THE SHADOW OF THE PAST

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 56, Issue 206, 13 June 1936, Page 7

THE SHADOW OF THE PAST

" :: SERIAL STORY ::

(Ben Bolt.) Copyright. ::

CHAPTER VI. ‘ “Andhiis's O’Hagan?” As Conyngham thus questioned the wife of his Uhief there was a. note of anxiety in his voice which the Duchess of Ingleby did _not fail to note. She smiled as she replied. “Nora is almost well. The attack was sharp while it lasted}, but it was over soon{ She comes up to town one day this Week, and though she has to be careful I hope she may put in an appearance at the dance the Premier’s wife is giving.” She looked at Conynig'ham and smiled again, and. he easily deduced the fact that she had no knowledge of anythng to give rise to anxiety on Nora’s behalf. 7 “Shall .you be there?" she inquired. “I hope so,” he answered quietly, “though, of course, if the Chief needs me—fl” ‘ “Rubbish! I shall talk _to Ha.rry,§ and after that he won’t dare to keepl you away. I shall say that you mean to propose to Nora—_” “Are you so sure?” he interrupted, though he could not forbear a. smile. “Well, is it not so?” she retorted. “You don’t mean to say you have changed your mind?” “Well, hardly that, Duchess!” “Then the sooner you get the busi—ness over the better. I dolnot approve of young; men who go philandeiiing for months—” “Don’t be too hard on me, Duchess. It is exactly seven weeks since I first spoke to Miss O’Hagan. I am sure you cannot accuse me of undue delay, particularly when you take into account the weeks of illness. If I hurry the business as you appear to desire——-—”

“It is for Nora’s sake and you own, though, of course,” the Duchess laughed as she said it—“l really don’t mind you two becoming 'better acquainted before you take the plunge. I must Warn you, though; you will find a change in her. She is not quite the same girl she was before her sickness.” “What is the matter?” he asked quickly. “Nothing serious, I hope.” “Nothing to worry about,” was the reply. “Her health promises to be very good, and she is as bright as flowers in Springtime; but she seems to have forgotten it great deal of her past life. She remembers the two years she spent at the convent, but after that there is a. blank, which is perhaps just as well, for Mad Pat was hardly a good mem—ory for a:’yollng girl to cherish, and the rough life of. the mining, camps is better forgotten. It’s odd that this should happen, but it’s not an unknown thing, and in time, Dr. Winslow as-l sures me, it may return. Not that I 1 think that is at all desirable. I don’t, and it will be a mercy if those things can remain forgotten.” . Conyngham’s face became thoughtful. “I also may be among the forgotten things ‘of the past. Remember, I met her for the first time on the day preceding her‘ illness.” The Duchess shook her head. “I can reassure you on that (point. I thought it might be possible, a-ndlso I introduced her to that photograph of you in the Duke’s study at Ingleby. She remembered you quite well, so you are not of the realm of the forgotten.” She looked at him with smiling eyes, but the smile faded as she caught the expression on his face. i “What are you thinking of?” she asked. “Is there anything the mat~ter, or- have I said something that I ought not to have done? That’s the worst of having to be a social chatterbox———” - “Do not blame yourself unnecessarily, Duchess. You “have not said anything that I was not very glad to hear; and there is nothing the matter, It was only a thought struck across my mind.” An exaggerated expression of relief came on the Duchess’s face. “I am so glad. I hate to put my foot 'in it—-—” She glanced down at her dainty shoe, and Dick Conyngham laughed. .“It would not make a very big hole, anyhow, Duchess.” “Thank you, Dick. I have a small foot; but I don’t mindl telling you that even at that the shoe pinches sometimes.” '

“The vanity of women——-” “Almost equals that of men. You‘ knoiv it, Dick. But I’ve no time 'LO‘ waste on truthful statements of tha‘tl sort.” She glanced at the clock and added, “For the. last twonty minutes I have been due to take the chair at {‘.. meeting, of the Society for Providing Nightcaps for Bald-headed (l‘ld~Age Pensioners. That is what it is to be a popular statesman’s wife. I have to work twice as hard as my husband; but of course, what I do is far more useful.” . “I would not question it for worlds,H laughed Conyngl’iam. “Well,” replied the Duchess argumentatively, “you. can’t say nightcaps are not useful.” “They are both useful and inspiring,” agreed Dick willingly. “And it is by our attention to these things that the Government stands or falls,” laughed the Duchess. “You have no idea how people prize these things——-” “I daresay I haven't,” answered Conyngham. “Statesmen always overlook such essential things as nightcaps. Of course, if you supply them bottled ’7 “Dick!“ the 'D'uc'hess shook a warning finger. “I believe that is. how you hope to win your election. I’m surprised at you.” “Costs an awful lot, I’m told,” he agreed cheerfully, then glanced at the clock. “You’d better be going, hadn’t you, or the Government will fall, and

Ingleby be out of office, and my poor self an adopted candidate supplying the nightcaps your excellent society ought :0 have—-——” Her Grace of Ingloby, interrupted. “Yes, I really must go! \Vhorc duty calls or danger, you know. even if one is half an hour late. But before I rush away, Dick, I want you to promise me to dine hero on the night of the dance. Thero’ll be no one but ourselves and Nora.”

“Of course, Duchess, I shall be de~ lighted.” “That is what I wanted to ask you at the beginning—and now for the nightcaps.”

She left the room, and .for a moment Conyngham smiled as he thought of her light-heartedness. She certainly was _a most excdlent foil to her serious-mind—-ed husband. Then the smile died away and onhis face- ugain appeared the expression which had caused the Duchess to inquire if anything was _the matter.

The truth was that .'he was wondering how much Nora remembered. Before he had left her, her eyes had opened and she had looked straight at him. Did‘ she remember that, or was it also among the forgotten things? He hoped devoutly that it might be, or that at any rate she had :been too dazed to recognise him. He had no desire for any remembrance of that sort to come between them, for though an explanation of the events of the. night of Wanklyn’s murder was not. yet fort-h----coming, in his heart he was convinced of Nora O’Hagan’s innocence, and his love for her, which had risen so and denly, bed only become the strongeri with the passage of' weeks. j

He Was still wondering when, having left his Chief’s house, he made his way to his chambers in Northumberland Street. There he. found a letter await~ ing him, a. letter which, as he read it, increased his perplexity. It was from the maid Stringer, and was the first communication he had had with her since the mOl ning of their. conversation outside Ingleby Post Office. “Honoured Sir (it ran),—

“I am writing to inform you of a very strange thing that has happened. Two days ago I went to my mother’s house at Arnside, meaning to destroy the contents of the parcel you know‘ of, as Was arranged. The parcel had been placed by my mother in the cup board of a small wardrobe in the bedroom reserved for my mistress, and when I went to look for it, to my surprise I found that 'it was gone. “"9 searched everywhere, thinking that it might have been put in some other place-by the maid; but we couldn’t find it. Then I questioned my mother to find out whether she had had any strange rvisitors in the house. The only visitor she had had was Canon Anderson, of Durham, who is not to he thought of in relation to the lost par cel, being a. very wealthy old gentleman of good standing in the diocese. “But, questioning my mother, I learned that the morning after the parcel arrived, she found the window of the breakfast room wide poen; and“ thinking the maid had been carelesal she scolded her roundly. The girl cried} and said she had shut the window before dark the night before; and my mother is of the same mind, believing that it was shut, for it is her custom to make the round of the house, attending .t'o doors and windows herself, at. night, and if she made the roundithat nightJ as she is positive she did, she could hardly have missed seeing the open window. ' “So it seems to me that someone opened the window and entered the house just to steal that parcel, since it can’t be found; and I am very much ‘a’orried about the matter, so thought I ;had better write and tell you all about . it.

“I am, Sir, “Yours respectfully, “Polly Stringer. ' “I’.S.-—I can’t get that Inspector Watson out of my mind. Do you think he can have taken the parcel?” As .he finished the letter, Conyngham was greatly perturbed. The shirt with the bloodstains was gone, and now the dress had disappeared also. What did it mean? It was clear that someone else know of the facts which he was striving to keep secret. The question was who? He glanced at the end of the maid’s letter, and he also thought ’of Inspector Watson. It was just possible . . Then he dismissed the thought from his mind. \ The Inspector would have no need to break into a. house in the dead of night in order to Obtain evidence, when a search warrant would be at {his disposal, if he applied for one. Also, the Inspector could hardly have taken the dress-suit, for he had not been above stairs at all when the discovery of its loss had been made. Someone else then was responsible for the disappearance of these two incriminating pieces of evidence; someone whose designs must be inimical to the girl he loved. Who?

There he came to a. full stop. He could get no further, He ran over all his fellow-guests at Ingleby, but could think of no one who was in the least likely to have any grudge against Nora; or who, playing, the. part of amateur detective, would set himself to amass evidence against her. And how did the person responsible for the disappearance of the dress know that it had been dispatched to Arnside? The scene in the post office came back to his mind. Again he saw the red-fezed Turk bending over the count-er reading the address on the parcel. Perhaps he—--11-Ie broke off to smile at himself. The thing was too absurd. No doubt the merest curiosity had prompted that action; why, even he himself had unthinkingly read the address as the par—cel lay on the counter. The clue to the unknown threads which might incriminate beautiful Nora O’Hagan did not lie there. Another possibility presented itself to his mind. The maid at Aruside, prompted by curiosity, might have peeped in the parcel, and: coveting, the dress, have stolen it, and then have invented the story of the open window the better to divert suspicion from herself. That was just possible, but only that. But the more he thought over the matter the more he was convinced that one individual was responsible for

the disappearance of the shirt and 0f the dress. Further than that ihe Could not get, and at last, baffled by a problem that seemed insoluble, he turned to work in 01 (161' to find relief from the thoughts which troubled him. ‘1 An hour later he left his chambers, and 011 his way to “’estminster called at his club, and the first .person {he saw there was Captain Warborough. “‘Well met, Conyngham, I was hop ing that I should run against you before long.” “\\"e are well met, indeed,” he said, taking one of the cigars from the case which the Captain held out. “When did you return to town?” “I came' up from Norfolk five weeksi ago, but I’ve been away twice sincel then.” ' l “Golfing good?” Conyngham inquired. “Golfing!” The Captain’s voice expressed anything but satisfaction. “I’ve scarcely touched a club. The fact is [that the young cub whom I’m interesb fed in is taking up all my time.” “That so?” “All the way. There is something happening, and I can’t find out what it is. Herrick is in the same hole. He fished for a. week, and then, the shadow having left him, came back here, since when his name has figured prominently in the social neu's in the papers, as you may have observed.” Conyngham laughed. “As a. matter of fact I have.” At two of the weekend parties. where he was sup-posed to be present I was a guest myself. The Major was not there.” Captain \Varborough smiled. “No, that’s all part of the game, done to convince those fellows whom. he is after that he really is on leave. As a mat—ter of fact he is busy as the devil in a whirlwindJ and is learning quite a lot; but he cannot tell me how my own particular infant stands; and I don’t mind owning that I am worried.’ ’ “You think that he has been. drawn into the business you “mentioned, Cap—tain?”

“I don’t know,” answered the Captain thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t make a, bet on it; but that there is something up I am sure. I've been down to Oxford—to pay my respects, if you rplease —-—rcspectsl Only came back yesterday. Whilst down there, with a Tiew to removing; him from the zone. of temptation, I suggested to his highness the. possibility of his return to Turkey at an early date.” The Captain paused, and Conyngham inquired, “What happened?” “Said that he didn’t anyway entertain the idea, at present.” Conyngham waited, and after pulling fiercely at his cigar the Captain resumed. “Now there’s something at the back of that, for he is not particularly gone on England, and six months ago would have returned hot-foot to Turkey if he had not been forbidden by his guardians. He would have been back now and out of the. way: of trouble”——ths Captain’s voice had a note at regret in. it—“but of course we had no inkling of this trouble then, and could not foresee the possibility of his being; drawn into it.” _ “You think this conspiracy is the cause of his refusal to return then, Warborough ?” "I am not sure,” answered the Captain slowly. “There may be another reason.” He felt in the breast pocket of his coat, drew out a letter-wallet, and from this produccda photograph. the mount of which had been ruthlessly cut away. He glanced at it, then handed it to Conyngham, who was startled to find himself looking at the likeness of' Nora O’Hagan.

“Do you happen to know who that young lady it, C‘onyngham? I must have asked at least a score of men that question, and I have drawn a. blank every time.” Conyngham thought for a moment; then he answered: “As a. matter Of fact I do; but will you tell me Why: you ask, Warborough ?” “Because,” was the reply, “I {have been wondering whether that particular young woman has anything to do with young Murad’s sudden affection for England; whether it is she who is at the root of- his reluctance to return to Turkey, or our friends of the Pan— Islamie gang?” “But it is absurd, Captain,” protested Conyngham; “what on earth can—-—-” “Not so absurd as it may sound,” interrupted Captain Warborough. “'l‘ihere is usually one or two things behind a man’s actions, ambition. or a woman, and we happen to be discussing a case where it may be either 01‘ both. And I have considerable ground for my idea, for on my young man’s mantelpiece at Oxford, in a jewelled frame, is as photograph like that in your hand.” Conyngham’s face flushed, “I sweat the original never gave it him.”

“I have never said she did,” answered the Captain quietly. “I think it is more than likely that my young friend stole it from somewhere, particularly as it liavs_the legend, “From Nora,” written across the foot of it, which itself does away with the idea, that he obtained it by bribing the photographer. And indeed: I know that he did not get it that way, for when I showed an interest in the photograph, and the young beggar shut his mouth as tight as an oyster, I made a note of the photographer’s name, and yesterday on my return, I paid a. call at the place. It is a. very fashionable show, and it wasn’t very easy to explain what I wanted. When I did so the miux in the reception room smiled at me in such a knowing way that I felt- an unutterable idiot. Feeling sure that it was a romance she let me look through as lot of sample photographs, and I was lucky enough to stumble upon that one. I wanted to buy it; and then learned that was impossible without the originol’s consent; and as l. didn’t see my way to gettingr that, I was me hole. But the minx was accommodating, and when I put it'sovereign “down upon the table. she didn't object to walking, to the other end of the room whilst I stole the picture. The name I couldn’t get; because the girl l saw had nothing whatever to do with the, books and did not dare to make an inquiry lest she should get into tron_blc. So I came away bringing the

photograph with. me, and now I shu‘il be obliged if you can tell me her name.”

“Her name,” replied Conyngham quietly, “is Nora O’Hagan; she is at present under the care of the Ducaxoss of Inglcbs‘ and you ma take it from ~ . y me that she 15 not consmously the cause of your prince’s refusal to return to Turkey.”

“Um!” Captain \Va-rborough looked doubtful. “T‘hqt photograph now——~-” “Stolen, as you yourself suggested." “Possibly,” answered the Captain slowly. “On the other hand there are plenty of women in England who might be dazzled by the idea. of being the wife of a Turkis’ln Prince, and you are to remember that the Murad is what: some people would regard as handsome‘ and girls—~—” ‘

“\V:a1'b01‘011g11,” interrupted Conyng—ham quickly, “don’t! I hope to make that girl my wife.”

The Captain. \vhistled softly, then he. answered, “I am glad to hear it Com yngham. lam convinced now that the Prince must have ‘lifted’ that photograph which is in his possession; but a youth doesn’t do that sort of thing unless he fancies himself in love.”

“But it ‘is preposterous that —-—-" “This: young man,” broke in the Captain, “is a Turk. He comes of one of the proudest races on earth, and is quite capable of thinking that any woman, English or otherwise, might; feel herself honoured; in becoming his wife.”

Conyn‘gham looked at the photograph. “You won’t need this any more, Captain. \Vith your permission I will keep it.” “You are welcome, my boy. But it leaves me with a pretty little problem If the Prince is in love with that girl and she marries you, it is very likely to throw him into the arms of them fellows who are working against us, and by hook or by crook he must be got home before that happens. I shall have my work cut out, I expect.” (To be continued).