly asliamed, was blotted out.

If only she conld make him understand that she was already his — bound to him by ' bonds sacred and unbreakable ! But Paul had warned her against forcing memory. "Let it all come back naturally," he had said. "I am convinced that one day it will." "Yes," she said forcing down her emo-t-ion. "Yes, Roger. When that day comes I will take my place beside you as your wife." He looked at her straugely. "Will you give me /ust one kiss, Angela? I will ask no more." She leaned over him, and laid her lips on his. She had the right to kiss him. "Thank you," he said simply. "I can wait now." Doris, her whole being thrilled by that kiss of love, hurried av ay to finisb packing. They were to start early next day in Dr. Graham's car. There was still a lot to do, hour later Nurse Angela went back to the garden. She had told Roger to sit where he was until she came to fetch him for a w3lk. To her eurprise she found the seat vacant. At first Doris was not .anxious, Roger, beguiled by the beauty of the spring day, had doubtless gone for a tour of inspection on his own aceount. But though she searched the gardens and greenhouses, nov/here could she find Roger Armer. Now thoroughly alarmed, she retumed to the house, and sought Miss Weston. "Have you seen Roger?" she asked breathlessly.

No. The matron had not seen Mr Armer since Nurse Angela had taken him into the garden. A search was organised at once. In vain ! Roger Armer had disappeared, leaving not the faintest clue behind liim. I (To be Continued.) WA.J.JI . ■ IJJ_SSS