A Husband by Proxy

Auckland Star, Volume XLI, Issue 161, 9 July 1910, Page 16

A Husband by Proxy

CHAPTER XXVm. A HELPLESS STTTJATIOISr. Conf useu thus to. find himself in the presence of Dorothy as -well.as.Garrison, Tuttle snatched off his liat;.and looked about him. helplessly. "How are you, Tuttle?" said Garrison. ''Glad to see you. Come hack in fifteen minutes, will you? I want your report." '"Fifteen minutes; yes, eir," said Tattle, and he backed from the place. "Who was that?"' said Dorothy. "Anyone connected with the case?" " • "A man that Theodore hired to shadow mc," said Garrison. "I took . him into camp, and now he is shadow ing Theodore. Let mc ask you one or two questions before he returns. Yon ■were ill the. morning after I left, and did not go at all to West-etreet. ■ 'I.couldn't go," she said. "I tried not to give up and be so ill, but, per- ■ hap?, the effects of the drug -that the Robinsons employed caused the trouble. At last I thought you might have written to the West-street address, so I sent around and got your letters, before I could even send a wire." ""You -wired because Fairfax had appeared?"' "Yeis, I thought you ought to know." '"How did you know he was here in (London? Dj.il he teaS lat the ihouse ■where you were staying?" "-Co; he sent a note declaring he would call. That was this mornins. Sliss Ellis's friend, of the 'Star,' had an intuition as to who we were that evening when he called. When I finally requested Miss Ellis to ask him. not to print more stories about us, he had already spoken to the editor, and more of the matter had appeared. Since you left, however, I haven't seen a single reporter" ''Fairfax got his clue to your -whereabouts from the Press, of course. The quest-ion now is, where do you wish to go? And what do you wish mc to do— ccn-eerning the role I have filled?" Dorothy was thoroughly disturbed by the topic. "Oh, I don't know what to do," she confessed. 'T wish I could never see that man again! What do you advise?" "We hardly know what the situation may require till we discover more about this latest -will," said Garrison. "Thing 3 ', may be altered materially. If you wish "it, you can doubtless manage to secure ' a divorce from Fairfax. In the mean- ■ time, I would strongly advise that you secure-apartments"Tvithont - delay;--where no one can iin-1 you again." She looked at Mm wistfully. "Not even you?" - ---'Tm afraid yon'll have to see mc, once "; in a while," he toldvher, .suppressing the * passionate outcry of, his./heart, "unless . you wish-to .secure the services of somewho will make no ~ She was hurt. She . loved. hiinT Her nature cried out forV'th'ej" sure protection of his arms, but Ker womanhood forbade, ilore than anything else in the world she wished to please him, but not by confessing her fondness. ■However' much'she "might loathe' the thought, she was the wife of Jerold Fairfax, with everything precious to guard. By the token of the wound that Garrison had inflicted, she knew.. that ...she had r-srounded" him; "Tt could not have" been avoided—there was nothing but a chasm between them. "Please do not make mc feel that I - have been utterly despicable," she pleaded. 'TTou have made no mistakes —in the conduct of the case. I should be so helpless without you." Garrison knew he had hurt her. He ■was sorry. He knew her position was the only one-possible~for~a woman suet as he could love. He reviled himself for his selfishness. He forced himself now to return her gaze with co hint of anything save business in his eyes- _ "Dorothy, I shall be honoured to continue with your work," he said. "I mean to see you through." "Thank you—Jerold," she said. Her yoice all Tint broke. She had never loved Mm so much as now, and because of that Bad given the one -little joy of calling himthus by his name. She added more bravely: 'Til find a room and send you the address as soon as , possible. Meantime, I hope we will soon discover about this latest will." "I shall do my best." he assured her. fLet mc take you now to the lift, in case anyone stculd be waiting for you. Get yourself a heavy veil, and be "sure you avoid being, followed when you are seeking a room. Take the apartment in the name of Miss Root, and send mc word in ; fhai name also, just for precaution. Leave Fairfax and the others to mc. I may go up to Manchester about the will." He opened the door, but she hesitated a moment longer. "I hope it will all end somehow for the best,*' she said. "It very hard for you.-" He smiled, but not mirthfully. "It was here in this room C£: assumed my role," he said, "and here I drop it." For a moment she failed to understand. "Drop it?" she echoed, "How?" "I'm no longer even yonr pseudo-hus-band. I drop the name Fairfax, with all it might imply." . She blushed crimson and could not meet his gaze. "I'm sorry if Fve been- the cause-—" she started. Garrison interrupted. "I'm glad—glad of everything that's happened. We'll say no more of that. But—Theodore—how- he \riH gloat over this!" "If he finds out Mr.-Fairfax is mad, he could .overthrow the -will." suggested DorotEy. "But—what's the use of thinking of that, if a new will comes to light? It's a dreadfully mixed affair." She stepped out in the hall, and Garrison led the way to the lifts farther to the rear. The chains of a car -were descending rapidly. "Please try not to detest the hour I came to see yon first," she said, holding out her hand, "if you can." '"11l try." said Garrison, holding the preeioiis little fingers for a second over the conventional time. ■ Glancing up at him quickly she saw a bright smile in his eve. Joy was in her heart. The lift was at the floor. "Good-bye." she said, "till we meet again—soon." "Good-bye." he s answered. : , She stepped - in. the cage and . was dropped from his sight, but her last glance remained—and made himhappy.

CHAPTER XX3X

By JACK STEELE

■ - - _KI&H;T-WAL.K^Sr Tuttle Had returned by- the time Garrispn got back to his office. He entered the room behind -his- chief, and Garrison closed the door. - said Jerold,-"' f any news " "I- got- Ebld-"" of —young Eobiason," - enswered. Xuttle, "He's gone to a small .'tesoict jiamed Boscombe. "pal itfie. 'cpas^

but his father doesn't know his business, or if he-does he denies it." "Boscombe?" said Garrison, who realised at once that Theodore had gone there to search out the registrar who had married Dorothy and Fairfax. "Is he there still ?" "He hadn't come home this morning." What so long an absence on Theodore's part might signify was a matter purely [Of conjecture. There was nothing more to be done but await developments. Whatever young Robinson's scheme, it might be wholly disorganised by the latest will that John Hardy had drawn. "What about the two hooligans—the fellows who attacked mc in the park?" inquired Garrison. "Have you found out anything concerning them " Tuttle replied with a question. "Haven't you seen it in the papers?" "Seen what?" " Why, the bomb explosion and the rest of it—an anarchist business last night," answered Tuttle. "One of our pair was killed right out, and the other one's dying, from a premature explosion of onp of their gas-pipe cartridges. They attempted to blow up a boiler under a building belonging to a man they'd tried to blackmail, and it killed '-em both." -He took from his pocket a two-column clipping from a morning- newspaper and placed it on the desk. '" Out of my hands, then; no chance to convict them," commented Garrison reflectively, as he glanced through the article. " I'll keep this, if you don't mind," he added. "It may be useful with Robinson—in helping to warm up his blood." "I tried to carry out instructions," said Tuttle, "but I couldn't find out where they were till this came out in print. I hope there's something else I can do." ■ Garrison thought for a moment. "How many times have you been here to report?" '"Two or three times every day." "Have you noticed a tall," light-haired man, with a long moustache, around here, either to-day or yesterday?" ''If he's got blue eyes and wears a brown striped suit, he was here this morning and asked mc where he could find you,"' Tuttle answered. "la that your man?" "The same. His name is Fairfax. He's the real Fairfax. Hell be likely to return. Until Robinson appears again, you can keep him shadowed for a time. Find where he lives., where he goes and what he does." "Anything more?" "Keep track of the elder Robinson, and let mc know as soon, as Theodore returns." TuttJe rose as if to go. He hesitated, turning his hat in his hands. "Would it be asking too much if I suggested I need a little money?" he inquired. "The Robinsons pay with hot air." • "I can let you have five pounds," said Garrison, pulling out a note. "That do?" "Pine," said Tuttle, receiving the money. "When shall I : ?** A telegraph boy came plunging in at the door without the slightest formality. "Telegram for Garrison," he said. "Wait half a minute. Tuttle/'' said Garrison, tearing open the envelope, as the boy was departing, and he read the wire almost at a glance. It was dated from Hertford. "Come up here as soon as possible. Important. James Pike." For a moment Garrison failed to re- | member the personality of James Pike. J Then it came with a flash—the coroner. Aware at once that the rumour of murder in the Hardy case had been spread and discussed all over the country,- he ■ realised "that-Pike, and others I who had been concerned when John I Hardy's body was found in their jurisi. diction, might have come upon newmaterial. "Nothing to add to instructions," he said to Tuttle. "I shall be out of town and perhaps a part of to-mor-row." Tuttle took his leave. Garrison paced up and down the office floor for half an hour. He was very much in hopes that word might come from Dorothy as to where she had chosen a room. The afternoon was gone and he was famished. He left at last, went to a restaurant, ate a hearty meal, and returned to the office rather late. On the floor lay a special delivery letter. It was from Dorothy. It began "Dear Jerold." but it merely informed him she had found apartments in Madia Avenue, not far from Albert-street. He wrote her a note to acquaint her with the fact.that new developments called him at once to Hertford whence he might continue to Manchester, and this, with a dozen magnificent roses, he sent by special messenger to Miss Jeraldine Boot. He was able to catch a fairly early train from King's Cross Station. ' A little after eight o'clock he arrived £n Hertford, found Dr. Pike's house ablaze with light, and was ushered in to that busy gentleman, who rose in excitement to grasp him by the hand. "You got my wire?" demanded Dγ, Pike. "I'm awfully glad you have come. I discovered something in the Hardy case that I think you ought to know. I've a man coming in fifteen minutes who read about the suspicions of murder and the rest of it, and he declares he saw a stranger at Benges on the night of Hardy's death get into Hardy's room at Mrs. Wilson's. It just struck mc you ought to know, and so I wired." "Thank you very much," said Gaxrir son. "I consider this very important. Who is your man?" "He is not a man. he's a , iboy; young Will Barnes," amended the coroner. "Most people think he's just a lazy, noaceount young fellows, .hut -Pve always said he had the making of a man in him. Goes fishing a good deal, of course, but There he goes now!" He ran to the door, through the glass of which he had seen a tall, lanky youth across the way. "Hi, Will!" he called, "come , here, the London man is -waiting!" Young Barnes came slowly across the ■highway. "I've got to get some hooks," he said. "If I don't get 'em now the shopil he" shut.". "This is more important than hooks," answered Dr. Pike. "Come in here. Mr Garrison,. this is Mr Barnes. Will, Mr Garrison, the detective." i Quite unimpressed by Garrison's personality or calling, Will advanced and shook bis hand. ■Garrison.-looked him over quickly. .] : .-'YoTi're the man wJi-o.saw a stranger going into Hardy's room, at Mrs Wil- ; son's, the night that Hardy died, I believe?" he said. . 'Bow did you 'happen to 'be there?" 'He lives quite near, 35 volunteered Dr. Pike. .. . "I was -gefctin' worms," said .Win. yr<onnsp .sttppHed Dr. Pake;

"Angle-iwonns walk at night and Will gets them for bait. Goes out with a ' dark lantern and picks them up." "I see," said Garrison. "What sort of a looking person was the man who got into Mrs Wilson's houee?" "A little man; that's all I could see," said the youthful angler. The description tallied closely •with, all that Garrison had heard of Hugh. Cleave, ' or Foster Durgin. "Very good," he said, "Did 70U see " -what lie did in the room?" . . f "Didn't do nothin' but steal a couple I of cigars," informed the disciple of'Wal--5 ton. "-He. wasn't there more than a minute about." "But he did steal a couple of cigars?" 3 echoed Ga-rrison, keenly alert to the vital significance af this new evidence. _ "Did he take them from the table?" j. "No. Took 'em out of a box." I "Then came out of the -window and departed?" , "Yes, he sneaked out." » "Why didn't you tell anyone of this t before?" "Nobody asked mc." . "And he hasn't any use for Mrs Wilson, nor ehe for him," supplemented the coroner. "But I thought you ought to . know." l '"Would you know the man again if r you should see him?" Garrison inquired. r "Certainly." 1 "Do you know where ihe went when he j. left the house, or yard? Did you follow j_ ■aim at all?" j "No, the worms was too thick." Garrison knew the lay of the yard j at Mrs Wilson's. He knew the room. j There was no particular reason for visiting the scene again. TheTe was nothing, in fact, to do at all except to visit the dealer in London who had sold the cigars to Dorothy, and hope for news of Foster , Durgin or the speedy arrival of the photograph of Cleave, which the old man , in Birchington had promised. He asked 1 one more, question: ■. "Was he young or old?" ' { "Don't know," said Will, grinning. - "He didn't say." Garrison rose to go. "This is all of the utmost importance. j I may be obliged to have you come up to London—if I can find the man. But w-hen you come it will be at mj ex- [ pense." I "The fishin's very good now," objected Will. "I don't know about London." i "You can pick yourself out a twenty- , shilling rod," added Garrison. "11l tele- [ graph you when to come." ; Garrison left for Manchester at once. He found himself obliged to take a 1 roundabout course which 'brought him • there late in the night. i In the morning he succeeded in running I down a John Spikeman, who had served ; as Hardy's lawyer for many years. The man was ill in bed, delirious, a condition which had lasted for several diaysj Naturally 'no word concerning the Hardy affair had corae to his notice —hence his silence on the subject, a silence which Garrison had not hitherto ■ understood. He could not be seen, and to see him would have been of no avail, since his mind was 'temporarily deranged. The utmost that Garrison could do was to go to the clerk at his office. The man, a very fleshy person, decidedly punctilious, was most reluctant to divulge what he was pleased to term the professional secrets of the office. Under pressure of flattery and a clever cross-examination, he at length admitted that Mr. Hardy had drawn a will within j a week of his death, that Mr. Spikeman ] 1 had declared it perfect, and that he and another had signed it' as witnesses all in proper form. Concerning the contents of the document he was absolutely dumb. • No amount of questioning, flattery, or persuasion would induce him to dilvuge so much as a word of what he had witnessed. Garrison gave up with one moTe inquiry: ! "Was the will deposited here in Mr. Spikeman's safe?" j. "No, sir," said the clerk; "Mr. Hardy took it with him when he went." ', Garrison's hopes abruptly withered. (To be continued daily.)