THE MARRIAGE LINES

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 255, 28 October 1929, Page 16

THE MARRIAGE LINES

By J. S. FLETCHER

CHAPTER XXIII. "Say that again and I'll throw you neck and crop through that door!" exclaimed Michael. "If you do you will render yourself liable to an action," observed Markill, calmly. '"But you won't, for two reasons. First, you would do yourself no good, and you'd repent such a hasty action on a man weaker than yourself, and, second, you know I am speaking the truth." ''You're not speaking the truth," answered Michael, who was appealed to by the first of Markill's reasons, but resentful of the second. "I am my father's son if ever he had one! And he'd ha' been the first to make you sure of it." "He could not have made me or anyone else certain, of an impossibility," replied Markill, imperturbable as ever. "According to the laws of Nature, of affection, of anything you like, you are your father's son; according to the law of this country, you are not." "Damn the law!" muttered Michael. "Quite so. Damn it by all means. But, unfortunately, it is there," said Markill. You never inherited anything from your father. As soon as he died everything that he had, every stone, every stick of furniture, every penny in the bank, every inch of land became the property of his legitimate son, Stephen." "Whatever my father might ha' wished," said Michael softly. "Whatever he might have wished," replied Markill. "His wishes could not interfere with the law. If he wanted to provide for you, his illegitimate son, he should have done so during his lifetime. He could have made a will and left whatever lie pleased to you. He made no will, and Stephen took everything, everything! You have never had at any moment the right to deal with as much as one of these chairs. A pity! but that's the result of your misfortune of birth." Michael remained staring steadily at his visitor. His dislike of Markill was rapidly deepening into contempt, and there was a sneer in the tone of his next question. "And pray how came you to know so much about our family's history?" he asked. "What was it to you, I should like to know?" "A good deal," replied Markill, calmly. "I knew that I should succeed to Marcher's business, and I naturally wanted to know all I could about my future clients. I wanted to know all about you, and for a simple reason. I sometimes used to meet your father at the Black Bull of a Saturday, and he began to talk to mo about making wills, and was curious to know how a man could make his own under certain circumstances. And then I became aware of his regular payments to the woman at Cranby, and that gave me another idea, and I put the two together. And I found things out." "Played a ferret's game, I reckon," sneered Michael. "Call me what names you please," sair 1 Markill. "It makes no difference. It is not important. What is important is the fact that I know the whole truth. Your secret is mine. Now, observe. It is mine, and there is no reason why it should not remain mine. I can keep it. Do you understand that?"

"About as much as I understand most lawyer's talk," answered Michael, "which is not over much."

"I said I can keep it. Listen," continued Markill, leaning forward and

speaking in lower tones, "it is true that I found out the truth, but I don't believe that there's the least fear of anyone else doing so. To begin with, no one con-' cerned has the suspicion in the matter. Your brother certainly never had; his widow hasn't. No one hereabouts has."

Markill paused and laughed. Some idea seemed to afford him amusement. Michael sat silent, watching him.

"Yes," said Markill presently, stil! amused. "I think that secret's safe, like a lot of others. If the immediate antecedents of some folks who sit in the seats of the mighty were vigorously searched into, there would be some revelations to which yours, by comparison, would be as nothing! But let that pass. The question is, what do you propose?" "Propose about what?" asked Michael, with seeming innocence. "About this. About the secret," replied Markill. "Why, you've just said it was safe," exclaimed Michael, affecting great surprise. "You've just said that you didn't believe anybody would ever find it out!" "Just so," said Markill. "But I've found it out." . Then, of course, as my solicitor and an honourable man, you'll keep it to yourself," said Michael, with deep irony. " I should never expeet aught else of a gentleman like you that's been brought up all his life in Mr. Marcher's office, and that's come to succeed him. I'm glad the secret, as you call it, has fallen into such honourable hands sir." Markill bent his head to conceal the wry face which he could not avoid pulling. "That's all very well," he muttered, " but it's no good talking a lot of sentimental gush in matters of this sort. I can hold my tongue if I like, and I can wag it if I like. And as to make my meaning plain " "Aye!" exclaimed Michael with another sneer. "Be plain, above all! " "Then, to be plain," said Markill, sullenly, and nettled at the other's sarcastic treatment of him. "To be plain, are you going to make it worth my while to hold my tongue ?" Michael stretched his broad chest in a loud laugh. Then he picked up a cigar out of a box which stood between him and Markill, slowly lighted it, and puffed at it for a while before speaking. " I thought that 'ud be it," he said at last. " I thought you'd be after lining your own pockets. In plain language, you want to know how much I propose to pay you to hold your tongue?" " Put it 'that way if you like," replied Markill, sulkily. " freckon there's no other way to put it," said Michael, with another sneer, j " Well, but first you'll happen answer me j a question or two. . Law questions—what j you term legal." j ." As many as . you like," responded j Markill. ' j " A few'll satisfy me. Now, then, to j start with. Is it right?—is it the law?— | that I can't stand to claim aught that j was my father's?" _ j "It is the .law that .you can't claim | the value of a penny piece that was your father's." " I've no right to aught on land, in house, or mill, or aught? Is that so?" " That is so. You've nO right to anything." " Not even to a share in the business —what?" "Not even that. The rightful owner can make you show an account of the affairs of the business since your father's death. The goodwill of that passed, like

everything else,' to Stephen Muscroft when Martin Muscroft died. I tell you once again, in the eyes of the law, so far as inheriting anything from your father goes, you have no more rights than a Hottentot who live? in Timbuctoo has, and perhaps not so much, for he might be a relation, however distant, and in law you're none." "And it comes to this," concluded Michael. " Everything that there now is —land, houses, mill business—." " Is the property of Stephen Muscroft's widow," answered Markill. Michael nodded his head. " Aye, well, it's best to know," he said. " If that is the law, why it is the law. There's one good job, though even if that be the law, it doesn't alter the fact that I'm my father's eldest son, and that he always held me as such! I'd rather bear that in mind, Mr. Markill, nor have all this here property which the law says isn't mine. That's a fact! —help yourself to a drop more whisky on t' strength of it." " But—but!" exclaimed Markill. " You don't mean to say that " "I mean to say that you've told me that naught's mine, and so, of course, naught is mine," answered Michael. " There's naught else to be said." "But you won't let it go! " demanded Markill. " I can't keep hold of what I've got no hold on," said Michael. "But I can tell you how to keep hold," said Markill, hurriedly. "Listen —nobody, I tell you, knows; nobody suspects. Take the offer that these companies will make you for that land in the valley; get the money into your pocket. What's to stop you? You were talking about sharing with Mrs. Stephen; she can't make you share. I shan't give you away, I'll promise you." "If I make it worth your while?" said Michael, quietly, as if he were asking an ordinary question. "Well, of course, it's only right that I should be paid," replied Markill. " That's natural. What I want you to realise " Michael suddenly rose from his scat. He thrust his hands into his pockets, and, pulling himself up to his full height, looked down at his visitor. " I'll tell you what I realise," he said. "I realise that you're a blasted scoundrel! You've found out what you call the secret—now, then, you can go and make what? you like of it! " "Do you know what you're saying?" exclaimed Markill. " You can't " " I know what I'm saying," answered Michael. "And I know what I'm going to say. It's thijs: That's the door o' this house. Get outside it—and quick!" Markill, who had risen, turned very white. He made a backward step or two, and then turned and glanced evilly at Michael. " You'll be sorry-—" he began. "I said —quick!" repeated Michael. Markill walked to the door and opened it. On the threshold he looked back. "You'll walk out of it yourself before long," he said, and went slowly away.

(To be continued daily.)