LOVE CONQUERS TREACHERY.

Auckland Star, Volume LVIII, Issue 154, 2 July 1927, Page 32

LOVE CONQUERS TREACHERY.

By HAROLD BINDLOSS.

Author of "The Impostor," "The Allinson Honour," "Andrew's Folly," Etc.

CHAPTER XVI.

Dust blew about the black high road, the evening was hot, and Lawrence's boots galled his feet. For seven or eight hours he had ploughed through tangled heather, and he admitted he had had enough. Across the meadows a river sparkled in the sun; a mile or two in front he saw noble trees, an abbey's walls, and the.roofs of Hexham. Lawrence had not thought to stop there, bjut he understood the old town was attractive, and his pack got heavy. Then dusk would presently creep across the blue hills in the background. He loitered for a few minutes under the trees by the abbey; and then crossed an old market place. Lofty battlements fixed his glance; the Moot Hall, Lawrence thought, and he steered for the spot. In the soft evening light the ancient border fort was austerely beautiful. Four or five storeys up the level battlements cut the pale blue sky; dark blue shadows filled the arch that pierced the tower, and on the other side, contrasting with its gloom, luminous yellow reflections touched, old walls and stones. The picture attracted Lawrence, and he lighted a cigarette. Shielding the match in his cupped hands, the fishing rod slanted across his shoulder, and the ruch-sac on his back. Lawrence himself was pictureseque. His figure, touched by the melting light, cut the sombre arch; his knee was bent, to balance his load, and his unconscious pose was-good. Enclosed by the ancient walls, the spot was cool, and when his cigarette was going he leaned against a broken moulding. Then he saw a young man pull down a tripod camera. Lawrence did not know much about photography, but the soft lights and shadows balance, and he thought the fellow had got a good picture. He tranquilly smoked his cigarette and went off to look for a commercial hotel. After three or four days in the bogs his clothes might excite some curiosity at an automobile tourists' house. Moreover, the clothes were really Jim Hestan's clothes, and their measurements did not altogether coincide. The house on which he fixed was oldfashioned and comfortable,- but before he wrote his name in the visitors' book he strolled into the smoking room. Newspapers were scattered about the table, and one, as Lawrence expected, was the newspaper that had narrated Jim's" disappearance. The date, however, was that morning; the servants had not left the previous issues about, and pobody perhaps had noted the small paragraph. Lawrence's dinner was good, and when he had spent an hour at the pictures he went tranquilly to bed. About nine o'clock in the morning he occupied an easy chair in the smoking room. His recent excursions were strenuous, and he felt he was justified to wait for lunch. All the same, it looked as if his pursuers had lost his track, and he wondered whether he ought not to encourage them to use fresh efforts. In the meantime he needed a rest, but when he was over the Border he might think about a fresh exploit. On the other side of the room two or three commercial travellers smoked and talked, and; when a young man came in one said: "Hallo, Mr. Haigh! Where are you going this morning?" "Stayward Pele," said the young fellow. "I've got Dilston, Dorothy Foster's home, and there's a monument of sorts to the Derwentwaters at the other spot. The old tower ought to make a good picture." , He sat down, and Lawrence saw he was the photographer whom he had noticed at the Moot Hall. "Then you are getting up a post card series for a London publisher?" "It looks as if you dont read the 'Bulletin,'" said Haigh. "Perhaps you miss something. upmarket reports are famous for their accuracy and our industrial articles carry weight in London." Lawrence was interested. The * Bu'letin" was the newspaper wh-sn had printed the paragraph about Jim "Then you are going to publish tlie pictures?" said another of tie group. "That's so.- We are runnig a Romantic North series; a short article and a picture once a week. I'm doing the Hexham neighbourhood and although the chief's fastidious. I think he ought to like my Moot Hall." "Might we see the picture?" Haigh pulled out his wallet. "Since anybody can buy a copy for twopence, I've no grounds to object. The article will be used in our Saturday issue." The others stood Tound his chair and. one said: "Well, I'm not much of a judge, but I think it good. I like the man with the fishing rod." Lawrence got up and joined the group. It looked as if he were in the pistare and he was not anxious for notoriety. Although the photograph was small, the light touched his face and. clothes, and' his braced figure was distinct against, the shadowed arch. "Hallo,! said one, "you're the Are you ffattered'?"' r "• • •- ' Lawrence was disturbed. The tin" was largely bought at Marlborough, and he had seen it at-Mirefields. Since a stranger had spotted him, Mrs.Hestan would do so. There was the trouble, but Lawrence pretended carelessness. "Do you use a film?" he asked the photographer. . Haigh said he did not. He liked to time the exposure, and the pictures were taken on a glass' plate. "But can you fix the negative and so forth, in a hotel bedroom?" •" "It would" be awkward,'* the other replied. "As * rule I get a professional photographer to make the prints, and I found a useful man up the street." , "What,about the copyright? Do you allow the photographer to keep the plate?" "Certainly not. The negative is mine, but I left the fellow the Moot Hall plate. He seemed to think he might get a sharper print,, although this one is good. -However, the post goes at eleven o'clock and I thought I'd send off the first; if the next really is better it might not be in time. You see, the article comes out on Saturday." Lawrence thought the picture would not, but he knew all he wanted to-know. On the whole, he was sorry for the keen young man. y "Oh well," he said, pushing the-print into.his pocket. "I'm afraid you must use another photograph." "You're not entitled to stop the picture. I might try a dozen times but not get the light and shadow I got last evening." "It's possible; but you cannot publish my portrait unless I agree." "That's absurd! . The Moot Hall Is the. picture; in a way you're not important. Be a ■port and let mt Off the thinff. M

"He might as well try to stop a picture of a football match because he was there," a traveller remarked, and turned to Lawrence. "Anyhow, you're not entitled to keep his print." Lawrence knew he was shabbv, but he must be firm, for Mrs. Hestan's seeing his portrait and spotting Jim's clothes was not all he risked. Since he had objected, Haigh would report their dispute at the "Bulletin" office, and Lawrence imagined the editor would, for a few days, remember bis paper's contents. Well, there was the portrait of somebody wearing the rather conspicuous clothes of a man about whom the newspaper had recently inquired. "You must get a fresh picture," he said quietly. "Send for the hotel manager, and if he can't persuade him, ring up the police," said another of the group, and getting up blocked Lawrence's way to the door 3 . "I don't know much about'portrait copyright, but the print is yours and we'll see he does not go off with it." The traveller was fat and not at all athletic, but it looked as if his pluck was good; moreover, he obviously commanded the others' support. Lawrence imagined he could plunge through the gang. Jn fact, to mark his departure by a disturbance of the sort might have some advantages; but he doubted if he could get out of the house, the police offiee was not far off, and he had not asked for his bill., The situation was frankly awkward. Then wheels rolled in the street, a motor engine throbbed by the steps, and the porter came in. "The station bus, gentlemen! Yourluggage is on board; .Mr. Parkinson's heavy stuff went by the truck." The group got up. Business called, and they must get their train. Haigh was first to reach the door, and Lawrence following him to the hall, saw he went down the street, although the photographer's shop and the police office were the other way. The station bus started, and Lawrence asked .for his bill. He saw why Haigh had not stopped to claim his print. The print was not important; one could soon make another. Haigh had gone to telegraph the newspaper office, and perhaps- to see a lawyer about the copyright. Well, if the young fellow had pondered, he might first have taken another step. Lawrence went up the street and saw in a chemist's window a notice statin" that photographs were developed on the premises. Lawrence went in, and leaning carelessly against the counter, said to the chemist: "You perhaps have Mr. Haigh's negative of the Moot Hall? The picture is good, but his editor's fastidious, and you were to try some extra prints—" "I have got two," said the chemist. "I waited for a good light, and I really think your office will be satisfied. But sit down for a few moments. Mr. Haigh himself could not get round?" "I believe he's sending a telegram, and he wanted to get off to Stay ward Pele; I was not engaged and the post goes at eleven. Anyhow, HI take the prints and the negative, and you might irive me the bill." The chemist went into his back shop, and Lawrence strolled to the door. He durst not urge the fellow to hurry, but when Haigh arrived, he himself must be gone. If Haigh reflected, before he bothered a lawyer, he would ask for the negative. The street was quiet. Three or four people sauntered along the opposite pavement, and about a hundred yards off an errand boy put some parcels on board a motor bus. Lawrence knew the bus ran to the North, and when the driver pulled out his watch he imagined it soon would start. Two or three minutes went, but the chemist did not come back and he began to be disturbed. Then a group turned a corner down the street, and he thought one was Haigh. The motor bus driver put up his watch and got on board. Lawrence's heart beat. A step echoed in the shop, and he crossed the floor.. The chemist gave him a packet and took some money; Lawrence, with pretended carelessness, started for the pavement. Haigh was about seventy yards off, but it looked as if he did not watch the shop, and Lawrence took a side street at the end of the block. Then he plunged down an alley, and turned a corner, came back to the main street, some distance further on. Haigh had vanished; he was no doubt in the shop, but the motor bus rolled up the street and Lawrence jumped on the step. (To be continued daily.)