Amends for All.

Auckland Star, Volume XLII, Issue 136, 9 June 1911, Page 10

Amends for All.

' CHAPTER 111. : GREEN IN MASQUERADE. So loud, so shrill, so piercing was this cry of terror that Green uttered, that it penetrated even to the mind of Edward Thorold, utterly possessed as he was by his own dark thoughts. "Ah, Frank, Frank!" he sighed as j&oftly as a mother whispers the name of her babe; "ah, Frank—my brother Frank." Then he started and turned ou Green with an angry look. "What was that you said?" he demanded. "Just look for yourself," panted Green in terror, pointing through the window to the approaching form of tho Inspector, who was driving towards the house in a dog cart. "Let's rough it— let's run," he panted. "On your car," he suggested eagerly, "he couldn't catch that." Taking no notice of his trembling companion, Thorold went to the window and remained for a moment or two watching Inspector Lock's approach. Then he looked back again at the pale and lovely face of dead boy behind him. It sjiemed as if in that glance he, as his eyes rested' on the eyes of the dead, came to.an instant and immovable resolution. "No, Frank," he said, "no one shall know, and mother least of all. I could not save your life, Frank —I failed in that, I was too late for that," and a Budden rush of emotion shook the strong, stern man from head to foot. "Strange," he muttered, "in other things, I do not care about, I never fail and I am not too late—why should I have been both in this? Why, Frank, if I could not save your life, I will your honour! I will save your honour, lad, and I will -revenge you, lad," andas he spoke a chair back that he had laid his hands- upop, broke in two beneath the unconscious .stress of his emotion. He looked at the two pieces in his hands and then he flung them on the floor and laughed. Green, shuddering, shrank back into a corner of the room, Had ke knew now he had not been wrong when it had seemed to him that the break up of Thorold's quietude would be a frightful thing, to see. But there was another fear upon him too, and hardly knowing what he did he 6tammered out: "But only see—there is that Inspector—he will be 'ere in a minute." "Ah," said Thorold, glancing again from the window; "yes—well, we have ten minutes, though." But as he still stood motionless, Green in despair made up his mind to try and escape by himself. It seemed to him there was a bare, chance he might sneak away while Lock's attention was occupied with Thorold. He was already at the door when Thorol-i called to him. "Come back," he said, "come back. It is evident this Inspector is coining here, and he would not be doing so unless he had already some suspicions. I remember that fat policeman said they were investigating the Frellgarth burglary. Well, we must make him believe that nothing has happened, and that everything here is much the same as before. Above all, he must iK'lieve that she is still here. Come hack, you," he. said again to Green, "everything must seem as usual, and you are so small I think you will do." "Do for what?" nsked Green suspiciously; "and what's my size " But Thorold leapt passed him with a startling energy that was both an astonishing and terrifying change from his previous attitude of sombre impassivity. Up the stairs he bounded, making as it seemed but a couple of leaps or so from bottom to top, and flung himself at the door of tho room opposite. It was locked, but the force and fury of his onslaught smashed down the door like paper. In a moment he was within the room, in a moment he was out again, and almost before the amazed Green knew that he had gone, he was back with his arms full of women's clothing. "Here," he said as he flung the things down by Green's side, "'put these on quick—that skirt so. good—take off your coat —your shirt—there, there," and almost tearing the clothes from Green's back—and handling him as though he were a child to be dressed and undressed, he thrust him into a brown skirt and lace trimmed holland blouse. "But, but " stammered Green, venturing to protest at last, though Thorold's fiery energy so bore him away that he dared offer no resistance. "Lor'!" he cried, desperately, "what's the sense of this?. Why, any one can see I ain't no blooming woman —oh, cheese it, you're balmy sure." Indeed he presented an appearance sufficiently grotesque. The unfastened holland blouse gaped over his hairy chest; the skirt would not meet round his waist, and he had to hold it up to prevent it from falling at his feet; his paile, rough, face, unshaven r and his close cropped head were in themselves

BY E. R. PUNSHON. (Author of "The Choice," "The Spin of the Coin," etc., etc.)

sufficient to betray him at a glance. Yet Thorold did not seem to consider these things, but instead snatched up a silk parasol and a workbox, from a small table near, and then picked up the table as well. "Come," he said, and went out into the garden. Doubtful and desperate as he was —for in all this Green saw no chance of escape, and was filled only with anger and fresh hatred against Thorold for what he considered mere foolishness—yet he followed quite meekly. For, in truth, the little convict was quite overborne by his companion's strong will and fierce intent, and it would have been impossible for him to pit his feeble and wavering will against Thorold's intense purpose as it would have been useless for him to match his weak muscles against the other's mighty strength. Holding the skirt round him with one hand, and with the other trying to pull the blouse together to cover his hairy chest, he followed trembling and dazed; and it seemed to him that already he felt the hand of a policeman on his shoulder, haling him back to that prison hell from which he had escaped at such peril. But a-s he drew nearer to Thorold and saw what he was doing, hope began to revive in him; and he perceived that a definite and reasonable purpose ran through his companion's apparent folly. For beneath a leafy ash Thorol'd had set a garden chair and put the table before it, and had already raised the parasol. As Green came up he pushed him into the chair, opened the workbox on the table, and pulled out some of its contents to lie near it. Then he arranged with a rapid touch or two the folds of Green's skirt so that they fell in natural lines, made the holland blouse meet across his chest, and smoothed the sleeves and fastened them at the wrists where they were secured by buttons, and finally gave him the parasol to hold. "Keep it under your arm like that," he said, "and here" —he snatched up a piece of stuff from the contents of the workbox and thrust it into his hand. "Go through the motion of sewing," he said, "as if you were working at it. You understand?" "But I've no needle," Green protested feebly. "If Inspector Lock gets near enough to you to see that," Thorold grimly, "he will be near enough to see other things—our only chance is to keep him at a distance. All you need to do is to' sit still and continue the action of sewing. On no account look round, and keep the parasol well forward. Lock must see nothing of you except your arm sewing and the folds of the skirt. Or " said Thorold with a world of gloomy threat iv that one word, and then he walked away in silence. All this had taken a wonderfully short time to arrange, for Thorold had worked with a fierce and burning energy that seemed to race even with time itself. Yet now he had, in a moment, put off all trace of hurry or speed, and with his hands in his pockets and his pipe between his teeth he strolled slowly down to the garden gate where the dog cart had just drawn up. Apparently Inspector Lock had intended to descend, but seeing Thorold approaching he hesita.ted, looked surprised, and retained his seat. Thorold permitted himself one glance over his shoulder that showed him Green sitting in his chair under cover of the parasol, with nothing of him visible but the tail of his skii't and his arm in its brown holland sleeves moving in and out with the regular movement of sewing. Then nodding to the Inspector, he said cheerfully: "Hullo, is it you again? Well, did you catch your man?" "No," said Lock, sulkily, "but we should have had him all right if you had stopped him when he passed you so close." "Ah," observed Thorold, "you mean you would have caught him all right if I had caught him for you." He took his pipe from his mouth and began to fill it with fresh tobacco. "Well, there is something in that, too, no doubt," he remarked. Lock flushed angrily. "It's the duty of every good citizen to assist the police," he said, "and I shall make a point of reporting all the circumstances —especially the fact that later on I met you here," he added, significantly. But this significance seemed quite lost on Thorold, who only answered indifferently: "I am sure your superiors will be much interested." "I think they will," agreed Lock, with an air of some slight disappointment as though he had hoped his words would have a greater effect. "But how is it that you are here ? You were not in this road—you were going in a different direction when I saw you?"

"True," observed Thorold carelessly, "but since then, you see, I have turned round." The Inspector bit his lips with anger. He felt that Thorold was making fun of him. And had he only known Thorold better, this very lightness of tone would have intensified and perhaps confirmed his suspicions; for Thorold was a man who jested best when the danger was' most imminent. Seeing now how puzzled Lock seemed, and how his angry, wandering eyes were resting on the arm in the brown holland sleeve moving in and out beneath the shadow of the parasol with the regular action of sewing, Thorold gave a sudden, harsh laugh; and this again should have told Lock much. But the Inspector did not know —could not tell Thorold's was a laugh that meant danger and peril, and very present tragedy. Looking somewhat disconcerted he said: "There's nothing to laugh at; friends of yours here?" "Naturally," Thorold answered. "And in the long circuit you made to ]g?xt here,," jLolck continued;, watching Thorold keenly, "you saw no trace of the man we were after?" "No," answered Thorold carelessly, "but then you see I was not looking for him—as you were." "Ah," muttered Lock, flushing again, and looking at Thorold very angrily. Ho glanced at 'the house again, with a doubtful and suspicious air, and then at the parasol and the chair beneath the ash and at the arm in the brown holland sleeve, moving in and out with the regular motion of sewing. "Your wife?" he asked sharply. The question was so unexpected that it nearly broke down Thorold's composure. It seemed he found in it a significance and that it troubled him, but it would have needed a keen eye to notice any sign of disturbance as he answered: "My wife. lam not married. What put that into your head?" "Miss Joan Durand, then?" suggested Lock. "But I thought she had left here." Thorold raised his eyebrows and looked politely surprised. "Yes, it is Miss Durand," he said quietly; "do you know her?" "I am hoping to know her some day," Lock answered, and looked the next moment as if he wished to goodness he had kept his tongue still. "Ah, I will tell her so," said Thorold slowly. The two men exchanged a swift and keen look, and for a moment neither of them spoke. Lock was apparently wondering what to do next, and Thorold waited quietly, knowing how much depended on the decision, and yet fully determined what to do himself should Lock show any wish to examine the house. "For though I was too late to save your life, Frank," he said to himself; "yet I will save your honour —and if this blundering policeman meddles he must look out for himself." But fortunately for both their sakes, Lock appeared to decide that for the present there was nothing he could do. Without the least formality of farewell, he touched his horse with the whip, and drove on. As long as lie was in sight Thorold stood idly at the garden gate, watching him, and then turning, he Btrolled slowly back to where Green sat, still hot and cold by turns with terror, still industriously and unceasingly going through his pretence of sewing. "He has gone," said Thorold briefly, "you had better come into the house now."

Turning he strode away, and when Green followed him he found him standing again by the side of the dead youth. "Sir," Green whispered, timidly, his ifear and Jiis sense that action and speedy flight were necessary overcoming his dread of Thorold. "Sir, suppose Mr Lock comes back—back here again?" But without answering, appearing to have sunk again into his former state of sombre impassivity, Thorold stood motionless by the dead boy's side. At last he knelt, and by 'the exertion of some strength drew from the dead hand the photograph those cold fingers clutched with such force. It was that of a lovely girl with wide, deep, dark eyes, and a mass of dark, curling hair. The features were clear and regular, the nose perhaps a little too long, but the mouth beautifully shaped and the rather prominent chin very finely chiselled. The expression was that of a strong, self-contained nature with passionate feelings 'there had been much need to control, and it was this, perhaps, that accounted for the air oi extreme sadness and melancholy that hung over the whole face and showed more' especially in the depths of the wide, questioning eyes. It was a lovely and touching countenance, but Thorold's looks were dreadful as he gazed upon it, and trembling and shrinking, Green drew away from him in fear. "Lor' mc," he muttered, "if that there woman's been and done it, I wouldn't be in her shoes for something —no, 1 wouldn't be in her shoes if he only thinks she done it. I do believe he'd put her light soon as look at her." Thorold moved and holding out his right hand laid it slowly upon the dead boy's forehead, where was the small, round, hole, so terrible to sec. It was the action of one who took an oath,

but though his lips moved, no' sound issued from them. Green watching him askance and tremb-i bliirg, thought, how much less dreadful, less full of dark and ominous threat, all this would seem if Thorold would' but give some expression to the fierce thoughts that seemed to fill him. "No, I wouldn't be 'er," Green muttered again, "not for something." Thorold rose abruptly and put the photograph in his pocket, and also he picked up a small ivory handled pistol lying near. It was a tiny weapon, yet deadly enough, and it was mounted in silver and bore on its ivory handle the monogram, "J.D." This also he put into his pocket after examining it, and then he turned to Green. "Go upstairs," he said, "and get some clothing—you will find some somewhere about, I expect. The sooner we are away from here the better. It is evident the police are watching the place, and' I have reasons for wishing that they should know nothing of what has happened here. I intend to make this my business. Do you understand?" "Yes, sir," said Green nervously. •'Your brother, sir?" "Aye," said Thorold, and remembered a curly-headed, laughing boy, the only creature he had ever truly loved, and the very pride and joy of an old widowed' mother's heart. "Yes, my brother," he repeated in a tone that made Green tremble afresh without quite knowing why. "I thought as much," he muttered, "and I suppose it was him as you was wishing to get out of England along with mc?" Thorold stretched out his hand and laid it upon Green's shoulder with a grasp that remained black on the escaped convict's flesh for days to come. "Suppose nothing and think nothing," lie said; "let your mind remain a perfect blank about to-day; you will be 6afer so." He released him, and Green tottered from the room, feeling as if his shoulder were out of joint, trembling as though he had only narrowly escaped a sudden death. "Lor', what a man," he muttered as he reached the hall, "what a man." Recovering himself in some degree, he kicked off the skirt he still wore, and flinging it down, went up the stairs to search for other clothing. The room whose door Thorold had broken open he found to contain only reminlne clothing, but in an apartment just opposite he discovered a wordrobe well stocked with male attire. To his intense relief, some of this fitted him fairly well. Hastily he dressed himself and surveyed the result with extreme satisfaction. One of the escaped convict's great difficulties is to provide himself with ordinary clothing, and Green felt he had now taken a long step towards preserving his precarious freedom. He glanced round instinctively to see if there were anything worth stealing, and, finding nothing, he went back into the other room. "Ladies often 'as silver things," he reflected. But in this room also there was little worth the taking, and Green decided to pursue his investigations further. Close by was another room. It was locked, but the key was in the door, and turning it he entered. It was more plainly furnished than the other two rooms, and it contained a large bed, on which, fully dressed, with the red mark of a heavy recent blow upon her forehead, lay the unconscious, but breathing form of a young and lovely girl, whose pale countenance Green recognised immediately as the original of the photograph they had found in the cold hand of the youth lying dead in the room beneath. (To do continued daily.)

The beverage that benefits —Wolfe's Schnapps—a drink, a tonic, a medicine. — (Ad.) The ready-to-wear suit is the one to save money on. The fit will surprise you, and the cloth designs are excellent.—Geo. Fowlds, Ltd.—(Ad.) Ladies, don't miss our grand displays of Warner's famous rust-proof corsets every day this week. Auckland drapers.— (Ad.) Gent's winter underwear. Cold weather is here, and will come again. Argue the point with us over the counter.—Geo. Fowlds, Ltd.—(Ad.) For Children's Hacking Congh at night, tVoods' Great Peppermint Cure, 1/6, 2/6