The Fortune Hunter

Auckland Star, Volume LII, Issue 280, 24 November 1921, Page 10

The Fortune Hunter

By RUBY AYRES Author of "The Dancing Matter, 0 "TU Siorg of NinetU," eta.

CHAPTER XXIII. THE FORTUNE HUNTER PLAYS HIS TRUMP CARD. The Fortune Hunter was coming down to dinner that night, when one of the maids crossed the hall to him. "An express letter for you. sir—it came an hour ago, but I couldn't find you anywhere." The Fortune Hunter took it from the tray she carried, and a wave of colour swept' his' face. The handwriting wae Irenie Claver's, he knew, and for a moment he dreaded opening it as he walked into the study and closed the door. He had never cent her the remainder of the money he had promised, and he supposed it was to demand it that ehe bad written. The contents of the letter were something very different. "I hope you'll get this safely," she began. abruptly, "and I. hope it will be in time to warn you. I think the game's up, and that yoii'd better clear. Someonte down at Somerton has found out the truth about you, though I can't tell who it is. Yesterday, and again this morn : ing,' there has been a man here questioning, mc afcout John Smith. if He didn't get much change out of mc, I promise you, but they're on the right track, I feel sure, though the Lord alone knows who put them wise. I'm leaving the Savoy to-night and making tracks. I rather like.you. so don't bother about mc any more—l eha'n't worry you again. Just clear while there's time, and I ;wish you good luck. After all, ■we're birds-of a feather." She did'not sign her name, and there was no'address on the paper. So gomeone had spotted him. Who was it? Fernie? He seemed to be the moet likely. Mj\ Harding came into the room behind him. "HuJJo, John! Where have you been all day? I don't think I've seen you at ■11". "Yon were not in to lunch," the Fortune Hunter reminded him. "And this afternoon we went up to Long End to fetoih the punt. We had to leave it there this morning as it was so wet." r For the first time he found himself looking at Mr. Harding with suspicion. Did.he know, too! The thought made his nerve* tingle, though there wae not the least fear in his heart. ■ They, went *in to dinner together, apparently the best of friends. Anne wae already seated at the tableland Tommy and. the Fortune Hunter looked around him -with wistful eyes as he took his own seat. Supposing this was the last time he ever sat at. this table! Supposing tomorrow saw him back on the road—a homeless outcast! -A wave of overpowering emotion •eeined to catch him by the throat as he looked at Anne! Why had he not been 'better to her while he had had the opportunity?. VHe knew that she had shed many -tears because of him, and yet—what else could he have done? The whole situation had been unnatural and impossible, much as he loved her; but as he watched her now across the table, he felt that he would have given, his soul to have known that he had at least made her happy. '"I still have one ring of yours that I here never dared to wear." What had she meant by that? • "You're very., quiet, John," Mr. Harding eaid. "In fact, none of us seem particularly cheerful to-night." "It's the weather," Tommy said. "It's been enough to make anyone commit suicide to-day." Anne rose from the table. "We'll have coffee in the drawing-room, ehall we?" .She looked up at the Fortune Hunter ag he held the door open for 'her, and the expression-of his eyes went-straight to her heart, making her catch her breath with a..little sob of fear as she went on across the hall. But when presently he joined her he talked away on ordinary subject*. And she wondered if perhaps it had been her imagination that in that one look he had told her all the many things she had so longed to hear him say since he came home. Once or twice he went to the window and looked out into the dark garden, and she saw the nervous twitching of his face and the. restless way he kept wandering about the room. A 'maid came to the door and spoke to: Mr.' Harding. "Please, sir, Mr. Foster to see you. He,ie-in the study. He eaid he -wished to see you alone for a moment." . .Mr. Harding rose; he glanced hurriedly »t Anne. "iEJceuse' mc, my dear—l shall not he *. moment. Now what in the world can Foster want?" The maid lingered at the door. "And pleaee. miise," she said to Anne, "could cook speak to you for a moment ?■' • Anne.put down her coffee cup. "Certainly. I will come now." ■ §he went out of the room, and Tommy looked maliciously across at the Fortune Hwiter. "Hasn't anyone called to see either ;of iis?" he asked with sarcasm. The. Fortune Hunter made no answea Thie was the opportunity he had wianted; he went into the hall, took his bait and coat from the raiok, and let himself out, of the front door. tie could hear voices from tihe study a3 be.passed, but.he hardly noticed them; he. went quickly up the village and •cross the bridge till Ihe saw a. light in tile.-kitcihen window of I/ong End OotHe slackened his speed a little then and drew a long breatih. The last throw of the dice! He had .come tp Fernie to put hie trump card on the-table, and if that failed. . . He ehriaggn<] hie shoulders and walked up id the coitiage door. There wae a sound of a chair being scrjkped back inside and heavy feet elrufflKng across the floor; then the door opened and Fernie stood there in the lamplight. , There was a moment's silence, and the old'main's face changed a. little and he wniled in an unptautnt sort of way ac he eaid:— ••Do you know, Mr. Smith, I thought •otnehow that, you'd fee coming to call on m« to-nigiht!" "You thought right, then," *he Fortune Hunter said calmly. "I suppose I fin come in?" Fernie shrugged hie shoulders and turned iback into the kitchen, leaving the door open? TJie Fortune Hunter walked in, put hie, down on >, chair and shut the door behind him. •/Store :w«e * moment of profound •Senet. Fenue carefully refilled his '=:£■>/■■'■■■ ■■■■' ■"■ ' l . "

pipe, lit it with a paper spill from the mantcl-ehelf and looke* round at tfhe younger men, an evil smile in Ms eyes. "Well, and now you've come, -what havo you got to cay?" he ask ml. The Fortune Hunter wae standing liy the fire, hie hands in Wβ ooat pockets, us face a little strained. "Firet of all, I've come to eek wlhat it is you've got against mc?" he said quietly. For a moment Fernie looked rather taken aback, then 'he laughed. "Well, now. that's a tall question, Mr. Smith," he said, "and one that I don't see that I'm bound to answer." "The first T came to Somerton," the Fortune Hunter went on, disregarding 'him, "I went into that inn—beerhouse, or whatever it is—down the village, and T heard you talking to the landlord. You knew nothing about mc, except what you'd heard from a lot ot idle goeeip, but you'd made up your mind even then to ruin mc if it -was possible to do it. "I know the type of man you are —a man with nothing to do but mind other people's business; a man with a naturally nasty, euspictous mind- and •at first I thought that accounted for flip dislike you'd taken to mc. Now —1 know differently." Fernie looked up. "Oh, you do, do you?" Tic said with an effort at jauntiness. "Yes, I do." The Fortune Hunter's voice -was les3 calm, and there was a deeper flush in Ms face. "I know that behind my 'back you've ibecn plotting and planning to ruin mc, and I know that you've been more successful than you ever 'hoped. . . . You needn't think that I'm diere to-night because I'm in the least afraid of you—a dozen men like you wouldn't scarp mc into moving a yard if I didn't choose to—l'm here to tell yon sometlhing rather interesting about yourself—and mc!" "Indeed!" Fernie's voice was insolent. He blew a cloud of smoke casually into the air. "Sometliini* interesting— eh ?— not by any chance that your name isn't John Smith, now, is it?" <: Xo—I'm not wasting my time tellirfg you things you know already." "It's not by any chance—" the old man went on —"that the man Who died in tihe woods six weeks ago was John Smith, and that you're been passing yourself off in hie place ever since and fooling Mice Harding, and taking his money?" The Fortune Hunter dTew a ■haTd breath. Hie 'hands were clenched into- fiete, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he controlled himself a« Fernie "went on in the same sneering voice. "It's not by any chance that you're an impostor, Mr. Smith! Mow ie it? A vagabond impoeter, who the police will have something to say to when . . ." He stopped, the pipe clattering from hie hand to the floor, as the Fortune Hunter took a quick step forward and caught the old man's arm in a grip of steel, his-face was as white as deatli, and his eyes blazing. "And if I am an imposter, as you fray!" he said hoarsely, "if I am an imposter, I'm something e!ee as well, that concerns you more deeply. I'm your eon, do you hear? Your son! . . . And now what have you got to say to that!" For a moment Fernie c tared up into the . Fortune Hunter's passionate eyes without moving. Then slowly the mocking look faded, and a sickly pallor crept into his wrinkled face. He fell back a step, his thin lips moving though no words escaped them, hie hands shaking as if he had suddenly been stricken with palsy. When the Fortune Hunter released him he fell heavily into a chair, and for a moment the silence was unbroken save for. the crackling of the fire; then: " I ~don't believe it—it's a lie —a lie, like everything else you've told since you came here ", The words broke from Fernie painfully. He passed a shaking hand across his eyes; then suddenly he started up. "Prove it! Prove it!" he almost shouted. " Coming here blackmailing mc with your cock-and-bull story! Prove it, I say! " •_ The Fortune Hunter took the framed portrait down from the mantel-shelf and the faded photograph from hie pocket. " Look at them —look at them together," lie eaid. " You told mc this foorning that this woman was your wife and that she left you thirty years ago. Well, she's my mother. She died in Australia when I was seventeen." Old Fernie took the two portraits in hie trembling hands and looked at them side by side; then he let them fall nervelessly to the rug at hie feet, lookup at the handsome face of the man standing above him with something like terror in hie eyes. There was a long silence. "So you're using this—to save your own ekin," he said at last. And all the vigour seemed to have gone out of his voice. He spoke like a very old man. The Fortune Hunter laughed. He took up his hat from the chair and turned to the door. " I'm not sure that I wouldn't rather be hanged," he -said bitterly, " than owe my salvation to you. I know how you treated my mother. I know that you've probably never done anyone a decent turn in your life, end I'm not fool enough to think you'll do mc one now, but " Old Fernie rose to his feet; hie face was purple with passion as he pointed to the door. "Get out!" he shouted hoarsely. Get out of my houee, and be hanged to you—that's all I've got to cay. Your mother was no good to mc, and you're enough hke her to " He never finished hie sentence.* The Fortune Hunter had croseed the little room in a stride and wa 3 standing over him with clenched fists. " Say any more end I'll break every bone in your miserable body," he said savagely -If I've got to be hanged I'll be nanged for something worth while! " He stood there shaking in every i imb . Then with a stifled exclamation he turned and strode out of the cottage slamming the door behind him. (To be continued dally.)