SEAL OF A TRAGEDY

Auckland Star, Volume LIII, Issue 142, 17 June 1922, Page 23

SEAL OF A TRAGEDY

Charles • OMaJior^/.

CHAPTER I. El-ham Mansions overlook Battersca Park. an.l are deservedly popular, but Xetta Curlew had been brought np in a veal mansion, and, consequently she hated the Hat. she and her husband occupied on the fourth floor of the great red brick building. Their rent was stxtj pounds a year—a fact painfully emphasised by ihe absence of a lift. Underneath them was the seventy pound.- a year class—at Elshara Mansions they lowered your rent the higher you Men:- tho Cardews were right at the top nf the building, and the woman knew in her heart that they could not afford to be even the cheapest tenants in that little eolonv.

The cris-is was approaching, and it could only be a matter of a few weeks before 'hey were in the gutter. But she was not the woman to go under without n light. She had been a fool, of course, but she knew the full extent of her folly now, and would not err Henceforth she would battle for herself

Netta 1 ardew was thirty, and had been married fifteen months. She did not look her age, except upon those occasions when a certain hardness crept into her eyes and her lips tightened. She had always been a woman of spirit, who set a high value i_po n herself, and although she had liocn disillusioned often, she yet retained sufficient pertinacity to seek for that pleasure which she had been pursuing for so many years, but which had always eluded her grasp. She was the daughter of a millionaire—the only child—and until her marriage had regarded herself as a great heiress. Her father brought her up on Spartan principles, but he could not prevent her meeting human beings, who told her what millions could buy. They talked of jewels, of the Opera, of social success,-of Paris, the real London—the world—and when she had been able to focus her father's character she had resolved to wait her time until she should own the millions he was piling up. Then she would have her fling. She knew no mother—a mother did not appear to her to be a necessity —and as the years passed Xetta found little pleasure in life, while the apprenticeship dragged wearily along. .Tonatham W"vmouth admired his daughter's submission to him, and he was continually reminding her of the vast fortune he would leave her. He told her something of the way he made his money, of the commissions he was able to swindle out of weak nations when, they sent him to buy money for them in the London and Paris markets. Weymouth was a great financier who lived in a world which admitted that honesty was the best policy, but where nobody took out one.

The years went by slow7y for Xetta Weymouth, until she realised with something akin to alarm that she was approaching the thirties. She knew a lot of men, and they knew her, but she did not attract tbe best of them until Harold Ellis came her way. He was a distant connection and a junior partner in the firm which did Mr. Weymouth's legal work, and for this reason came very often to 305, Park Lane. -She liked him, of course—all the women liked Harold Ellis, llis tall lithe form, fair, fresh and ingenuous face, and they admired him the more when they discovered that he was quite a clever man and the best of company. In a few weeks Xetta and Harold became engaged—secretly, of course, for everything that was human was a secret in Jonathan Weymouth's house—and the girl revelled in her romance. In those days Harold Ellis had five hundred a year, and marriage was out of the question. They waited. Xetta could never explain how it came to pass that before she had brofcen off her engagement to Harold Ellis she should have come to an understanding with' Robert Cardew. Cardew was a wealthy City man, or so he told Xetta, and, unlike Harold, he always declared he was ready and able to marry her any time she pleased. He had a motor car, a country house, and a flat in town. Xetta heard about them and was fasrinated. and in the end the big motor car carried her off to a registry office, and she became Mrs. Bobert Cardew. When they returned to Park Lane they were met at the door \y Mr. Weymouth's private secretary, who handed Xetta a letter informing her that she must look to her husband to support her in the future.

Phat 'J\as only fifteen months ago, but bow much had happened in the interval! Her romance had proved to be a most shoddy one. A month's honeymoon had revealed her husband in his true colours. He was a parasite, a bully, and a coward. He owed thousands of pounds— that was why he had married Jonathan Weymouth's daughter—and when the millionaire had him turned out of his office, the bully avenged himself on his wife, who was too proud to let the world know the hideous blunder she had made.

She sat now looking with sullen eyes at the monotonous green patch of park, one long, thin hand holding her chin arid the othpr lying idly by her side. Her face was very pale, and her dark eves lifeless, while the brOlrn hair that crowned her head alone retained its usual distinction. If she had not been =o hard she would have been Bobbins] pitifully, but she was a woman who could not cry. She was waiting for Harold Ellis—the man she might have married. He had written asking her to sec him on important business, and she wondered what the important business "as- It could have nothing to do with ber father. She knew that if such was fhe case he would have found a deputy. "He shall not know the mistake I've made," she muttered several times. "I could not humiliate myself to him of all mien! I wonder "

''Please, ma'am, Mr. Ellis." She rose hastily, and smiled as she saw Harold advance from the doorway; but she said not a word until the maid liarl gone. "f*m awfully grateful, Mrs. Cardew." he said, and she winced when she heard the forma! address, "for letting mc see you, but 1 knew you were a brick, and —and " he stammered. "Won't you sit down ?" she said, indicating a chair. They knew that they were each acting a part, and their self-consciousness ■"'as obvious. A short silence ensued. '"Xo doubt, Mrs. Cardew, you've wondered why I've come?" said Ellis, looking hpr in the face for the first time. "Yes. I have had many guesses," she answered. "It has nothing to do with my father?" He shook his head. "My business is private, Mrs. Cardew, and—"

For God s sake, cman," she cried suddenly, "don't call mc Mrs. Cardew so often. I hate—that is, I mean, coming from an old friend, surely it is unnecessary." s "Of course," he said hurriedlc, alarmed at her outburst, "we are old friends, Xetta." he added, pronouncing her name softly and shyly. It .vent straight to the woman's heart. "\ou forgive mc easily enough,'' she said bitterly. made your choice, Xetta," he replied, "and I have no doubt that choice was right. After all, I am not the right sort of husband for a millionaire's daughter. I felt that within a few days of hearing of°your marring?. By the way," he concluded lamely, "I haven't congratulated you. This is the fictst time 1 have scon you since the event." "Thank you," she answered quietly. "You'll forgive mc if I show no traces of excitement. I am an old married woman now."' "Yes, time does fly. doesn't it?" he observed, and felt an idiot when he heard himself. "But your business, Harold?" she said. "Yes,» yes', of course. Look ."'ore, Xetta, this/ is the position. 1 am engaged to " "I thought so," cried Xetta, and her eyes flashed. "When a man forgives a woman for jilting him you may be sure he has found a better substitute." ' He looked at her in astonishment. "You are excited—upset, Xetta," he said wonderingly. "Surely you, of all women in this world, will not grudge mc a wife. You flung mc aside, and I don't complain." "That's the sting," sfce said bitterly. "You certainly don't complain. But don't let us get excited, or we may quarrel. Tell mc all about your engagement; who it is. and why you came straight to tell mc." "You know Elsie Stapleton?" said Harold, with a smile. "Well, Elsie has promised to marry mc, and Colonel Stapleton has been good enough to approve and gay many flattering things. Elsie and I " He stopped abruptly when he noticed the look in Xetta'3 eres.

"So it's Elsie, is it?" said the woman "A pretty girl, isn't she?"

"Rather!" said the man. "And young —only twenty or there abouts, eh ?"

"We are to be married in the autumn, within a week of her coming-of-age. Say you wish mc joy, Xetta?" he pleaded.

She rose suddenly and came over to his side, laying one hand on his shoulder and looking into his eyes. "Yes," she said slowly. "I do wish you joy, and I congratulate—Elsie." The wor_L_ escaped from her teeth, and Ellis felt uneasy.

"You should congratulate mc," he insisted.

"She sees a lot," cried Xetta. "She sees a coming man —a man likely to gain position and wealth; she sees a man who will worship her, who will work and slave for her—a man who will make her happy. And—and I threw all "this away!" She turned from him with a little 'gasp, and he jumped to his feet. . • "For heaven's Bake, Xetta, don t take it like that!" he cried, taking'her hand in his. "Don't regret the past: You acted for the best. And. anyhow, it is too late now. Come," he added, dropping her hand, "shake hands and cay that you will come to the wedding and " "Tell mc where you hid my letters to you." . ..,„ "So that is the reason for this visit? she exclaimed in amazement. Fie nodded. "You want your letters back." "Candidly—l do. Not that I don t trust you, Xetta; you know very well that I do. But you have not been in your father's house since your wedding, "and you used to tell mc that you had a secret hiding-place for the love-letters I wrote you in tho9e days." "You were a constant correspondent, she said, with a hard smile. "I was. I'll admit. But don't let us waste time, Xetta. You see the position. Those letters of mine are somewhere in that house. Only you know where they aTe, and your father has decided to sell the mansion and live in the country." "Father leave Park Lane?" she cried, with a3 much astonishment as though she had heard that the Children of Israel had walked back from Palestine to Egypt. "Yes, he is retiring. His doctors have warned him that he must rest more. We are taking charge of the sale. The house will be over-run by a mob of agents; soon, and you can guess how I should feel and look if someone found those letters. Tell mc where to find them, Xetta, and I will be for ever in your debt." She did not answer him for several seconds, and hi 3 uneasiness returned to him. Until he had come into her presence he had never doubted that she would grant him his request. But now— I well, those eyes of hers spoke strangely, and the way" she had pronounced Elsie's name plainly indicated that she was not ' friendly disposed towards Colonel I Stapleton's daughter. "It is quite impossible for mc to tell you where the letters arc," she said,

"but I know I could go to the hidingplace. To tell you the truth, Harold, my married life has been so full of happenings that I had completely forgotten about them. But the letters are still in existence, and if you will arrange for a time convenient to us both I will lead you t° the siot where I placed them in those silly and delightful days that seem. oh. ever so long ago."

"Thanks, awfully." lie cried, seizing her hand, and shaking it. "You were always a brick, Xetta, and I hope that one of these days I may be able to do something for you." "Don't talk of that." she snid quickly. "I do not think I have a friend in the world." "Oh, yes, you 'have," he said, sincerely. "I am your friend, Netta, and so must Elsie be." "Don't mention her name to mc, please," she snapped. He stared at her wonderingly, but said nothing. "There, there, forgive mc." she said, turning towards him again, "I am in a nervy condition to-day. But I won't detain you any longer, Harold, for it is nearly lunch time, and I wouldn't invite a dog to our meals these days; besides," she added, as if speaking to herself, "my

husband doesn't like visitors. Good-bye, and as soon as it is convenient write and make an appointment to meet mc at Park Lane. Then we wiiiSearch for those romantic epistles of yours. Goodbye, Harold.''

She shook hands with him. a second time, making him more uncomfortable and anxious.

Look here, Netta," he said, in a halfwhisper, as she stood by the door, "don't be afraid to be candid with -an old friend. I should like to serve you. If you are in any trouble I can cure, tell mc."

"Xo, you can do nothing now," she said, in a far-away tone. "I made my choice and I must abide oy it. Good-bye." fS'he shut the door of tie flat rather abruptly, he thought, aiid as he passed down the stairs he was so preoccupied that he took no notice whatever of the stout, heavy-faced man he passed on- the second landing. Meanwhile in her own room Xetta Cardew was sobbing as though her heart had been broken. It was the first time she had cried since the return from her disastrous honeymoon. CHAPTER 11. Cardew sank into a chair at the head of the table and called to his wife. She appeared without any delay, and although he scrutinised her face he saw no signs to make him suspicious. "Wasn't that young Ellis I saw on the stairs just now?" he said, before attacking the soup. "Yes." answered Netta, dully. "He happened to be in this part of the world and so h% looked mc up." "One of your father's young cubs, eh?" said Cardew. "But I've got something more important to talk about," he went on, suddenly stopping eating as though he had lost all interrat in the meal. "I failed this morning. Tlie Wcstralian people wouldn't touch it, and so we're broke—smashed —in the gutter." She gave a little gasp of fright, and seemed to shrink in her chair. "Is it true?" she whiapered. "Yes, too true,'' answered Cardew, his fat face working convulsively. "We're right down tihia time, Netta, I can do no more. The rest remains with you, my girl." He was standing beside her! now. "What can I do?" 6he asked. I "Everything," he said curtly. "You've got to look facts in the face now, my girl," he resumed, and she felt the note of passion in his voice grow stronger in every word. "I've done my best, and failed. It is your turn now. You must got money out of your father." "Must!" she echoed scornfully. "1 would if I could, but you know all I've done. Eather won't give mc a penny." "I say you must," he repssated, his eyes glistening greedily. "We can't go on like this any longer. I'm cleaned out. I can't even borrow. Whenever I approach any of the men in the City they slink off, because they fear that I want to ask a loan. Just think of it, Robert Cardew with the reputation of a bankrupt cadger.'" He laughed harshly, and strode away from her towards the window. That gave her some courage. "It is useless going to farther," she said, "and so you had better put that idea out of your head." "You've got to see him," he repeated. "He has caused all this mischief. He damaged my credit. It was he who got mc talked -about aa n defaulter. He used his money to ruin mc. Just think of that, Netta. Your precious old swindler of a parent ruins his son-in-iaw!"

cXetta sat with unmoved face, never attempting to interrupt or contradict him; and somebow her silence infuriated him.

"Can't you show some interest?" he cried savagely. "I've slaved and schemed and ruined myself for you, and " "You married mo under false pretences," she said, rising and facing him. "You swindled mc in making mc your wife. Surely it is your business to see that I am provided for?"

"Swindled you, eh?" he retorted. "Why, you simply jumped at the opportunity of getting away from your home. I only married you out of charity."

"You married mc for my father's money. You took advantage of my anxiety to spend money. You told mc you had thousands, and I thought that I could anticipate some of the plrasurc I hoped to get out of my father's millions. But I soon found out that you were a pauper, worse, a "

"Stop!" he shouted, raising his band. She shrank from him. It would not have been the first time he struck her had she not escaped the blow. "I'll wring your neck!" he hissed, "if you call mc names. After all, you're my wife, Xetta, and you've got to put up with things as they are. You took mc for tbetter or for worse."

"I did not," she said, in a low tone, "1 took you for better. You told mc you had wealth. I married you for that, and you knew it at the time. I made no ssecret of my reason for running off with you to a registry office. I did not do any of the deceiving. Do you think that I would have married you if I had found it necessary to marry a poor man. Why, there was Har " she stopped suddenly, and her face flushed.

"Yes, there wa« Harold Ellis," he said,' with a sneer. "Handsome Harold, your ' father's spy and would-be 9on-in-law.' Tell mc, my caged tigcress, waa Harold affectionate to-day? Did he weep over the past and talk of all that might have been?" He was in front of her now, and his eyes were blazing with an unreasoning passion. "You beast!" she cried, drawing away from him. "God help mc, but I have been punished for my folly." She flung herself into a chair and burst into tears. "You mean you have been tamed," he sneered. "Weren't you such a high spirited young lady before you were married? The future millionairess, who was to have the world at her feet when her miserly old father kicked the bucket. And now she's the humble, bro'ken-in, tame wife of Robert Cardew, who orders her to get him five thousaiW pounds, within a week, or else he may be compelled to—emigrate." "What do you mean?" she gasped. "I mean that I have made a mistake," he said, "and that as a result y(Su must go to your father and get that money out of him at once. If he wants to argue tell him he can do so after we've had the money." Xetta looked at him in real terror now, for despite his flippant manner she knew that he was panic-stricken, too. She was a woman with a passion for pleasure, but possessed of even a keener desire—for social-success. Her father's millions had introduced lier into a set Vhich held paramount influence in London Society, and she knew many of the best people. Her unfortunate marriage had somewhat obscured her social lustre, but she lived in the hope that one of these days she would inherit Jonathan Weymouth's millicmg, and carry Society by storm, handicapped though she might be by Robert Cardew's existence. *

"Yes, my dear," said Cardew, sinking into a chair near by, and satisfied that she wa3 really disturbed cby his news, "I am in a hole. If you were not my loyal wife I should not admit that the bole is a matter of a forged name, and forged names generally mean penal servitude."''You wouldn't care to be tied to a convict buelband for several years, Xetta, would you, especially as they say in the city that your father can't last another six months?" He expected an outburst from her, but she said nothing. Harold Ellis had already prepared her for this. "It's devilish hard luck," .went on Cardew, "that I can't wait for a few months, for the old man is sure to leave you a big sum, but I must have five thousand within the next three or four days. That's the case in a nutshell." He leaned back in bis chair and surveyd her. "Well?" he asked. "I will go to father, if you like," she said, in a monotonous tone, "but you •know as well as I do what the result will be." "1 don't know," he cried, emphatically, bringing a fist down on the table, "or at any rate I do know that you will get the money. Hang it all,-Xetta, I'm not a bad sort of chap. I could have made a better husband if I had had a .better income. It is easy to be a paragon on a million of money. Virtue requires a large income. Just get that money out of the old man, and I'll repay you in many ways." It waa not often that he adopted a gentle tone with her, but it waa too late to begin now. and her only response was to rise wearily and walk over to the window. "I will see him to-morrow," she said quictlv. "After all, I can but try. If he refuses we must suffer, for if you go under I go under too." (To be continued daily.)