WHAT HARGREAVES KNEW

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 68, Issue 28, 13 November 1947, Page 7

WHAT HARGREAVES KNEW

| . * serial Story |

f-{ A N By REGINALD TEMPLE I

§ ■* .(Copyright). 3,

CHAPTER 111. THE “SECRET” Within an hour of this conversation Mr Reuben Gales himself arrived at Beggar’s End to see Sir John. He had a pale face with small, penetrating eyes, and thin lips wfiich closed so firmly that they almost disappeared. Reuben was, so far as profession went, a man of great moral purpose. He shunned evil and loved the good, and had no . dealings with anyone who did otherwise. This might portray Mr Reuben Gales as a likeable man, though it is not meant to do >3O. The difficulty was that he went by his own standards only, when differentiating between good and bad. ‘He compounded the sins he was inclined to by damning those he had no mind to. Hargreaves assisted him on with his coat when the time came for him to go. “Ah. Mr Gales,” he said, “Sir John has perhaps told you that we are shortly to have a visitor?” «• “Yes, he mentioned it,” replied Mr Gales. “I’m sure you will do your best to put up with him, though it is difficult to touch pitch and remain undefiled.” - i

“Very true, sir, very Hue, sir,” said Hargreaves. “I shall be most careful. I value Sir John’s confidences more than I can say. He tells me a great deal.” '

As Hargreaves spoke the words, a look of interest leapt into the small eyes of Mr Reuben Gales. “I know a great deal about Sir John’s affairs,” continued Hargreaves. “He even trusted me some time ago, sir, to witness his will.” At the mention of Sir John’s will there came into Mr Reuben Gale’s face an avaricious expression. “Really,” he said. “He must have great trust in you, Hargreaves —and for that matter, so have I. I’m quite sure Sir John’s will would be an interesting document.”. He was thinking quickly as he spoke Could it be possible that Sir John had actually told Hargreaves the contents of the will?

“Im sorry, sir,” continued the underbutler, “but my loyalty to Sir John prevents me telling you about the will, 'is is, as you say, a very intei'esting document —a very interesting document indeed.’-'

“Equally divided amongst his four relatives, I suppose,” queried Reuben Gales.

Hargreaves allowed one of .his eyes to 'close in a sly wink. “That would be telling, Mr Gales, wouldn’t it,” he murmured, dropping his tone. “You may take it from me, however, that it’s far more interesting than that.” Reuben Gales shifted uneasily. He wanted to ask Hargreaves definitely, yet hesitated, lest the under-butler should tell Sir John of his inquiry. “Of course,” he said in a J.ow tone, “as a solicitor I am interested.” “And also as Mr Reuben Gales, I take the liberty of presuming,” said Hargreaves. Gales’s hand went straight to his pocket,\ and he handed Hargreaves a pound note. , Hargreaves bowed silently as he received it, with a murmured “thank you, sir.”

“Yes,” continued Mr Reuben Gales in a whisper. “To me, as Mr Reuben Gales also. Of course, I don’t want to pry into Sir John’s affair at all, but if you ever feel like telling me any details, you may be sure they will not be passed on>” “If I could he sure of that,” replied Hargreaves, sibilantly, “I would tell you; in fact sir, I rather feel that you ought to know —it concerns you more than you think.” , By this time Gales was consumed with self-interested curiosity.

“Look here, Hargreaves,” he said “Let’s be frank with each other. I’m willing tb give you five pounds if you will tell me the nature of Sir John’s will.”

Hargreaves- rubbed his mouth with the flat of his arid, and gazed at the ceiling. “Well, I’m taking a very great risk in telling you, sir,” he murmured, “but I’m not quite sure, in view of • the good news I could tell you that five pounds would cover my risk. Now, if you’d said ten pounds ” At that moment, a door opened upstairs, and Sir John’s steps were heard.

“Quickly, then, whispered Gales. “I’ll make it ten,” and he hurriedly produced two crisp five pound notes. “Here you are Hargreaves, now tell me.”

“Well, as a matter of fact,” said Hargreaves. “The will is entirely in your favour, sir —everything, lock, stock and barrel.” ■ Perspiration broke out on the brow of,Mr Reuben Gales. “I thank you, I'thank you.” he gasped. , “That’s quite all right,” returned Hargreaves. “I’ll promise you not, to influence Sir John to make any change. I’ve considerable influence over him, as you know. Now 1 must return to Mr Rumpus. Good afternoon, sir.” It was two days after Hargreaves had told Gales this beautiful lie that James Fairfield arrived at Beggar’s End. ***** The nearest station to Beggar’s End was the one-platformed halt of Floody Wyngates, six miles away. It was at this station that Mr James Fairfield arrived when he came on his visit to his uncle. -

Sir John directed Cleasby, the groom, to meet his nephew with the dog->cart. The train was late —as all trains at Floody Wyngates were. Iu fact James Fairfield himself had once remarked that trains only stopped there when they were tired. The arrival came near to being marked by tragedy, for Cleasby, having grown tired of waiting, had adjourned to the “Live and Let Live” a short distance away, and he returned in time to find James Fairfield duly established with his luggage in a rusty motor-car, owned by a small local gar> age, which occasionally met trains. Cleasby raced down the road in anguish, lest Mr James should escape and enter the grounds of Beggar’s End in a motor-car.

“For the love of Heaven, sir,” he cried, “get out of that there thing!” “Really, Cleasby,” exclaimed James Fairfield. “This will be much quicker, won’t it, and it’s quite comfortable. You follow with the luggage.”

“Oh you mustn’t do it, sir! It’ll break Sir John’s heart, and not only that, he’d hbout half kill me for letting you do it.” “Do what?” asked Jimmie innocent-

ly. • “Drive up to Beggars End in a blasted thing like that—begging your pardon, Mr James. Surely, sir, you have not forgotten that he don’t allow motors anywhere near him?” James heaved a resigned sigh. “Yes, I had forgotten, Cleasby. It’s difficult tp remember all my uncle’s whims. Anyhow, if it pleases you, I’ll get down and join you.” The disaster being averted. Cleasby smiled again, and presently he was driving his master’s nephew at a pleasant trot towards Beggar’s End. James Fairfield was good to look upon. He was tall —somewhere in the neighbourhood of six feet —and spare, though not to the point of thinness. He was clean-shaven, with remarkably blue eyes, and, by accident or de-sign—-'most probably the latter—he wore a soft collar and shirt of a blue which corresponded with them. He carried an ash stick which, by its colour and surface, had been a close friend, and in the country, he always wore a cap slightly too large for him { which managed to assume, an angle which Reuben Gales had been knowD to describe as “fast.” As he drove along the lanes to the accompaniment of the ever-sweat sound of a good horse’s hoofs, he felt pleased with the countryside to which he had been summoned. Most of the trees were bare, with the exception of the oaks, and even these 'were already shedding their brown leaves in the lanes. Cock pheasants screeched in the woods, and once the mare shied as one of the vividly-marked birds whirred across the road almost under her nose. It was pleasant to think that all this land belonged to hi® uncle, and that there was at least a possibility of its eventually belonging to hmiself, though judging from his uncle’s present attitude, he could not consider the likelihood strong. In any case, he reflected, he was not going to make himself a slave, even for Beggar’s End. (To be Continued)

The characters in this story are entirely imaginary. No reference is intended to any living person or to any public or private company.