THE RICH MAN

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 30, 6 February 1928, Page 17

THE RICH MAN

By Katherine Tynan

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS.

CAPTAIN CHRISTOPHER DELAROY ROBINSON, familiarly known as "Kit," i« the only son of JiORD PENDRAGON, a fabulously rich man, who has fought hard to amass wealth, though he assures his son that he has always fought "big people." Kit loves his father, but dislikes his riches. During the war the boy served in J? nce ' rs t as a private, then as an officer, and while there he became demoted to a lovely French girl, who, however, was destined for a convent. One Slay evening some years after the 2i ar ■,«> ls sitting in his rooms in «ccauil]y when the telephone bell tinkles. A voice asks: "Are you Mayfair 6840?" i, re ,he has a chance to point out tnat this Is not his number it goes on, you come at once to 3, Acacia Grove, Fulham?" The voice, frightened t£ - appealing, reminds him of the rrench girl to whom he was attached. "I will come at once," he says. Kit finds that »i " een summoned through a wrong him number * The S irl who meets ARBUTHNOT, explains that her mother, who has been working hard as ■ typist in order to make ends meet, riJL"* ad a hcart at tack. and that she fJ!? « £a. doctor. Kit at once phones ? S c, £?' who explains that Mrs. ArDuthnot will recover, with nourishSmi i??? rest- When the doctor has •SiiirVi? £ returns to the house. Subsecalls again on the ArbuthTOleomS\ K Ul l and flowers . and is welcomed by both mother and daughter. CHAPTER X. Lord Pendragon was up early, and wJi a , oad for his ri cle in the Park, in* •? himself fit by that early mornMg ride, counteracting the effect which "ignt have followed an otherwise sedenry life. He still held the reins of great business undertakings, even wlOSe from which he allowed people to suppose he had retired.

As. he came in from his ride looking ■L , J a t nd rosy as a "y man of his »ge could hope to look—his fresh colour M frank blue eyes, with his hearty W? er ' had been an asset to him in his fin'a dealings—he was surprised to his son following him up the steps. he said, "you are about the lark. It is only half-past six "Clock sun time, and there was dew on 8 grass of the park as I crossed it." was accustomed to these erratic if. raDeeß his son—appearances disappearances.

*]° me and have breakfast lad," he | , on * "I've been up since four clock and am as hungry as a hunter, l enjoy the food all the better for jour company." ♦JPlf We "t into the dining-room tk« * L ac b T Pendragon was not She often breakfasted in her f Bl 'ting-room where she had a couple hand to attend to her correspondence and type her letters, v ? ® ase with which Lady Pendragon become a woman of affairs was a -,' 5® of perpetual wonder and amuseW a £° her husband. He often banh®** about it w'hen they were alone r on, y Kit present. Her hard pale 'nr B *i, WoUld relax ' her thin H P S srnilt ? m * 86 r °o u ' £ h allusions of her Dick. th. , r slle be to the rest of *r,!f . she had never ceased to love IJL her husband, who had never oked at another woman Bine® he

married her, and was steel-proof against the blandishments of the many ladies who found him attractive.

The story had gone round that Lord Pendragon, receiving letters from fine ladies in which the invitation was thinly veiled, had handed them on to his wife to answer. Lady Pendraigon, in a moment of unwonted expansiveness—she had not many intimates—had told how Dick had given her the letters unread.

"You'll find out what she wants, Betsy, and tell me," he had said. "It'll be that she wants advice about investing a few hundred pounds. It's that in nine cases out of ten, but you can't get at it for all the words they cover it up with. I shouldn't bother reading it all, my woman. About the end of the fifth sheet you'll maybe find what she wants."

Lady Pendragon liked to "be called "my woman" by her husband. It appealed to the primitive woman in her under the veneer with which she had overlaid it. She answered the ladi.s by her secretary, and once the story had got abroad Lord Pendragon received fewer of the long letters. He was always kind about investing money for people or helping in their charities if they were deserving in his estimation; although, as he expressed it, he could button up his breeches pocket with any man.

"Your mother won't show until lunchtime," said Lord Pendragon. "She's busy over the Roysteries Ball for the benefit of the maternity hospitals of London—patroness, Her Majesty the Queen. A wonderful woman, youi mother. You needn't wait, Dickson." This to the butler, who went out leaving father and son together. SLord Pendragon helped himself to game pie from the sideboard, on which stood a variety of dishes hot and cold. "I wonder what becomes of all thesfc things," he said. "There is a fresh lot every morning. They must fare sump tuously in the servants' hall. What's the matter, Kit? Off your feed, eh? You need food for that big body of yours." Kit had not seemed in any haste to begin. "I've had a letter," he said. "It has worried me. It may be a practical joke for all I know." He pushed the letter across the table and Lord Pendragon read it without any appearance of being disturbed. When he had finished he laid it down and took up his knife and fork again. "I'm sorry you were worried, lad," he said, and there was a curious tenderness in the tones and the eyes he turned on the son. "I don't get as many as those as I used to, but they come sometimes, istnet without the friendly intention of this one. I wonder why he wrote to you. Perhaps he thought I might do for you W^) wou hl not do for myself." Would it be wise to take any action, father ?" Kit asked uneasily. Start detectives at my age, eh ?" Lord Pendragon said and laughed, the jollj hearty laugh of a healthy, care-free man, j-j m i§fat have deceived anyone who j!? a®*; kDOW him as well as his son did. That air §f pUf wall-being had

seemed soulless to some who knew the history of Lord Pendragon's swift rise to fortune and power. Kit knew better than that.

"It's all nonsense about the detectives, of course. There never were any detect tives, except in the "Daily Trumpet" and its kind."

."No; there never were any detectives," his father said. "That story came from America. I was offered police protection there and definitely refused it. 1 won't say there wasn't need. A good many people were out for my life. A man like me takes his life in his hand. I had upset too many people's plans and got before them. It was America versus England; and England, in my person, scored all the time."

He spoke with a queer pride. He was making a good breakfast. No wonder the casual observer thought that Pendragon had no regets, Kit said to himself.

"They said I cheated and maltreated the poor Indians over the rubber," Lord Pendragon went on. "I had some toughs in my service. It wasn't a job always for a delicate stomach! Whenever 1 found a case of cruelty I punished it. The people was first concocted that story were my unsuccessful rivals. Lord, it was great to beat the Yanks on their own ground. If some harmless folk go\ hurt 1 never meant to do it. It was a big fight, and if harmless pepple get in the way of a fight they may be hurt. You see red in a fight, and you may not know who you are tramping on." His face suddenly changed. "I won't go away, Kit," he said. "That letter may mean something or it maj not. I'd like to die in my bed for your sake and your mother's. Otherwise I shouldn't mind very much. Anyhow, it is written. We can't turn that aside. I won't deny that I'm sorry some little people go hurt. I'd make it up to them if I could. As I can't, I'm giving away the money hand over hand. What more can I do?" "I've been meeting some of the little people you hurt, father," said Kit. and his face had a queer twisted look for a moment. It was a relic of his wound which had affected the facial muscles foi some time. "You have, Kit?" Lord Pendragon looked oddly dis turbed. "I'm sorry for that. But you can make up to them. Ask me for any thing you like. No man will say of me that I sat on my money bags. They cursed my name, I suppose. Yoi. needn't answer that. It's all the weakcan do against the strong, cry to heaven for vengeance. I wouldn't stand up against it if I could. I might, you know, Kit. The house might come down with me, or I mightn't tie able to get out of the way of a motor bus. It would be better than the other thing for you and ytour mother. There, I'm talking non sense. I expect I shall live to 90 and die in my bed then. I'm sorry for those curses, Kit. I don't mind what the Americans say when they lift their hands to Mammon. Do what you like, lad to make amends. Join the Labour party if you want to—your mother will get used to it in time."

"I don't feel that I want the House of Commons," said Kit. "I don't believe in politicians. I shan't sit in the House of Lords —I warn you of that." He smiled faintly as he said it. "I didn't want a title," Lord Pen dragon said, somewhat shamefacedly "It pleased your mother and amused the old people who remembered me as Dick Robinson, running about the wllape without any seat to my little breeches." If Kit could have seen his father after he had gone away, leaving him glancing over- hi* newspaper before going into

the city, where he went every day, ho would have seen a man with the mask off.

"Kit will have come across some of the Co-op. people," he said aloud. "No use looking back now. I sho-uld never have done it only that I wanted to get even with Dacres. I hurt my head over that.'

lie was standing by the table in his private room, a barely furnished apartment like the plainest of city otli;'es. li was the least inviting room in the great house. He was standing by the table oi. which were his papers and writing materials, leaning forward a little a? though he was in pain.

"I shouldn't like Kit ever to know tin truth of that business," he said, addressing his dog, an Airedale, who lay on his siue on the hearthrug, one eye watching his master. There was another occupant of the room, a scarlet and grey parrot in a cage. The parrot was swinging from the bars of his cage and then emitting a hoarse chuckle. .

'•I've been lying to Kit," said Lore Pendragon to the dog. "I've been lying in that I said I only fought men likj myself, who would have snatched from my hands what I snatched from their;' I wouldn't like Kit to- know, Tvke. Tt would be a case of 'God help poor Dick' then." The parro-t, tightening himself on hi? ring, chuckled once or twice and called out: "God help poor Dick! Cod help poor Dick!" Lord Pendragon turned and stared at the bird. "Shut up, you silly fool," he said roughly. The parrot sprang back into his ring and swung to and fro, chuckling increasingly and repeating over and ever— "God help poor Dick! God help poor Dick!" (To be continued daily.) ,/