Krishna.

Auckland Star, Volume LIII, Issue 95, 22 April 1922, Page 21

Krishna.

[ALL BIGHTS RESERVED.!

By ALLEN UPWARD, Author of "The Bouse of Sin," "Secret* of the Courts of Europe," "!»• New Word," "Some Personalities," etc.

CHAPTER XVII. It was at least a relief to Sintram to know that his companion's refusal to follow him was not due to distrust of himself. The poor girl was clearly not responsible for her actions. The fiends who had held her in their power must have subjected her to some mesmeric treatment, as the result of which she had become as much the slave of the drum as Aladdin's djinn was the slave of the lamp.

Grinding his teeth he sprang to the victim's side, and firmly grasped her arm. "Stop! You are not togo that waj*. I insist on your coming with mc."

The hypnotised girl tried to release herself. "Let mc go!" she cried. "I must go. You are hurting mc."

She struggled to shake off his grip, but he would not give way. Her efforts became frantic; the wrestle threatened to degenerate into a trial of brute strength. Sintram's leg was still bleeding, though he had forgotten the fact, and**_ov. r he suddenly realised that he was barely a match for the maddened fugitive. He was beginning to despair when he had another of those inspirations which had come to his aid before.

The supernatural power of the sound which was dragging its victim out of his hold put him in mind of the famous story of the Sirens whose magical song lured the passing mariner to destruction. And in thinking of the story he remembered the device by which the crafty Odysseus brought his crew past the danger in security. He had stopped their cars with wax. so that they heard nothing, while he himself, fast bound to the mast, had struggled in vain to •break irea and cast himself overboard as they sailed past.

Sintram 'had no fear on his own account. All he had t-> do was to defend his charge from the potent spell. There was no wax within reach, but the soil of the forest was damp, and close to where they were struggling he caught eight of a patch that looked like clay.

Towards this 'he resolutely drew the girl; still painfully resisting. Then, before she could suspect his purpose, he tripped 'her up with tbe skill of a Rugby back and brought her down as eoftly as he could within a few inches of the reddish • soil. She had no time to recover from the surprise before he had filled both her ears with the thick mould.

He had scarcely completed the operation When she raised her head with an air of astonishment, not unmixed with alarm, and exclaimed in her natural

"Jlr. Burehard! Where are we? And what are you doing to mc?" x

She was raising her hands to her ears as she epoke, with a natural desire to free them of .the clay. Sintram shook his head at her violently, put his finger to his lips, and hastily tore a leaf from hie pocket-book, on which he frantically scribbled: —

"I have stopped your ears to prevent your hearing a drum which your enemies are playing to compel you to go beck to them. You were under its mesmeric influence, and I had'to struggle with you. Forgive mc." The amazed girl looked as if she could scarcely believe what ehe read. At the close 'her eyes filled with tears. "You are too good to roe," ehe eaid in a broken voice. "What have I done to deserve so much kindness?" Perhaps it was as well that the young man had no chance of replying to the question just then. He was helping her on to her feet, when she suddenly noticed the blood on his stocking. "Oh! what is that? You have been wounded!" she cried out. "It is only a scratch. I hardly feel it," he eaid, forgetting that she could not hear his words. But the grateful girl was almost sobbing. S_e insisted on her adopted brother's allowing her to attend to the wound before they went a step further. Deftly turning down the stocking she wiped away the blood with her handkerchief, and disclosed an ugly gash, though fortunately it was not more than skin deep. She made the best attempt she could at a bandage, drew the stocking over it, and only then consented to resume their way towards the station. Sintram could have wished for more wounds at the same price. ,; The fugitives heaved a sigh of relief when they came out on to the high road. But it was not till they had gone at least two miles, and the sound of the drum,had long ceased to be audible by him, that Sintram ventured to invite her to relieve her ears of the soil with the aid of a tiny stream beside the way.

"Now I think you are comparatively safe. In another hour we shall be at the station, and the train will soon put us out of reach of those people and their arts." So he spoke, with a confidence which showed that he had a good deal to learn yet about those he was dealing with.

Not muck more pa_9ed between them till they were in the Bournemouth train. Burchard 'had taken a single ticket for his charge and a return for himself, as a delicate intimation to her that ehe need be under no fear of his forcing his comjteny on her longer than wae necessary. He attributed to fear the disappointment which ehe failed to conceal at this arrangement. "You have nothing to he afraid of," he told her encouragingly. "I shan't leave you till you have seen Dr. Wildman yourself, and have freely decided to put yourself in his hands." "Miss Burchard" bowed a little coldly. However, Dr. Wildman himself had still to be reckoned with. Burchard had the task before him of convincing the doctor that this was not a case in which lie ought to let legal scruples stand in the way. It was with some trepidation that he found himself at last standing at the specialist's door, with "Miss Burchard" by his side, and sending in their names to the master of the house.

■ The servant conducted them into the same consulting-room Burchard had been in before, where Dr. Wildman was not long in joining them. He shook hands with Burchard with some reserve, and fixed a long, steady look on the young lady, who was introduced to him as "My sisterl"

"This is the patient you spoke to mc about, I presume? You have lost your memory, haven't you?" "Yes, doctor." "And you have no idea of how and when you l<*>t ir '"* "I'rii afraid.not. If I could only re•member my name 1 think something might come back to mc. But when I try to think of it I seem to he stopped."

The expert looked grave. "What is it that stops you?" he asked. "I can hardly explain. It is like tryin" to run in a nightmare, and finding you can't move your legs."

The alienist glanced at Burchard. "'This is more serious than I expected," he said. "I should like to have a word with you in private." Turning to the patient with a kindly smile, he added: "We must see if we can't help you to move your legs." Sintram was overjoyed by this indication of the doctor's goodwill. He followed him into the next room full of hope. Dr. Wildman offered him a chair, and sat down himself. '"Now, young man, you have just committed a felony, I suppose. Tell mc all about it." Thus encouraged, Burchard poured out his tale, not omitting the least incident except his wouna. But the doctor noticed for himself the swelling which betrayed the hidden bandage. "One of the ruffians gave 3'ou a cut, didn't he? We must have that seen to before you go. No use to get yourself lamed by blood poisoning." Sintram thanked him and went on with hi>; account. The specialist listened with a non-committal smile till it came to the incident of the drum. Then he sat up and rubbed his hand- in professional triumph. "Exactly what I diagnosed just now from what the poor girl herself told ma!" His voice became impressive. "This is a clear case of inhibition." "You mean?" "I mean that this girl has not lost her memory at all. She has simply been forbidden to use it. Her memory has been stolen from her, deliberately, as much as a man's watch is stolen from his pocket. She has first been thrown into a magnetic sleep—in short, meimerised—and then the operator has used 'his power over her to inhibit her from remembering her identity or anything of her previous life." "And is that possible?" "My dear sir, it is done every day on a smaller scale. This is the most daring and successful case I have yet come acro_f| that is all. The people who have carried it out are no common crim-

inals. And, so far as Lknow, tbere is nc law by whicli they can v be reached." "But there must he!" the Anglo-Indiai magistrate protested. "I doubt if you will find it so. Th( old laws against witchcraft have beei repealed, and this is nothing else thai witchcraft. The science of tbe eitrhteentl century decided that there wa6 no sucl thing, and no such people as Mohui Rao and Madame Vesta. Perhaps then were none at that time. But we havi conquered India since then —or Indii has conquered us: I leave it to you t< say which." The District Officer listened in dismai to this plain echo of certain misgivingi of his owp. He returned to the mail question. "At all events, then, you think I wai justified in carrying her off?" The doctor's face glowed. "My deal man, I am proud of you for doing it You have committed felony, no doubt, ft! the law stands: but it is a poor English man who won't break the law occasion ally, w-hen hie conscience tells him h< must, I am going to break the law my self. I shall become an accessory aftei tile fact, if that is the correct term. 1 mean to keep this poor girl here till sh< can tell us who she is." Sintra-i breathed thankfully. Dr. Wild man's confidence cheered him up, ant he believed 'that the worst was ovci and all would now be well. Together they returned to the con suiting-room, where specialist briefly explained his view of the case to hi; patient. She received it with some dis tress. "But how did I get into the power o; these wicked people? How did I come tc let myself he mesmerised?" she pro tested. '"Probabh r you had no idea of whal you were doing," was the answer. "Yo* may have had a girl's curiosity to know what it was like. You may have com* under their power by degrees; when a subject has been mesmerised once tj}« mesmerist eaiy sometimes overpowei him again without his knowledge <n consent. He 'has -only to say, The next time I look at you like this you wil fall asleep again.'" "But •what about my friends? W_j didn't they interfere ?'' "Your friends seem to have beer rather remiss," -was the guarded an swer. The specialist did not think il wise to inspire •her with any distrust o: her lawful guardians at this stage. H« was to regret this later on. "Mies Burdhard" gratefully accepted the doctor's offer to take her, and h« promised that his wife should assist hei to obtain clothes. "There is nothing to prevent youi going about Bournemouth as freely as I do myself," he said, rather Tashly. It Wae a severe trial to Sintram t< have to leave her, even dn such good hands; but be felt lie must get bact and make matters right with hia boat at soon as possible. His adopted sister «lnn- tn hi- lham*

"You will come back soon, won't you?" she begged, with her 6oft blue eyes turned up to his as beseechingly as though she were asking some undeserved favour.

"I shall come to ccc you every day, unless Dr. Wildman objects." He turned, round to look for the doctor, but that gentleman had discreetly slipped out into the hall, where he was vigorously tapping the barometer. The barometer stood at—Set Tfair. CHAPTER. XVIII. A more painful ordeal awaited the knight-errant on his return to the vicarage of Buck's Hill. It was with a certain thrill of excitement that be came into the village street at the end of his long walk from the station. There was no doubt as to his liability to ari"**t as a felon, if Madame Testa bad the courage to apply for a warrant. His pretence to be acting by the authority of the India Office could easily be tested by communicating with the Department, but he had not much fear on that score. The point was that the Indian Government had not the smallest authority in the New Forest of Hampshire, as Sir Orde Rutilis most certainly, and Madame Vesta most -probably, knew. The only Department that could interfere in a case of unlawful' detention on English soil was the Home Office, and its only authorised 'representative on the spot was Sir Orde Rutilis himself.-- The sole question was whether Madame Vesta would dare to complain to him, or whether ehe had too much to hide from the police to risk a visit from them toj her secluded abode.

Burchard remembered those three small mounds in the garden, and thought he had not much to fear from the law. He was a good deal more afraid of what Bede Ainger might say to him, and even, more of what h* might say to Bede Ainger. The two old schoolfellows met each other with mutual embarrassment. Neither liked to look the other in the face, and neither liked to be the first to speak out. They dined together in an oppressive silence, very different from the eager exchange of reminiscences that had marked their first reunion. The vicar was not doing penance at this meal; on the contrary, he was taking wine very freely. At last, when they had gone out on to the lawn, he summoned up courage to speak. . "Madame Vesta has complained to Sir Orde Rutilis about your abducting her ward."* The words were rather harsh, but Beda pronounced them like a man speaking under compulsion, and he did not meet his friend's eye. "Well" Sintram stood stiffly on hia defence. '"Sir Orde sent for mc about the matter. I thought it best in your interest to tell hira the whole truth—T mean about your finding the note, and interviewing the girl over the wall." Sintram wondered if this was the first time Sir Orde had heard of it, but he merely said, "Yes?" "He doesn't take a harsh view of your action, but he pointed out that your proper course would have been to go to ■him." "In what capacity? As Madame Vesta's friend and protector?" Bede flushed. He also was Vesta's friend and protector, as he had con f eased. "As the local magistrate, of course, he meant." "I did not consider he was unbiassed." "1 hinted as much as that to hira. I said I thought you were afraid that it might result in putting Madame Vesta on her guard." Burchard made no comment on this. Hia friend had to proceed. "Sir Orde is anxious to avoid taking action as a magistrate, if he can." "I am not surprised to hear it." "But he feels that he has a certain duty in the matter, to see that the poor girl is properly looked after and restored to her friendß. He has asked mc to find out from you where you have taken her." Burchard had been expecting this all along. "I shall not tell him." "Not if he asks you in his character as a justice of the peace?"

Any question Sir Orde Rutilis desires to put to mc in that character must be put to mc in open Court, in the presence of my solicitor and of the representatives of the Press." The vicar bowed quietly. He .bowed no resentment at his guest's attitude. But Sintram now remembered that he had no right to entangle his lio6t in a quarrel with his neighbours. He was struck by the fact that Bede had uttered no word of complaint; he had repeated Sir Orde's message without urging Sintram to comply with it, and he had refrained from putting a single question ou his own account. Touched by this unexpected generosity, Sintram felt a sudden contrition. "Bede, old man," he Baid. with an entire change of voice, "all this is unfair to you. I have no business to be fighting these people from under your roof. I'll pack up my traps and clear out the flret thing to-morrow." Ho was deeply moved by Bede's reply. '•Never! My dear Sintraiiv I wouldn't hear of it. You needn't be afraid on my account." He smiled a rather sickly smile. "They want mc to keep you here. They hope to influence you through mc. And I want you to stay for my own sake. Old Sintram, T need a, friend just .now." Sintram crossed over to him, and laid a cordial hand on his drooping shoulder?. "Tell mc all about it, old fellow. Let's forget my affairs for a bit." * They talked together late into the night, though there was little fresh for either of them to tell each other. Bede could only dwell on h;s growing fear that Teresa would fail under the fatal influence of Malum Rao, and Burchard could only try to soothe him with the hope that Madame Vesta and her confederate might yet be frightened into giving up their dangerous designs. Burchard decided to go into Bournemouth the next morning, go as to be back in good time for the dinner-party to which he had been so pressingly invited. He was looking forward with a good deal of curiosity to his next meeting with Sir Orde Rutilis. The baronet's blase look had not impressed him favourably, and he felt little doubt that the invitation concealed a purpose to sound 'him, and perhaps to talk him over in the interest of the head of the Pantheistic Church. The Anglo-Indian bicycled to the station early to avoid any chance encounter with Madame Vesta or her followers. He was guilty of some over-confidence, perhaps, in deeming that he could outwit such a woman in a contest that depended on cunning. However, he found the little rustic station of Holdenhurst Road apparently deserted on his arrival, and wtien the train came in he took a seat in it without noticing if there were any other passengers getting in whose appearance was not that of an ordinary tourist or inhabitant of.the New Forest. In the same way, when he roaclied Siurnemouth, he hailed a taxi and drove raight to Dr. Wildman's house, Within* +aVin- f.llo nri.Mllt.iAH tn nhaorvn if

any other taxi were following in the same direction. In fact, another taxi did overtake his as coon as it stopped to let him alight in front of the doctor's gate. But the other vehicle drove past

without any perceptible cfceck, and it was "not til] it was well out of sight of the house that a window was cautiously lowered and a darker face than is familiar in Hampshire showed itself for a j moment in the opening. All unsuspecting, the District Officer of Madapour strode up the drive, peering hard at every patient who was walking in the grounds, but peering in vain. His request to see "Miss Burchard" was met by a counter-invitation to come into Dr. Wildman's room. Not a little alarmed, Burchard entered the doctor's sanctum, to be met with a greeting which quickly relieved his worst fears. "Miss Burchard is quite well, and I •have every hope of her making a complete recover - very soon," the specialist told him. "I thought it best to see you alone before you met her again, as I have a caution I want to give you." Sintram's anxiety returned. "This girl is young and very sensitive, and just now it is important to keep up her spirits as much as possible. Now I feel aure you take a friendly interest in her, and mean to be kind, but your manner towards her is a little unfeeling.'-" "Unfeeling!" Sintram could only gasp. "Yes. I daresay to a man of your age sKe may 6eem to We merely a child; but in her own eyes she is a woman, aqd she has a woman's feelings. She feels, of | course, that she hag taken a very irreguj lar step in running away with you, and j T think she is conscious that you rather I '•"-': dosvn rr-r\ her in ron^vVnep."

"My dear doctor, you are entirely mis taken "

"I am glad to hear it," the expert interrupted, gravely. "The poor girl thinks you dislike her, and I confess your manner to her gave mc the same impression." In the affairs of love there are no experts. "Dr. Wildman, I can only say that you astonish mc. I only tried to adopt what I thought was the proper attitude in the circumstances. I was afraid of alarming her by too much familiarity." "You needn't be afraid of that, I think." was the smiling answer. "My oniy fear is that the poor young thing has fallen in love with you." So this was the doctor's fear! Sintram felt as if he must choke. "if. without raising false hopes, you could put a little more tenderness into your way of speaking to her I think it would be a good thing." the alienist concluded, impressively. And without waiting for Sintram's response he rang the bell. The young man sat and trembled with secret rapture. When his adopted sister came shyly into the room it was all he could do to refrain from folding her in his arms. Dr. Wildman watched with approval the zeal with which his professional advice was acted on by this exemplary client. Something new in Sintram's look and voice brought a happy flush to the patient's cheek, and speedily unlocked her tongue. "If 1 could only remember my name I believe everything else would come back to mc." she said, presently. "I very nearly remembered it yesterday, just as we came up to the door where those three men were standing." The specialist looked suddenly ■ interested. "Was any name pronounced in your hearing? Can you recollect?" he inquired of Burchard. Sintram pondered. Then the light flashed into his brain. "Yes. Moliun Rao—the Indian." he stammered, excitedly; "he mentioned the name of Sir Orde Rutilis!" "Miss Burchard" g*ve a, sharp cry. "That is it! My name is Eva Rutilis, and Sir Orde Rutilis is my uncle!" (To be continued Saturday next.)