HER LADYSHIPS COMPANION Or THE WEB OF FATE

Auckland Star, Volume LXV, Issue 22, 26 January 1934, Page 13

HER LADYSHIPS COMPANION Or THE WEB OF FATE

| Author of ' V B * "Out of Darkness, 1 HEDLEY RICHARDS "A Day of Reckoning," ©to-

CHAPTER XXV. A Dying Confession. "You see, I was right," said Jack. "Yes. 'Well,* I'll look in at half-past nine," said.Milburn, and Jack, as soon as lie was alone, took up Miss 'lcnipests letter, in which she told liiin that she saw Lady Jane as often as the governor woffld allow her, and that her dear niece (was pretty well and hopeful; that she knew Jack was working to try to prove her innocence, and had declared she believed he would be successful. The knowledge that Lady Jane had faith in him elated Jack, and he wondered if he should write to Miss Icmpcst and 1 tell her that he had traced Brenda Kay. Then he decided it would be better to leave it until he had been to the hospital again, and ordering an early dinner he left the hotel about half-past seven, and drove there. "The patient has slept,, and her pain is not so great," said the doctor, as he entered the room where Jack was waiting.

| "Does that mean that she will recover?" he asked. "No. I believe mortification has set in, but von will find her quite conscious. I (lid not tell her you were coming, as I was not sure what effect it would liavo on her." "I'm glad you didn't," replied Jack, as he followed the doctor to tho ward where tho injured woman lay. A nurse was seated near tho bed 011 which Brenda lay with her eyes shut, and her white skin looking ever whiter. At the sound of their footsteps she opened her large eyes and looked round, then as they rested on Jack she said: "You're a good huntsman; your© m at the death." The words were spoken clearly, though the tone was low. A pained look crossed his face. He realised that if he had not followed her she would not have been lying there. # "I'm sorry you rushed across the road, he said gravely. , , "I'm glad I did. Don't you think I would rather bo lying here waiting for death than die as I should have died if the police had got me ?" she said, speaking tho last words almost in a whisper. Then she signed to him to come nearer, and tlio nurse gave him tho chair by the

bedside. "The white hair has gone," she said, touching a strand of hair that had got loose. "I tricked you nicely, but Fate was too strong for me. When I knew you had turned detective I thought there was danger. Love is so very keen, and you love Lady Jane." Jack leaned forward and spoke in a low, gentle tone. , "You would have told tho truth 5 you would not have let her run any risk," he said. "I don't know. Sometimes I thought I should, sometimes I vowed I wouldn't. You see, I hated her. If it hadn't been for her money he would have come back to mo and made me his wife according to the laws of his country, but the money kept him away. He didn't care for her, you know she's not a beauty," and there was something mocking in her tone as she said the last few words. "She's a good woman, and never aid you any wrong, yet you have let her

suffer cruelly." Brenda's eyes opened wider, and ior a moment they blazed with fury. "He married her and he tricked me. She had wealth, position, everything, and ho made her his wife, but what of me ? There have been moments when I could I have killed her. Yes, I see you arc horrified, but I've been possessed by a- devil I since Victor left mp. I was a good girl, at peace with all the world till he came into my life and wrecked it. At first I thought he would come back to me, and I planned how I would beg and pray him to marry me, but he never came, and gradually ray love turned to hate. I vowed to bo revenged on him, but ins friends warned him and I couldn't trace him. Oh, God, the life I have led, and to end like this!" ehe said, her voice sinking almost to a whisper from exhaustion. The nurse gave her a slight stimulant, and for a few minutes ehe lay quiet, then she opened her eyes and looked

full at Jack, saying: • "I believe you are a good man, ana l owe you something. I might have died in a less comfortable manner," and again there was sarcasm in her tone. Jack bent his head and said in a low tone, "You owe it to yourself to make reparation; to tell what you know of the murder. God knows you have been badly used, and He will not judge you hardly, but don't go before Him with this crime unconfessed." He saw a change in her face. Her lips quivered slightly, and she lay with wide open eyes, but she did not speak; thoughts were evidently chasing one another in quick succession. At last she spoke, clearly, distinctly, so that both doctor and nurse could hear. "The devil's had a hard try _to get his own way, but I've beaten him, and I'm going to tell the truth about the murder of Victor Dumarsque, the man I have loved madly and hated fiercely. You'd better get a parson or a magistrate quickly, or I may change my mind and die with my secret untold." "I'll send for a> clergyman," said the

doctor. , , , » "Would you like mo to telegraph for your cousins?" Jack inquired. Brenda shook her head. "No, I don't want them here until I've gone on my journey. I wonder where it will end?" Then her tone changed. "You saw me that night at Victor's grave. I cannot tell what made 1 me, but I was sorry I had killed him. I would have given anything to bring him. back —all the hatred seemed to have died out of my heart. I remembered only the days of our happiness, and I longed to hear him speak. W'lien I got back to the farmhouse I knew you would suspect me, and it maddened me to think that I who had loved

Dumarsque, who even then was sorrowing for him, should be made to suffer ignominy, so I took flight, and there have been times when I gloried in thinking that the woman whose gold had taken him from me, yet who was too proud to own that he was her husband, would spend her life in prison; if I had thought it would be worse I should have spoken at the last." "Do you know that Dumarsque tricked her into the marriage, he and his cousin, but she was only his wife in name, and would never have been anything else?" said Jack. "Ah! I thought she had been fascinated by him when a schoolgirl, then regretted the marriage, and would not acknowledge him as her husband, that she flung from her the happiness that I would have given my all for, and the thought/ maddened me; but, thank God, it's nearly over, all the sin and 1 the sorrow," she said with a sigh. Then »she lay. quite still, with closed eyes.

Tne minutes later tlie doctor returned, followed by a clergyman, who took Jack's seat by the bedside, and tho nurse p"t a small table in front of him, on whicil were pens, ink, and paper. Brenda opened her eyes, and, looking at tho clergyman, she said: "Bo quick. I've a great say, and not much time to say it in. He took up the pen and looked at her. "My name is Brenda Kay. 1 ain an orphan, and, in spite of my cousins' wish, I would go out into the world to earn my living. It was here, in London, that I first met with Victor Dutnarsquc. He was a Frenchman and nll artist. Fiom our first meeting he paid he great attention. I was good-looking in those days, and he admired me, while I fell deeply in love with him. Then lie asked me to marry him, and I think I was then the happiest girl in tho world. Wo weer married at a Protestant church. I asked him if, as he was a Roman Catholic, it would be all right, and he assured me it would.

"Our engagement was a very short one, and during it he would not let me tell my cousins, the Rays, who are the only relations I have in the world, anything about it, saying I could tell them later. Then, after the marriage, he absolutely refused to let mo do 111010 than send them a brief note, without an address, in which I stated that I was married, but ho would not allow me to say that my husband was a Frenchman. "A year passed, a year of happiness, marred towards the end by the feeling that Victor's love for me was growing cold. Then one day he went out to see an old. friend, he said, but he never returned, and I spent the night filled with dread of some terrible thing having happened to him; but in the morning a letter came, in which he told me that according to the laws of his country our marriage was not legal, as his parents had not consented to it. That letter nearly drove me mad. I bad an illness, and when I got better I was utterly changed. Tho bright, happy girl had become a bitter woman, who thirsted foi revenge, I tried to trace the man who had ruined my life, but it was useless. Then, almost heartbroken, I returned to Lynton, and took up my residence at the Corner Farm. My cousin saw a lawyer about my marriage, and he said lie did not believe it would be regarded as legal. "Time passed on. Then that sinner, Victor Dumarsque, came to Lynton. He did not know my cousins lived there. I had always spoken of them as living at tho Corner Farm, but had never mentioned the name of the village. One reason for this was that he had never liked mo to speak of tliem. Still, when I first

saw him, I thought he must have made inquiries, and was seeking me. Tho v<yy thought of it, tho hope that he would now marry me in a legal manner, caused 1110 to forget the wrong he had done me, and I was ready ,to forgive him, and I went home, and dressing myself with unusual care, I waited for him to come. But night fell. Still 110 had not sought me, and tho next morning I resolved to go to the White Swan and see him. I had got nearly to the village, when the sound of voices coming towards me, one of them Dumarsque's, made mo draw back, and passing through a gate into a field I hid behind a hedge, as I did not wish to meet him in a stranger's presence. To my surprise they stopped besido the gate, and I heard Dumarsque

say: " 'Xow you understand you are to deliver it at the Hall, and ask the butler to give it to Lady Jano Tempest. Here's half a sovereign for you, but you're not to talk about it." The boy promised silence, and I watched Dumarsque return to the village, but I didn't follow him. I wanted to know what connection he had with Lady Jane. Somehow I got it into my head the letter was to appoint a meeting. I knew she had been at school in Paris, bo late at night I slipped out when my cousins thought I was asleep In bed, and I saw him enter the park, so I followed, and I discovered that he had married her. I could tell she hated and scorned him, thought of him as the dirt beneath her feet, while I felt my hatred melting away at the sound of his voice. The next day I was in Hepscott, and we met. I shall never forget the anger in his face when I stopped him, and the words he called me, Baying he wanted to have nothing to do with such as me. Then he left me standing looking after him. I felt as though I had received a blow, and I don't know how I got home. That night I was taken ill, and for a week I was confined to bed, or I should have been a third at the meeting when Lady Jane took him the money he had demanded, and Victor Dumarsque would have died sooner than ho did." (To be continued daily.)