LOVE IN FETTERS

Sun (Christchurch), Volume I, Issue 100, 3 June 1914, Page 2

LOVE IN FETTERS

CHAPTER XXVI. : THE SLOANE MILLIONS. She had her hand raised to her throat, as if fingering waS i concealed in the bosom of her dress, something of whose safety she was! anxious to be assured, and which she,-was eager, yet • afraid, to produee. HeSpbserved her, the" sight of her affecting him more than all that had gone before. It was as though some magnetic current* was established between the two, which drew him towards her, and which it needed all his strength to resist. So violent was the emotion which the contemplation of her produced * that, as was Usual, his manner seemed "to harden,y and his words to come with difficulty. "What is it you wish to say to me? Is it nothing which .wiili wait?" His tone could hardly have been colder. It seemed t<> chill her, to add to her already sufficiently obvious tremors. ~ ' *I-—I; shfeiild \\ratlie^.'i|k^to about it—to you now, if you don't very much mind. It's it's something rather particular. At least, it—it seems parncular to me."

Her finger-tips were still plucking,at the top of her bodice. "What is it? If it is really something pressing and important, tell-mei-what it is."

"It 's—it 's something whic h I found just before they took me upstairs to the room in which they kept me locked all night." "That was it, was itf Mme. de Coustal told me that you had a headache and would rather- not come down to dinner."

" She never, gave me the chancy she never said a word about it. She tolcT me sh'e wished to speak to me upstairsf and she took ine to a room w'hich I'Had never seen before. She showed ine iiito it, paying that she would return* presently; then .she shut the I saw-'no more of her, nor of anyone, until what 1 suppose was the middle of -the night. ... ( "didn't thev give you anything eat?" '

"No, nothing. And I was so hungry. You know I had really had no luneL It was so dark; there were no wiWloWs'in tl?e room"; it was underground, like! this. - When you go through that door'' : —sliii' pointed to the one through which i she- had entered—"you pass along, a; little passage, and there, # -the the room in which I.was. bo lights,: or at least I eould'noft; fifed' them, and there I was sitting in the! darkness, liouj; aftei' fioiirj wondering whaf'was going to happen to me next,] wheiii there began tiie, most terrible up-j roar. I believe'it came from "in here. Shots were fired; people shouted; and} oh, I don't know what happened;'PWnj afraid to think. I thought that at any ! moment they'might coiiits in to ine-there.

Author of "A; Master, of Deception,H "Twin Bisters,*? [COPYRIGHT.]

~ By RICHARD MARSH

And after it was all over Mme. de Constal did come in. She carried a .tray; .which were some meat ancl, b.r.ea,d, and siqme wine in a tumbler. Just before jilie entered half a dozen electric lights up. I suppose she must have sdrned them on from outside, because I could see nothing by which they could turned on in the room. While I ate, islje—she went on at me." jj |" What had she to say to you then? .The dear woman!" 1 i"She talked to me about all sorts !o£ things;: I can't tell you everything. - ; And I daresay most of the things she '-flaid weren't true. But—but. she told 'nib you were in great danger," ( | i"That's true enough/ Everyone's in Wringer who sets foot in her establishment. "' ' " '.

['.! |" She made out that y6u were in ujtjjnger. of —of your life, and I don't iltiiow what else besides. She made out ffhjat. the'only way to save you was by rf-jby my becoming your -wife." ;:j s"As I have. already remarked —the :lonian! " . > v:*-< 4 • '■■...■■

• ! MShe —she worked on me in such a I promised that I would marry you this morning." Something which 'she seemed to see in his face might have i caused her to make a sudden digression. "But that's not what I wish®to say to you. What -1 wish to speak to you about is this." She thrust her fingers into the neck of her bodice, which she had all this time been fingering, and with difficulty pulled something out of it. It was apparently a newspaper, or at any rate, a part of one. She explained as she lield.it out to him, with a hand which was clearly shaking:— j': "It is part of a 'New* York Herald.' I suppose some of ...-those people who tam? yesterday must have brought it witlr them, and put it down somewhere where it was unnoticed ' -until I saw it. I jhaiji just picked it up ..jyjUe.n Madame d$ Clonsstai took me tp tjiiit Voom. I had;ijust time to hide it inside* my. dress before she came to me.''

I Hor tone ' grew ni'ore serioUff, while her manner suggested that .she was becoming" more mistress of herself.

" When she had gone out of the room in the night, or .this morning, Whichever jit wfts, she left the lights .011 —not for fvleryj; long, but for a time; Mreetly she hvajS igone I thought of the paper. I swa 11 ted something to—to divert iriy auiijul' from what she had I:been,,saying—|[j Suppose that's what, .made, ine think fdbf lit 1 : I took it out. and began to read Almost the first thing I saw was 'this,?' "

Sto held the paper out, the tip of her linger marking a .plkce--6^'' ; '-He at is >aa if to Inove to;iake 'it]; seemed: |o chahge ;-ps "roind.' His air was almost sheepish. f j "Tell me what it.is, what it says." r'Won't you come and see for yourself " •

■ : " •'U. mAppeal was in her eyes, her ' voice,'; her bearing.. He seemed to 'le 71, prf# ' tively afraid. It was his turii to 'ilttfm-' nier. , -

"I'd—l'<l much rather you told me what it is, if you don't mind." /'But I want to show you what it is. Why do you stand that long way biff? Put down those—those horrid things, and come here and let me show you." He laid the "horrid things" down I willingly enough, but an actual effort seemed to be needed to 'enable him to djs'tfihrfefc!,'; 'wtiitilv was between them. Pe i rhapS ' < it Was because she saw the diifeculty; with which lie seemed to moVe j tljt^fc^whOii' he had takeh half, a dozen [steps, she moved quickly across the jpijecie, df floor'which still divided thein 'and Went close Up to him. She held the paper almost under his nose, her fingertip still serving as a pointer. "See-^—this is what , I saw: 'The Sloarie millions still go begging. On the tracks of Alice Hudson."' It was my own-name which caught my eye; I stared and stared at it, and couldn't make out what it was. Although it, was my own name, of, course I never dreamt for a moment that it referred to me. But when I began to read I couldn't lxiake it out at all. Won't you take the paper and read it for yourself? Yoix're not even looking at it. Don't you take an interest in what I say?" She spoke with what seemed to be an air of Offence.. r His glance , certainly was not fixed upOir the printe.d page j.. it' seemed to be riveted on her f.ace, certainly not with an expression which suggested lack of interest. It was curr ious,' :i now that they were close to- - how her timidity i seemed 1 to have n'&wfaj,; 'and his to have assumed grotesque dimensions. 41 1—I don't know what the matter •with mei. I suppose I'm a bit knocked over by all that shooting'-business, but I'd much rather that you read to me what's in , the paper if it wouldn't be giving you'too much trouble.". On her countenance there instantly came an expression of alarm. "Aren't you feeling very well? What a selfish wretch I am to be bothering you with my affairs when—when, of course, you can't be feeling well. But I don't see what there is I can do for you, I'm so helpless. '' Thank you, I ? m feeling perfectly well, Only just at the moment I don't. ;feel quite up to reading; and anyhow I'd much rather you told me what the .paper says, if—if it wouldn't be giving too much trouble."

"It's not a question of trouble; it's a question —" She stopped and considered him. "You .are a little, pale." i lie tried to smile, and succeeded after ,a fasliioiK ■

" I assure you I 'lll all right, however I- may look.: - Please will you tell me ,What 's in; the paper ? Of course, if you won ? t—''

" Well, I will; of course, I will." As if spurred by something Which was not quite obvious, she went 011 with a sudden volubility, a colour eomdng into her cheeks >as she spoke. "It seems that I am the Alice Hudson referred to. That's the most amazing part of it, but I am. I must bei The whole story is most extraordinary. But it—it' does shed a light on things which, to put it well, you know they've been very mysterious. :N0w.1,. do begin to understand—after this." - She held out the paper as if to emphasise her words. . - ''l'll begin at the beginning. If you

'vlon't readmit for yourself, you'll haVe 'ij) let me the story" my-own w&f. "■ I''l shall be only too" delighted.'' ' 1 ; "It will take a long time: I can't tell a story like a newspaper can.'' ■ : The longer the better) we are not? pressed for time." /►' " "It seems that a person named Andrew J. Sloane died hot long ago 1 in Chicago ; - the paper does riot say exact u ly when, so I can't tell yovl. He 1 lkft hjeaps and heaps of money. The j&pfe'r 'talks l -of two nlillion'dollars as: thotigK it were only part of what he left. It s6eni& that h 6 was never married,' and hadn't a relation-in the world. He left all his monejrUo one'person, and that person was l a''man—John Hudson. When- I saw that'll jumped, because John Hudson was my father's I sat in that room, wondering what it meant) and what I was coming to. I was so—well, upset—you know the sort of feeling one gets when one has had a shock and expects that a still greater one is coming?—that I didn't dare to read on.-But at last I did dare, and—oli, it/ was wonderful! Won't you read what the paper says for yourself? You see how I am wasting time."

"I don't agree that you're wasting time. It gives me a chance of looking at you while you are. talking, and—l don't call that a waste of time." It was the nearest approach to. a compliment which he. had ever paid her. Her cheeks were dyed a vivid scarlet; she looked at hirix' with startled eyes; dre'\V not she. He drew back as if fearful that too close neighbourhood might not only lead him into saying things which he did not mean to; say, but into • doing theni —which would be much Worse. She did not seem to resent his moving farther from her, perhaps because with some subtle feminine instinct she divined the reason. She went quickly on. "I soon saw, as I read, that the John Hudson to whom the money had been left was my father. The paper tells yqu all about it. How, many years ago, he was captain of ; a ship named the 'Alice'; my mother has often told me about it, it was christened after her. That was in the days before they were married, when she was still a girl. On this ship there was a stowaway, one day a young man was dragged out of the hold. The ship was bound for Boston. He had tried to get money to pay his passage to America and had failed Then lie tried to work his passage, but nobody would let hint'. Finally, in desperation, he had stowed' himself away. The 'Alice' was a sailing' ship; I remember hearing my mother say that it was the last sailing ship on which my father ever voyaged. They were several days out at sea, and for most of them that stowaway had been without food. Hfe had not | had the means to lay in anything [ like a proper store, and was nearly j starved. He must have been nearly mad j when they found him, with hunger and j despair, and all sorts of things. He [ran to the side of the ship, and before they guessed what lie was going to do, had leaped into the sea."

(To be continued jto-morrow.)