JILL OF THE FIELDS A ROMANCE

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 247, 19 October 1933, Page 26

JILL OF THE FIELDS A ROMANCE

I Author of "Hera to Command." "What Har- . greaves Knew," j etc. 1

CHAPTER XX. A Friend in Need. On these and similarly melancholy topics Mark was reflecting when he suddenly heard a young 1 voice calling to him from the stile. He recognised it as that of Freda Lane. "Why, whatever's the matter, Mark?" she cried when she saw him. "Had an accident ?" Mark smiled grimly. "Yes, I've had an accident all right. You probably met him in the fields if you've just come over from Morley." "Gracious," exclaimed Freda, as she sat down beside him. "Do you mean to say that that Barbour man has done all this to you? What happened? Weren't you looking, or what?" "I was looking, all right, Freda," he said. "And don't laugh at that chap; he can fight like the devil." "Looks like it," said Freda. "But he didn't show any signs of marks himself. Didn't you hit him even once?" Mark was beginning ii> feel foolish. "Of course I hit him, plenty of times, but he knew how to keep his face clean. Anyhow, it's finished now." "Poor old Mark," said Freda, stroking his head. "I suppose the row was about Jill?" "That's right," answered Mark sourly. "I went for him because of that drivel in the newspaper." Freda was silent for a few moments, then she put her face very close to Mark's. "Look here, Mark," she said, brindling up, "don't you think you are running this loyalty-to-jill business a little too far? Are you always going to be her lackey, even when she has shown you she doesn't want you? Aren't you ever going to be the independent Mark Hanson again?" "As a matter of fact, I've told Jill I'm leaving," said Mark tersely. "Really and truly, Mark?" "Really and truly," said Mark. "And this affair makes it more certain. I had some idea that if I gave him a hiding he might clear off and not be seen again, but he'll stay now and be more overbearing than ever." "Leaving Stone Town!" Freda murmured the words again, not letting Mark see the joy they brought her. She had always seen in Mark the type of man she admired, and on the evening when she had lent him the books at the rectory, she had made up her mind he was her man. Then a sudden fear came to her. "Does —does —that mean that you will be leaving the district altogether— Mark?" Mark looked back into her eyes. They were the eyes of a "good sort." And they were pretty eyes. "I'll bring your books back before I go," murmured Mark. "As though I was thinking of books," said Freda. "Anyhow, what are you going to do ?" "Don't quite know yet," said Mark. "I shall have to think it over. I don't want to leave Jill in the lurch." "There you are again. Jill, Jill, Jill." "Well, I have been there a long time, and I look on the farm almost as my own. I've worked very hard to keep it up, and it isn't easy to walk out and leave it." "That swelling's going down," said Freda. "I don't think you'll have much more than a black eye after all. Shall I walk a little way back to Stone Town with you ? I don't like the idea of your going back alone." "I'd love you to, Freda," said Mark gratefully. He disliked the idea of being alone with his own thoughts even for a few minutes, and disliked still more the prospect of being questioned when he reached the farm. Together they walked back across the fields, Freda's arm laid lightly and consolingly on his own. "Mark, I'm coming round to your cottage this afternoon to see how you are getting on. Please be in at about four o'clock. In fact, I don't think you ought to be out till' you've got over your shaking." "I'll be there," said Mark, vaguely. "I'll go back now. Good-bye, Mark, old boy, and don't let yourself get too low."

With a laugh she was gone. I Mark walked moodily back towards the cottage which he was so soon to relinquish. On his way he. passed Jill talking to Herbert Norgrove, and kept his distance from them. Jill noticed that something was wrong, so wrong that she felt she must intercept him and inquire. "Whatever's the matter?" she cried as she drew near, "your face is—oh, Mark, tell me what has happened." > "I'll tell you some time later on,' replied Mark. "You'll probably be glad to hear it." Jill had guessed the truth and was silent' for a moment. "All—all right, then, Mark," she said quietly. "Later on."

CHAPTER XXI. Jill Disillusioned. When Mark Hanson reached his cottage after Jill had spoken to him, he found old George standing by the wicket gate. ' ' , "I was just a-passing," he said, and thought I'd look in and see if you were in." Then he noticed Mark's face. "By my grandad's 'braces!" he exclaimed, "whatever have you been up to now? Looks almost as if you've been fightin'." Mark laughed. "That's just what I have been doing, he said. "Then I'll lay the other chap must look a picture," said George. "Ib he dead, or what?" "He's live enough," said Mark ruefully. "You mean to say there's a chap in these parts what can give you a hiding? I'd never have thought it, Master Hanson, danged if I did. Who was it?" "Oh, go to blazes," said Mark. , Old George ran his fingers through his whiskers. "It was that Mr. Barbour, wasn't it?" "You've got it," said Mark. "Now go and tell the world." "Well, I never," said the old man. "All I can say is I'm very sorry. I often thought you two might have a flare-up, but I always thought you'd knock the stuffing out of him, and him a Londoner, too." "He may be," said Mark, "but he knows how to use them all the same." Old George became ruminative for a moment. "Dear,' dear," he said, "and to" think I wasn't there to see it. I've seen a few fights round here in my time, but I'll lay- yours was as good as any of 'em." "Come in," said Mark abruptly as he opened the door and made for the .nearest chair,

I Bf KENNAWAY JAMES ' r

"You know, George," he said, as he seated himself, "if you had told me that secret of yours earlier on, I should have escaped this, and I -wouldn't mind laying that I might have been engaged to Miss Jill toy this time, instead of that other fellow having her." "Ah," said George, "I heard about that. I don't like it, Mark. And he's the chap who's knocked you about, is he? Well, I'll tell you what I'll do in that case. I'm very fond o' you, Mark, and I hoped you'd marry Miss Jill. And you may do yet. Anyhow, I'm going to tell you what I've had on my mind so long." "Good," said Mark eagerly. "Have a cup of cider while you're telling me.' "Well, it's all because of tho frimula," said old George presently. "The what?" asked Mark with a twinkle. "Why, the frimula for a great fertiliser. A frimula's a sort of recipe." "Oh, formula, you mean." "Call it what you like," said George, "but that's it. Now old Jasper Merridew invented it, and a marvellous thing it was. Best manure as ever was. Wunnerful, it was. And he offered it the Government and they wouldn't give his price, which was a hundred thousand pound, if I remember right. So he didn't let 'em have it, thinking they'd be sure to come to him again. "Then somebody must have let the cat out of the bag, for the Frenchmen came after it, but old Jasper was too fond of his country to let them have it. There was several foreign-looking fellows like Barbour over here, and that's why I suspected him. I seem to remember him meeting Jasper in Denbridge, for the old man wouldn't let anyone know about his dealings, not even Jill. "Then some Russians tried to buy it for their Government, but still he wouldn't part. And then, before he could talk to our own people again, he died. And that's the stork. It's the frimula they all want, and I'll lay that dead man in the field was a foreigner, who was watching the house."

"I see," said Mark, "and the other : side killed him?" * "I wouldn't say that," said George, 1 "but there you've got the story. But 3 don't tell them policemen anything ! about it. The murder don't concern us, and the sooner it's forgotten the bet--5 ter." "No, I shan't tell them," said Mark, head in hands. "But, George, I wish to goodness you'd told me all this before." ; "So do I, now," said George. "But we all make mistakes." ' "And where's the formula now?" "Ah, I can't tell you that," said George, but whether he meant he would not or could not, Mark could only ' guess. "Well, I don't think there's much I can do in the matter now," he said, "but you might do me one last favour; I'm going soon. Please tell Miss Jill all

you've told me. I can't tell her myself, for several reasons which I needn't discuss. Will you do that?" "I will," said old George, "the very next time I see her. Rot this Barbour man. I don't like him." With that, the old man hobbled out of the cottage, leaving Mark to his own! thoughts, which were very mixed. Certainly he did not intend to discuss the • matter with Jill. After all, if the formula was in the house, and she and Barbour found it, it would be all to her good. No, he would wash his hands of the whole matter. The inquest was to be held on the following day, and no doubt he would be asked questions. But he would not mention old George's secret and he hoped that Jill also would not do so. Meanwhile Jill was still talking to the staid Herbert Norgrove. "No, you mustn't ask me again to marry you," she said. "You've read the paper." "Ah, Jill, but I don't think it's really true. He doesn't seem your kind." Jill laughed inwardly as she looked at the stout, rubicund Norgrove, who evidently thought he was. "No, I love you badly, Jill, and I'll look after you as nobody else could," he went on. "I'm the best farmer in these parts, and I could make Stone Town a wonderful place. I could, really." Jill knew that was true. How she would like to see Stone Town, her beloved farm, restored to ite old status. But she told Norgrove that his suggestion was impossible. She knew she was hurting him, and was sorry, for she liked him immensely. "Ah, well, Jill," he said. "You'll know where to find me if ever you want me. I shall always be -ready to come and look after you and yours."

And there the matter ended. It was not long afterwards that old George wandered into the farmyard and asked one of the men to find Jill for him. ' "I want to have a talk along with you, Miss Jill," he said. "More trouble, I suppose," said Jill. "I'm almost scared of anyone talking to me. these days, George. . I shall go mad very soon. Yes, mad. And what's happened to Mr. Hanson's face?" • "Don't take on so, missy," said George kindly. "It'll all come right in the end, Mr. Hanson's face as well. He's had a fight with that Barbour gentleman, and got the worst of it. Surprised me, I'll tell you." "Whatever did they fight about?" asked Jill. George's eyes twinkled beneath thengrey, ehaggy eyebrows. , , J _ —

"Now, as though you don't know the J answer to that question yourself," he said. "What else should they fight about | if it wasn't you?" "Oh dear," exclaimed Jill, "I knew you were going to introduce more trouble I when you said you wanted to talk to me. George, I'm beginning to wish I'd never been born." "We all wish that, some time or other," said George, "but we don't seem uncommon glad to die when the time comes. Anyhow, it was about something else I wanted to talk to you. Your father used to tell me a* lot of things, Miss Jill." "I know he did," said Jill. "What in particular did he tell you, George?" "He told me enough to explain all these strange things that have been going on here lately, the burglary, the murder, and Mr. Barber, and all them things." Jill was forced to smile at George's system of grouping. Then she listened while he told her the same facts as those which he had just given Mark. As he proceeded Jill's astonishment grew, then suddenly a dark shadow came over her face. "Wait a moment, George," she said, "I want to think about this. You say the formula is being searched for by all these people. What makes you think that Mr. Barbour has anything to do with it ? You mentioned his name." 'Td like to lay that he'd like to know everything that was in Stone Town in the way of papers," said George, and then the truth suddenly came to Jill. All that talk about writing a book, all the pleas to look through her father's papers might be just an attempt of Barbour to secure this precious formula. That he was fond of her in a way she had no doubt, hut that had come later, and had probably caught Mr. Barbour unawares. "Anyhow, as you're going to marry him," continued the old man, "it don't much matter. The frimula will belong to both him and you, when it's found — when —it's —found." "What do you mean?" said Jill sharply. Do you know where it is ?" George became his aggravating self again. "Ah," he said, "that would be telling. When are you going to be married to Mr. Barbour, and will it all be in the paper again like it was this time?" "Oh, be quiet," said Jill. Then she added more softly: "You know, George, I'm glad you've told me all this. It's not so much that I want the formula, but it's such a relief to have some theory for all these happenings. I feel like someone who's been relieved of an aching tooth. I'll make it up to you in some way soon." "Thank you, Miss Jill, but I'm an awkward chap to make things up to, because, you see, I got everything I want. It's quite enough for me to have you smile at me and talk to me when we meet." "Dear old George," said Jill sentimentally. When he had gone, Jill rang up her solicitor. "I want you or someone very trustworthy to come over here this afternoon and go through my father's papers. It's very confidential, so perhaps you'll kindly come yourself. You will? Thank you very much." When the lawyer came Jill just explained that she had an idea that her father had left a formula, but she did not let the lawyer connect it with the crime. But though he examined everything in Jasper Merridew's desk, he discovered nothing which resembled a formula. (To be continued daily.)