THE GRINDSTONE

Evening Star, Issue 21013, 29 January 1932, Page 3

THE GRINDSTONE

By MRS. A. J. PHILLIPS,

Author of 4 Swifter Than a Weaver's Shuttle,’ 4 A Miner’s Romance,’ etc,

[All Eiohts Eesebved.]

CHAPTER XXIII. A RESCUE. Yera had promised Rachel to call in with a special book which she had got for her from the library, and as she had finished her work at the office while the afternoon was yet young she walked quickly home, and returned to Rachel s house with the book. “ Well, now, that’s good of you, it is indeed, Miss Despard,” said the pleased girl as she saw the novel in Vera’s hands. “ Times does seem to crawl so now I’m at home. Eh, I wish. I were back at the mill. It s dreary here, and 1 told dad I’m not standing it long. Then I miss my Fridays money, I do that.” “I expect you do, poor Rachel. Never mind, you know your mother would wish you to stay at home.” “ I’m not so sure, miss. _ You see, I never did while she was alive, and she lay in that corner for many years, but since I’ve stopped at home father likes it, and will have me look after the .house. Of course, he’s earning_ good money, and, like all men, he enjoys a made dinner every day.” “And how is Sarah Alice?” asked “ Eh, miss, she’s not well, and she do fret so. Did I tell you she has been home again?” : “No!” cried Vera in surprise. “ Well, she has. She went last week, poor lass, and there, if she didn’t find her home axx empty house with To Let’ in the window. She went like one in despair to where he used to work, and she found that ’e’d left some weeks ago, been_ paid off, drawn his savings, sold up his home, and gone, nobody knows where. She came home, and I was fair frightened at her grief, but she held to it that she’d done the right thing. No husband should call his wife what he had called her without being punished. So she’s settling down h0:..3 again, though she’s not the girl she was, not by a long chalk.” “I am sorry,” said Vera, sympathetically. “I do hope things will come all right soon. Surely he will not leave her altogether?” “I don’t know.. There’s no knowing what a jealous man will do when he’s got an idea in his head, that his wife ain’t true to him._ I wish I could see him just for five minutes. I’d give him a piece of my mind that would just make him sit up. I don’t know why we bother wi’ men at all; they’re not worth it,” cried Rachel bitterly, “I hate the lot of them!”

Vera laid a gentle hand upon the mill-girl’s arm. “I wonder why you talk like that, Rachel? I have heard you say that 1 before. Tell me, for you can trust me. 1 Has any man treated you badly, that you should feel so bitter against mankind?” ' , Rachel stared into the fire with a face grown suddenly white; then with 1 a little cry she slipped down-beside 1 Vera, and hid her face in her dress. “ What is it, Rachel dear? Oh, tell ’ me. I will keep your secret, and hold it close, and perhaps you will find comfort in the telling of it,” Vera said ; soothingly. , “ Yes, I’ll tell yer, miss. I want a friend —God knows I do —and I miss mother so badly, ’cause she knew, and we’ve talked together when the pain of remembering everything was too'bad to bear quiet like.” Rachel rose slowly and sat down, ' drawing her chair close to Veras. “ It would be some eight months ago when I first met this man. He were so handsome and had such gentlemanly ways with him that I grew silly over him afore I knew him to speak to. Then one day ’e stopped me and spoke so nice to me. He asked me if I d walk out wi’ him, which I did for some weeks. Then o said sudden like, would I marry him, but keep it quiet for a little time, as ’is people wouldn t like it? And I were fool enough to do as he wished. Yes, I were such a softy over him.” ' , “Oh, Rachel!” breathed Vera, almost speechless with surprise, “are you married?” . . “ Yes. miss, I am. Wo were married very quiet at the registrar’s, and then I came home just as though nothing had happened, and the next day him and me had a dreadful quarrel, for it came out ’e ’ad mistook me for someon© else. thought J. J ad a lot of money, and ’is rage, it were summat awful. ’E swore and cursed and said ’e’d never keep me; but I kept my head and I up and tolled him that ’e didn’t need to worry ’isselfj that I were independent of such as him. And I’ve never 'spoke to him since. So there you’ve got my poor love story, said Rachel in a low voice. “How terrible I” exclaimed Vera. “ How did you bear it?” “ Well, it were pretty bad, as you may guess, and one night I couldn’t rest, and I told mother. It were a little easier to bear after that, but I can’t abide to think much about it, for, in spite of all his bad treatment of me, I shall always love him and bo faithful to him.” The poor girl dipped her hand down the front of | her blouse and brought up a plain gold I ring. I “There,” she said, looking round j fearfully, “that’s my wedding ring, ' which I always wear round my neck.” She put it back in its hiding place, then rose and busied herself in making tea, which she insisted Vera should share. After tea Rachel got her mending bag, and the two girls darned and chatted away until the clock struck 8. Vera sprang up in surprise, “How quickly this evening has gone!” she cried. “I must go; I want to take a small parcel to old Granny Bates. She is in bed with browntitis—did you know?” “ Yes, miss, I was told so; but don’t go round there by yourself. It’s so dark down that there siding.” _ ■ “ Oh, it’s nothing! Why, it’s the back wall of the offices, and quite familiar ground.” Vera said good-bye and hurried away down the road. She made her way I along a poor-looking street and passed | the big mill, where she had learned to weave. Turning sharply to the left, she walked by the high stone wall that surrounded the mill and the large offices a good few yards from the weaving .sheds. Her heart sank a i little as she noticed how dark it was, ! but she went on bravely. She smiled as she noticed the light in Paul’s 1 office streaming from the window, I which was open at the top. Turning 1 this time to her right, she reached Granny Bates’s house, and after knocking went inside the little room. “ Well, Granny,” she cried cheerily. “ Better late than never. Did you think I had forgotten_ my promise? How are you this evening?” “- Werry bad,” croaked the old dame, shaking her head. < “ God bless yer, miss, for all your kindness.” Vera remained a short time, then bade Granny Bates good-night and prepared to return home. As she crossed the street and was about to turn the corner by the big wall again she saw the figure of a man standing looking up at the open window of Paul’s office. She stopped short, her heart suddenly full of a nameless fear. Why was he there? What did he want to do? She crouched against the dark wall of a house and watched him, her heart beating to suffocation. He seemed to be fumbling with something. Then he struck a light, and she saw in the sudden flare the face of James Poden as he bent J to shelter the flame from the wind with his hand. He evidently accomplished what he wished to do, for to her surprise he climbed quickly on to the window sill. It seemed to her that he lowered something into the office, then, very slowly and softly, he drew the window up, jumped down to the ground, and, after shaking his fist at the walls, turned and walked very | swiftly away. Vera was filled with horrified fears. That he meant to harm somebody she felt certain, and then the awful thought flashed across her mind. “ Suppose Paul was in there, working late?” She knew Foden hated Paul Stafford, and her face grew white with agony. Perhaps it was a bomb, and would blow the whole place up! She started running at full speed towards the mill gates. Pantingly she ran, catching her breath in sharp little sobs until she reached the great gates, I but they were shut fast, and she could not possibly climb them. j “ Oh.” she whispered—“ what shall 1 I do? Oh, God. send someone in Thy, mercy to help me.” ; It seemed as though her prayer was answered immediately, for she heard footsteps, and ran out from the gate almost into the arms of Mr Brooklands. “ Mr Brooklands,” she panted, “have you any keys? Come quick! There is danger—Paul—l don’t know | what,” and she pulled at his arm in a frenzy. “Paul!” he repeated sharply. “Danger!” Then, seeing her face, he i rushed to tho gates, unlocked them in a trice, and they both tore up the short path to the office doors. These were unlocked as quickly as possible, and they ran towards the door of Paul’s room, to find tho door locked; i I

from the outside and the key still in the lock. There was a horrible, suffocating smell everywhere, and, with apprehension written plainly upon his race, Mr Brooklands turned the key and threw the door open. A rush of foul air followed, and he and Vera fell back coughing violently. “Paul!” shouted Josiah Brooklands. There was no answer. “Paul!” again he shouted, but his voice echoed ghost-like round the empty room. “ Vera,” he said sharply, “there has been foul play. You stay there like a good girl, but lend me that silk scarf of yours. I will wind it round my mouth and nose and go in search for our boy. God grant no harm has happened to him, but I am afraid.” He marched in carefully, looking round tho cloudy room. Prone on the floor by the smashed window lie saw Paul’s body lying. Quickly he grasped him round his waist, and, lifting him from tho room, carried him down the passage and laid him on the ground outside. “Can you find the watchman anywhere ? Don’t look so frightened, little girl. I believe we have come just in time, thank God.” _ Vera was hastening away when she saw the watchman coming towards them, walking in a strange, hesitating manner. She watched him fearfully wondering if he were drunk, but as he came nearer she saw blood trickling down his face. “ Oh, Mr Jones, what is the matter?” she cried. He looked at her vaguely. “ Someone knocked me down, miss,” he replied, smiling feebly, “I shall be all right soon,-miss; my head is bad.” But he revived somewhat when he saw the inanimate body lying on the ground. “Mr .Paul!” he cried. “Why, what’s the matter? Not killed, sir—oh, not killed? What is it? Murder and robbery,” and he broke down into weak sobs and moans. It was evident that he had not quite recovered from the attack upon him. “I must get a cab, Vera,” said Mr Brooklands quietly, “ and at once. Paul is alive, but I do not like his breathing, and lie must be attended to at once. Wait here. Thank God, all is quiet. We should have a crowd if this got about,” and he strode sharply through the_ gates, carefully closing them after him. He was back in no time with one of the managers, whom ho left in charge, and Paul and the poor watchman were driven to Bresterton House, Vera being put down at her own home, where she spent the night full of anxiety and dread. CHAPTER XXIV. . , A CLUB AT LAST, After breakfast the next day Vera was hurriedly getting ready to depart to the office, as usual, when a motor car stopped at the house. Vera opened the door, and tho chauffeur informed her, that her presence was desired immediately by Sir Robert. She stepped into the car, a sickening sense of coming trouble descending upon her heavy heart. Perhaps Paul was dying, and had asked for her. At this terrific thought she hid her face in her hands. Sir Robert met her, and , she searched his kind old face with wild eyes. “ Tell me the worst,” she whispered. “Is Paul dead?”

aro you upsetting yourself about? You look quite ill.” “ I don’t know, miss, but I’ve got such a weight on my mind. I can’t tell what it is, but I do feel so anxious.’ “ You must not feel like that, Rachel. Why should yon?” asked Vera. looking in surprise at the worried, homely face of her friend. Rachel hesitated, moving her hands restlessly, then she burst out fearfully : “I’m wondering who did it, whether it were one of the office men, or maybe the manager? It’s someone as ’as a spite agin Mr Stafford, ns wants to get Ijim out of the way. Oh, Miss Despar cl, have you any notion who could ’a’ done it?” and she searched her face with anxious eyes. Vera hesitated, and was lost. The girl, seeing her indecision, pounced upon her and caught her hand. “ You know who it is, miss. You know who done it, I see’d it in your face. For the love of God tell me who it was.”

He smiled reassuringly. “There, there, my dear; you have passed.through a terrible ordeal. No, my little girl; don’t look like that. Your boy, and mine, thank God, is on the way to recovery, and is sleeping naturally,”

“ Oh, I do thank God, I do!” cried Vera, clinging suddenly to Sir Robert, and breaking down completely, sobbing deep, heart-broken sobs on his fatherly shoulders.

“ Now, coipe, my dear, that will do. We don’t want Vera ill next. Come along and have a peep at Paul.” She went upstairs with him, and stood beside her lover’s bed, her heart tom with emotion as she saw his pale face against the pillow. Before leaving his room she knelt down beside him, and laid the faintest shadow of a kiss upon his forehead, Josiah Brooklands kept watch like a faithful animal. He and Sir Robert had been up all night with the doctor, assisting in the grim fight with death, but gradually, step by step, the presence had been driven out and the door closed upon it. “ I would like you to stay for a little while, Vera,” said Sir Robert. I must go to the office. This must have full investigation.” “ I can explain all to you,” she was about to say, but something kept her dumb, and she felt she would wish first to tell Paul and ask his advice, “Paul’s life is yours, my dear; you were the means of bringing assistance to him. and but for you—but there, it won’t bear thinking of,” and Sir Robert walked away. She found a book in the library, and tried to settle down, but that was impossible, and she gave it up in despair, Ihe excitement in the district was tremendous when the news got abroad. Such an outrage had never been known before, and the work throughout the mill was disorganised. Favourable reports of both the watchman and Mr Stanfford were posted up in different parts of the great buildings, and gradually things became more settled. As Sir Robert stood in silence and looked at Paul’s office, he realised what an awful struggle had taken place in this room only the night before. The whole of the smart, up-to-date office was ruined. Chairs were in pieces, the typewriter on the floor, the mirror over the mantelpiece smashed to atoms, and the window nothing but an empty space. The glass partitions were all untouched, and the other offices presented their usual business-like appearance. The clerks were busy over their books, but the head clerk of all seemed to find some difficulty in concentrating his mind upon his work, for he kept glancing furtively to right and left, and his face was like death. Already remorse was tearing his heart out, and a slight sob of relief had left his lips when he read the notice that Paul was alive. He had been spared the sin of murder, and under the revulsion of feeling he felt he must confess or commit suicide. That night, with his head in his hand, he reviewed his past with a groan, realised how terribly he had been weighed in the balance and found wanting. Vera had spent almost a happy day nursing. Paul had awakened out of his sleep a different man. In a day or two he would be himself again. He followed Vera with his eyes as she moved quietly about his room, and 'his heart beat with intense love as he felt how sweet was this girl who had given her heart to him. On her way' home she met Rachel, who had been walking up and down waiting for her. “Oh, Miss Vera,” she exclaimed, gladly. “ I am thankful to see you. I called, but the old lady said you weren’t in, that you must have stayed at the office for your dinner. Doesn’t she know anything of this affair at all? I didn't say anything, but ain’t it awful?” “ My aunt takes no interest in anything whatever nowadays. _ I come and go, and she asks me nothing. It was terrible,” answered Vera, gravely, “but it is turning out all right. What

“Hush,” whispered Vera, glancing round uneasily; and she drew the excited girl under the shelter of the dark passage. “ Yes, yes, I know, Rachel. Control yourself, and I’ll tell you, but you must promise faithfully you will not tell anyone,” she said sternly. “I promise, I promise,” gasped out the mill-girl. _ . “ I saw the man quite plainly, said Vera, slowly. “Oh, Rachel, I believe God sent me to Granny Bates on purpose to save Mr Stafford., As I was returning I saw the man lower something down into the office, then he slunk away, but not before I saw who it was.” . “Who was it?” Rachel whispered huskily. “It was James Foden,” replied Vera in a low voice, shivering slightly. Rachel stared at her wildly. “I knew it,” she muttered—“ I knew it”; and sinking upon her knees she liid her face in Vera’s dress. Vera looked down at her in dismay. Then a sudden thought struck her, and with a weight at her heart she said, “What is the matter, Rachel? What is this man to you?” “ He is everything to me, though he is a scoundrel and a scamp, and_ everything else you like to call him, I can’t help it, miss—he’s the man I told you of; he’s my husband.” “Oh, Rachel!” exclaimed Vera impulsively, “I am so grieved for your sake.” ' , , , , The poor girl raised hopeless eyes to Vera’s, and broke out pitifully: “ Don’t give him away, miss. 111 do whatever you want if you’ll promise me that. I’ll 'work my hands to the bone if you’ll have mercy on him.” “Hush, don’t talk so wildly. I have not said a word yet, and I don’t intend to do so until Paul is quite better; then I shall tell him, and leave him to deal with Mr Foden. But listen, Rachel; take mv advice, and see your husband. Tell him that he was seen, but mention no names. If he would confess to Mr Stafford himself, he would be forgiven; I am quite certain of that. Will you do this?” A look of relief swept across the girl’s face. . „ , “God bless you, Miss Vera,” she cried. “I’ll try it, at any rate.” Without another word she turned and ran out of the passage and disappeared up the road. James Foden paced the floor of his small kitchen in great distress of mind. His soul was like a turbulent sea, and he. could find no rest anywhere. _ A qiiiet tap at the door startled him, and ho threw it open impatiently. An ejaculation of surprise escaped him as he saw the girl he had wronged. “Rachel!” he cried sharply; “what brings you here? Come in, come in.” “You may well ask,” she said coldly. “ Nothing but a matter of great importance brings me to your house.” “ I am sure of that,” he replied. “ I know I don’t deserve that you should ever look at me again, but I’m sorry, lass, for treating you badly. I can’t tell what’s had liold of me these last nine months. I’ve been a regular blackguard.” A flash of joy lit up Rachel’s homely face.

“Oh, James! I can forgive yoU| anything when you speak like that to ; me; but I must tell you, dear lad, that I know about last night’s affair, and about your hand in it.” A look of fear crossed his face. “What do you mean?” he whispered; “ what do you mean?” “You know,” she replied simply, " I am not going to explain, but I have come to-night to tell you that you were seen by somebody last night to lower something through the office window.” A groan burst from the wretched man. “And me ono who saw you has sworn to me that if you will confess to Mr Stafford she’ll say nothing about it.” “Then I’ll do it, lass! I’ve been fighting against myself t' do it; but go I will now, when Mr Stafford is better; and if he forgives me, and if you will put your hand in mine and help me to lead a better life, as God is my witness, Rachel, you’ll never regret it.” Ho held out his arms, and Rachel was folded close to her husband’s heart. Two days later Paul was himself again, and insisted upon returning to his work and to his rooms. He received a splendid welcome back to the office. The workpeople congregated outside, and yelled and shouted themselves hoarse. Someone shouted for a speech, and in the twinkling of ;.n eye Paul was upon the shoulders of six stalwart workmen, and placed upon an empty lorry in the mill yard. As Sir Robert Clayton and Mr Brooklands joined him upon the cart the cheering grew to a roar, which could be heard all over the town. < Paul spoke a few words, simply but sincerely. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your sympathy. I have had a critical time, but God has brought me through safely. The motive for the deed I am in ignorance of, as I am of who committed it, but this I want to say to you all—for who knows but that he may be standing amongst you—l bear him no ill-will, and perhaps if I knew why he was driven to perpetrate that action, which might have cost me my life, I might even sympathise and not condemn.” He could say no more, and Sir Robert asked the hands to take their places quietly at their work, which after giving several more hearty cheers they did. Life flowed once more in its ordinary course. That evening as Paul was resting in his room, quietly reading, Miss Despard entered. “ There is a young man who wishes to speak to you, Mr Stafford. Will you see him?” " Yes, certainly. Kindly show him in,” answered Paul. A slight frown appeared upon his face when he saw James Foden walk into his room, but ho moved towards him and offered his hand. 1 Good evening, Fodon,” he said quietly; but to his surprise the man refused his hand, “ I cannot shake hands with you, sir. My hand is not worthy to touch 3’ou.” There was a long silence, both men eyeing each other; then Paul said slowly: “ Ah, is that so? Then I can form but one conclusion, and that is ”

“ Don’t say it, sir,” cried Foden. “ Let mo make full confession here on my knees before you.” “ I would rather you didn’t if you don’t mind,” replied Paul. “ I don’t want a full confession, but what I do want to know is why did you do it?” “ I did it because I have been devoured by a fiend lately—a fiend of jealousy. I saw how well you were in with the master, and how everything favoured you, and the horrible thought came to me that, as I succeeded you in the office, I might again occupy your shoes in the private office. . Oh, I have been through hell since, sir, and I can never tell you what I felt like when I saw the notice that you and Fielding were alive. Now I want to confess to you in writing, and you may do with mo as you will. I deserve punishment, and if you decide to punish me l'il bear it like a man.” He spoke with deep earnestness, and Paul saw a new light upon his face—a look that had been absent before. Ho strode towards him and held out his hand. “ I forgive you,” ho said, “ and hero’s my hand upon it.” _ The man looked at him in bewilderment, and took the proffered hand in a dazed manner. Then, realising what it meant to him, he dropped the hand gently, sat down heavily upon a chair, and leaning his head upon his arms gave way to the bitter grief his remorse caused him. Paul clapped him upon the back. “ Now, Foden, that’s enough. My forgiveness shall be your punishment, and the whole thing will be forgotten. If I am not mistaken, all this is going to make a new man of you, and if that is so—well, the lad time I underwent will be amply repaid.” After Foden had departed Paul resumed his reading, but again he was disturbed by the hearty voice and cheery manner of Josiah. ( “ Well, well, my lad/ reading, aro you? Well, you can put your book down, for I’ve come for a chat,” he said, seating himself comfortably, and they talked away for some time. Mr Brookland’s eyes had been wandering round the room as he was speaking, and they rested at last upon an old book. “ Hallo, family Bible,, I suppose. Ah, put away out of reach, covered with dust, I’ll be bound. Well, I’m interested in old books, and I’m going to have a look at this one. You may laugh, my lad, old Josiah’s nose pokes in every corner. Well, let it, let it; it’s never been bitten yet. What will that old dragon say, think you? Poor creature, she looks as though she had been brought up on vinegar, but that’s none of my business. Perhaps there’s been little sweetness in her life.” Josiah got a chair, mounted it, and succeeded in bringing the old Book down. Ho turned the pages over with interest, noting the old print and quaint capitals, and was occupied with it for some time. Presently he lifted it up and put it back in its place, and as he did so something fluttered to the floor. He stopped, picked it up, and examined it. A look of deep surprise flashed across his face, followed by a delighted exclamation, and he turned to Paul, his old face one vast beam. “ Paul, dear lad,” he called, “ a clue at last. Thank God, a clue at last!” (To be continued.)