"ON THE WINDS OF THE SOUTH"

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 66, 19 March 1930, Page 22

"ON THE WINDS OF THE SOUTH"

By COUNTESS VON HAARSCH

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS,

LORD FAYNE, a successful business man, lias confided to his friend and partner, ALFRED ERROLL, that ill his youth he married a Sicilian girl, by whom he had a daughter. His wife died, the daughter went to Rome under the care of ASSUNTA, her nurse, where she had remained. Fayne has married again, and; knowing this and tliav he will lose his fortune under the terms of his uncle's will if it is knpwn that he has married a foreigner, A'ssunta levies blackmail. Eventually Fayne implores Erroll to sent 1 , his soii MICHAEL to Rome in order to "buy off" Assunta. Meanwhile he roads in a newspaper that his. daughter, lOLANDA, has been involved in the sale of some faked pearls.

Chapter V. Twilight, murky and yellow, had long since merged into - a wet and muddy October night when Payne's big car skirted round Paddington and ran 011 along Portland Place. The two occupants had scarcely exchanged more than a dozen words during the sixty mile drive. The new complications of the affair, embodied by the necklace and York's dismissal, chased all other, thoughts out of Fayne's mind, whilst Erroll sat wondering whether Michael would indeed go to Italy. If he did not —there was no knowing what Fayne would not do. The car pulled up in. front of Erroll's house. "Michael's in," he said. "See the light in his study. Now" —as they alighted and he was fumbling with the latchkey —"understand I am not going to interfere " "You will urge him to go, of coursc "' said Fayne quickly. "Quite —but—" "Oh, yes —I understand. Leave it to me to tell him as much as is necessary. He'll go all right." And once more this inexplicable sureness of Fayne's jarred on his friend, though he preferred to say nothing and followed Fayne inco the hall. Barely an hour later the strange conference was over. Michael, tall, slim, handsome, sat in an arm-chair in the library, his legs crossed, his tapering fingers toying with a forgotten cigarette. He had the details given him —Fayne stressing the point that the affair concerned a youthful indiscretion of his. "You who are young yourself, Michael, will surely understand. There was a woman in Sicily—in Rome" —quickly ha corrected himself —"who knew about ?"t and —011, well—no use beating about the bush —was determined to be nasty about it." "I don't want you to threaten her, Michael," explained Fayne,.' "Remember there's such a thing as difference in psychology. . She wouldn't grasp . your idea of right and wrong. Besides, you have to make it plain to her that I don't intend to——" "Stop sending remittances," put in Michael bluntly, and Fayne flushed. "Well, yes —if that'i the way you choose to put it. Understand, that it's merely a little help —not " "Excuse me, sir," interrupted the man, "I may be rude, but I want to put my finger on; facts. Would • you mind?" 1 ' " * .- •• ' ' "Not at all. Go on."" Michael exchanged a glance with his father and plunged ahead. "You want me to go to Italy at once, I understand?" Fayne nodded, and his lips, framed an inaudible "to-night." ; "When I get there, you want me to "interview an old woman." "You musn't go to her house," broke in Fayne. "Get her to come to your hotel." "Right! Next you want me to tell her that you are prepared to go 011 sending her the usual—er—help—shall I say, 011 condition that she stops badgering you about something else. Have I got it right?" "Perfectly." Michael rose and stood with his back to the fender. He looked at his father and smiled. ■ "It seems a perfectly mad errand," he said slowly, "but I'm keen on goinggranted that " "Yes ?" prompted .Fayne eagerly. "You'll understand, sir, that I can't be expected to work in the dark. I must have facts." "Yoy've- got them," cried Fayne. Michael shook his head. "Nothing to go upon. A youthful indiscretion of yours, sir! If I am to know 110 more than, this, then she'll have • me bested in,th& game. I can't fake knowledge where I have none. An indiscretion may he anything—beginning with an extra bottle and " Fayne sighed. Erroll had been quite right; the boy needed persuasion. Besides which, sir," Michael's voice rang on, "why not be quite logical ? Ilf you're ready to trust me with this —er— errand at all, why not trust me altogether 1" "But I do." Michael shrugged thsse words away. "I can't work in the, dark, sir," he repeated. "I'm quite keen 011 goingprovided I'm given facts." Fayne rose. Erroll sensed the other was on the point of laying his trump card down, but Michael's father had not expected what was actually coming. • "You , want facts," Fayne said very coldly. "Then have them. But don't blame me for telling you. That youthful indiscretion,, to . use a delicate word, was about a . girl,, and there are some people in Italy'to-day who've not yet forgiven or forgotten. You're been wondering, Michael, why. I'm'asking you to go. You might just as well know that the indiscretion—l needn't go into details with you—doesn't concern myself only." "Whom else, then?"' asked Michael very quietly. And before Fayne had answered, Erroll knew, the answer and knew also that he'd not-dare to deny it. , "Your father." Slowly Michael turned and faced his father. "Is it—can it be true ?" Erroll nodded. He did not trust himself to speak. "Thanks, sir"—Michael's voice echoc in his father's ears as though from 'a remote distance —"I think I have the facts. A well-born girl, I suppose?" "Yos!" "And this —old "woman " "Was an old family servant. Just now —OII —I don't quite know what she's doing. There's her address —but —pro

mise.you slia'll't go there. It"—Fayne's voice shook —"it might complicate matters."

_ "I promise, sir" —Michael spoke dryly. "When do yon want me to go "There's the night boat train from Vic toria. I've-got your ticket, and " Michael toyed with "his iountain pen. 'Til write the cheque out/at once, sir, for the ticket, and- -lie glanced at a wad of bank notes in Fayne's hand—"the rest." "But —my dear boy " "Quite, sir, bu'; you will understand that, since it concerns my father as.weii " He bent his dark curly head over the cheque-book and wrote out Fayne's; name. "What's the amount, sir?" "I've got a hundred and fifty here"Fayne shrugged liis shoulders at the boy's obstinacy —"if you think, that'll bo enough." "Oh, quite, thank you." Michael's pen scratched on the cheque-book and Erroii could not help a little smile of triumph. Fayne caught it and bit his lip. "This boy of yours is strong-heade:l, Erroii," he said lightly. "I don't see why lie shouldn't be," answered Michael's father dryly. A few minutes later the young ma.', was running up the stairs to have lib luggage collected, whilst the elder men looked at each other, something like indefinite pleading in Fayne's voice, some" thing dangerously like unmistakeabk contempt in Erroll's. "That you should have stooped to this," muttered the latter. "Tell my bov that I ——" Fayne sank into an armchair and covered his head with none too steady hands. "How could I help it? He did want facts. I had to lie! And, Erroii, have pity on me—it's getting too much for the sake of our old friendship —just think what it might mean to both of us- " lie rambled 011 incoherently, and Erroii was not sure if, after all, his hatred ami contempt were as genuine as lie wanted them to be. He realised that there was at least one redeeming streak in Fayne-— for all the subterfuges he used and all the lies he told. He did care for that daughter of his. The newspaper paragraph had brought it out. "Vile slander —a daughter of mine couldn't have done it."

But all the same, Erroii felt relieved at the promise given by his son. He wouldn't go and see Assunta at hei house, which was lolanda's liouse. There were hardly any chances of him meeting the girl, and yet, for some inexplicable reason Erroll's heart was leaden-heavv when half an hour later he bade his son good-byo and followed Fayne out into the murky, foggy, drizzling Octobcinight. To Erroll's great surprise, his friend decidcd not to spend the night in town after all.

"It's only nine o'clock," lie told Erroll. "I can easily get to the Court before mid niglit. It'll be such a surprise for Rachel. There's the Duchess and the St. Clair people coming to-morrow. I'll just stop at Fayne House and tell Walters to comc along." "You'd better stay in London for the night," advised Erroll. "You'd be absolutely fagged out after a day like this. It'll be just as eas-" for you to come up to-morrow morning." Yet some uncounted for sense in Fayne made him cling to his new decision Erroll drove with him to the big house in Curzon Street, where Walters, a littifi astonished at the unexpected summons, clambered beside the chauffeur's seat and the car drove on. Neither of the two men had a thought about dinner, but suddenly Fayne felt weary and hungry. "I beiieve you were right"—he turned to Erroll—"I don't think I could face that drive back. Care to put me up for the night, and Walters, too? Somehow I hate the idea of going to sleep all by myself in Fayne House." Erroll, a little absent-mindedly—for hit: thoughts sped on with night boat-train — gave the necessary instructions to the chauffeur and in ten minutes Fayne sat in his friend's cosy warm nrunching a caviare sandwich and sipping a glass of chablis., (To be continued daily.)