Burnt Wings

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 189, 11 August 1928, Page 12 (Supplement)

Burnt Wings

By G. HERBERT TEAGUE.

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. KATHLEEN DOONE lives with her sister Mary, and her brother Harry, a young man in the bank at Downmere. Whilst out gathering honeysuckle Kathleen falls and sprains her ankle. EPPY SMITH, a trjjnip, helps her by ping a passing car,' in which is PETER BKENT, nephew of SIR HORACE HOPPER, of Hopper's mill. Peter takes Kathleen home, and is introduced to Mary, who keeps house for her brother and sister. JEREMIAH WESTON" is manager of Hopper's mill. He is very unpopular. REGINALD DEAUVILLE, a clerk at Hopper's mill, is dismissed by Weston, thus arousing Deauville's bitter enmity. Deauville obtains possession of a letter intended for Sir Horace Hopper. The news contained in it promises to be a considerable source of revenue to him. lie ments Eppy Smith, and pays him to take the letter to Sir Horace,- saying he had found it on the road. The letter is from NINON ESTEREL, a young woman from London, to whose wiles Sir Horace had foolishly succumbed in the past. She is now blackmailing him, and threatens to go to Lady Hopper. She is really the" wife of BEN DALE, a gipsy, living on the Common with his old grandmother. Jeremiah Weston appears to know more about Sir Horace niul Ninon Esterel than is good for Sir Horace's peace of mind. LILY, Weston's daughter', is installed in the office in Deauville's place. Eppy Smith and Reginald Deaiiville join forcex' against Weston, both desiring revenge. Eppy has known Weston in his youth, and has some knowledge which he is determined to bring to light in his own good time. Ninon Esterel tells Deauville she has been looking for a man named Weston for ten years.

CHAPTER XIV. j Peter Brent was anxious about the | result of his uncle's foolish entanglement with Ninon Esterel, anil determined to do all he could to dissuade him from paying any more money in a vain effort to save his reputation. Later the same evening he was sitting in the garden contemplating his rather hazy prospects for the future and hoping for the success of hi 8 uncle's visit to London, when he heard the telephone bell ring in the study. "All right!" he called to any of the domestic staff who might be within hearing, and stepped through the open French windows and along the corridor to the room. "Is .at Sir Horace Hopper's?" asked a feminine voice, ae he put the receiver to his ear. "\es, but Sir Horace is not in," he replied. "Do you want him?" "les. Will iie be in shortly'/" 'I'm afraid not. He is out of town at the moment. Is there any message I can take?" 'No, thank you. I want to speak to him personally. It is a private matter." "I am Sir Horace's nephew, and I have full authority to " "No, I must speak to Sir Horace himself. When will he be back?" "I'm sorry I cannot say. It may be a few days, and it may be later, lie has gone to London on business. Shall I tell him you rang? What name shall I say?" "You can tell him that—that—well, tell him somebody rang. Hell know who it is. 11l come, through again in a day or so." ' The next moment the call was cut off, and Peter Brent whistled softly as he replaced the receiver. • As Ninon Esterel emerged slowly from the Post Office telephone box she bit her lip with disappointment. She had already given her late admirer two days in which to consWer his position, and he had chosen. to leave the town—or, at least, so she had been told. A sudden suspicion seized hold of her. Suppose that was all a blind to gain time and perhaps throw her off the trail? Perhaps he had not gone away at all. Perhaps he was sitting there grinning while his nephew was "telling the tale." She stopped at the street door,-and wheeled suddenly. She would ring up Lady Hopper and see what she would have to say about it. As she turned to go to the box again, however, an official barred the way. "Too late to-night, miss. Eight o'clock." "But it's an important message!" she protested. "Can't help that, mis 3. You've just come away from the 'phone. Why didn't you think of it then ? It was about eight when you went in first. Try some of the hotels or the station if the call's important," he suggested, as she went into the street.

Slie was within sight of the station entrance when a man, coming hurriedly round the corner, narrowly escaped a collision. As he turned, he stopped and raised his hat.

"Good evening, Miss Esterel!" lie said. "Sorry I nearly barged into you. I hope you get your train all right."

"I'm not going for a train," she answered. "I'm going to telephone. Can you show me where to find the box ? I don't know this place well."

"Delighted!" .said T?e;rgie Deauville. as he walked by her side. "We needn't hurry, you know, if you're not catching a train."

"Was I walking quickly?" she laughed.

"Quickly! It exhausts mc even to think of the pace you must have been travelling before I met you." Pointing to the telephone box when they entered the station, "fteggie remarked casually that he didn't see her there yesterday to see her friend off. "My friend! What do you mean?" asked Ninon. "Sir Horace and Lady Hopper. They both went to London yesterday." The woman stopped suddenly. "How do you know thev -went?" "f saw tliom. Tliey didn't see me, of course, but I make a point (now I'm not working') of seeing people I'm interested in. I'm very fond of studying human nature, Miss Esterel." "I shan't want to telephone now, after all," she said. "I ought to have done it yesterday." "Never put off till to-day what you could have done yesterday," misquoted Reggie. "Am I to * understand you intended ringing up Sir Horace?" "Yes." Ninon Esterel stood undecided and silent for a moment, then motioning to Deauville to leave the station with her, she asked quietly: "Didn't you say you were in 'Sir Horace Hopper's employment?" "Yes: I was a clerk in the office." "Would you care to'go back there?" ' "I would not!" was Reggie's decisive reply. "I didn't like the job, but things were bad in the theatrical business in London, aricl the offer seemed good because of the dramatic socicty, that I was glad to " "Things are still bad in the profession." "I don't care. I'll chance going back j to jolly old Soho when I've finished one [or two things. But go back to Office I sever will!"

"Why ?" ".Because of the manager there, chiefly, also because I liate the work. Yon see, the Dramatic Society is now dead and done with, and I am not going to put up with that dirty dog Weston any longer." "Who?" asked the woman with sudden interest. "Weston—Jerry Weston. The biggest liar and " "I used to know a man called Weston," she interrupted breathlessly. "Has he been there long?" Her eagerness and obvious excitemfcnt infected lleggie Deauville. He pourod out in rapid staccato phrases all lie knew about Jerry Weston, and of how he himself had been treated. His own personal knowledge only extended over the period during which he had been employed at Hopper's, but that was quite sufficient to make Ninon Esterel pretty sure that he was the man she had known. "I have been looking for him for more than ten years," she murmured so softly that it was almost inaudible to Deauville. / "Well, I think you've found him, Miss Esterel," he said, hardly able to contain himself for joy. "Is that all you can tell me?" "That's all I can say on my own. And I think that's enough to hang him. But I know someone else who knew him years ago." "Is he here in Kirkchester V* "He is!" said lleggie dramatically. "He is waitin' iu the wings, as you might say." "Well, can you give hira his cue, so that he can say his lines?" The woman smiled in spite of herself as she sat on an empty seat near the booking-office. "\cs, but it will take some time. You see lies not —well, he walked here, miss, so you can see he's not exactly our—or your—style. He is a man who can't stay indoors in the summer and doesn't like a regular job for long. He'd rather be on the road, except when it's wet. We—what you might say—loves his freedom and "

"Is lie a tramp?" asked Ninon Esterel, coming straight to the point. "Well, I suppose he is, but I don't think he'd, like to' be called one. I met him under an arch when I was sheltering from the rain a week or so ago. He was hard up and talking about the bad times, so I put a little job in his why which earned him half a crown." "Very kind of 3-ou." "Oh, possibly. But that's my nature, you know. He was stopping in the town for some time, he said, because he had a little account to settle with sotnebodv at Hopper's Hill. And who should tlijs turn out to be but our old friend' Jeremiah Weston." Ninon Esterel rose to her feet. '-It will be about dark in another hour," she said. 'Can I meet you and this man at the north end of the town?" "What about the road by the common ?" suggested Reggie. The woman shuddered. "I hate it! I mean"—she corrected noticing his astonishment—"l mean it's too dark and lonely at night. On the north side it's not so lonely and just as private." Righto! Where the road branches off, then. Well both bo there." Mr. Epsom Smith was alone in the common room of the doss-house when Reggis Deauville entered. "All on your lonesome?" he asked, when he had greeted the resident in his usual cheery fashion. "Yes. This is our slack time," he explained. "We've all dined, an' I suppose the rest 'ave gone to the theayter— phaps not!" Reggie explained the object of his visit, and suggested that Smith should wear a collar. He was about to suggest a shave, but Eppy demurred. "Wot's the use?" he asked. "It'll be dark, won't it? If the young lady's too proud to receive information from me because I ain't shaved, well, slio can do without it, that's all!"

Ninon Esterel was not favourably impressed by "Smith's appearance. He carried himself with a half-defiant air, due partly to Reggi's over-emphasis of the necessity for appearing "respectable in the presence of the superior young lady. "Good evening. Mister —or —" ehc began with a pleasant smile, which was lost owing to the thickness of the veil she was 1 "Smith, my name, Miss, Epsom Smith." "I told Miss Esterel that you knew Mr. Weston years ago." said Reggie by way of introduction. "Oh, yus; I know ole Jerry well enough. Too well for 'is liking." "J)o you know for a fact that the man at Hopper's Mill is the saine Weston you knew years ago?" asked the woman. The impatience and anxiety with which she hung on liis reply indicated the importance she attached to the man's story. "I've known Jerry Weston, man an' boy, Miss, for thirty years now. I ain't seen 'im for ten years till I reckernised 'ini' one day last week-—an' I took care that 'e saw me, Miss. 'Im an' 111c'was boys together, Miss. After that our ways parted in a manner o' speakin'. 'E went ter work in an orfis, an' I took round groceries an' delivered bills .an' sold papers. T 'ad the freedom, but 'e 'ad 'a respectable job." "Yes, that's right, nodded the woman. "Go on." "Well, as I was savin'; Miss, our ways parted. 'E got on, as its called, an' forgot about 'is boy'ood's friend, which was me. Then 'e 'as a romance. Makes yer larf, don't it? Jerry Weston wiv a romance! 'E an' 'is younger bruvver fancies the same gal, but the lass never looks at 'im, 'avin' no use fer same, an' marries the other one." Ninon Esterel breathed heavily, but said nothing. "Jerry doesn't make no fuss. 'E wasn't that sort. 'E just saves it alf up to act in doo course, as the teayin' is. About a year afterwards this 'ere bruvver is jugged—sorry, Miss—put into chok—prison—for takin' money wot wasn't 'is own. 'E sez 'e's innercent, but Jerry —the dirty dog— proved that 'is bruvver is a thief, an' the pore young chap dies in prison." No sound came from the woman, but had she not been veiled and helped by the friendly darkness, the two men would have seen bitten tears coursing down her cheeks as she quietly wept. "That's twenty years since," went on Smith, ignorant of the effect of his story. "An' the dirty dog was 'ojinded out o' the town." "I am very grateful for all you have told me," she murmured, as she opened her purse. "No, thank yer, Miss!" said Smith, with a wave of "his hand. "The job isn't finished yet." <£» h nontiuued da^/