JILL OF THE A ROMANCE

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 238, 9 October 1933, Page 15

JILL OF THE A ROMANCE

By KENNAWAY JAMES I

Author of "Mors to Command," "What Haroreaves Knew." I etc.

CHAPTER X. 5; The Burglary. Stone Town, on the night of Jill's vis from Mark and. Barbour, was wrappi in November fog. This suited the pu jK>so of a man who narrowly escapi colliding with old George on his w; back homo. Ho ]ia<l made a. earef examination of the house and was wai ing until the appropriate time to nnil an entrance. Stone Town, as has heen observed, h< its men's quarters in a separate win The house itself at the moment house only Jill, with Mrs. Blore and a fe housemaids and general female far helpers. Old Jasper Merridew had had an ele trie bell iitted in this wing, and co: noeted with his bedroom. It gave hi great satisfaction to ring it at lengl every morning to make sure that tl men were at their work betimes. Whc Jill took over the farm she had tl connection laid on to the Ladyee' Root: though for a different purpose. SI preferred to leave the hour of startin work to the men's honour and the vig lance of Mark, but she felt that in a emergency such as fire it would I essential to call for assistance. The men -had instructions, therefon to come along to the house should thi bell bo rung. So far Jill had never run it. On this night she was sleeping so fn fully that she was ready to be awak ened by the slightest sound, and lon after midnight, woke to hear eomeon moving about downstairs. Shu ros from her bed, threw a dressing gow around her, and crept out on to th landing. Then she quietly descended th stairs, pausing half-way to peer ove the banisters. The door of the room which had bee: her father's study was open, and Jil could see the flash of an electric torch She was not lacking in courage, but ii her present state of nerves she did no feel equal to confronting a burglar Therefore she crept back to her roon and rang the bell to the men's quarters. As soon ae she had done it she re gretted it, for it had the effect whiel she should have foreseen. A momen later there was a sound such as wa« commonly associated with Bedlam, fron which emerged an excited whoop fron Larry Luby. That any burglar shouk await the arrival of such a mob wai absurd, and Jill went downstairs anc entered her late father's room to find it empty. A glance was enough to show that an attempt had been made to force tho large desk, which stood in a deej: recess. Jill then turned to the men, who were crowding round the study door. "You cone of Wlripsnade!" she cried. "Why ever didn't you come down quietly? You've let a burglar go." Then she laughed. "But it wasn't your fault," she added. "I expect you thought it wa<s .t, iire." "We sartingly did," said one of the men, "and Larry Luby said he could smell smoke." "Well, off you go to bed again," said Jill. "Wait a moment, though. One of you go and fetch Mr. Hanson." "Who were the sons of Whipenade?" asked Larry Luby on the way back. An old man. named Barnes, who boasted of great Scriptural knowledge, made reply: "Leviticus, chapter S, verse 9," he said. It was :.ot long before Mark arrived. Many thoughts had crossed his mind on his way to the farm. Uppermost in his mind was that the burglary was in some way connected with Phillip Barbour, and he had already made a vow to discover more about Barbour in the immediate future. Jill wa«3 awaiting him in the hall. "We've had a, burglar, Mark/ , sho said. "Whatever would make a burglar come to Stone Town, I wonder?" "That's what's puzzling me," said Mark. "It may be one of those thieves of antiques." "But they wouldn't try to break open my father's desk. Look." She led the way to the study and pointed to the mark on the deisk. "Seems a<3 though there is something in there which somebody wants." "But there's nothing there hut bundles of old papers. I'll let you look Homo time. Oh, in any ease, Mr. Barbour has asked to look at somo old documents about Stone Town which will help him in some county history or something." Mark could not resist a mild whistle, and Jill turned upon him quickly. "Why do you do that?" sho asked. "Oh, I had an idea, but on second | thoughts I don't think it's any good."' Hie evasion had a twofold reason. He | did not wish to quarrel again with Jill, 1 whilst he thought it better for her not to think he suspected Barbour in any, way. Nevertheless, Jill was not entirely deceived. ' "By the way, Mark, you shouldn't, have rushed off to-night you did," she eaid. I Mark laughed. "Is there anything more I shouldn't have done except toll you I love you? I'll tell you that again if you like." "Oh, don't, Mark—not now!" "All right then," said Mark, "but I'm going to ask you something. Have you been crying, Jill?" He looked straight into her ej-es. fiho etarted a little. Evidently the sponging and massaging liad not been completely successful. "What a sight I must look," she said. "You don't," said Mark; then, insistently, "Why were you crying? I want to know." This was a new Mark to her. He seemed suddenly to have taken a selfgiven possession of her. But his insistence was in vain. j ' "See, Mark," she said, "if you keep j on insisting I shall cry again. I feel , like that. Now please run along. I am j sorry to have disturbed you, and it was I find of you to come." Tired Jill. She looked adorably helpless. All Mark's love came to him ; again, and he forgot the Barbour episode. ! "All right, then," he said, opening the , door to the hall. "Good-night—my . precious." A moment later he was gone, and , Jill went back to bed, with his last two j words still in her ears. , Mark went about his work next day with a light heart. He little knew that a black patch in his life was not far - away, and that the maker of it was to J be old George. j ( It was ordained that later in the day E George and he should meet. i George was on his way to an adjoining ' ( farm to "help with the cider-making," ] as yrss Ms custom. c

"All. Master Hanson," ho said. "This place is getting uncommon exciting; it's i nearly giving me the epilektics. Bur- '. pulars. Fancy that now. Wonder what :a they were after?" !"" Mark still felt that old George knew ' something of tlie mystery of Harbour's '. appearance in the district, but he did j. not want to press him at present. .„ I '"[ couldn't say, George," he said. "What do you think?" . "Ah!" said the provocative old man, ' I "it's not for me to say. How's Mr. "\" j Barbour a-going on. I see he's back w ' again." ! "Damn Mr. Barbour," said Mark ; testily. j "That's what I say," said George, fi " I s])itting to give emphasis. Inwardly ,l " J he was reserving his real views of Mr. !n ; Barbour till lie had met that gentleman ■' himself. At the eame time, he had IC much loyalty towards Mark, and " thought, possibly wrongly, that Mark ie J should be told of what had occurred on '• the previous evening. „ "He's a rare one with the ladies, anyJt' how," he- said. u "What do you mean?" asked Mark. , 0 "Well, I happened to be passing the I kitchen window at the farm last night, l j and I stopped to light my pipe, ' and " I "You'd no right there," said Mark, D ; laughing, little knowing what was to i come. "Well," went on George, "I happened " j to look through the window, and there, ":just like the fillums, was Mr. Barbour e ! α-kissing and a-cuddlinsr Miss Jill!" o, n j a CHAPTER XI. • l! There's More Going to Happen. Mark Hanson knew old George well : enough to realise that on topiee of 1 i importance he did not tell lies. Yot the j I! ancient's description of the scene • j between Jill and Phillip Barbour was 1 one which he felt it impossible at first k to believe. "Kissing and a-cuddling like ■ billy-o" were words which smote hi*> 1 heart so that lie directly called old " j George a liar. • "I don't believe a word of what you - say," he said. "And if you're joking I i may as well tell you that it's not the ; kind of joke I like." s "There's no joke about it, Master Hani son," eaid George. "If I sees a thing i I sees it, and I saw them ae plain as on ■ a nllum. And the funny part about it ; was that she didn't seem to bo enjoyin' ■ it like most girls would. Seemed to me, in fact, as if she was crying. There's no understanding girls in these days. There was never a one who cried when I kissed 'em." Unknowingly old George had put the seal of veracity upon his words, for Mark remembered that he himself had observed Jill to have been crying, and he also remembered Jill's reluctance to tell him the cause of her trouble. \o, there seemed no cause to doubt George's words after that. I "Look here, George," he said, "tell me some more about it. You seem to be speaking the truth, and I may as well tell you that I'm more than interested. I've known you a long time now, and I don't mind saying that I'm very fond of Miss Merridew." I "Well, well, now," said George, "I I should never have thought it. Not that I'm surprised, for she's as nice a girl ae you'd meet in a day's march, and 1 know a nice girl when I see one. Always did. But I didn't know you'd got as fond of her as all that. Still, I've said it now, so there, we go. It's a fact, Master Hanson." "You really mean that they were kissing'.'" asked Mark in a kind of anaesthesia. Jt was beyond Mark to see any humour in George''s remarks. He felt more inclined to throttle the old raecal. j "I wish to heaven you wouldn't meddle with things that don't concern you," he said suddenly, on the verge of losing his temper. "I don't believe for a moment that you were accidentally passing the window. You've no right to be spying on Miss Merridew, and I shall tell her about it in the morning." There was a hard gleam in George's eyes ae he replied, emphasising his phrases by thrusting the stem of his = pipe towards Mark: "Steady now. Master Hanson. I've knowed Miss Jill a lot longer than you. I always promised her father I'd look after her if anything happened to him. And I'm going io do it. There's some funny things a-happening round these parts at present." There was the suspicion of a threat in George's final nrxl of the head, and it came to Mark's mind that the old man knew something about the mysterious Mr. Barbour. Xo, it would not be prudent to offend George. "All right, George," he said. "I'm not really angry with you; but I happen to I care for Miss Jill and I'm naturally j upset at what you've been telling me. Let's talk it over as friends. Tell me, what do you know about this Mr. Barbour? Do you think he has anything to do with the burglary?" "You're asking a lot, Master Hanson," said George, solemnly. "Still, you've said we're to talk it over friendly-like, so I'll say that I don't only think Mr. Barbour's got summat to do with it. I know." "Come, come, George! Do you really mean that , '" asked Mark in astonishnicjit. "Every word of it," said George, giving his dry old lips a smack. "I've known it all along, but it don't do for me to s;iv anything." "Why not?" "Well, I'm going to bide my own time. Ite funny I should know so much about affairs on this farm, and then get into trouble for catching an 'are now and then." George restored his pipe with the air of a man who has played a trump card. "You can catch as many as you like so far as I'm concerned," said Mark, and he had the satisfaction of seeing George's Dyes ligJit up with pleasure. "There now," answered the old man. 'You're talking real friendly, by gum rou are. I'll have to tell you a big lot ibout Mr. Barbour one of these days." "Why not now ?" "Because I want to find out a few more ;hings first. If you ask me anything, ihie business is only just a-beginning." Mark could see that it was useless to )ress George too much. The fellow had iis own quaint habits, and he was too )kl to change them. "Very well, George," ho said, "I'll try ;o wait a bit longer, but don't forget T ou won't live for ever. You've got a tuty to Miss Merridew, and I think you I >ught to share your knowledge with omebody a Lit younger. Still, I won't vorry you. But don't forget that if here's anything in the way of a favour '. can do for you, I shall be very glai to i x> it."

George gave a cackle and pulled at his whiskers.

"I'm not an easy one to do favours to," lie said. "I get as much money as I needs, but I will say you've please<l me a lot about what you say regarding them 'aree."

George was speaking the truth. If he had had to choose between a pound note and a poached hare he would have chosen the hare.

"Anyhow," continued George, "I'll think over what you eay. You're right about Miss Jill and duty. Yes, I'll think it over; then p'raps we'll have another talk about it. But mark my words, there's mors t,oing to happen."

Mark felt that he had made considerable headway with the old fellow and asked him to accompany him back to the farm for some cider. George accepted readily, for, with him, cider came second only to poached hares.

They spoke of other tilings as they walked, though Mark found it difficult to keep his mind from the thing which George had told him. Ho was too stunned to appreciate it properly. That Jill had been kissed by Barhour seemed to mean the end of whatever hopes he had had of winning Jill, and those hopes had been higher of late than they had been for some time.

Having drunk some cider with George, and left the old man sitting beside a jug of it, Mark went into the cutting house to think the matter over carefully. He was in two minds about telling Jill of it. Naturally, he had no wieh to provoke a quarrel with her, yet he felt she thoroughly deserved to be told that he knew of the episode of the previous night. That Jill was privileged to be the mistress of her own destiny he knew full well, but eventually he decided to tell her without divulging the source of his information.

Meanwhile Jill herself was in a quandary just as perplexing. The excitement of the attempted burglary had, for a time, taken her mind off Barbour, but now that the day had come, and with it the prospect of another call from that gentleman, she had to make a decision as to what should "be her attitude towards him.

She hardly knew the fellow, and felt a dull resentment of his audacity in attempting to kiss her. But there had been a certain genuine kindliness in his manner. He seemed strong and comforting at a time when she was giving way to emotional strees. She supposed Mark would have been the same in the circumstances. Xo. perhaps not quite the same. He was a little too —well, too merged— to compare with so finished a product as Mr. Barbour. He would have been awkward and embarrassed, and would have made her feel even more ashamed than she was of her weak eurrender to selfpity—for that was how ehe now regarded her tears of the previous night.

(To be continued daily.)