KITTY'S FATHER

Auckland Star, Volume XXIV, Issue 94, 22 April 1893, Page 6

KITTY'S FATHER

BY FRANK BARRETT.

[alt, eights reserved].

CHAPTER XII. (Continued.)

STIRRING INCIDENTS.

Yorke opened the street door pulled it to after him with a bang, and when I looked from the window I saw him strolling across ''he road with the solid indifference of a labourer out of work. I lost) no time in taking the box Yorke had left up to Kitty's room, my fear leading me to expect her raturn every minute. Then I filled it with the gloves I had laid on the dressing-table, and set it in the place of fcbe box Kitty s father had taken away. The change might pass unnoticed for a time, but it was clear that) Kitty must nnd it oub sooner or later for this second box had no fastening and did not open with a spring like the other, and I racked my invention m vain fora plausible fiction to account for the substitution. One plan, and only one, recurred to my mind, and that was to leave the discovery to chance, and when Kitty questioned me on the-subject to declare entire ignoranco with regard to what had happened ; but I had never in my life knowingly told my niece an untruth, and the idea of doing so now was the more unacceptable to mo because I felt that I never should have the courage to brazen out the lie. So, finally 1 came to the conclusion that it would be better to tell the truth as far as I dared, and no sooner had I opened tho door to her than I said :

' My dear, 1 have had a visitor during your absence. The person who gave you a wedding present through me last week ba3 brought another box in the place of that which contained the notes. As the request was urgent, I could not, of course, rtjfuso to make die exchange ; and you will find the i:ew box on your ivardrobe, with the cloved inside it that I took out of the other.'

'How odd !' she exclaimed, adding with a li'tlo laugh, 'it is quite a romantic mystery.' Then resardintf me in silance, with tho rsfiective air of one putting the pieces of a puzzle together, she continued, 'someone who loved my mother very dearly—and ifc is nob you —and he will not make himself known to me.'

After another interval of silence she rose, and coming to ray side slipped her arms round my neck, and said gently— ' Can't you tell me more, dear ? Might I not demand your confidence ?'

'Kitty, dear,' I said, 'you must not tempt mo to tell you more. You know it is not want of faith or affection tbatmake3 me silent.1 She kissed me, though I think she was vexed that I did not yield to her wish, and went up to her room without another word. I expected she would at least make some remark with regard to the box when she came down, but th 9 dear girl abstained from saying anything with regard to that or its mysterious origin.

Leaving the orchestra between the acts, I fount? Jack and Kitty at the foot of tho dressing room stairs, Kitty listening in grave in forest, ho speaking in a low tone, with a serious* expression on his face.

' It.'n only too true,' he said, turning to roe, 'my grandfather is dead, and the conclusion is that h<s was murdered.'

' Why, sir, how is that?11 asked,

'Ib turns out that ho drew out a large sum of money from the bank a few days before ho disappeared, and now not a note can be found anywhere. The box in which lie kept his !oose cash and certain valuable papers is gono from his desk, also an old, silver-mounted sandal-wood box.'

With the flash of a horrible conviction I frbneed at Kitty, and found that she was regarding me, and her face was rigid and colourless, like a mask of wax.

CHAPTER XIII.

KITTY LEARNS JI7 REGRET,

It wa? not without a vague expectation of seeing Kitty's father that I raised my eyes to the csllery as I re-entered tho orchestra, nevertheless it gave mo a shock to see that he actually was therein tho place he usually secured in the middln of the front row. His possession of the sandal-wood box left ir,e no doubt thab ho was concerned in tho robbery, if not in the murder of the vicar ; his desire to recover the box made ib scarcely less certain that the discovery of tho crime had been made known to him. Arid yob with the possibility of apprehension before him, he neglected tho Opportunity1 of making his escape sure, and lingered at Birmingham, scarcely more th",n an hour's journey from tho place where t lie police must: be actively engaged in searching for the murderer of Mr Sherridan. Wag it, I asked mypolf, the incomprehensible obbuseness which a criminal so frequently manifests in tho hour of creatojt danger or a passionate desiro to see his daughter one? more before his flight ■—a, desire springing from the terrible forewnrmng thai; he should never again look upon thab living imago of his dead ivifo?

Jack wilted homo with us from the fchearro, kv.v, lie left us at tho door, sayinp that he would run round in the morning befuro leaving for Chester, where the inquasf. was to bo he-Id on his grandfather j;i the afrernoon. The moment we were blono in tho sitting-room Kitty, closing the door, after assuring herself that tho people of the house were not about, said to me in a low, c-arncrfc lono — ' Uncle, who gave you tjiat box with the nobs? in it ?'

'I have told you n.g much, my dear, as I raav toll you,' I replied. >

' You have told inn that it was one who loved my mother very dearly—but thab is not onougb.'

' I can only beg you again not to qrtcs tion me further on fcho pubject.'

'1 cannot be silent. I musb know,' sho said, with desperate earnestness.' 'It is a matter that concorns me too deeply to set asicis.'

I sighed, shaking my head, and sat down, clo°in^ my lips resolutely.

'Perhaps I know who it is,"' she continued, fixing her eyes upon my face—' Is it mv father?'

'My child, thore are others who loved your mother dearly besides your father. You hfivc mat with dozens who remember her with tenderness.' ' Yes, but not one who loved mo for her sake. Tell me,' she entreated, 'is it mv father V

I shifted uneasily in my eeafc, and, without responding, buried my chin in tho palm of ray iianrl, covered nay mouth with my finger.*, as if to prevent the issue of a lie or tho truth.

' If it was not my father who gave you tho box?' she pursued, 'you can have no reason for denying it. You can at least toll me nil you know about him.'

' Haven't I fold you all about him over ond ovor again ?' I answered evasively. - Didn't wo go all over the ground again with old Johnson the other day. You have heart! the same story from a dozen old friend';.'

' j'e.-. But tho Rtory breaks off anfiDioboJ. Tho olci friends will toll me of iiolJiiiiji1 fliat happened to him after my inotlifir'ji denth. You come to that point ;•.!•/! tlion you bianco an me and end with a fii^h aiiJ two little words-" Poor Bob" J n"\\v iv'iaß that means. When we say «• I'j'ir Mary " or " l'oor Lizzie '' it meana that il;uy «ivo done something which wo

Bob, andl i"W* thafc ib was nob right for Tn olonV T?- achild- But I am a chlld mSL bls ri^htJ thab I should lb wouW Ami g t0 slujb »y oyea to the trnjh, '-^^ward in wilful ignorance/ Touched by ft ß dear girl's earnestnesg and persuaded by hor reasoning, I felt ib was impe»y» to refuse this appeal, though 1 still hoped o avoid betraying the fact that the w»«« been given by her father. ' Ifcl3 u !« / tfcydear'' said L 'Your poor father went Wl .on s after your mother's death, Sliced Qa you have heard, on the stage—her "ess catching fire from a footlight, lney w ero moro cai . e i eß3 a b O ut guards than we Bro novi , ie s i loC ; c wa9 more than J°ur father's fortitude could bear. It "panned him. I believe he was oub of ws laind for 3ome time. You were too young t i,, en t0 take the p j ace in bis bears that had bsen filled by your motto There was no longer any home for him- The only hope for him was in forgetfuloese, Snc } j l9 BO ughb that in new occupation, W porpetual change of scene, in the acquaintance of men who knew nothing about hi ß past, and CO uld nob look at him with p% and compassion. He felt the need of continual excitement. He drank deeply, and stop by stop ho fell lower and lover. He got among a bad sot. Hia incapacity f Or s t ea dy work—for you know he never again wen fc on fcQ B t a ge after that mgnMng restlessness kept him down, the influence of bad companions completed his rai n . We saw him rarely _he avoided ÜBf ancl rxiainfealneti a kind of independence; for, whatever his necessity may have been, he never asked for help. One day I heard that he was ip prison. He had met some former acquaintances, and one had spoken slightingly of his wife, Your father noarly killed the man, and was duly punished for it. I met him when he came oub of gaol, and appealed to him to turn over a now leaf for your Ba fc 6i .< Lend me ten pounds," 6aid he, "and I will gc to Amorica and you shall never soe me again." I gave him the money, believing that he wou.d keep his word. But the money came back to me in a letter the nexb week, and it f s needless to say that the money was not sent from America. Then I knew thab ho had fallen again under the old influences, and felb that thero was no hope for him.' 1 thought I mighb end there, but Kitty would not sufter that. ' What did ha do after that ?' she asked, with the firnme3B of one resolved to know the worst. ' Ido not know. I lost sight of him entirely from the day I (rave him the monoy.' ' When was that ?' 'Ten years ago.' ' How do you know that he did not go to America, as he promised?' she asked, quickly seizing the means offered by my halting explanation to defend her father. 1 Are you sure he did not go ?' ' No, my dear.1 'Then might he nob have found some way of getting a passage in the interval, which allowed him to return, before starting, the money you lent. ' To be sure, thab might be,' said I hopefully. 1 It i 3 consistent witli what you say of his indopnndent character, and of a desire to start on the new path without encumbrance, severing the future entirely from the past.' 1 To bo sure, my doar,' I exclaimed. ' Why didn't I think of that ?' She regarded me with silent suspicion for a moment, as if perceiving that I wished to encourage her in a false hope; then she said— ' When did you soe him again ?' 1 Ely dear?' said I, interrogatively, as if J had not heard distinctly. ' You said just now, in oflbcfc, that, he did nofc keep his promise. You have no proof that he did not go to America, so what you said must refer to the second part of the promise, that you should nob see him again.' Perceiving that I was no match for my keen-witted niece at this cross-examination, I was silent. 'I am nob askiDg you to break any bond of secrecy you may have mado with regard to the box,' sho pursued quickly ; ' I only wish to know when you saw my father again.' I was compelled to admit thab I saw him next on the laeb night of our pantomime

season. ' What did he say to you the D.' 'Ho was anxious about your welfare. Ho knew the man Strathsay was persecuting you. He wished thab you should marry and leave the stage.' ' When did you see him again ?' ' Last Monday.' 'That was my fafcbor, the man you went down on the racecourao to see about staking my money.' "' Yes, Kitty. He had told me that if you needed money I was to let him know. I knew thai; if the comedy succeeded, .Jack would ba in a position r,o make you his wife, and whan I told your father that he promised to let me have the money we needed the next day.' 'And that money he gave you with the box on Tuesday afternoon ?' ' Yes ;ho kept his word.' Her colourless lips trembled, and suddenly she covered her white face with her hands and burst into tears. ' It was for my sake,' she sobbed. I wont to cnmfort her if I could, bub brusquely checking me. ancl dashing the tears impatiently fr°m lier ey ei<l , s^e suici: ' Wliero is he now, my father ?' "I cannot tell you—but—' 'But what!' ' Ho was in the tboatro to-night.' ' At the theatre to-night! &nd the denth of Mr Shorridan ia already known. Wo mui-t find him uncle, and lob him know.' She started to her feet, as if in her despernlion she thought it possible to eeek him ; then she sa nk down again, faint with the sense of her iiupotency, as I asked liow it was possible for unto find him. 'At least,' B bo said, as her courago revived, ' you a, u st (jo to Chester to-morrow and learn whether'there is any hope or whether there is anything that can be dono to save him.' I promised I would go with Jack and attend the inquest, though I was hopeless of I doing any good in tnjfcli l felb lnlserabl-v I helpless, seeiDi/'what a poor hand I was at keeping a secret and how much unnecessary pain I had' inflicted on poor Kitty through my incapacity to make a vigorous resistance and' silence her -inquiries, and whatmifichiehniHit ariso from admitting i even his daughter to the secret of Yorko 3 crime. Thefosb consideration spelled me to give her a word of caution. ' % dear' said I, :lt is clear t0 mb that I have told you much more than your claim to information justified, and that 1 have made matters worse than I found "'em. I mujt warn you against falling into the same error. -For your tathor g sake you must not repeat a word I have told you to any livin»being.' ' Is it likely "hat rahonld betray my own father?' she asked, indignantly. 1 Nob willing lam sure. But it .struck me that, with the beat intentions in the world, you tniVfc conßdo in Jack, believing tliafc he could avert a catastrophe. ' Jack,' ehe^claimed, with a start, ati if «nder i;h e shock of a "cW revelation. lor a moment she Lked at wo in wild consternation ; then in a fcreraulouH voice that scarcely rose above a whisper, ahe said- _ 'Tell Jack i' and dropping her face in lier hands L-gt onco more into tears, murmuring ijgtween t>lo nsin- Bob3' 'Never, neverf , , T >- ■ She would Lt be contorted. Rising wit'> a de 9 pai|^; shako of her head .he loft mo andVelt up to ber room to griuvo in solitude. ;

I was up betimes the next morning, and having given half an hour to the timetable, I went upstairs and tapped at Kitty's door,

' Shall I send you a cup of tea, my dear ?' I asked. 'No,' she replied. 'I am getting up ; I shall bo down soon.' ' Don't hurry on my account, dear. I can have breakfast by myself.' Then 1 added, after a pause, ' I find there's a train from Chester brings mo in at 6.37, so 1 shall bo home in time to tako you to the theatre.'

'If there is anyt!>'!ig pressing you will telegraph, won't ye.i. : 'Of course, my dear.' I paused again, then said,—' When Jack comes I'll tell him you have a headache, shall I ?' 1 No ; I will sco him before you go,' she answered gravely. Knowing she must have had a bad night, and still be suffering from mental agitation, it seemed to be advisable that she should avoid meeting him just now. In her place I should have beon glad to get out of an ombarrassing position on any pretext. Not she. Her pluck and spirit rose in proportion to the difficulties and peril of the situation. That was evident in her meeting with Jack. Her composure and self command astonished mo. Shespqke of my going with him to attend tho inquest, as if it were merely to gratify our curiosity. Nothing in her manner could have revealed to the most keen observer that she entertained the terrible dread of that inquest throwing suspicion of murder upon her father. There was no foar of her betraying his secret. To save him she could cheat even the man ! she loved.

(To le continued.)