A GRIME ON CANVAS.

Evening Star, Issue 14054, 8 May 1909, Page 3

A GRIME ON CANVAS.

[By Fred. M. White.] CHAPTER VIII. A COMPACT. Lawrence followed into the house. He saw that the hall was in semidarkness, as, indeed, was every- room an the ground floor. The electric lights were burning brilliantly, though it was not yet mid-day. The place itself was one mass of flowers—white flowers for the most part, but there were geraniums and begonias, too, the scent of which Bras almost overpowering. Outside was a conservatory or winter garden. Lawrence had never seen so many flowers massed together before. He turned an inquiring eye on Ethel. “Very strange, is it not?” she whispered. “ But please don’t ask me to explain. What it all means I have not the remotest notion, for I have never been here before, and I never dreamt that my grandfather had a house other than Glenallan. You had better take it all for granted until Sir Arthur is disposed to make a confidant af yon. Meanwhile, I’ll go and look tor him.”

Ethel flitted away. To Lawrence the House was painfully silent, and he sat with a vague sense of coming evil. He seemed to hear the tolling of that dreadful prison bell still. Then a footman in the plainest and severest .of black liveries came like a ghost out of the gloom. His face was pale and his lips twitched slightly. “ Please come this way, sir,” he said in a whisper. “ Sir Arthur is ready to see you now.”

Lawrence Hatton found himself in a large room at the back of the house opening out into a magnificent conservatory. It was quite evident that the owner of the house was attached to flowers of all kinds, though Lawrence r-ould not call to mind any hobby of that kind on Sir Arthur’s part in the old Still, this was no time to ask questions. There was no artificial light here, and the rays of the sun came softly through the dome of the transparent house. A figure rose from the depths of a cavernous armchair—a figure at once strange yet lamiliar to Hatton.

■ So this,” he told himself, “ is all that remains of Sir Arthur Blantyre alter the lapse of three years.” The rame was still there, but chest was sunken, and the keen dark eyes retained little of their wonted fire. The curly hair was getting white, though the moustache and imperial still retained some suggestion of their darkness.

Sit down, Mr Hatton,” Blantyre said after extending a shaking hand to his companion. “This is a strann-e meeting after all these years. And if yon hare had your misfortunes, God knows I hare not been free from mine.”

Looking at the speaker, Lawrence could well believe it. Yet he was a man whose family and property were the cnry of a whole countryside. A one were so proud and exclusire as the Blantyres of Glenallan. The Hattons, good old family as they were, had never aspired to he on equal terms with the owners of Glenallan. “I am' a broken man, Sir Arthur,” Lawrence! said quietly. “ Four years ago I looked to great things in my profession as a barrister. My dear old father could leave me nothing when he died. But his death-bed was rendered smooth by the fact that he knew I had made a fair start in the world. Then came my cruel misfortune—one of the strangest cases of a miscarriage of justice that erer took place in a court of la«' : But we need not dwell upon that.' I lire in hopes that some day my character will be vindicated ” It shall,” Blantyre cried excitedly as he paced about the room. “It is possible that I miy bo able to show von how. Did it erer strike you that \ ictor Le Blanc could have turned the tide in your favor , if you had sunn moned him as a witness?”

' That ,s possible,” Lawrence said coolly. “ A ictor Le Blanc was an old school-fellow of mine, and his mother and my father were great friends. But the elder Le? Blanc was a thoroughpaced scoundrel, and I am afraid that Victor took after him.”

“Good Heavens, yes! It was a sad day for me when the doors of Glenallan opened to admit that rascal. But go on.”

Is there any need, Sir Arthur®” Lawrence asked. “Of course, I could have called Le Blanc had I so chosen. If I had done so, certain episodes in his past would have been disclosed, and the scandal would have killed’ his mother. She eventually did die of a weak heart, I believe.' And as for her, why, I loved her like a mother. And she was so fond and proud of Victor; she was so sure that he was not likely to take after his father. For her sake I suffered, buoyed up with the hope that my good name would be cleared in the end. Otherwise ”

“Oh, I know—l know,” Sir Arthur said sadly. “It was, indeed, wasted kindness. On the whole face of the earth there is no scoundrel than ictor Le Blanc. I could not measure the misery that ho has brought upon my house. He has humbled my pride in the dust, he has made me what I am. And even yet the measure of his wickedness is not full. I will tell you later how I incurred his displeasure, ami how he is preparing a vengeance which will make me a laughing-stock and a byword wherever the name of Blantyre is known. For my sake, for Ethel’s sake, in the interests of another who must be nameless for the moment, this thing will have to be stopped. •. • • I suppose you failed to recognise Ethel when she spoke to you this morning. You found her much changed?”

’’ I think she might have walked by me without recognition, Sir Arthur The. pretty child I used to be so fond of has grown to a very beautiful girl. You must recognise that.” “Indeed, I do, Hatton. And yet there are times, God forgive me, when I wish that she had never been born. Still, vve are a brave race, and I ani not going to depair. I sent for you to come to my little hiding-place here, first because I feel you are innocent, and secondly because I knew von would find some difficulty in finding employment—at any rate, for the present. But that is not the only reason. You have no acquaintances to chatter with. You will be prudent and not talk. Now, if you accept the post which I am going to offer you, can I rely upon your courage?” “It was never doubted,” Lawrence said quietly. “I don’t know what to do or where to turn. But I will do anything so long as your work is honorable.”

That is just how I expected you to speak, Sir Arthur replied. “ Your nerve will be tried, and your plnok tested to the uttermost. As to the material side of the bargain, I will pay you _ well. But you will have to move quietly and diplomatically, and, above all things, yon must contrive to blind everybody to the fact that yon are working on my behalf. l a m afraid the first task 1 am going to give you will not be a congenial one, but I want y ,°, u se ?* out Le Blanc and learn all about his movements. I know for a fact that he is back from Paris plotting the vengeance which I have spoken or. If you could ibebepj6 to dnvo him out of the country ”

“There are more unlikely things ” Lawrence exclaimed. “ But, tell “me where is the man to he found, and what is he doing? He bade fair at one time to make a reputation as an artist, like his father was before him.” ’

‘ My dear Hatton, he has made quite i great name,” Blantyre cried. “In /ranee I understand that his reputation stands ,J^.

through this gift of his that he means to strike me. I cannot tell you everything at present,, but I am already letting you into secrets which, up to now, are unknown even to Ethel. It ’ r l * t stran € e to think that a man like Le Blanc could be so inspired and yet so depraved. But I am wandering from the point. Of course, you will say nothing to Le Blanc as to your coming from _ me. You will act on your own inspiration." You will find out r 'V ,u cat ß and let me know every one of that man’s movements. Above all, yon are to keep an eye upon hi* artistic work and see that I am thoroughly P° s tf d - Ethel and myself will go hack to Glenallan to-morrow, for the pressing business which brought me here is finished for the moment. If you want money you may draw upon me for all require. And don’t write to me at Glenallan—come down and see me if yon have anything important to say ” Lawrence glanced thoughtfully at the speaker. The latter’s words seemed to bo business-like enough, but he was palpably the prey of some strong emotion. What hold could that scoundrel have oyer Sir Arthur? It seemed almost impossible that this thing could be, and yet something had transported this strong man into a pitiable nervous wreck.

can,” Lawrence said. •1 am sorry that yon cannot see your way to trusting me implicitly.”

( I .dar® not,” Sir Arthur groaned. Bosiclos, the secret is not entirely mine. If I could buy off that man with money, I would not hesitate if it cost me my whole fortune. But poorly extravagant as that fellpw is, I cannot move him in that way.” “We may find another method ” Lawrence said cheerfully. “And now give me his address, and I will see what I can do for you. 1 suppose the fellow has a studio in London,” “In Fitzroy square,” Sir Arthur explained. “I will write down the number for you. And now I shall be glad if yon will leave me, for I am very tired.”

Mith the address in his pocket, Lawrence went his way thoughtfully back into the hall again amongst the darkness and the flowers. If he had hoped to see Ethel once more he was doomed to disappointment. The girl was nowhere to be seen. But there were more important matters to occupy his attention. He stepped out into the open and looked down the road. So far as he pould see there was no one there but an itinerant musician with a tin whistle. Lawrence started back and hid himself iu the doorway, CHAPTER IX. PACE TO FACE. Lawrence strode along in the direction of the Temple, feeling that he had indeed something like an object in life. Ho had not dared to stop as yet to analyse his own sensations. But now that he was alone the full significance of the last few hours came upon him .with almost overpowering force. He began to be cognisant of the fact that ho was filled with a great and ravening sense of hunger. He had been faint with the want of food at the moment when he had met with Ethel Blantyre. But the sensations of the moment had carried him out of himself, and all physical feelings had given place to the spiritual call on his nature. At any rate, he was hungry enough now. He could go no farther without good and proper food. He was almost astonished to find that already he began to see the humorous side of life, seeing that for the past three years he had heard and witnessed nothing which was in the least likely to bring a smile to his lips.

The joy of life was moving in his veins. He felt equal to the task before him. He turned into one of the smaller restaurants in the Strand, and after studying the menu to the best advantage, provided a full and satisfying meal. It was not particularly well served', or well cooked for the matter of that, but after the loathsome monotony of prison fare it seemed to Lawrence to be ambrosia fit for the gods—the sweetest fare that he had ever tasted in his life. Greatly extravagant, he purchased a cigarette, then went on his way feeling quite equal to cope with any emergency. He had lost the nervous sensation of the morning, though he was still, perhaps, just a little dazed and confused with the rapid march of events. He could not altogether rid himself of the strange feeling that he was old-fashioned and behind the times, but he was human enough to note with satisfaction that there was nothing particularly oldfashioned about his clothing. So far as outward appearances were concerned, men wore very much the same to look at as when the doors of a prison had clanged behind him. He would see Le Blanc without delay, though as yet he was hardly prepared with an excuse for calling upon him. And after his mission was done in this respect, he would go and look up his friend, Raymond Watney. Ho felt that he would find the latter useful at this juncture, for Watney was a well-known journalist who knew everybody and would be able to furnish him with the trend of recent public events. Besides this, it was possible that Watney might be able to give him some fresh hints of the career of the artist whose pictures were just now causing such a stir in the world. On the whole, he thought ■t_ would be best if he called in at Watncy’s chambers and saw him first. It was not difficult to obtain the journalist’s address from a ‘Post Office Directory,’ and Lawrence was rtunate enough to find his friend at home. The little man with the gold spectacles greeted him heartily and sincerely. “ My dear old chap, I am most delighted to see you,” he said. ‘I have looked forward to this day .« pleasure. Some time or another c are going to prove your innocence and put the right man in your place. I was more than sorry- I conld not meet you this morning, but a most important piece of business cropped up at the last moment and prevented me. However, I felt sure you would look me up, and now, having done so, sit down and make yourself at home. On the whole, you look better and happier than I should have expected. Surely some piece of good fortune has befallen you. Help yourself to cigarettes, and tell me all about it.”

Thus encouraged, Lawrence told his stor\\ the recital of which appeared to fill Watney with satisfaction.

“That is really good hearing,” he said heartily. “ I am glad you have found something to do, and yon might be far worse employed than giving Sir Arthur a helping hand. I don’t understand Blantyre myself of what he is suffering from. Of course, I haven’t come in close contact with him for years, not since yon and myself and Le Blanc were boys together at Glenallan. But I saw the other man the other day, and I was shocked to see the change in him. You remember how frightened we used to be of him in the old days.” “ I recollect,” Lawrence smiled. “ As a matter of fact, Blantyre has confided in me to a certain extent. As far as I can gather I am going to act as a kind of private detective. First of all, I have to look up our old acquaintance, Victor Le Blanc. He seems to be the man of whom Sir Arthur stands in such dread. There is some question of a vendetta between them, but exactly what it is I am not free to say. But I am in a position to go and see Le Blanc, because I can plead the old days when we were friends, and assnme that I have called upon him with a view to nnding something to do. lam told he has gone tremendously far during the last two or three years, but as to that I can say very little, because I have been out of the world. Any information on the subject of our old acquaintance I shall welcome with gratitude.” .

Watney puffed vigorously at his cigarette.

“Thorough blackguard,” he said

he always was, though we were too young and unsophisticated" in the old days to know it. Taking into consideration the fact that wo were all boys together years ago ” ' Oh, I know all about that,” Lawrence said grimly. ‘‘l am alluding to the last three years. Can you help me?” “ Well, I can give you more or less authentic gossip,” Watney said. “Le Blanc earned for himself an evil reputation here; in fact, for the time the air of London was too hot to hold him : so that he fell back on the more congenial atmosphere of Paris. But aftei a time there he pulled himself togethei and changed his life. He threw ali his shady friends arid companions ovei and became so morose and misanthropic that he appeared to be simply posing. At the same time, he did not neglect his art, for he .turned out three pictures one after another which attracted tremendous attention at the Salon, and now he is back in London with a big reputation already made. Of course, 1 am only speaking from hearsay, for 1 haven’t taken the trouble to look the man up, and since" he has been in London we have, not met.” “ A difficult man to approach,” Lawrence suggested. “Just in his present mood, I should say he is. He sees nobody. He goes nowhere, and declines to be interviewed. I dare say it is all part of an attitude; but there it is. Gossip has it he has just finished a marvellous picture, which will be on view before long in one of the leading galleries. But as to" this, I can’t say for certain, because when Le Blanc is in London he is absolutely alone in his studio and keeps nothing in the shape of ser- | van is. He has an old woman to light i his fires and do his dusting, but this !is only :i matter of an hour or so. I am afraid I can’t tell you more than this.” A strange change for a born Sybarite like Le Blanc,” Lawrence murmured. “ But I will go and see him and take the bull by the horns. Yon say that I shall probably be refused admittance, in which case I must open ■the door and walk in, I suppose. I’ll let yon know how things go. Oh, by the way, there is one thing I had forgotten—you say you intended meeting me this morning, but were prevented by a piece of important business. Did you send anybody as a messenger, by any chance, to take your place?” VVatney shook his head resolutely. Most assuredly he had used no messenger; indeed, it was not till a few minutes before the time to set out for Wandsworth that an imperative -command over the telephone changed all his plans. “ Why do you ask the question?” “ Well, because somebody id meet me,” Lawrence proceeded ’to explain. ‘ Outside the gaol I was accosted by a little old man whose appearance and expression of face by no means prepossessed me in his favor. He was very vague and mysterious, and all I could get out of him was that somebody wished to see me on an important matter at a certain time in the Embankment Gardens. I resolved to see the adventure through, though I am bound to confess I didn’t like it in the least. But what the upshot of it would have been I can’t say, because Miss lilantyre came on the scenes and changed all my plans. I went off with her to St. John’s Wood, and, from what i know to the contrary, my mysterious benefactor might be still cooling his heels behind Somerset House. It suddenly occurred to me that this messenger might have been from you.” ‘ ion may abandon that idea,” Watney said. “ I saw the man again,” Lawrence went on. He ,was in the road outside the house in St. John’s Wood playing the beggar with the aid of a penny vhistle. Without being unduly suspicious, his appearance there struck me as being strange. Evidently somebody fias an eye upon me already.’” (To be continued.)