“BURNT WINGS”

Hawera Star, Volume XLVIII, 12 January 1929, Page 16

“BURNT WINGS”

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Lady Hopper was obviously glaid to see Betsy To'lworth when she arrived, and. invited .her into, her boudoir with .the freedom of a sister.

“You have a .beautiful place, here, ’ ’ remarked the visitor, gazing around admiring eyes. “Yes; hut what does it-matter how ■beautiful one's home is if one is not. happy in it?" “Happiness is often in our own liands, aind " “I ha.ve discovered that now; I did not believe it before," interjected her ladyship, “and that's why I have sent for you." Betsy silently noidded hetr firm approval. 1 “ So I have ashed the boy to mil just after* you, and wo will " There was a knock at the door of the little room, and a maid announced a young man to see her ladyship. “Ask him into the morning room,'' said Lady Hopper, * ‘ and tell Sir Horace I would like to see him there as well. This is the boy," she explained rather breathlessly to Betsy as the maid went ‘ • Let ns go down together.' ’

When Beggie Deauville entered the roam he was surprised and not a little nervous to see occupying the stage (as he mentally put i.t), Sir Horace Hopper, her ladyship, and the old woman he had called on at Islington. “Good afternoon, Sir Horace and ladies;" he said, with an elegant bow. “Good afternoon, Deauville," responded the magnate, while the ladies smiled a welcome. “My wife has arranged this interview, so if you sit down she will perhaps tell us all about it. I am as much in the dark as you are."

Lady Hopper sat closer to Mrs Toiworth, as though seeking support from her presence, and with a faint nervous smile, confessed that she hardly knew how to begin. “I am afraid of 'hurting anyone’s feelings,” she faltered; “but I feel it must be done. ’'

“Shall I ted it for you?" asked Betsy. “No, no; it must coane from me." There was a moment's hesitation; then Lady Hopper plunged into the story of the secret which, had haunted her so: long. ‘‘When I met you, Horace," she said, ‘ ‘ i -was not the unmarried girl you took me to be. Although so young, I was already a widow with one child. ’' Her husband started a® if shot. ‘ ‘ Good heavens!'' he cried. ‘ ‘ Why tell me Gd® now? You kept it secret so long that I don't see any need toi divulge it, and particularly in front of —er —this young imam'." ‘ ‘ He is my son! ’ ’ “Your son? This—er—Deauville. — vour son?" Although he did not like Sir Horace's excessive astonishment —as though such a thing could not be possible —Reggie's heart leaped within him. Lady Hopper, in a quiet, even monotone, was making full confession, of heT deception. She told how, when still in her teens, she had run away with and married an impecunious actor maimed Deauville, who had deserted her after a few months. Overcome by the shock of the elopement of their only daughter, her parents had never recovered, and they died within a week of each other. When hear baby was bom, she was in direst poverty, and had it not been for the extreme kindness of Betsy Tolworth, who took them both in, mother and child would have starved. Betsy, who was a dresser at on© of the theatres, found an opening for the young mother in a travelling company, and the baby was adopted by the wife of a circus proprietor, who was fond of children and was willing to pay a good sum for the. infant. “That was the last I saw of my child until a few weeks ago," went on Lady Hopper. “I needed the money. It may seem unnatural, 'but I sacrificed my own mother-love so that we might live." “Poor thing, I remember," murmured Betsy.

“I had been dancing for about live yeans," continued hex ladyship, “when j heard that mv husband had died in Australia. He drank himself to death. Then I met you, Horace, and we were married. I longcd~to know where my baby boy was, but I dared not advertise, and more particularly did not dare to tel'l you I was already a widowed mother. ’ ’

“Why not?" asked Sir Horace quiet-

ly. ‘ ‘ Because I thought—l thought—after all I had told you about my father, the rector ’’

“You thought -because I was wealthy I was necessarily a snob. That I boro malice. You never made a greater mist alee in your life. Why Should 1 ’ ’ “Yes, I can see that mow,” interposed. her ladyship. “I can see the happiness I have missed by my foolishness. And my only child, my son, has been negeleted and allowed to —" Lady Hopper broke into a storm of weeping. She had not cried for years umiti’l lately, and the convulsive heaving of her bosom, as she sobbed her remorse told the depth of her feelings. Reggie Deauville looked on helplessly and in bewildered embarrassment, until Betsy motioned him to come nearer. “Here he is!" she whispered to her ladyship aw she joined their hands. “Forgive me —my son!" sobbed the wretched woman.

Eeggie took the agonised face betweenl his two hands and kissed her. “Absolutely!. You don’t know—mother!” Then he gulped, and was unable to utter another word.

Sir Horace Hopper blew his nose violently, coughed several times, and walked over to the weeping group. “Inever mind, lass," he said soothingly, remembering the pretty girl ho had' wooed and won so many years before. “It wasn’t your fanlt. I would •have done the same as you did. I can’t afford to reproach anybody for doing things they ought not have done. But. we are going to live as we ought to live in future. Mrs Tolsworth —er — Betsy will stay with us always, and we’li be’ —ho suddenly and almost shamefacedly kissed his wife’s upturned face —“we’ll be Darby and Joan! Yes, Darby and Joan, and let the world think and do what it likes!"

Lady Hopper returned his caress, and a happy smile broke through the tears as she* murmured, “God bless you, Horace! ■*’

“How, about Eeggie," he said at length. “He’d better go back into the

By G. Herbert Teague.

office a® he : s one of the family. What do you say, young man ? ’ ’ “No, thanks," he smiled. “I haw© promised to help in that other business first, and ” ‘ ‘He is trying to find the solution nf the missing woman mystery, my dear," explained .the magnate to his wife. “But what has that to. do with him?" she asked. “Well, he and hi® friend found a ■bioo:d-stained dagger on the common, and as one of the —er —heads, or onei of the late heads ait the office is mixed up with it in some way, these two young fellows aero giving their willing assistance. ’ ’

“Regarding my friend; Epsom Smith —. e r —" began Reggie —he wa® at a loss to know how to address Sir Horace in view of Ms own rekuti-onsMp to Lady Hopper ■. “He is only poor, and if I am to; be —er —looked after for the rest of my life; I’d like him to be looked after as well." CHAPTER XXXIX.

Having concluded their examination of Jeremiah Weston, Detectives Strutton an v d Slinfold and Supt. Salford, accompanied by Beggie Deauville and Eppy Smith, and two plain-clothes constables, took the official motor car from the police station and drove quickly over to Downuiero Common. By p ermisisionPeter Brent, followed on his motor cycle. The amateur sleuths pointed out the distant mill and showed the place where the dagger hail been found. Taking one of the constables with j them, the two detectives -walked across to the mill, leaving Supt. Salford, the 1 other constable, Deauville, Smith, and Peter Brent near the trees at the plaice where they 'had mounted the high ground from the road. In. answer to’ their knock the only reply was the hollow reverberations that sounded, as though from an empty va<uilt.£ Once more they knocked, and again . . . no sound. Detective Slinfold put his lips to the huge keyhole. ‘ 1 If this, door is not opened in one minute," he roared in stentorian tones, “it will be broken in! ’ ’

There -was a moment’s pause, then, with a loud 'drawing of bolts and rattling of chains, the massive door creaked slowly on its hinges, and the old Romany woman stood in the cav.em-like entrance, blinking and batting like an owl suddenly placed in the sunlight. ‘ ‘ Curse you for disturbing my sleep, ’ ’ she croaked. “What do you want?’’ “We* are police officers," said SlinfoM sternly, “and we want to ask you what you know about a blood-stained dagger found over there a few nights ago." “Blood-stained- dagger!" she repeated. “Let me see it!" As the detective held out the gruesome object the old woman gazed at it ■with horror-struck fascination. Her beady ‘black teyes glowered from under her pent-house brows with the lambent flame of a wild animal caught in a trap. Then, pointing a skinny forefinger, she muttered a® she rocked slowly on. her heels*: —

‘ ‘ That ’s her .blood that's on .the iblade, Blood, the price I knew she’s paid; Light o’ lov-o, the handsome: jade-, Has bean her undoing! » That's her dagger ..."

“Come, come," interrupted Strutiton. “Wo don’t want to hear all that doggerel. Tell us l what you know. You say this i® heT dagger? Whose! dagger? “Why, whose should it be but hers? Ninon’s! " The old wo main burst into a weird cackle,. “Ninon! Pretty name! My son's wife!' ’ “Your-son's wife? Whait's the name of your son?" asked Slinfold. “Ben Dale. Well, -he's not my son; he’s my daughter's son. He's a bad lot. I warned Mm o’ tMs! I warned him—this murderin’ —”

How do you know Ms wife is murder ed. Where is she?

i ‘How do I know? How do I know? she repeated-in astonishment. “Me—the Romany Quean! How do I know? ” Once more she relapsed into a horrible diabolical cachinnatian.

“Well, .tell us!" commanded Slinfold. “Don’t waste time with all this mumbojumbo. What do you know? Where is the woman?" With a chucMe that made even the unimpressionable detectives’ blood run cold, the hag shuffled back into her cavernous home. “Wait!" she cried from within;. “Wait! Don’t follow m!e!"

A few minutes later the eld gipsy emerged from the derelict building with a spade in her arms. She put it dorwn without a word, and re-entered tho mill, to appear the next minute carrying another spade. “Take these! ’’ she commanded'. “I’ll show you where she is! ’’ Quietly they followed the uncanny figure, as she led the way across the, heath, crooning as she went: —

“Silent in her grave she lies — Curse the day he met her! Stark and cold with staring eyes 1 , Murdered under midnight skies, Dig and dig to get her!

“Dig! Dig!" she almost shrieked tearing away the loose branches that had boon strewn over the improvised grave.. “Dig and find what vou seek! Dig!" Not a. word was spoken as the spades rapidly removed the loose l earth, and in a few moments the dead body of Ninon Ester©!, pathetic in its dirty, bedraggled garments, was gently lifted out on to the fresh turf.

A doctor pronounced the woman’s death a>s being due to a stab in tho back, aiud, in view of tho evidence, of the ohl gipsy, the, jury had no hesitation in bringing in a verdict of wilful murder against Ben Dale. A warrant was issued the same night for his aTrest, and his description was broadcast by wireless all over the, country. Eppy Smith was ostentatiously dumb about what had transpired during the evening. “Me lips is sealed," he told ono of his old cronies at the lodginghouse who, met him in the street after his return. “Certain things ’a's ’appened dahn there," ho went on, jerking his thumb eloquently over his shoulder. “Certain things, I says, which I’m not at liberty to di-vulge at this stage, but certain 1 parties not a fahsand miles from ’ere ] will p’raps be wisliin’ that—but ’ush! ’’ I He put his 1 finger on his lips as though

ta check his own speech. “ ’Ush. I'm sayin’ too much. But it'll come out in the papers, an’ yer might p'raps see that yores trooly 'as 'ad a 'and in fighting fer the cause o' justice. That’s all I can say; that's all I must say; in fact'' —he came a step nearer and dropped his voice to a whisper —“it’s all I dare say! Got me?" Much nodding and winking.amd putting of fingers on lips followed, and Eppy continued Ms journey with a selfconscious swagger aind a feeling of importance. such as he had never felt before. When PeteT Brent reached home ho ■was surprised to- find Beggie Deauville l' there, telling his uncle and aunt iwith great gusto all about .their experiences of the afternoon. He had just got fairly into his stride when Peter entered, and Sir Horace asked the narrator to wait a moment.

“You wild. be. surprised: to- soo this young mail here, Peter," he began, ‘ ‘ but your aunt and an old nurse of hens have discovered that he is your cousin in a way—-the son of her ladyship by her first marriage-." ‘ * Congratulations; aunt, and Air Deauville! ’ ’ exclaimed Peter, when he had recovered from his first surprise.

“ Thank you; ’ ’ replied Beggie. “Time works wonders. There. always was a mystery about my birth, but it is only lately we have solved it —and very satisfactory, I t-Mnk. ” ‘ ‘ Yes, hud he appears to be taking his part like a' good citizen already,” smiled her ladysMp. ‘‘ He has been, telling us about that dreadful discovery outlie common. ’'

“Oh, the finding of the 'dagger?" queried Peter, not knowing how much had .been told, amd hoping that Beggie. had been discreet in his narration in view of his uncle’s association with one of the chief characters in the drama.

* ‘ Yes, ’' was the reply. ‘‘ He has just told us -of how Superintendent Salford and the •detectives from Scotland Yard had asked him and Ms friend —er — Smith, is it ? —to act as guides.' ’ Peter Brent felt awkward. He did not like to speak before .this erstwhile stranger so- intimately as his aunt evidently expected Mm to do. And the extraordinary news that Reggie Deauville was distantly related to Mm and the son of -his step-aunt further complicated matters. Her ladysMp seemed suddenly to have dropped all her old pride of wealth and position. She seemed more human, but she was not — of -courtse, Deauville would continue to be the same—a thousand pities he had not been properly 'educated. “Well, Peter, come along, pull yourself together!" laughed Sir Horace, “what about .tMs news?"

“Oh, yes; I'm sorry," said Peter, awaking from his reverie. “I'm afraid the unexpected domestic news has driven it from me for the moment. Well, a warrant has been issued for the arrest of that, gipsy chap that used to be on the common." “What for?" ‘ ‘ Eor murder of .the missing woman.' ’ “But how do they know she was murdered?" Peteir hesitated.

‘ ‘ Come, come!'' asked -Ms uncle, becoming red in the fade through impatience-. * ‘ How do they know she was murdered?"

‘ ‘ They found her body buried on the common; stabbed in the back, and'—" Sir Horace Hopper opened Ms mouth to exclaim; but no sound came. He fought panic-stricken, for breath, then fell heavily on the rug—dead. (To be continued.)