LADY RODWAY’S ORDEAL.

Evening Star, Issue 14214, 13 November 1909, Page 3

LADY RODWAY’S ORDEAL.

' By Florence Warden ; (Authorof ‘Tom Dawson,’* Ralph Ryder,’ | ‘ The House on the Marsh,’ etc.). \ CHAPTER XVII. Mr Amersham, from iiufide Richard's room on the opposite side of t-ho corridor to his brother’s, heard the, exclamation > uttered by the older brother, and ran out-. ' 'Hicy were all in the mood to l ie start led by the least thins, and ilieic was considerable ccuc' , rn in Richards voice as ho I met tho superintendent inside his brother's ‘ bedroom. Mr Amersham, coming quickly | to see what was (ho matter, and standing : outside the door of the room, was am a red at the self-possession and mcderatioii dis- i played by the yonng man on his discovering this extraordinary proceeding on the part of the police officer. Instead of bursting into a. torrent of curses and expressions of indignation and resentment. Richard, after the fimt moment of surprise, during which the superintendent hastily extinguished the candle which lie had lighted, said quietly : '' M hat are you doing up here'! ’ 'flip officer came out into the corridor with him, and, not without some slight appearance of embarrassment, said ; I heard someone call me, sir, and 1 came up, and was trying to find out which room it was from.’’ The explanation was riiiimlously lame, but still Richard kept l;Ls temper. I don t know who it could have been 1 that called you.” he said ” Whole were foil when you hear,l the call';'' I was just coming out of t he room vour manservant left me in, sir, for T thought 1 might ns well be going, not liking to'intrude longer, sir. when I heard someone call: ‘ Officer!' And I said; ‘Yes. here.’ And I camo up, and I couldn't hear no one, sir. b'o I opened two or three doors, after ! knocking, and that's how I got as far ao j here.” | “ That's my brother's Iw-droom,” said Richard quietly. “ Rut 'no is in mv room , now, ill. Ho didn't mil you. certainly. ! Ami he can't see anyone to-night. Will i you bring this young man round to-mor-row —any l.nne you like, and we ll sec him I then. Were both a good deni upset, as you can understand, and we'd rather not have any more scenes to-night. I'm rather : afraid my broth or. after what he's heard, might get out of hand at the sight of this fellow. By-thc-hy, have you anv fresh 1 evidence?” ' | “ Not at present, sir. Except that there’s talk among the servants of eomo , row having taken place outside your bouse, 1 last evening.” “ Indeed !’’ “Yes, sir. In the morning I should j like to have a- look round to see if there's I any trace of anything having taken place ! nearer to the house than what we i thought?” j “But it wap at tho cross roads that the terrible affair must have occurred ! It wae there the body of my poor father , was found !” ’ I .’’Acs, silt But—l think, if you don’t ! mind, sir. 111 have a look round in this : direction too.” “Oh. certainly, if you think it necosfiary, I only wisn [ could give you more help than 1 can. But my brother and I having been away all dav and all the evening yesterday, we arc'helpless. “Yes, of course, sir.” “ Good-night.” “ Good-night, sir.” At that moment the butler appeared at the head of tho staircase, having come up while his_ young master and the officer were talking. _ He did not show any surprise at the sight of the latter, but merely said : J "My lady and Mr Jack have gone to the library, Mr Richard, and they’re waiting for you there.” Mr Amersham, who was waiting in tho background while this conversation went i on. anxious to take his departure, but not 1 liking to do so until ho had an opportunity of saying good-bye to his young friend, was amazed once more at the calmness and reticence which Richard showed in his manner to the servant. The old doctor had fully expected that tho usually hot-tempered young man would tp for hie calmness with tho policeman V, cn outburst, of ill-teTiinor with the burler., ‘instead ovUthat, ’ilkbar,, answered quietly ; “ You must tell Mr Jack that wo can't soo lum to-night. If he will write to me. making an appointment, wo will see him later. My brother is too ill to see anyone to-night, and I don’t like to leave him.” The butler looked sullenly at his vourm master. ‘ ‘ 3 “Hadn’t you better see him now, sir. and getpt over?” he asked, in a dogged tone. ° Mr Amersham was more surprised than over at at the gentleness with which Richard replied : “ No, Prickett, I caji see no one to- , night.” The butler shrugged his shoulders slightly, 3Tid followed tho police superintendent, who was already on his wav downstairs. Mr Amersham shook Richard warmly by the hand. “ If I can be of any use, don't hesitate to send for me again,” he said kindly. And don t add to your troubles, my dear boy, by worrying yourself about your brother. He’ll be all right. Keep him quiet, lot him have a good night’s rest. Don’t let him have any more stimulants. I’ll get a little soothing draught made up for him to take, and after that he 11 sleep quietly, and, I hope, be quite himself in the morning.” “Thank you. Mr Amersham. You are iery kind. You have hoi pc cl me more than anybody. One of these dave I shall come round to thank you. And I hope that Miss Rachel will be as kind to mo as you’ve been.” The old doctor was rather startled by this abrupt reference to his daughter at such a lime. But on the whole’ he was not displeased by it. “ On, Rachel and her aunt are both quite as sympathetic as I can he,” he answered. “TheyTl see yon with pleasure whenever you can find time to call.” You don t think they’ 11 look upon me as too much of a reprobate?” Yir Amersham hesitated. He was already much struck with tho change in the young man, and he seized this as an opportunity of congratulating him upon it. Indeed, I m sure vou ve sawn vour iwild oats now," ho said kindlv, “’and that you mean to turn over a now leaf and raise the credit of the family.” ’ “ Indeed, I hope so. And if T could only get a good wife to help me. perhaps I might manage it.” Mr Amersham said nothing to this, but radded and went downstairs. Richard did not accompany him farther than the head of the staircase, but again wished film good-bye, and thanked him before retreating to his own room again. In the meantime the superintendent had delayed his steps a little, so that the Inkier joined him before he reached the hall. Then he turned, and the two men looked each other steadily in the face. But Prickett did not ask him what ho had been doing upstairs. He waited for the .officer to speak first. ‘‘l shall be here again in the morning,'' he said, ‘‘and bring Mr Jack with nm. I’m sorry wo should have had to disturb your master so much to-day, but there's a sight o’ things to bo seen to in a matter like this, and it's all got to be got through quickly, so as wo can get the inquest over.” “ Yes,” said Prickett. “I dare say you, now, could give ns some hints. Yon ro a shrewd man, Mr Prickett, and you must see <'i deal more than most people. [ should lip more inclined to trust to what, yon told me, in a case like this, than to what anvbodv else might say.” Prickett was not insensible to fiattcrv, and the change in his face betrayed the fact. But still he kept a watch over himself, and refrained from becoming too expansive. “I’m floored this time, though.’' he said, not, perhaps, in a tone which was meant to carry much conviction, but rather concealing his secret thoughts, "There’s one thing puzzles me. Mi Prickett,” went on the officer, in a confi-

dential tone; “ and that is that there was no place in the hedge, near where your late master was found, where any person could have got through.” Prickett. showed no sign of being startled, but ho looked quickly up and down again. “It looks to me, you know,” went on the other, iu the samo tone, “as if Sir Richard had been murdered somewhere this side of the hedge, and carried where he was found after ho was dead.” “And what makes you think that?” “ Why, there's an .appearance of a struggle and a scuffle, and marks of blood, in the road on the other side of the hedge. But tin) body was lying on a spot where there were no signs of tho sort. And there are certain marks on the grass and the ground on this side which we only noticed ns tho daylight was getting bad, and which wo must follow up in the morning." Prickett bowed his head in assent. “Well, I hope you'll be able to clear up the mystery for ns," be said. “If con can't, f don't see who can.” His fare was like a wall for all "ho expression it wore, and if the officer ibought if. possible to get any useful informaaon out of him ho was mistaken. The butler led the way towards thelibrary. " I suppose we shall find my lady and Air Jack slill in here.” he said. And with that he threw open the door, and the superintendent entered. Mr Jack was there, walking up and down the room, uneasy and oppressed. Hut I,inly Rodway had gone away. Enable to bear the strain of witnessing the expected meeting between hoc grandson irom America and her English grandsons, she had wished him good-bye and withdrawn. Mr Jack turned quickly to the butler. “Well, aren't they coming'.'" said he, impatiently. " Not to-night, sir. They don’t feel equal to seeing visitors this evening, and ; Mr Atherley, the younger, is ill.” Mr Jack turned with a pnz/led frown ! to the superintendent, who did ir.t gee .him time to speak before lie suggested j that they should retire, and come again : at a more seasonable lime, j Mr Jack, however, said impatiently: | "Seasonable time! It. seems to me that he wants -they want to put off meeting me, altogether." E_"Oh. no, no: they wouldn't do that. : Y on must make allowances, really, sir, ter the statu of mind they are both in (o----i day." ! And with these words the superintendent hurried him away and nut of liie house.

When they were safely outside, how ever. Mr .fade resumed the subject.

“book here," ho said to the policeofficer. in a lone of great determination. "I’m nol going to bo put off for i:m like this. It s all nonsense to pretend they can t see me, when they’ve been seeing people all day long, by what I hear. The tact is they've got wind of the fact t'aag Fin n relation of theins, which 1 had to cont esx to you. And they don't want to meet mo at nil if they can help it.” "It’s very likely, sir. they may have heard something. For you do look like that there picture of isome of the gentlemen of tho family- that hangs over the dining room mantelpiece.” "Yes. But I'm not going to he put oil like tills. Of course, they can't know exactly who I am—at least, 1 don't suppcoe they- do —but surely they- might be men enough to meet me and to see whether Fin the creature with horns and a tail ihev expect.” “ Well, they don't mean for to see you it they can help it ; that much seems clear enough, sir.”

"By Jove, but they shall see me! If they think I'm the man who killed their father I must put myself light, as I think I could do if 1 got half an hour's quiet talk with them. 1 know they're spoken of ns bung wijd and unreasonable, but this awful business will have steadied them down, and I'll make them listen tc reason, I swear."

'■ 1 don't think you will. sir. I don't think they’ll see you. whatever you do or whatever you say.” said the officer calmly.

I’eriiaps he had calculated on raising the spirit of his companion, and if so ho had calculated shrewdly. For John Jack clenched his fist, and with a frown said

Fll see them to-morrow, if I die for it.’

And with tlifit, having reached the end of the Jane that ted to the farm where he was lodging, ho bade the officer good-night and wont homeward. Mr Amersham, who had left Cliff Crest only a few- minutes before them, was bv this time well on his way U> the Cottage, where his children and his sister were anxiously awaiting his return. The news that one of Sir Richard’s sons was seriously ill had, of course, tilled them all with curiosity and alarm, and thev were reassured and relieved when Mr Amersham, on being assailed with questions, informed them that there had been a false alarm, and that there was nothing more the matter with Athcrley Ilian too free indulgence in brandy and champagne, and the natural effect of the shock of°the tragedy upon an undisciplined mind. And then again he broke out into extravagant praises of the elder brother. Richard ; of the noble reticence and dignity which he was now showing, and of the splendid change for the bettor which the terrible death of his father had caused in him. “ It was the meet striking and dramatic change for the better I have ever seen in a human being,” went on the old doctor, in much excitement, as he sat down in his favorite chair by the lire and proceeded to relate his adventures at Cliff Crest. “I myself saw him suffer the mo,-r humiliating experiences, and bear himself with the greatest patience and dignity through it aIL” ‘‘Why, what happened, papa? Do tell ns about it.” said Rachel, placing herself on a footstool at his knee. “ Well, in the first place, whi'e I was with him and his brother we heard footsteps outside, and Richard opened the door and actually found a policeman in his brother's loom.” There was an exclamation from the two ladies. “ A policeman ! What was he doing there?” asked Miss Amersham. ‘’Oil, spying about, I suppose. You know that the police, like firemen, look upon themselves as privileged pt.sons, wd > can go where they please . rid behave as they please when anything of this sort occurs,” said Mr Amersham in indignation. “ I felt heartily for the young fellow. 15m he boro himself splendidly, and merely asked what he was doing, nnd listened to his lame explanations without comment or ill-temper.” “ How very odd said Rachel. Her father went on : "And then the butler came up, and I thought his manner was very uncivil," "What! Old Prickctfc uncivil!" exclaimed Mi.ss Amersham. ’’ 1 considered him so. But Richard put up with his airs, and spoke quietly and firmly, in a way that made me proud of him. And, by the bye. he said he hoped hr might come here and see mo. and that you two ladies would see him too.” “Rather a strange thing for him to think about at '•uch a time,” said Rachel, with a. heightened color. “Well, ne said he wanted sympathy, ami no doubt lie dors. 1 told him he would get it here.” Mic.s Amers ham bowed her head, but her niece pursed up her lips as if she did not feel so cute about, it. “It. Tv as curious that the policeman should be searching the sons’ rooms, wasn't it? said Rachel, after a pause. I - , very body moved, as if rather startled by the manner of this speech. “ They nave to :march everywhere,’’ said Miss Amersham. gnavely. Mr Am--;sham would not condescend to notice her tinea ilcd-lor remark. “Another piece of impertinence that young Rich,ud has to submit to,” ho said, as lie frowned at (he lire, “is that this suspect,d man—this fellow John .lack, or whatever his name is—had the audacity to go to the hofi-m this evening ard to asl: i! he could me the brothets. (If comae?. | they refused to meet him.” | “ W hv.' asked Rachel, quickly. ' Nobody ; covered hnc Tlk> matter was such a very deiuatc one. Presently, how-

over, she startled everybody more than ever by sitting very upright, and saying : “Doesn’t it look. Aunt Kate, ns if tho police suspected, not Mr Jack, but Richard and Atherley Rodway, of being mixed up themselves in their father's death?” There was a sort of general gasp of horror at this, and then, before cither of the elder people could reply or censure her for her wicked thoughts of her neighbors, tho voice of Kben broke in upon the conversation (or the first time. “Y’ou forget, Rachel, that they were both away. That seems to be proved up to tho hilt. Y’ou don’t suppose that if there had been any chance of their having been about they wouldn't have been suspected from tho first.” This authoritative pronouncement, gave such a shock to his father and a.nnt, if not to his sister, that for a few moments nobody spoke. Then Mr Amersham said impressively : "That is quite tho most uncharitable thing 1 have ever heard said by one of my children.” Rachel, Hushing quite as hotly as did her brother, stood up for him valiantly—- “ But. is it any more uncharitable’ to think ill of the young Rod ways, whom wo know Ml about, than it is to think ill of Mr Jack, about whom v,c know nothing at all?” sho asked. Mko Amersham looked at her niece in consternation, and Mr Amersham in horror. “That young man.” he said solemnly, “shall never enter uiy r house again. He has sown the seeds of discoid in mv family, for the- first time,” Rachel looked down with the tears stealing into her eyes. Elam came noarei to her and gently stroked her shoulder. Tho young people had a. sort of feeling that, they weto both looked upon as rebels together, and that they must stand by each other. Mr Am-'ish;;:n saw the movement and ro6ontcfr-.it. Ho spoke more warmly than before--“And if. when poor Richard Rodway comes, lie. isn't treated with tho utmost sympathy and consideration, EH shut up this, liou-c. or let it. and leave this part of the countiv.” ihe young people received this threat without a word or an upward look. But Mu.s Anier.diam, who knew that threats were but a. weak weapon to use when 'lealing with two spirited young people, threw a warning glance at her brother. He said no more on the vexed sub ject. but there hung over the whole partv for the evening a cloud of misland, and di.drc.-r., and a feeling of suspense which they could s arccly define. (To be continued.)