MASTER AND MAN.

Auckland Star, Volume XLVI, Issue 308, 28 December 1915, Page 10

MASTER AND MAN.

(By Alice and Claude Askew.)

CHAPTER XVI.— (Continued.) And so' Denis cut the interview as short as he couM. He drove away—■ nor did he see the smile that f-pread ■aver Morton's face as be stood staring after the departing ear. ■■ I don't think I eliall be troubled with you any more, my young friend," 'Mcj-tan muttered t»i himself. " It's ten to one you meet a German bullet, and if you don't —well, it won't be difficult to find another way. Mean- ! while all I've to do is to make the running, and I've got a useful ally in Hilda 'Ellis. It was a stroke of luck getting her the nurse's jot>—she'll play my game for mc for her own cake.' . Late that afternoon Nurse Ellia, re-: lioved from duty for an hour and tak-' my a little quiet exerciee down one of the lance adj.fining Dorrington Court, met Lewie Mertnn. It might have been an accidental meeting—anyone would have thought so —but in reality it was . prearranged. j - They toll mc .Molly is better—that lehe is quite out of danger," said 'MerI ton, lowering his voice a little, after a i few casual remarks had been exchanged. j '' 1 β-ujipcve that's true, isn't it, Hilda?" I "Yes; she'll be quite out cf the wood !in another week or so," was the woman's I answer. Xurse Ellis had a curiously i shaped mouth, and it had a way of I twitching at the corners, as if 6he were ! always about to laugh. It was twitching QOW. '•I've started well," she said; "done you a good turn already, Lewis." I " How?' , he asked eagerly. " Your Miss Molly has broken her enpagement with Denis Clayton—given him hie freedom and taken her own. What do you think of that?" "It isn't possible?" gasped Merton in utter surprise. " Oh, she didn't really mea-n it —she's simply sick with love, really—but still the fact remains, and it'e for you to make use of it when the time comes." "How do you know of this, and why Jon earth " "Don't be so impatient," ehc interrupted with a short laugh. "I know of it because I listened at the door to their conversation. The rcaeon is that Miss Molly believes she has been disfigured for life in consequence of her accident." "But that isn't true'" he put in anxiously. "No—not the least fear of it." "Then how did she get such an idea into her head?" "She heard the doctor talking to mc in the next room. The door was ajar and she just caught certain words. What he said was, 'She might have been disfigured for life. , t>he only heard the end of the sentence. Later on she tackled mc. She was rather hysterical—talking partly to herself. 'If it'e true, I can't uinrrj- Denio.' I heard her say that. So, with your interests in mind, I allowed her to think that it was true." "That was clever of you, Hilda. But when she gets better she'll find out." "Of course she will. But in the meanwhile (he engagement is broken off, and Denis Clayton has gone away where it won't be easy for. letters to reach him. While I'm in the house I can see to that," she added meaningly. ■■You think they may keep you for some time?" "Yes. Molly has taken a fancy to we already. Sbe's-a dear, and I'm uot suic that 1 altogether like my 30b." She laughed harshly. "However, needs must —wh«n Lewis Merton drives." she added drily. She proceeded to explain that Ruth Cobbs. Molly's maid, was to be sent to spend, n few weeks at the seaside with some relations in order to recover from the shock which she had received, and In Ruth's absence she, Kurse Ellis, might, and probably would, be retained at Dorrinfrton Court. "And I've no doubt I can continue to be useful to you—if you make it worth my while." she concluded. "You are a born strategist. Hilda," he exclaimed, admiringly. "I haven't earned my living a 9 a spy for the- last ten years for nothing," was the woman's calm retort. CHAPTER XVII. Crowds came {locking to the tioulogne Harbour. Another transport veseel had arrived, a further detachment of stout British troops destined for the fighting line, where they were so badly needed. And all the remaining population of the town meant to turn out to give them a greeting as they landed upon French soil. A hearty greeting it was, too. Denis, who had many times crossed the Channel on pleasure bent, and had landed at Boulogne, watched the scene with curiosity and interest. It was all so much the same and yet so new. The town lay stretched out before him, placf] and calm, just as he know it. No hint there of war or of any untoward event. The Casino, tile Custom House, the Fish Market —he had picked them out as the boat steamed into the harbour between the piers, and they were exactly as he had known them. He had spent many pleasant eveninsrs at the Casino —dancing in the big hall, listening to concerts in the lantern-lit gardens, or losing small silver coins at the "little horses." He smiled at the recollection. These things seemed to belong so utterly to the past. The Fish Market—that had its memories, too. He had been told that he must visit it at a certain hour whon business was in full swing, and that I.c must look out for "la belle Hortense"— the acknowledged beauty of the dar. He had had some difficulty in finding her. pushing his way among the stalls and over the slippery floor, through the good-natured crowd of haggling "bourgeois." and when at last he had reached his destination he had stood and gazed in respectful admiration. For Hortense with her black hair and swarthy cheeks, her full bosom and bare muscular arms, was a beauty of type that was new to him. He wondered at her heavy golden earrings and at her quaint dress", and he was a little awed by her proud and independent carriage. Yet she had smiled upon him graciously when he ventured to address a few words to her in broken French, and he had eventually gone away carrying something wrapped up in paper. He seemed to remember it was a crab, for wh'reh he had no manner ot use whatever. He smiled again. He was little more than a boy when these things had hapjpened. And now—well, Boulogne had no more of such pleasures to offer him —only its greeting and its benediction as he passed through on his way to a country, not so many miles distant, that was already drenched with blood and crying aloud for help and retribution.

Yet there was peace—though it was the last peaceful scene of which he might lie witness for many long weeks to come. There were the brown sails <yf fishing boate in the harbour and children were paddling in the sea alongside the pier—it was a glorious afternoon of late August. The dome of the church, high up on the hill in the old walled town, glowed in the sun like a fiery beacon. There were plenty of people on the piers who had all been gazing out to 6ea with keen interest and excitement. Most of them had started running when the ship crossed the bar, so as to be at the landing-stage in time to witness the disembarkation. And they were shouting and waving their hands as they ran. ■' Vivent les Anglais!" The troops on board grinned and waved back, enjoying this, their first impression of foreign soil. But very soon they had more important matters to think about. The business of dieembarkation had to begin. On the quay, amid the motley crowd, a jr-irt, tall, dark, and handsome, was : standing between an elderly man and j ■.lomin, as evidently French as was she ; herself. During the whole proceedings ■ the -jirl had been keeping up a constant ! chatter of criticism and commentary. I Suddenly she started, and her hand ! pressed the arm of the old gentleman j beside her. j " See there, M. Dubois," she cried. .'"That young officer/ , she pointed with j her free hand—'"l know him; but I know him quite well! He is M. Denis J Clayton, the 'bien-aime, the fiance of my ! friend, "Molly StrafTord. You ha-v f heard J mc speak of her. Is it not co?" I She was silent for a moment or two, \ keeping her eyes fixed on Denis. Then ) she added, half under her breath: — j ' ; But he is handsome,, this M. Clayton! I always thought him so; but now in •his uiiiform--ah, but he looks so jnoeh more the man! I must speak to him. He will remember mc, I am sure." M. and Mme. Dubois remonstrated with her. She could not push through such a throng. Besides, it was not quite "comme-il-faut." But the young lady, who wa<s evidently self-willed' and determined, loet no time in argument, but proceeded to carry out her decision. Two or three 'minutes later Denis, hearing his name pronounced, turned ! quickly, to find himself looking into the I eyes of Mdlle. Bcrthe de Clairmont. 1 " CHAPTER XVIII. I They met agaan that sajne evening, Dents "and Berthe de Clairemont, for the I South Kent -were not moving forward till the following day, and so Denie had hk evening to himself. He spent it dinjng with M. and Mme. Dubois— with whom Berfhe was stai'ing. She had isoued the invitation when she met Denis upon the quay. The good old people were absolutely devoted to her, :vn:l she could do as she pleased with them. They were a ehy, retiring old couple, just the kind of folk to be impressed and dominated by Berthe's beauty and dashing sejf-confident ways. ! They were no relations of hers, but M. Dubois had been a Hfc-long friend of her futher's. Denis had hesitated about accepting the invitation. He was not quite sure as to his true feelings with regard to Mile. Bcrthe. He remembered that he had once practically warned Molly against her. He was quite sure that she was a flirt, and in addition to her undoubted beauty of face and figure ehe had a seductive manner which made her distinotlv dangerous. I Tie" believed that she had once atI tempted to exercise this fascination upon him—though there were also times when I he told himself, recalling the incidents, that he had been mistaken and was flattering himself unduly. Even if it were true, ho was not engaged to Molly at the time, so there 'was perhaps no harm in it; yet. though not engaged, he wn* in love, and he had a shrewd idea that Berthe was aware of the fact. And ' his • conscience told him that there had ' beta a moment when temptation came Hicrxr to mastering him. This was why he had hesitated about accepting Berthe's invitation. Then, suddenly, he had seen things in a different light. In the first place it was very likely that ho had been altogether mistaken in his view of Berthe's character, and in the second he had now an absolute safeguard in his knowledge of I Molly"s love; He was not afraid of the • wiles of any siren, charm she never so ' wisely. j And then—well, it would be very pleasant to hare genial companionship on this, the last night that he was likely ; to spend for many a long week amid i peaceful surroundings. He felt lonely— ! sick at heart for all he had left behind 1 him—and he was afraid lest, alone, lie 1 might sit down and mope. Besides, Bertl'.e de Clairemont was a friend of Molly's, and so he would be able to talk to her about Molly, and that would be delightful. And so he accepted the invitation, and i in due course he found his way" to M. ! Dubois' house, which was a little outj side the town in a rather lonely position, on the "falaises" and overlooking 'tbo sea. I He was most hospitably welcomed anil : very quickly made to feel at home. The Dubois lived very simply, and there was nobody in the house but themselves and j Berthe. They ltad two stalwart sous,

Denis learnt, both serving their country at the front, and it was rather inferred that one of them, who was spoken-of as Emile, was in love with Berthe. During dinner conversation turned mainly, as was only natural, to the war, and to , the terrible scenes which had already been witnessed in Belgium. "It is a terrible, hateful thing, this war," said Mme. Dubois, heaving a deep sigh. "I do not understand it at all. These"' poor people—they only asked to be left at peace. And ■ we— what do they want of us, these Prussian robbers? Have we not paid heavy toll already in land and gold and blood? For, ah, monsieur, I remember 1870. I have good reason to. That awful year cost mc my father and by brother, and my dear nusband—we had been married scarcely a year—was wounded near to death —and now there are my boys " She patted her eyes furtively with her handkerchief. It was evident that she feared to say all she would have wished. And even now M. Dubois, wbo was evidently nothing if not patriotic, caught her up—not sharply, for that waa alien to" his nature, but with some determination of tone and a wealth of dramatic gesture essentially French. "Our sons, my dear Suzanne, are fighting for their country—they could desire no finer career than that. And, as for myself, I am glad—glad that I have lived to see this day. For think you I would willingly have gone to my grave my wounds unavenged? It is onr sons who shall avenge them—as other eons are fighting for the memory of dear ones who suffered and fell at the hands of these bandits —as one and all of us are fighting for the honour and glory of our beloved country, for the flag that was trampled in the dust, for the humiliation that was ruthlessly heaped upon our heads. Oh, yes, I rejoice—for now is the Day—and it is our day—ours!" He had risen from his chair and spoke as if he were making a speech. He was not soldierly of fig Tire—juste —just a frail, white-haired old man —but his eyes snone with martial ardour. His hand went to his side as if it longed for the feel of a sword-hilt. The ribbon of the Legion of Honour showed up proudly upon his breast. He had never been a soldier by profession. He was the owner of important cement works in • the neighbourhood of Boulogne, and had accumulated a comfortable fortune. But —as Denis subsequently learnt —be had fought with exceeding bravery in the former war, and had received his wounds in the perpetration of an act that had brought him deathless honour and renown. One could see how his wife adored him. To 'Denis it seemed that her eyes never left him, and with the love that they reflected there was also the ex--1 pression of some other emotion. Denis j could not at first make up his mind what lit was. It seemed to him to be fear. But why should Madame Dubois fear for her husband? A clue was afforded him by the old man's succeeding words. "If I could but be there myself," he muttered. "If I could a Mow for my country—l myself! Ah. I should Ibe another man if I could don my uniform again!" (To be continued daily.)