AT BEAUTY'S BAR

Auckland Star, Volume XLI, Issue 243, 13 October 1910, Page 8

AT BEAUTY'S BAR

BY ROGER K. WENLEIGH

CHAPTER IX.—(Continued.) "You have no right to say that, considering the circumstances I have created in this house for your sake." retorted Lady Alexia passionately. "Has not Mr Willoughby shut his doors on his | own son, and put you in his place? And that is my doing. As for your father, 1 could not prevent the will he made.' , iSore with jealousy from head to heel, angTy and sulky. Algernon Xorthcote was in too irritable a mood to spare the mother who loved him, and was willing to bear with him. ! "I dent know about preventing it," he said, with a short laugh; "I should say the will was your fault, somehow. A man does not beggar an only child for nothing. And as for what you have done here, I think you owed mc some I reparation." ! "And have I not tried to give it?" "I don't say you have not," he answered in a softer tone; "but, if so, j why not recognise it as a necessity and an act of justice as well, and not be always lamenting the business, and throwing it in my face as a reproach?" "1 have never done that, Algernon." Her voice faltered, the terrible flush which spoke of pain crimsoned her cheeks, .but her son went blindly on: "Yes, you have, and I am tired of it. I am not a good fellow. I own it. I i don't pretend to be good, and I hate to ihear these everlasting lamentations like i the prophet Jeremiah. If the thing was I a necessity, and had to be done, let us J stand by it, and not ask whether it was good or bad—that's my way of doing things." His hard, mocking tone swept over her ears like a cold wind. She thought of all [she had done and suffered for him, she I remembered the danger threatening her J —the lurking, ambushed danger, which I might spring upon her at any moment — and her heart trembled within her like a leaf. Mechanically she put her hand beneath her pillow on the pocketbook, and grasped it with a fainting clutch. "You agitate mc. Algernon; you must not talk to mc like this." "Oh, if I excite you. I had better go away altogether. But there is not much time for talk; the doctor will be here soon, and Mr Willoughby will be coming in, too, -so this is the only chance we shall have of a quiet time. Still, J can go, if my presence annoys you." "Have you no pity?" she asked, faintly, "You assail mc with useless reproaches, and you talk of Minnie Pemberton when you know my- heart is sick with terror, when you know all there is at stake. Xo—there I wrong you; you do not know all that depends on one man's silence." Roused at last by self-interest and fear, he flings off his sullen temper, and leans over her anxiously. "Do you mean the man you saw last night?"" "1 mean him. Have you found him? — have you traced him?" Her fevered hand grasps his wrist, and her eyes are fixed on his face in a gaze of agony. "I can hear nothing of him. mother. , Try to describe him to mc, will you? — and be cool over it—don't fiurrv yourself?" "How can I describe him? It was dark; 1 scarcely saw his face. Oh, if 1 had only known—if I had only known!" "What, mother? You talk wildly! I can't understand you." She is speaking of the letter she received that morning, but she answers him falsely. "I was thinking of the girl whom Fleetwood struck down. Why did he kill her? l)o you know?" "Through jealousy, I believe. It has transpired that some old lover of hers • paid her a visit, and robbed him, so he i says, with her connivance." • S.he hears him but scarcely listens. "You must find him, Algernon; you must get those papers from him, and— and even aid him to escape the country." "That would be bad policy, mother. The safest plan is to leave the man alone. He is a poor vaga.bond; he'll come to mc for money; he'll seek mc out, depend on it, if he really has any papers affecting either you or mc." "Why sh-ould he not seek out Frank WiDoug-hby ?" "He can, and he may. We must risk that." There is a moment's silence; Lady Alexia closes her eyes, and her breath ; becomes short and painful. "'You see, mother," resumes her son, "liow precarious my position is here! And I should he a fool indeed if I lost sight of Minnie Pemberton and her enormous fortune. Moreover, I have the oddest, maddest liking for the girl, and • it grows on me —time does not diminish , it. I wou'id not have troubled myself about Frank Willoughby but for her. I have often wished you would leave mc > alone, with your plans and schemes to ; get mc back the Xorthcote money. 1 should not have cared for it but for your constantly harping on that theme, and .bewailing the injustice of it. That , first undermined my principles; and then. when Minnie came on the field, and Frank cut mc out there, I let go the reins . and went headlong down hill. And I , don't care; I would do it again. I have I staked life and soul on getting that . girl." There are many stings in this speech , which wound Lady Alexia sorely. It , was as if he had shown her that once , he had a kindly, boyish heart which ! she had warped , to evil. "It was cruelly unjust," she eaid . passionately. "I could not help feeling . it, and telling you what I felt. How dared he make such a will? I hope he is where he has to answer for it. Had I been a scheming devil, he had no right to visit my sins upon your head! ,, "Let t'uv old man be," answered Algerj non. "He was jealous; he was old, and you were young; you should not have married him." "He should not have married mc, you mean," she said 'bitterly. "Men too well know how to a take advantage of a girl's , ignorance and anxious poverty. Why did he not choose a woman of a fitting age for him? Such a woman might have loved him: he knew I could not. Do not take his part against mc, Algernon. 1 will not endure it." . "You excite yourself for nothing. • am no: taking his part: 1 oai only saying, if a girl marries an old man, she , knows she is not marryinsr for love; and ' a good many things may happen, you [ see, to make the children of such a mar- , riage curse her and him too!" "Do you know you are talking t horribly?" . "1 dare say I am. I know, too. I an) ' in a horrible fix. and you can't help mc j out of it, though you got mc into it." This last brutal speech overcomes her patience, and rouses her courage. i "You are ungrateful!" she says indignantly. "I have saved you from the

Author of "Friends and Rivals," "An Irresistible Temptation, ,9 "A. Prolonged Truce," etc.

consequences of a hundred follies! And if I were well I would save you again. 1 would find this man Fleetwood, or die in the attempt!" -Fleetwood , . It is easy enough to find him. You surely do not think we have been talking of him all this time?" ■■Of whom else?" s-he asks passionately. "j\nd -where can you find him?" •■ln "Wranjrham paol!" he answers. "He was lodged there last night, but The remainder of the sentence upon his lips unspoken, for Lady AJexia ha.s fallen back upon her pillow, her face growing gradually of a livid wMte, her eyes fixed without meaning. With one sharp glance of anguish he feels his words have been her deathblow! He knows not why, and yet some instin-et had made him hold them T>ack, til! in hie sullen carelessness he uttered them, and struck, her down as with a stroke of lightning. Yet in a moment she rallies her broken strength, and with returning sense her eyes gather an awful look, and gaze into his in agony unutterable. "Are you sure—quite sure Fleetwood io taken?" Her voice is but a whisper; Algernon barely hears it as he leans over her in terror and remorse. ''My dear mother, I telegraphed to Wrangham on purpose to make sure. But why alarm yourself about this? AYe shall find means to stop his mouth if, nn his trial, he attempts to speak of other people." "Why alarm myself! Merciful Heaven, all is lost! He had them with him last nrcrht—those papers! They must be in the hands of the police now!" "Listen, mother. The man who spoke to you was here at twelve o'clock; Fleetwood was arrested last night at ten." She listens with all her being. She puts her hand across her forehead and gathers in the meaning of his words slowly. Then once more her fevered fingers seize his, and she draws him nearer to her pale lips. "I understand. I perceive what it means. The police have taken the wrong man. It was Fleetwood -who spoke to mc. Algernon, you must find him! He told me""he had the papers. And he has ethers—letters—letters of mine, which he stole! Bear in mind what I say. He holds proofs of Frank's innocence, and— and that other packet! You must bring it to mc untouched! Go—go at once in search of Mm. How can he be far off when only yesterday at midnight he was here? He looked so poor, so broken down: he has no money for a long journey; he is in hiding somewhere near." To all this, said rapidly and incoherently, Algernon listened with senses sharpened by anxiety. In his own mind he felt assured the prisoner at Wranghaan was the true Fleetwood, but he dared not impress this conviction on his mother. He saw that in holding on to the faint hope of a mistaken identity she was, in fact, nolding on to life. "Shall I go to Wrangham and see for myself if the prisoner is Fleetwood?-' he asks, hesitating a little, because he knows in his heart it is such a forlorn hope. iShe, however, catches at it eagerly. "Yes, go," she says, "and hurry back to let mc know the truth." Hurry back! Xo, that was the last thing he wished to do. If he must bring death to her, at least he would not be a swift messenger. 'Xo. on the contrary, I would return slowly, searching on the way for that fellow," he said, avoiding the gaze of her fever-bright eyes. "That is, if you can bear the suspense." "I must bear it," ehe answered. "But would it not be wiser to search for Fleetwood on your way to Wrangham, instead of on your return? By that time it will be much harder to find him, whereas now it is certain he is somewhere in this neighbourhood." "Quite true. And I have thought of a plan. I will drive to Wrangham, and prosecute n-ry inquiries- and my search myself on the road. You see, I must be very careful and cautious, or I shall set the police on the alert." "You must avoid doing that," she returned earnestly. "Let us hope they will not discover the mistake they have made for a few days. It is a long drive to Wranarham; you will be four days getting there." "Xo, not more tTian' three. Xow I shall say good-bye, and trust to mc to pull through this scrape safely. Give mc a cheque for expenses, and keep up a good heart, old lady." This was Algy's way of speaking; it did not mean much, but even such a. poor gho.-t of cheerfulness as this encouraged her. She gave the cheque, and in giving it. put her arm around him, drew his face to hers, and kissed him. In doing this, she disarranged and threw aside an Indian shawl lying on the bed, and the open letter, which, she had hidden beneath it, was now plainly visible. As Algernon Xorth-cote's eyes fell on it he grew phastly white. "I know that writing!" he exclaimed. "In Heaven's name, why has that man written to you?" She gave him no answer. She laid her hand on the letter and held it fast. "You had better tell mc," Algernon continued, in a white heat, either with fear or anger. "I will not <ro to Wrangham. I will not compromise myself wi. r h regard to the wretch Fleetwood, unless you are frank with mc. This is dangerous work. What is it you are doing?" "Nothing," slip answered. i "Nothing!" he repeated. "What arrangement are you making with Fleetwood? That is my question. What a folly is this secrecy! You will ruin mc and yourself!" "It is an affair of my own, Algernon. I have a right to be secret if I please. And how can I bo making any 'bargain with Fleetwood when I don't know where he is?" "Will you say that?" Algernon cried, his dilated eyes fixed on .the letter. "Why. 3-011 know the man is in Wrangham Gaol. You know it as well -as I do. Yor.r disbelief i-s a pretence—it must be. Mother, why are yoii deceiving mc?" His last words are kinder, softer, and j his voice is hurried and broken. No: ! without reason, for Lady Alexia has anj swered him by a dying looi-c. The same ; agony that had -seized her in the garden has her in its clutch again, only with a tenfold strength. "See if Dr. Kverard is here," she says faintly. Appalled, 'he rushes from -the room to do her bidding, and she is left alone ■with her agony. How many moments has she? She knows not. But she uses them well. With superhuman courage, she conquers her pain, unlocks the little 'book beneath her pillow, and tears Lord ilarvale's letter to pieces with firm fingers. The other letter also ahe tears across