In the Clutch of Nemesis

Lake County Press, Issue 2392, 7 September 1911, Page 2

In the Clutch of Nemesis

(PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.»

By Florenaa M«pe, .>» The Trials ot Madge Moberiey.” “A Merciless Wonw ‘Tangled Threads, ' The Brown Rosary, %c.. & r -

-[COPYRIGHT.J

CHAPTER XXIV.—“THE CLUTCH OF NEMESIS.” “How do you do, Mrs. Hatherley? I am sorry my daughter is out; she has gone to dine at ‘The Carlton,’ and a theatre afterwards. 1 was too tired to accompany her, but, of course, she had Mr. Brereton, and there was another lady of the party.

You’ve heard of the engagement, of course?” Lady La Touche was lying on a sofa in an elaborate tea-gown of silk and lace. She was a vain woman, and as fond of pretty things as her daughter, but inclined to still great'er extravagances. She had been

nice to Joan by fits and starts, when she had been coming to the house, sometimes quite gushingly familiar — at other times so frigid as to barely notice the girl; so that Joan felt relieved to find her in a rather amiable mood than otherwise, and inclined to talk. “Yes, I am sorry that Miss La Touche is out, as my business was with her; but as I cannot see her, Lady La Touche, it is as well, I think.

to speak to you,” said Joan. “What’s it about? Do you want another engagement ? I thought it a great pity that you threw up the Rutherfords. I can’t understand why; they were nice to you, weren’t they?” asked her ladyship. “Very. I had to leave for private reasons,” answered Joan. “But,” she continued, “it is not about myself I have come to speak, Lady La Touche; it is about your daughter and this engagement. You must not let her marry this man. I know a great deal about him, unfortunately, and he is not a man who would make her happy. Oh, I beg of you to try and stop it before it is too late. You ■do not know what Mr. Brereton really is; he is a cruel, bad, unscrupulous man, and would make your daughter the most unhappy of women.”

Utterly taken aback by this unexpected outburst of indignation from Joan, Lady La Touche could scarcely speak for a few moments, so angry was she at what she considered the woman’s unpardonable impertinence. She pulled herself up out of the down cushions into which she had sunk, and turned a livid face upon Joan.

“How dare you come here with this tirade against my future son-in-law! How dare you try to break off this engagement! It is a most desirable marriage, and I would not have it stopped for anything—for anything, I repeat. You, to come here with your opinions—your talcs against a man whom I suppose you wanted to entrap yourself—l’ll hear nothing from you. You can go, and never show your face in the house again. I shall give orders to my servants not to admit you. You understand, Mrs. Hatherley, it will be useless for you to attempt to call, for you will not see my daughter.”

“Oh, Lady La Touche, you do not know. It is for your daughter’s sake —for her sake alone. Let me

tell her, at any rate, what she ought to know; then she can decide for herself,” cried Joan, pleadingly. “She shall hear nothing. We have nothing to do with Mr. Brereton’s past follies. All men have them. It

is his present that concerns us, and the future as my daughter’s husband. Nothing else matters. As for you, f consider you to be an adventuress of the worst kind, and a meddlesome, interfeing woman, envious of another woman’s chances.”

As she spoke. Lady La Touche put her hand out to the silken bell cord that hung beside her couch, and when her maid answered it, with suspicion

mounted tlie stairs to her mother

room. “Is that you, Geraldine? How late you arc. I can't sleep, just give me my drops,” said Ladj La 1 ouche, as her daughter came in. “Mother, what did Mrs. Hathcrley call for?” said Geraldine,- turning up the dim light full upon her mother, who was in bed. “Who told you she called? Really 1 do wish that new footman would mind his business,” said Lady La Touche, querulously. “It was his business to answer the questions I put to him. I asked if anyone had called, and he told me Mrs. Hathcrley. What did she come for?”

quickness, she ordered her to show Mrs. Hatherley out. Mason cast a furtive glance at joan. She could see by her mistress manner and appearance that there had been, as she expressed it, “a bit of a row,” but Joan was calm and dignified as she passed the maid cut of the room and went downstairs. It had been a fruitless errand. Brereton’s wealth was the attraction, and Lady La Touche was determined he should become her son-in-law. Left alone, her ladyship was m a fury against Joan. She quite believed there was something against Brcrcton’s character, but whatever it might be she hoped it would not come out till he was Geraldine’s husband, and the settlements all secure. Lady La Touche had been gambling on the Stock Exchange, and had been a loser. She was also mixed up with a set of women who spent their afternoons in each other’s boudoirs, playing bridge, and had lost heavily—so heavily that she had been obliged, unknown to her daughter, to pawn some of her jewels and bribe her maid to keep the secret.

“Really, Geraldine, 1 cannot be bothered at this hour of the night, or rather morning, to talk about Mrs. Hathcrley. Put that light low and go to your room, and leave me in peace,” said Lady La louche. “Nonsense, mother! You arc keeping something from me. Mrs. Hadierley would not call here unless 3 he came on a matter of importance. What was it? 1 don’t go to bed till I know, nor do I turn the light down. I wish to watch your face —I can al-

It was most necessary that Geraldine should marry a wealthy man, and she was thankful all that nonsense was off between her aud Ralph Rutherford, who was passably well off. Lady La Touche had never cared for the Rutherfords; tli ■ mother she considered a narrow-mind-ed frump, and the son something of a prig, with absurd ideas about honor and what a woman should be. What attracted Geraldine to them she could not understand —a girl brought up in a worldly-wise way, surrounded by society women, aud living in a set totally different from the Rutherfords.

Lady La Touche did not grasp the fact that it was just the difference that did attract her daughter. Gcral dine was an odd mixture of worldli

ness, vanity and love of luxury, and higher feelings—a keen admiration of

honor, in either man or woman, an

impulse towards generosity mixed with an inborn selfishness, a coldness that might develop into cruelty, inherited from Iter mother, mingling with a

warmth of passion for just one or tw individuals that might lead her to d outlandish things.

Lady La Touche knew that it was touch and go whether Geraldine would marry Brereton. She had only that very day declared that the man was impossible—-that he made her shrink from him sometimes with her shrink from him sometimes with loathing--that she cvuld never become his wife, and she would give him up. Then, in the midst of this scene, a packet had arrived for her from Hunt and Roskell’s, and there embedded in

purple velvet lay the rope of pearls she had set her heart on possessing, and the vanity of the woman kept her from sending them back. She had gone to meet her fiance that evening, with the costly jew'ds slung round her neck. They were beautiful, and they suited her style to perfection. No, she could not part with them, and a satisfied smile wreathed her mother’s lips as she saw her depart with the rope encircling her throat that bound her to Horace Brcrcton. It was one o’clock before she returned, and as she entered the hall from her carriage, someone made her enquire of the sleepy footman whether anyone had called after she left. “Mrs. Hathcrley, madam,” was the reply. “Mrs. Hathcrley Did she come in?” “Yes, madam; she saw her ladyship. She seemed very disappointed not to see you, madam.” o~"*hline me- ’ - no .response, but

ways tell whether you are speaking die truth or not. \ou know you can’t deceive me, so you had better speak out —at least if you wish to have a night’s rest.” Geraldine remained standing by he bedside, her cloak of white velvet and fur thrown half off her shoulders, that were bare save for the coil of pearls that were twisted twice round her neck. She was looking wonderfully well, and Brereton had felt proud of the admiration she had

its blackest light. Anything, as she had said to Sophie Beckton, anything to prevent such a marriage taking place.

Hurrying along, with the wind and rain beating in her face, she reached die turning that led into Gcrrard Street, and at the corner, which she turned sharply, brushed close up against a woman who lurched against her. The lights from the corner restaurant caught the faces of the two women, and they recognised each other. Maria Brown had been drinking, but not to such an extent as to deaden in any way her senses, and the sight of Joan, whom she hated for more reasons than one, sobered her as nothing else would have done. ■She clutched hold of her arm as if she did not intend to let it go in a hurry. “Why, I thought as you was dead and buried. A nice dance you’ve led me. I’ve ’tinted for you north, south, cast, and west, I ’ave. And how are you going to celebrate the joyful meeting? You’ll stand me a drink, my dear, won’t you now?” said the wretched woman, leering up in Joan’s face.

She tried to shake off the creature’s revolting touch, but she clung all the closer, and so Joan moved on, feeling that Fate was indeed against her. The clutch of Nemesis held her in its

grip. OIiABTLR XXV. —BACK IN LONDON. "This existence bores me, mother; die eternal sunshine, the gay dresses of the women, the idleness, the ceaseless round ol pleasure, wearies me. I prefer the fogs of London; the hum of the work-a-day world and the cloudy skies; so 1 shall go back, now I'm stronger, and do a little detective work on my own account. that wo-

excited that evening both at “The I Carlton” and the theatre. lie had 0 ventured to beg her to hurry on their 1 wedding, and she had promised it 1 should take place before the New v Year, in less than two months’ time. i “Mother, you must tell me,” persist ted Geraldine, slowly drawing ofi her i long gloves. “The woman’s a fool. .She wants to stop you marrying Brsreton,” ex- 1 claimed her mother, angrily. “Stop—my marrying—Brerelon !’ <■

icpcatcd Geraldine, letting the gloves dangle loosely from her hands. “But •hat’s strange. I thought she would have been glad—glad to think of me safely out of the way,” she continued. “She’d got some cock and bull story of his being unworthy of you.

1 would not listen to anything more, and dismissed her. \on must have nothing to do with her, Geraldine; she is a dangerous, mischief-making creature.” “What’s her address--where is she living?” questioned her daughter, rapidly. “1 didn't ask her, and I’m sure wc don’t want to know. She won’t onto hero again, for 1 told her she would not he admitted, and I have given the servants orders to say ‘no! at home,’ if she dares to cah. “You told her that, mother?” “Well, what is there in that? Really, Geraldine, anyone would think I’d committed a crime,” said Lady I.a Touche, pettishly. “I have been trying to find Mrs. 1 Intherlev ever since she left Moodhurst, and now you have let her slip; and, worse still, behaved rudely and

unkindly toward? her. How could you!” Gathering her cloak up round her Geraldine swept out of her mothejei* room, leaving her ladyship irritated by the flaring light that glared across her eyes, and disinclined to trouble herself to Ret out of bed to turn it down. What a selfish, unkind daiißhter she possessed She only thoußht of herself and her own convenience!? and concerns. Shi' wished to Roodness th.at sire were married and oil her hands. Gerakluie meanwhile had dismissed dm maul, idling her to go to bed, and was pulling oil her linery with impatient lingers. Idven tire pearl rope slm hung down on tiic dressing-iable with utter carelessness and disregard. Joan llalherlcy had been there -lire woman Ralph loved —Ralph wanted

and she'd missed her. It sire could give her back to Ralph she would win ius forgiveness; and that seemed to Geraldine the one thing worth living lor. 'those words ol his haunted hei —“1 will pardon you, lully aud freely, when 1 have found Joan.” How naturally her name had fallen from his lips. How ho loved her! hire must hud out where she was living'. She had searched lor her in a half-hearted way so far, but to-mor-row—-that day she would search in earnest. What had she. to 101 l her of Brereton? Why did she want to stop ihe marriage? That was strange very strange. She would put an advertisement in the agony column of

some of the papers, imploring- her to come and sec her. She ' s uld not rest till she had found her. lirereton should search, too—-for she would tell him she would not marry him till Joan was found. It was a. curious coincidence that both these two should be desirous of warning - her about the other. She remembered now how' she had put olf Horace Brereton’s confidences about loan, and how she had refused to hear anything about her. How were these two mixed up? The mystery seemed to bind them log-ether. In the meantime Joan had bent her steps home, tired and dispirited, and feeling insulted by Lady La Touche’s manner tmvards her. She was still bent upon helping (icraldino all site could, idling, if necessary, the whole : rniserab)/: sinful story of her past life) jin which Bici’eton was so mixed up, I I and showing up the man’s character in !

man at the lodge, your protege, is at the bottom of the robbery, and tire men are fools not to laid her. I’ll sec what 1 can do myself.” Ralph lit a fresh cigarette, and leaned out of the wide open window through which the scent ol innnumerable flowers was wafted, and called to a man who was leaning indolently against a low wall separating the ter-

uncc from the hotel gardens. “Halloa, Ramsden, what are you going to do to-day?” he enquired. The man came forward and looked np at the window where Rutherford was, with a smile. “I’m going back to England. I’m a bit homesick,” he said; “1 shall go by the night express to Paris.” “Wo might go together,” answered Ralph. “Ate von oil, too: Jove! I hat would suit me down to the ground; it’s dull travelling alone.” •■Are you really going, Ralph:’ said Mrs. Rutherford, looking up from her letter writing - . "Vos, mother; but there is no need 10 disturb your arrangement, 1 shal ootne back m a week or two p’obably. Anyway, i’ll letch you any time you wish to return,” said her son.

“But you ate not strong yet; youi hack ” “My back can rest in England tu well as in France.’’ “But tl you gel ill again “I'll send tor you to come am nurse me, mother mine. Kamsdet: says lie’s homesick, so am I ; and he ; such a good fellow he 11 look altci me. You don’t mind, do you?” “X no, Daisy will lie delighted U sec you. Ask Mr. Ramsden to conn

up and speak to me.’ Ralph did so, and the next minut. a tall thin man, with “a face lha had a story in it,” as a woman in tin hotel had described it, entered tin

room. “You’ve unsettled my son; and In is hankering to go back with you Will you look after him a little, Mr Ramsden ? lie’s not strong yet, b, any means, ’ said Mrs. Ruthciloid. “I ll be a mother to him, Mrs. Ru therford. You don’t know what i good nurse 1 am,” was the reply. “That’s very good of you. Bu why are you so suddenly thinking o going? I thought you were settle* here for the winter.” “Oh! dear no; my finances wool*

not run to such extravagance. Ihj fact is they are getting low now, am 1 must he off to retrench. Besides 1 have business in England to be at tended to. lam going to be mar ried.” Both Mrs. Rutherford and Ralph ut

“Yes,” continued Ramsden, “1 vi men a widower ton months, and air

now going in search of a woman whom I’ve not seen or heard lion nr over three years. 'ton can fill It all the details of romance, Mrs, Rutherford.” ‘•'But what if she is already married ?” suggested that lady. “She won’t be,” was the reply. “Von are very sure of her?” said Ralph.

“1 am.” A few minutes afterwards, when the two men were outside together, Rutherford said : “Ramsden, it’s father a curious thing, that you should be going >n search of a particular woman, to marry her. That is to he my eirand too—odd, isn’t it?” “Yes, come and have a drink f<" tick to our guests.” Dick Ramsden had been living in \mcrica, and had broken his jouinex tome to spend a short time in the Riviera, where he had met the Ru-

herfords. 'The two men had chumned, and the casual acquaintance had rapidly ripened into strong liking md friendship. (To he Continued.)