The LAST LAUGH

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 29, 4 February 1935, Page 15

The LAST LAUGH

! By WINIFRED GRAHAM MMtrtii»niiiWiiHnHMm«T

CHAPTER 111. It was late when Lou left Gussie's house, and as he watched her saying good-bye to Bouquet he was conscious of absurd elation. He felt as if the deal were done, already carried through with flying' colours. From his look of pride and pleasure the girl might already have been Mrs. Clement Corfield, come to pay up her debts in full. Gussie returned in an incredibly short time. He was a perfect wizard at driving, and Lou noticed how he appeared to cast a spell over the police. It seemed to her they allowed the long swift car to pass when lesser fry would be held up, and many of them had a smile for Gussie.

The house was very silent when the mastei , let himself in with a key. He went straight to the room where Jim lay sleeping on the sofa. The atmosphere felt stifling, and Captain Woolfe was like his cousin Lou, who loved the open air and never felt the cold. He flung up a large heavy window, letting the night breeze blow in on the sleeper.

Jim stirred uncomfortably, then woke with a start. When he saw the large smiling face looking down at him, he grinned rather sheepishly, then said, rubbing his eyes:

"'You're no shadow, but, anyway, you ain't solid enough to stop that draught."

"i thought you wouldn't sleep long in a well-ventilated room; you like fudge!"

Jim sat up, and suddenly his intelli gence seemed to wake with his body.

Miss Woolfe gone?"

Gussie nodded as he lit a cigar. He was rarely without a cigar between his lips at home; out of doors he smoked little. He would say he wanted all his wits about him when he wasn't in his own lair.

"Yes, and she's tumbled to the busi ness hot and strong." "Good egg!"

As Jim spoke he noticed that Gussie was wiping his brow with a large silk handkerchief. The smile had faded. He frowned rather ominously.

"Anything wrong?" came in one of the low whispers which Jim affected so often, even when no one could be listening.

''Only to this extent," muttered Gussie. "I've never deceived one of my own crowd before. That is your doing, Jim. I was just wondering- how it is you have managed to undermine my foundations. You've made me rocky, forcing me to listen to your tempting suggestions."

"Well, you are a free agent—no need to take my advice. You lapped it up because you knew it was sound. After all, a little deception won't hurt your

paragon."

"If I had let my cousin know the whole story I should have lost her for ever." Gussie snid, in a voice that held no doubt. "As Tt is, Lou will play her part to perfection, for she's tumbled to the tale, and the scheme appeals to the artistry in her very complicated mental make-up. You sec, Jim, that woman enjoys kidding people, and she'll have the Haniedon lot feeding out of, her hand. She said the fun was she could do this without having to rend them in the end."

"What did you tell her? I would liko to know exactly how far she has been let into our secret."

Gussic repeated his conversation with Lou, saying in conclusion:

"Really, it all sounded so simple and plain sailing, it made quite a pretty storv."

Jim laughed; the sound grated on Gussie's ears. This new companion of his certainly had an unpleasant voice, but his laugh was still worse. It seemed like the gurgling of something underground.

Gussie felt this man was almost superhuman when real tough work had to be done.

"There is a spirit in you that baffles me," he owned. "It forces a fellow to follow."

Somehow his voice held a pathetic note. He seemed unwilling to let go of Jim's arm, yet that thing of bone, rather like the arm of a skeleton, drifted from his hold, and a moment later Gussie found himself alone.

Someone was saying, "Good-night, Gussie," from behind a closed door, and as Captain Woolfe went to his own room he thought:

"That queer chap in there is one of those born leaders, what the Scriptures would call 'a chosen man, one who shall fly as an eagle and come up like a lion.'"

To appear righteous, Gussie frequently learnt portions of the Bible, which ho brought out on suitable occasions.

Suddenly, as if a voice boomed in his ear, he heard certain words from Deuteronomy ringing in his brain:

"Cursed be -lie that tnkcth reward to slay an innocent person."

At that moment the door creaked. Quivering and Startled, Captain Woolfe slammed it emphatically, and the slamming seemed to echo oue loud word: "Amen!"

CHAPTER IV. The Rev. Willoughby Barnes, who had been staying a night at Hamedon with his relative, Bishop Clayton, stood for a moment gazing- across The Close before saying good-bye. The bishop's limousine was waiting to take him back to London and the visitor said regretfully:

"All too short, this spell of peace with you, my dear Raymond. You can't think what it means to a Londoner to be in such a place!" The bishop was very tall and thin. His appearance suited his surroundings. He had rather a medieval face; there was an allied grandeur and picturesquenees about his person. He seemed to carry with him the weight of the Cathedral. "I. wish you could stay longer," he replied. "It is a pity you will not be here to-morrow, when your friend, Miss Woolfe, arrives at Corner Close."

The vicar's eyee travelled to a lovely old brick house. The bricks had once been red, now they were a mixture of mulberry, grape and wine colour.

"That building will appeal to my friend. She had a unique house in London. I know you will make her welcome, for my sake, wont you, Raymond? 1 can't tell you what she did for me while she was in my parish. I never realised it until she left, I was quite lost without her helpful brain and busy hands.' True to his promise, Bishop Clayton lost no time in making Miss Woolfe's acquaintance. When he suggested escorting her round the Cathedral and its precincts she was delighted, confiding to Bouquet that it as if they'd ■clickedo ,_ ;■.-_., .„

(Author of "A Wolf of i the Evenings," "Tongue* i in Trees;" "Experimental j Child;" etc, oto. ;

It wasn't Bishop Clayton's way to be curious about women, yet he remembered Willoughby's face when talking of Miss Woolfe, and now was not surprised at his friend's enthusiasm. Willoughby had talked of her as "if he hated to leave the subject. The Bishop saw she had certainly won him. As if she read his mind, Lou began to speak of Mr. Barnes. "I know you are being kind to me," she said, "because iny dear vicar in London said a word for the stranger at your gate/' "He said more than a word, he sang your praises highly. I understand that you regularly attended worship at St. Stephen's, and your empty seat gives him quite a heartache." "Did he say that ?" "Yes, Willoughby can be very expansive at times, you know." "How, nice of him! Not many men's hearts ache for mc!" She was merely stating a fact; no feminine wish to "fish for a compliment entered her mind, and her companion saw this, just as" he saw the strange glint of quiet humour in her eyes. "She might be very amusing, this Miss Woolfe," he told himself, as he said: "Do you think you will like being here?" "Yes, I should not have come otherwise. I had a thirst for real English country after a year on the Continent among rather hectic people. I am tired to diytli of night-lifo cities." "We are well named "Hamedon," since "Hame" means a pljice of shelter. You must come and see my Palace, which is rather like a fortress. I hope you will honour me with your presence to lunch or dinner." His courteous voice held a sincere ring; the word "honour" came in a genuine tone, simple and unaffected. "I'd love it," said Lou. "I want you to meet some of the people who will help to make your stay agreeable," he added, as if contemplating whom to invito when Miss Woolfe kept her promise. "There is one resident I want to know," she said, with quite a show of eagerness—"Mr. Corficld, the boy who is burdened, I am told, with almost more wealth than he can bear. People like that aro such a study. It may seem silly to you, but when I heard about that lad I felt almost sorry for him." "How strange," murmured the bishop. "I felt that way, too. Very few people would understand what 1 mean. You will realise, when you meet him, that his shoulders do not seem strong enough for their burden. He is overweighted. Now I believe you would do him good. I could picture you having a great influence 011 yotmg people." She felt the bishop watching her closely, and returned his straight look, as if there were no more open person in the world than Miss Louisa Woolfe. "I like them immensely, perhaps because I have never felt very young myself; yet I don't believe I could possibly feel old. lam a law apart where years aro concerned. I never let age bo a barrier to any of my friendships." Woolfe fancied that the niched figures of apostles and prophets in a screen which they were passing winked at her. She thought if they could speak they would say: "Go ahead! That's first rate —talking about your prey already." "That young man Clement Corfield," said the bishop, "is lunching with me to-morrow. He is interested in my library; he has rather a flair for first editions. You see, there aro treasures in the Palace library which he cannot buy. That appeals to him, something his money fails to attain. Ho wants so little because he has eo much. Would you care to come and meet him? We lunch at one-tliirty." "Thank you. That is an invitation I cannot resist, though I meant to stay at liome to-morrow with my niece, because it is her birthday." "Bring her, too." "May I?"

"I shall be delighted." "A very <rirl." murmured Miss Voolfe, "but rather shy. lam trying to get her out of that." Lou inwardly congratulated herself on having invented this birthday. She threw a fly and got a rise, thinking, "How easily tho fish bite!" Then she switched off and talked solid Cathedral until they were in the Cloisters and a mighty clock chimed out a warning hour. The bishop gave a start. "Oh, I am late for a very important appointment!" he said. "How dreadful! I have delayed you. Now you will regret your kindness to me, but I cannot tell you how I have enjoyed this glorious place. It has been an unforgettablo morning." ( He felt her enthusiasm as ho felt the sunshine, which burst out suddenly after the rain. Miss Woolfe gave a little sniff. Ho thought it was an act of appreciation, for the air smelt good, but it really expressed disdain. Talking about the weather was like bumping down roughly from an upward flight, and as sbr shielded her eyes from the sun she said: "I do so love the rain." The bishop felt his hand gripped firmly in farewell, then she whirled round and was goi.v. . :i *<out a backward look, while he watched l>er swinging figure and remarkablo vre.ll:. (To be continued daily.)