ERIC DACRES:

King Country Chronicle, Volume IX, Issue 797, 18 August 1915, Page 6

ERIC DACRES:

(Copyright.)

By William Murray Graydon, Author of 'Under the White Terror,* 'ln the Name of the Czar/ Etc., Etc.

A Romantic Story of Adventure during the Matabele War.

♦ PART 4. "I leave Sir John's house in despair," he resumed. "I drink heavily to drown my grief, meet with an accident, and turn up a trump card in * the person of this fellow Dacres. He, my rival, unwittingly informs me of what I most desire to know —he reveals the identity of this mysterious William Dacres, and satisfies me that he is dead, and that his secret is buried in the grave with him. Ah, Mr. Eric Dacres, you played neatly into my hands, though for a moment I feared you had the missing receipt. I have you in my power and your fortune"- as well. It was a clever stroke to offer you money ; I knew it would be refused." With a smile that showed his white teeth, Haygarth locked the door leading to the hall, and drew the curtains of the front windows close together. He entered the adjoining bedroom, lit the gas, and touched a secret spring in the oakpanelled wall. A hidden slide opened, revealing a square enamelled tin box.

Haygarth seized the box greedily, and taking it to the front room he placed it on the table.. Pasted across the top was a label containing the name of William Dacres, and this he scraped off and tossed in the fire. Then he lifted the lid, the lock of which had prepiously and recently been forced open.

He drew out three parcels with broken seals. One contained a thick stack of Bank of England notes, and another was a triple roll of sovereigns. The third was a cha-mois-skin bag, and when shaken lightly it disgorged a heap of cut diamonds. The gems were of various sizes, and their dazzling sparkle as they lay strewn on the table was reflected in Haygarth's greedy eyes. "A • dozen times I have looked at the stuff, and wavered between prudence and desire," he inuttered half aloud, "but now lam secure. It is mine—all mine. Ten thousand pounds in gold and notes, and ;at a rough, calculation close to thirty thousand pounds' wortk of diamonds. An eccentric sort of fellow William Dacres must have- been ! And to think that my father should have kept the box hidden in his secret drawer all these yeiars, and died without leaving a scrap of writing to refer to it ! The receipt—if one was given—is certainly lost. "Yes, my friend Eric, I have you tight," he added. "It is your own fault, curse you, for coming between me and the girl. Without the fortune on which you counted j r our chances are hopeless, while I, with your money, will marry Doris. It will take time and cunning, perhaps, but in the end I shall triumph. I hold all the cards."

Haygarth exultantly swept the diamonds back into the bag, and then took from the bottom of the tin box a fourth parcel—a little packet of papers sealed with green wax, and addressed to "Eric Dacres."

"Shall I?" he reflected. "Yes, it can make no difference now."

He broke the seal, and misgivings vanished as he pored over the papers. They were four in number, and one was a lengthy document ; but he mastered the contents of all in a short time. Then, fairly gasping for breath, he.dropped into a chair. His face was flushed and agitated, and wore an expression of bewildering amazement. He filled a glass with whisky and soda, and drank it at a gulp. "Good heavens, what a find !" he exclaimed, hoarsely. "It's wonderful—wonderful ! ' What a lot of confidence William Dacres must have had in my father to entrust him with the papers ! Ah, my friend Eric, if you only' knew this ! But you shall never know, I swear it. I hate you more bitterly than ever now. As for the secret, the time may come when I can use it to my own advantage—who knows ? More daring and improbable things have been done."

He sealed the papers up again, and put I hem and the other parcels bock into the tin box. He sat with knitted brow thinking for several minutes, and then "returned the box to its nook behind the secret panel. A few moments later he was sleeping the sound sleep of the man who <nows not the voice of conscience or honour.

CHAPTER V. FOR HONOUR'S SAKE

It was nearly noon when Eric rose Ihe next day, looking careworn and feeling in the wtorst of spirits. He ate a meagre breakfast, and an hour later found him closeted with the executors of the deceased banker—Parchment and Feenan, of Lincoln's Inn. And here he learned that which both stifled his lingering gleam of hope • and at the "same time braced his sturdy nature to meet the disaster that was now inevitable.

With one exception, the solicitors confirmed the statement of Fergus Haygarth. The exception was are ceipt they had found a day or two before among" some old papers, and it read as follows :

London, June 4, 1890

Received from Andrew Haygarth banker, of Jermyn-street, the tin box that has been in his charge for the past ten years. WILLIAM DACRES.

When given this document, Erie produced a statement forwarded him by the Southampton bank, which he happened to have with liiin. It covered an extent of six years, and showed that on the 10th of June.. 1890—six days after the receipt of the box—William Itocres.had deposited various securities and moneys to the value of thirty thousand pounds. He had drawn on it steadily—there were no subsequent deposits —and but a small balance now remained.

There was nothing further to br said or done. To Eric's mind the situation was clear, and after leaving Lincoln's Inn he walked down Chancery-lane like a man dazed. "My father was always eccentric, even absent-minded," he said' to himself, "and he was so wrapped up in his books and scientific studies that such a mistake as this was quite possible. Yes, I see it all. He withdrew the box five years ago, and deposited the securities it contained. But in his last moments he was under the impression that the property was still in the care of Andrew* Haygarth."

William Dacres, after steadily spending a large income for years, should have left his son unprovided for seemed a strange and a cruel thing. But that such was the fact Eric believed —he partly accounted for it by his father's oftshown indifference to financial matters —and he resolved to waste no further tima in searching for a fortune that did not exist.

"It's awfully hard lines on a fellow," he' reflected bitterly, "though the blow would have been less severe had it fallen before. But I know the worst now, and , must face it bravely. The world is full of opportunities, and I will lose no time in making a start. First to see Phil, and then what I dread the most —an interview with Doris. My darling, I will win you yet ! For your sake I will toil in foreign lands to make a fortune."

Feeling alternately depressed and cheered as he went along, Eric reached the office of the "Illustrated Qourier" in Fleet-street. He found Phil Courtney in, and had a long and private conversation with him. He told his friend all there was-, to tell, and Phil agreed with Eric that his father's last words referred to the box withdrawn from Andrew Haygarth five years before. Then the subject that Eric had at heart was discussed, and it was late in the afternoon when he rose to leave. "Better decide now, old chap," said Phil. "Say you will go." "Give me a few hours to think it over," Eric replied. /'lt is too important to settle off-hand."

"You won't regret it," urged l'hil. "South Africa is the place for for-tune-making nowadays, and you arc just the sort of man to succeed quickly. When you get there you will have enough left of your little pile to give you a start in some promising business or speculation. We can look round a bit together while I am sketching and writing ; and if you prefer a more adventurous life than the mushroom towns offer, there are gold and diamonds to be found north of. the Transvaal." "I thinje.l.should go in for that," assented Eric.

"By Jove ! I wish I could staythere with you," exclaimed Phil. "In two or three years you'll be coming back a rich man." "I hope so," Eric said, with a sad smile. "Well, good-bye, old fellow, and many thanks. I'll give you an answer in the morning." "And it will be yes, of course ?" "I'm afraid it will have to be," Eric replied ; and after a clasp of his friend's hand he drifted back to the roar of Fleet-street. He took a 'bus to Charing Cross —cab fares were not to be wasted now—and walked to his hotel. He dined, put on evening clothes, and strolled westward through lamp-lit London. At nine o'clock, with a fast-throbbing heart, he mounted the steps of Sir John Copleston's imposing residence in Onne-square, IJayswater. He inquired for Miss Churton* sent up his card, and was ushered, into a richly-furnished drawing-room,- lighted by the rich glow of many-hued lamps. Doris quickly appeared, and the first glimpse of her dazzled and thrilled Eric. Her beauty of face and form was displayed to fullest advantage by a lustrous rose-col-oured gown, rich lace, and the sparkle of jewels. With a radiant smile, she held out her hand, and Eric clasped it tightly. "Doris !" he murmured. "At last !"

"At last, Eric," the girl replied, blushing. "I am so glad to see you. Long months have passed since we parted in the desert —since you saved my life. And Sir John and Lady Copleston, they will be delighted to meet you again." "I came to see you, Doris —you alone," he said, hoarsely. "My darling, I am a ruined man." "Ruined ?" she questioned anxiously, and with startled eyes. Eric sat down beside the girl on a deep couch, and leaning towards her, he hurriedly and in low toilet told her what he had come to say—of his father's death, the promised legacy that had brought him tc London, and how cruelly and strangely he had been disappointed. "1 am sorry for you," Doris whispered—"more sorry than 1 can express in words. But are yon certain there is no mistake ? It seems

so strange." "There can be nono. To mak(

doubly sure I went into the mattoc with the executors." "And Fergus Haygarth ? Are you convinced" "Is it possible that you know him ?'•' Eric interrupted, in surprise. "He is an old acquaintance," Doris replied. "1 knew he was in London now." "Fergus Haygarth is a fine fellow, and the soul of honour," Eric said, warmly. "He was very kind to me, and I fell grateful for the sympathy he showed. He is a friend of Phil Courtney's, you know." Doris inclined her head, and Brie did not observe the half-startled look of wonder and suspicion in her eyes. "It is not for mv own sake that I would be rich —that 1 i>pl this blow so bitterly," he resumed. "Do you remember our Inst parting amid the desert sands ? I said J should have a question to ask you when next we met." "Yes, I remember."

Her voice was low and sweet

"What I read in your face that morning gave me hope, encouragement, keen happiness, in spite of the pain of parting," Eric went on. "I was sure that you had learned to care for im», even in so short a time. Oh, it is so hard to speak plainly—to make you understand ; but I love you, Doris—madly, and with aH ikiy heart." He paused, knowing he had gone too far. The girl dropped her eyes before his passionate gaze, but nestled a little closer, and he could see her bosom heaving tumultuously beneath the corsage of lace and satin. . He wa.s fiercely tempted to throw to the winds his heroic resolutions, to ca-st over honour and principle, for he believed that he had won her heart ; hut by a strong effort he restrained himself.

"I would be a. coward to ask you now to marry inn—lo seek to bind you by a promise," he whispered. "But lam young" and strong, I have faith in myself, and I am going" out into the world to earn a fortune. And I will succeed, Doris ; I am sure of it. Koine day T shall come back to ask you to be my wife. Ami you—you will at lrnst give me some word of hope to comfort — something to think of » by day and night ?" She looked him straight in the eyes. "I will wait for you," she said, simply, "be it one year or many."

Eric's breath came short and fast, and in a second more he would have drawn the girl to his arms, but just then voices and footsteps were heard on the upper floor of the house.

"Sir John',and Lady Cop.'.eston," Doris whispered. "Tbey are coming down soon."

"1 can't see them," Eric said, hoarsely ; "I can't meet them tonight. Mnke some excuse—anything. 1 will write to you and explain my plans. 1 won't trost myself to see you again." « He quietly drew the girl's head against his breast, and kissed her on the lips and forehead. "Good-bye!" he breathed passionately in her ear—"good-bye, my own darling ! May God keep you stffely till I come to claim you !"

He released her, seized his hat, and made a swift and urwibservod escape from the house. He had fought a hard battle:and won, but there was little consolation in that for his aching heart. Me wandered long, through streets and squares, and when the' big bell of Westminster was striking the midnight hour he found himself tinder the trees of the Embankment. He looked at the dark, swiftly-flowing river, laughed heartily,) and turned ,in the direction of Trafalgar-square. "My answer to Phil will be yes," he reflected. "Farewell to England and Doris ! Welcome to the goldcr land of South Africa !" CHAPTER VI. True to his resolve, Eric informed Phil Courtney the next day that he had decided to accompany him to South Africa, there to remain and seek the favour of the fickle goddess Fortune. He confided all to his friend, and Phil's sympathy proved very comforting in this time of trial.

It is now Wednesday, and the two were to sail on Saturday from Southampton. Eric returned from Fleet-street to his hotel, and wrote a long letter to Doris, explaining his plans, and most nobly asswang the girl that he did not consider her as bound by any promise. Then he paid his account, and took up lodgings with Phil—an ofl'er that he had gratefully accepted for reasons of economy.

The next two days were occupied in purchasing a suitable kit, and by Saturday evening Eric nnd Phi* were aboard the big South Afrieaa liner, watching the shores of dear old England fading in the distance. Just here a few words may be said about Eric's father—no more than Eric himself knew. William Daeres had gone out from England to India in 1865. There he married an orphan girl, who died when Eric, was born in 1870. Several years later he came home with his mn, and settled down in Edinburgh. Here Eric was educated, and meanwhile his father travelled extensively in South Africa, America, and Europe.

When the son was eighteen years old, William Daeres took a pwmanent residence in .Jersey, where until his death he devoted himself to scientific research ; and during thaw past seven years Eric had speat much of the lime in adventurous travel.

(To b» ContinuedV.