JILL OF THE FIELDS A ROMANCE

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 241, 12 October 1933, Page 22

JILL OF THE FIELDS A ROMANCE

By KENNAWAV JAMES I

i " Author of "Hers to Command," "What Hargreaves Knew," I etc. I

I CHAPTER XIV. J Barbour's Return. I After greeting Jill and Murk, Barbour j made his apologies for not calling earlier I at the farm. I "As ii matter of fact," he said, "I had an urgent business call to London, so I caught the first available train." I Mark gave a shrug of disinterest. "It couldn't have taken you long," he said, "seeing that you're baek so soon." Barbour a fleeted not to notice the snub, and replied quite blandly: I "No, I agree with you, except that I did not stay in London to complete my business." Then he turned to Jill and said: "I came, straight baek to see if I.could be of any use to you, Miss Mcrridcw. I was astonished when 1 saw the luiicli- | time newspapers and read of the terrible happenings here, especially after—after our being together quite late last evening, when everything eeemed peaceful-" He shot a glance at Jill as he spoke the last words, but Jill was looking the other way, perhaps deliberately. ''That—that's awfully kind of you," she said, '"but I don't quite see how you can help. There's only one wav anybody can help me at the present, and that is to tell me what all this is about. I shall go mad soon if I don't find out something about it. We don't even know who the man is." She then told him about the burglary which had occurred after he had left her on the previous night, lie had, however, read about it in the paper, for the ollicer Bain had told Scotland Yard about that, too, and it had duly been rushed into print. "Perhaps we can have a quiet talk about it soon," said Barbour presently. "It is a most mysterious affair. Whatever could that fellow have been doing, dressed up in scarecrow's clothes?" "Watching the farm, of course,"' said Mark, bestowing a pitying smile on his rival. Jill noticed it and her anger surged up anew. The truth was that Mark, in spite of her regard for him, wae now grating upon her nerves. He had the unfortunate knack of saying the very things which displeased her. He. could not have done, it better even had ho been trying. "Yes, I gathered ho was watching the farm," replied Barbour. "Pretty obvious." Then lie. turned again to Jill. "Anyway," lie said, "we'll have a quiet talk about it, as I suggested." "Yes," replied Jill. "I'm going indoors now. 'Perhaps you'll come with me." She did not extend the invitation to Mark, and Barbour had the satisfaction of seeing the hitter's face cloud with anger and disappointment as he accepted his dismissal from Jill. Whilst Barbour and Jill walked toward the house, Mark returned to the farm buildings vowing inwardly to be even with Barbour though it took a lifetime. Uppermost in his mind was the fact that Jill had called him a cad. The feeling that ehe had some justification, only tended to aggravate matters. His thoughts were interrupted by Inspector Norton, who came up to him with the air of one who eseeks a friend in the hour of need. "Look here, Mr. Hanson," he said. "I've known you some little time, so I don't mind asking you —what do you know about this Mr. Barbour V" "A damned sight too much," answered Mark grimly, thus leading the inspector to think he was barking up the right tree at last. He was soon disillusioned, however, when Mark toUl him that lie knew nothing about him whatever, except that he was a friend of Jill's and that Mark's retort had referred to Barbour pottering about the farm. "Very well," said Norton conclusively, "then I shall go and have a word with him myself. 1 believe ho is visiting Miss Merridew just now." "Good idea," exclaimed Mark, encouragingly. So saying, the inspector strode across to the house, and wae just in time to interrupt Jill's and Phillip's tete-a-tete as eoon as it had begun. When Phillip Barbour heard that the inspector wished to see him, he hastened to reassure Jill, whoso concern was noticeable in her frightened, questioning expression. "It's quite all right," he said confidently. "You dee I am comparatively a stranger here. It is quite natural that they should wish to question me." Jill smiled at him in return. She was growing very weary and somehow Barbour had become a comfort to her— almost her only comfort. The position nto which she and Mark had drifted was one which could not readily be altered, though eho missed his quiet, reliant advice more than ehe cared to admit. Still, on the top of other things, she could not pardon the remark which he had made about Barbour. Gloomily, she could see a coming clash between tho two men. This she must avert at all costs and she discussed with herself the advisability of extracting a promise from Mark not to ruffle the other's feelings so persistently. Barbour had said nothing about it. probably for her sake, but she knew that, when it came, the anger of a patient man was worse than any other. Yes, she would appeal to Mark's better nature, even in these difficult circumstances, to keep the peace. She little knew that Mark had already decided to do nothing of the kind. The more ho thought of the matter, the more he saw that it was going to be impossible for bim to continue at Stone Town. That being so. be did not intend to leave without getting a, little of his own back from this man who had so unexpectedly and so inconsiderately walked across his path. His pugnacity was ae elemental as that of a stag in autumn. ■ "I'll got even with that flashy follow before I've done, if the police don't do it for me." he said to himself. "I wish that old devil George would let me know what's in his mind. He knows something." But George was not yet in a communicative mood, as Mark discovered when, a little later, he tried again to get the old man to speak. "You must leave all to me, Master Hanson." he said. "I know what I'm α-doing. They're after eummat, and I know what it is." • -"Who are 'they'?" "A lot of 'em'." said George. "That man found dead in the field was one of 'cm. and you see what he got." "Who gave it to him?" asked Mark. "Ah, that would be telling asrain." said Old George, with a quiet cackle through his whiskers. "Plead men tell no talcs, a-nd live ones have to be careful. Anyhow, there he was in tho field at a time when holiest men should bo abed and rogues has no business out." <

"You were pretty late yourself," Mark could not resist saying as lie thought of George's spying through the window of Stone Town. "Ah, but you see I had been out after an 'are." "Oh, confound you and your 'hares,'" Mark exclaimed, half laughing. "What about that tobacco-box of yours that was found under the body?" "That's whot I'd like to know. Why, you'd think that ossifer thought I'd killed the poor chap myself, and him coming all the way from foreign parts, too." Mark gave a gasp of astonishment. "D'you mean to say you know what the man was?" he asked George. "Got a. good idea," said George, "but it don't do for me to say anything. That inspector will find it all out for you if you leave him alone. Clever chap, that." "1 wonder if he's as clever as you are," said Mark. "It seems to me that you arc holding back a great deal, find I can't •understand why. You said you don't need money, and I've told you you can get as many hares as you like, so far as I am concerned, and I've told you that you have a duty to Miss Jill. How can f persuade you to put your cards on the table? Why can't you go and tell Miss Merridew about it at once?" "Because she's too concerned about other things—like that Mr. Barbour," said George with a slight touch of malice.

"Leave him out," said Mark. "See, I'll tell you what I'll do. If you'll tell Miss Jill what you know I'll give up my cottage so that you can have it for the rest of your clays. I know you've always wanted it." A definite glimmer of interest showed on George's face. '"Well, iis J. told you before, Master Hanson." ho said, "there's hardly any kind o' bribe I could.take, being an old man and wanting nothing, but your.cottage do interest me. But what would you do yourself? You got to live somewhere near the form, and I'm mortal sure you wouldn't live in mine, witli all them rats in the thatch and the rain com in , through." "Oil, I've got somewhere else in mind. You wouldn't need to worry about mo." "All right, then," said George, "I'll think it over find let you know. And don't get thinking too much about that 'bacca-box. I can look after myself when it comes to that." So saying, old George hobbled away. "And he's got another place where he can live, has he?" he mutttred to himself. ''Now I know what that means. It means he's not going to stay here much longer. In a way I don't blame him. She's gone and took up with that Mr. Barbour. and the farm's become more like a circus than a farm, what with ono thing and another. But it won't do for him tc go. Farm's going; down as it is, and he's the only chap I who can pull it round. And as for Mr. Barbour, well, that little affair won't last long if I know anything about it. Who'd think a frimula could cause all this trouble—burglaries, murders and broken hearts!" And certainly it was the formula— frimula, George called it—which was at tho root of all the troubles which had of late befallen Stone Town, with thn exception of the decline of the farm. Even that had been accentuated since Mr. Burbot.r had come ami had distracted the already over-occupied mind of Mark Hanson. It had been enough for Mark to love Jill without a rival. With a rival, as he put it, his brain was running on one cylinder, and that boded ill for Stone Town. "I could strangle that old rascal," he said as he watched George's retreating figure. "If I didn't know that he was old Jasper Mcrridew's greatest confidant, I should think he was a mass of pretence. And if only I could find out what is among Jasper's papers myself, there might be a chance of solving all these happenings. That Barbour is after something is clear, and it looks as though the man in scarecrow's clothes was after the same thing, unless he was one of Barbour's crowd. And there's Jill gone and fallen in love- with him. What a mess!' . The wish that he knew of the quest of Phillip Barbour and perhaps others, led his mind into a channel which alarmed him. Why should he not attempt to look over old Jaspers papers? It was an impulse which he thrust away at once, but it was one which he felt certain would return.

(To be continued daily.)