WHAT HARGREAVES KNEW.

Hawera Star, Volume XLVI, 5 February 1927, Page 13

WHAT HARGREAVES KNEW.

Chapter IT. (continued)

“Alt, I’m afraid I can’t tell von that,” said Hargreaves. ‘‘You see, if I told you everything X knew you’d be a wise man. Sir dohn confides in me a good deal.” “The Fairfields were always eccentric,” remarked Mr Bumpus. _ “Sir John is no exception,” after which he smiled somewhat triumphantly at 'Hargreaves, continuing; “Sir John says we have got to treat him a bit eoldei this time, as he ’s coming here under a cloud.” .' ~ “He’s always lived under acloud, observed Mr Bunipus, “but in wliat way are we to treat him coldly, I suppose you mean that I am not to laugh if he again compares my face with steak? ” * “He’s sure to do that,” said Hargreaves. ‘‘Anyhow, you 11 ha\e tft treat him different, that’s all I can sav: please yourself how you do it. “It will be very difficult,” replied Bunipus. “He’s got that slap-you-on-the-back wav which confuses one. However, I’m extremely sorry that lie is to descend upou us again. I’ve not forgotten the day lie put a rat under the cheese cover —and to think he’s a man of nearly thirty! He should be past such things. Now take Mr Reuben Gales. Mr Gales is very conscious of his connection with a family of this kind.” Within an hour of this conversation Mr Reuben Gales himself arrived at Beggar’s End to see Sir John. He had a pale face with small, penetrating eyes, and thin lips which closed so firmly that they almost disappeared. Reuben was, so far as profession went, a man of great moral purpose. He shunned evil and eschewed good, and had no dealings with anyone who did otherwise. This might portray Mr Reuben’ Gales as a likeable man, though it is not meant to do so. The difficulty was that he went by his own standards only when differentiating, 'be- 1 ■tween the good and bad. He compounded the sins he was inclined to by damning those he had no mind to.. Hargreaves assisted him on with his coat when the time came for him to go. “Ah, Mr Gales,” he said, “Sir John has perhaps told you that we are shortly to have a visitor?” “Yes, he mentioned if,” replied Mr Gales. “I’m sure yon will all do your best to put up with him, though it is difficult to touch pitch and remain undefiled.” ‘.‘Very true, sir, very true, sir, said Hargreaves; “I shall be most careful. I value Sir John’s confidences more than I can say. He tells me a great deal.”' As Hargreaves spoke the words a look of interest leapt into the small eves of Mr Reuben Gales. “I know a great deal about Sir John’s affairs,” continued Hargreaves. “He even trusted me some time agosir. to witness his will.’’ At the' mention of Sir John’s will there came, into Reuben Gales’ face an avaricious expression. “Really,” he said. “He must have great trust, in you, Hargreaves, and, for that matter, so have I. I’m quite sure Kir John’s will,would bo an interesting document.” ‘ lie was .thinking quickly as lie spoke. Omild it be possible that Sir John had actually told Hargreaves' the contents of the will? “I’m sorry, sir,” continued the under-butler, “but my loyalty to Sir John prevents me telling you about the will; it is, as you say, a very interesting document —a very interesting document.” “Equally divided amongst his tour relatives, I suppose,” queried Reuben Gales.

Hargreaves allowed one of Iris eyes ■to close in a sly wink. “That would be telling, Mr Gales, wouldn’t it,” lie murmured, dropping his tone. T You may take it from me. however, that it’s far more interesting than that.” Reuben Gales shifted uneasily. He wanted to ask Hargreaves definitely, vet hesitated, lest the under-butler should tell Sir John of his inquiry. “Of course,” he said in a low tone, “as a solicitor I am interested.” “And also, as Mr Reuben Gales, 1 take the liberty of presuming,” said Hargreaves. Gale’s hand went straight to Ins pocket, and he handed Hargreaves a pound note. Hargreaves bowed silently as he received it ; with a murmured ‘‘‘Thank you, sir.” “Yes,” continued Mr Reulben Gales in a whisper, “to me, as Mr Reuben Gales also. Of course, I don’t ivant to pry into Sir John’s affairs at all, but if you ever feel like telling me any details, you may be sure they, will not be passed on.” “If I could be sure of that,’ replied Hargreaves, sibilantly, “I would tell you; in fact,, sir, I rather feel you ought to know —it concerns you more than you think.” By this time Gales was consumed with self-interested curiosity. “Look here, Hargreaves,” he said, “let’s be frank with each other.. I m willing to give you five pounds if you will tell me the nature of Sir John’s will.” . ... Hargreaves rubbed his mouth with the flat of his hand and gazed at the ceiling. , .“Well, I’m taking a very great risk in telling you, sir,” he murmured. “But I’m not' quite sure, in view ot the good news I could tell you that five pounds would cover my risk. Now, it vou’d said ten pounds ” At that moment a door opened upstairs and Sir John’s steps wore heard. “Quickly, then,” whispered Gales. “I’ll make it ten,” and he hurriedly produced two crisp five pound notes. “Here you are, Hargreaves; now tell me.” “Well, as a matter of fact,” said Hargreaves, “the will is entirely in your favour, sir—everything, lock, stock, and barrel.” Perspiration broke out on the brow of Mr Reuben Gales. “T thank you, T thank you!” he gasped. “Thai’s quite all right,” relumed Hargreaves. “I’ll promise von not to influence Sir John to make any change. I’ve considerable influence oyer him, as you know. Now 1 must return to Mr Bumpus. Good afternoon, sir.” It was- two days after Hargreaves had told Gales this- beautiful lie that James Fairfield arrived at Beggar’s End.

Chapter TIT. THE BLACK SHEEP. The nearest station to Beggar’s End was the one-platformed halt of Floody Wyngat.es, six miles away. It was at this station that Mr James Fairfield arrived when he came on liis visit to his uncle. Kir John directed iCleasbv, the groom, to meet liis nephew with the dog-cart. The train was late —as all trains at Floody Wyngates were. In fact, James Fairfield himself had once remarked that trains only stopped there when they were tired.

The arrival came near to being marked by tragedy, for Cleasby, having grown tired of waiitng, had adjourned to the “Live and Let Live” a short distance away, and he returned in time to find James Fairfield duly established with his luggage in a rusty motor car. owned by a small local garage, which occasionally met trains. Cleasby raced down the road in anguish, lest Mr James should escape and enter the grounds of Beggar’s End in a motor car.

“For the love ,of Heaven, sir,” he cried, “get out of that there thing!” “Really, Cleasby,” exclaimed Janies Fairfield; “this will be much quicker, won’t it, and it’s quite- coinfortable. You follow with the luggage. ” “Oh, you mustn’t do it, sir! It’ll break Sir John’s heart, and, not only that, he’d about half kill me for letting you do it.” “Do what?” asked James innocent-

ly“Drive up to Beggar’s Eml m a blasted thing like that —begging your pardon, Mr James. Surely, sir, you haven’t forgotten that lie don’t allow motors anywhere near him?” James heaved a resigned sigh. “l~es, I had forgotten, Cleasby. It’s difficult to remember all my uncle’s whims. Anyhow, if it pleases you, I’ll get down and join you.” The disaster being averted Cleasby smiled again, and presently he was driving his master’s nephew at a pleasant trot towards Beggar’s End. James Fairfield was good to look upon. He was tall —somewhere in the neighbourhood of six feet —and spare, though not to the point of thinness. He was clean-shaven, with remarkably blue eyes, and, by accident or design—most probably the latter —lie wore a soft collar and shirt of a blue which corresponded with them. He carried an ash stick, which, by its colour and surface, had been a close friend, and in the country he always wore a cap slightly too large for him, which managed to assume an angle which Reuben Gales had been known to describe as “fast.”

As ho drove along the lanes to the accompaniment of the ever-sweet sound of a good horse ’s hoofs, he felt pleased with the countryside to which he had been summoned. Most of the trees were bare, with the exception of the oaks, and even these were already shedding their brown leaves in the lanes. Cock pheasants screeched in the woods, and once the mare shied as one of the vividly-marlced birds whirred across the road almost under her nose. It was pleasing to thinlUthat all this land belonged to his uncle, and that there was at least a possibility of its' eventually belonging to himself, though, judging from his uncle’s present attitude, lip could not consider the likelihood strong. In any case, he reflected, he was not going to make himself a slave, even for Beggar’s End. Hargreaves had been keeping a sharp look-out. from the window for iris arrival,.-and as he mounted the stops, with Cleasby behind, carrying the bags, the door was flung open, ana Hargreaves, with one of his stateliest bows, ushered Jimmie into the hall. Simultaneously from, a; door at the opposite end came a figure walking with the gait of a turkey. It was Mr Bumpus, wearing a pained expression, but intending', nevertheless, to observe the due rites of hospitality. Fairfield’s first greeting was to slap Hargreaves on the back. “Slippery Sam again!” he laughed. “Glad to see you. You’re almost as much part of Beggar’s End as the loyal and faithful Bumpus, whose sylph-like form I see behind you.” Bumpus bowed. “I fear I don’t understand you, Mr James,” he said solemnly. “There’s nothing silverlike about me. ’ ’

“.Sylph,” corrected Jimmie pleasantly. “Sylph—fairies, you know.” “Your explanation, sir, makes youi remark no less obnoxious,” said Mr Bumpus heavily. “I’m sorry that you should think fit to treat me in this way. ’ ’

James Fairfield shrugged his shoulders helplessly. ‘ ‘jSovry, Bumpus, sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind —you never used to.” “I’m older for one thing, sir, now,” replied iMr Bumpus, unwilling to say that his attitude was the outcome of Sir John’s instructions. “And as for you saying I didn’t used to mind, you ’rc quite wrong, sir. I. resented very much my face 'being likened to a steak, sir; in fact, I was only referring to it to Hargreaves the other day.” Bumpus’ mien proved too much for Jimmie, who laughed to himself and patted the butler on the back. “Never mind, Bumpus,” he cried, regarding Bumpus’ rubicund face; “it’s like an English steak, anyhow.” Then, suddenly, he glanced up, and to liis consternation saw the figure of -Sir John Fairfield standing at the head of the stairs contemplating the scene with obvious pain. “Hello, uncle! ” said James, straightening himself. “Sorry I didn’t notice you there.” “Perhaps you will be good enough to come up to the library,” said the baronet, turning on his heel, and. leav ing his nephew to mount the stairs as one might in the olden days have mounted the scaffold. Presently they were seated in opposite chairs in the comfortable room in which Sir John spent most of his time. “I should have thought that I might have been the one with whom you would wish to carry on your first conversation,” said the baronet. “iMy dear uncle, I. couldn’t possibly take to you if you weren’t there,” expostulated James, an attempt to wriggle out of the difficulty. “There’s another point to which I must refer,” answered Sir John. “I have not. asked you here to insult my butler.” “Good -heavens!” exclaimed his nephew. “I don’t eall that, insulting him. I bet he prefers that to the nasty sharp tone to many people adopt when speaking to their servants, and so does Slippery- —I mean Hargreaves —”

“Enough!’’ commanded Sir John. “Please understand my butlers are not night-club waiters.” “I’ll remember, sir,” answered James. “But you must pardon me, uncle, when I make just one remark, and that’s this, that old Bumpus would make Ids fortune if he were a waiter in a night club. He’d he perfectly priceless, and it -could he called' the Bumpus 'Chib. By jove, what an idea! The Bumpus Club!” Jimmie repeated, the name of his imaginary club several times, with renewed chuckles, ignorant of the fact that Sir John, who had his back to the light, was growing more and more purple in the face. Suddenly the baronet- sprang from his chair. “Look here, sir!” he cried. “You are deliberately trying to annoy me, and I inform you that I will not have it. I will turn you out of the house first! ’ ’

(To be continued.)