LOVE SHALL PREVAIL,

Lake County Press, Issue 2528, 7 May 1914, Page 2

LOVE SHALL PREVAIL,

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

bt ARTHUR W. MARCHMONT,

Author of "The Case of Lady Broadstone," "The Gable House," "By Right of Sword," "A Heritage of Peril," "In the Grip of Hate," &0., &o.

[COPYRIGHT, j

CHAPTER XXlll—Continued. But no one cam© in response, and there was was not a sound in the house. Either there was no one to hear, or it was so isolated that her screams were certain to pass unheeded.

A feeling of intense desolation followed the vain effort; and she threw herself back on the bed once more, a prey to cruel and almost paralysing helplessness. But it was not her nature to indulge in useless lamentation; and with a great effort she thrust aside the feeling of despondency. Neither fears nor passion would help her in this predicament. She must conserve every atom of strength and courage. She had to think of Don as well as of herself, and his safety might depend upon her bravefy. The thought of the boy now shut out all others, and she lay waiting calmly and resolutely for what was to follow. v After a long time she heard a stumbling step on the stairway outside the room; the door was unlocked, and Galthorpe entered. - His arm was in a sling, round his head was a blood-stained bandage, his face was bloodless, and he moved Blowly and with evident pain. As soon as he was inside the room he leant heavily against the wall. "I am so—so grieved, Mrs. Armytage," he said, speaking slowly in a low and unsteady voice and with many pauses. "I did my—best, but it was not much use, you see." "You are badly injured, Mr. Galthorpe?" It is—nothing," he murmured with a faint smile. "I tried to—to Bave you. We were both lured to that house for this." "Where is this place?" He shook his head. "That—that madman's. That's all I know We are prisoners^' "What madman " she asked rising and approaching him. "Bulstrode. I've heard that much. At least, if- it is madness to have planned all this." "Do you mean that this is Mr. Bulstrode's doing?" He nodded. "And your boy, too. For a price," he added. "Is my darling safe, then?" cried Olive excitedly. He nodded again. "I—l think so, from what I have overheard." "Then I care for nothing else in the world," cried Olive with a rush of relief. "Thank heaven. Thank heaven! But tell me everything. Is he here in this house now? Oh, my darling boy!" "I found out that he had taken him. I have done nothing but search for him from the moment I left you. But he got to know what I had discovered. I faced him with it; and then—then he was one too many for me. My lifo was to have been taken last night; but, well, I am only crippled. I don't care now that you are safe. But he is—he's mad, quite mad," ho muttered almost incoherently. "Where is Don then?" "He will be brought here if—if the price is paid. But he is mad, I say, mad." "Who is mad? I don't understand. You don't mean my darling Don?" "No, no, Bulstrode! He must be," he replied feebly. "The price, you know." "What is the price, Mr. Galthorpe. Do you suppose there is any price I will not pay for my boy's safety? Tell me. Tell me. I am on fire." He stared at her blankly, and then his head droped with a weary groan. With an effort he rallied and gestured as if too weak to speak for a time. "A hundred thousand pounds and again. "I will pay it at once; the instant

Don is once more in my arms," cried Olive. "Tell him so; or let him come to me if he is here." After an interval of labored breathing, Galthorpe raised his head and stared again at her. "There is something—more," he murmured. "He is mad, I say; and yet——" He lifted his hands wearily, and let them fall. "I am in his power," he added in a whisper. "But I don't understand. Tell me everything. This suspense is maddening ; intolerable. Tell me, please, at once." His strength was not enough to admit of his replying for a time. "I am ashamed to tell you. I have done that which means imprisonment," he faltered with a heavy sigh. "A long term of imprisonment; and he has found it out. I have forged some bills, and—and he has them." "But what has this to do with me? I will pay the amount, in return for what you have done for me. Tell him that. If that is part of the. price, I will pay it instantly. Anyhing to recover my child." He paused, looking at her shamefacedly, and then shook his head sadly. "Ho thinks we shall—denounce him for this; and that he will only be safe by making that impossible." "But I will not. I promise that unconditionally. Only give me back my boy." "I said so, but " and he gestured dismally. "He answered that he would not trust to that; and that he must seal your lips another way." ' 'But I have never broken my word in my life. I will do anything, and sign anything he asks, and pay anything he demands," sho protested vehemently. But he only shook his head drearily. "He will not. He will not. I told him," he said, speaking with greater effort than ever. "Then what does he want? I will do anything." "I don't like to tell you. Ho says that you would never do anything against him if—if you knew what the consequences would be—" he paused, and the words came with the utmost reluctance—"that the consequences were to be the—the imprisonment of —the man you—you married." Olive started, and flashed a look of dismay at him; but he did not see it, for his strength had nearly given out, and his head had fallen forward upon his chest. "Do you mean he makes it a condition that I should marry you?" she asked her voice low and tense. He nodded, feebly, and then almost collapsed, recovering himself and clutching at the door for support. "I am —faint," he murmured; and he staggered to the door and holding by tho frame stumbled out. As he left, a tray with some breakfast was thrust through the door which was instantly locked. Olive carried the tray to the bed. She had no appetite; but, recognising the need to keep up her strength, she ato sparingly, her thoughts engrossed by the strange interview wii'h Galthorpe. Of all tho development which she could havo conceived, the last would havo been that of which sho had just heard That Mr Bulsi'rodo should have taken Don away had already been suggested by the discoveYy of the boy's clothes at the Beeches; but she would have scoured the thought, had it not been for her own previous fear that he was the victim of delusions But that he should urge her marriage with Galthorpe was amazing. His delusions—or what sho had believed delusions—had all been concerned wii'h Galthorpe; that the latter bad first tried to compass tho death of Don and then had attacked Mr. Bulstrode

himself. To attempt to force her to marry such a man as ho believed Gathorpe to be was thus to act in defiance of those very delusions. The result was to raise grave doubts in her mind as v'o her former opinion. From the first moment of their meeting he had been devoted to her interest and solicitous for her welfare; and his prejudice against Galthorpe had been inspired by no other feeling than concern on her account. But what if his story abouU Galthorpe was not the outcome of a delusion? If it were true? The contradiction was not one jot less startling. The attack upon fhem both had been made at the Beeches, and Galthorpe had been all but fatally injured in the attempt to defend her. By whom could such an attack have been made, if not at Mr. Bulstrodc's instigation? The longer she plagued herself with the puzzle, the more bewildering if became. As the hours passed, however, the more repugnant became the prospect of marrying Galthorpe. Care for Don had much t'o do with this. By his own admission, Galthorpe was a criminal, a forger, and perhaps worse; far, far worse, indeed, if Mr. Bulstrode's suspicions had any foundation. To allow such a man to have any authority over her darling boy was impossible. And in the end she made her docision. She would only consent after seeing Mr. Bulstrodo himself. Somo hours lav'er, Galthorpe came again to her room. He had been very ill, he explained; but was sent for her reply. Ho was so weak that he could scarcely" find strength to Btand upright'. She told him what sho had decided, and he praised her. "It is only right; but " and he shook his head dolefully, as if ho thought it hopeless. Staggering out he lurched heavily and nearly fell, and Olive was rushing Vo his assistant, when the door was pulled violently, and, as she leant Against it, sho heard his heavy stumbling steps down the st'airs.

Then her heart began to beat quickly, and a great new hope sprang to life. She had not heard the key turned in the lock. Sho waived, breathless with excitement until the footsteps ceased, and then with the urtnost caution, she tried the door. Sho was right. It had been left unlocked. On the instant she resolved to attempt to escape. She closed it and stood thinking rapidly. Should she go at once or wait for the darkness? She must make the effort at once, she decided; lest the omission should be discovered, or someone come up with food for her. She took off her boots, and fastened them about her waist, opened the door noiselessly and crept out on to the landing and down the flight of stairs to the floor beneath. On that landing there were three doors, and her first thought was to try to get out through one of the rooms. Better to take that risk than to run the chance of descending to the ground floor. But the doors were all locked, and the keys taken away. There was nothing for it but to take the greater risk. Her Irish blood was roused now, and her courage more than equal to the danger. She crept down to a turn in the stairway, and peered down to the passage below to get some notion of the plan of the house, and to ascertain if possible how many people were in it. A short passage led straight from the front door. A couple of seconds would suffice for her to reach it; and she was running down the remaining stairs swiftly when a woman came out from tho hack premises. It was too late to retreat, so she quickened her speed and rushed along tho passage to tho door. The woman uttered a scream as she caught sight of Olive, and then crying loudly, "Help! Help! Quick. She's got out!" darted forward to seize her. Olive had the door already open when she felt her dresses seized. She turned and to her amazement found herself face to face with Mabel Loveday. Her blood fired by tho new knowledge which came with this recognition, Olive tore her dress from the woman's hands and seizing her arms thrust her back with such force that sho staggered and fell. But the struggle, short as it was, proved fatal to Olive's hopes. Galthorpe, no longer weak and tottering, rushed from the back of the house and caught Olive by the arm and dragged her back into tho passage. Nerved to desperation by the hope of freedom, sho wrestled fiercely with him ; but his strength was far greater than hers, and when tho woman came to his assistance Olive abandoned the useless struggle with a sigh of despair. Breathing heavily from her desperate efforts, L'ho leant back against tho wall staring fixedly at the man whose double treachery was now made plain.

CHAPTER XXIV.-GALTHORPE'S TERMS. The woman was the first to break the silence. "You'd better go back to your room, Mrs. Armytago. We mean you no harm." This appeared to give Galthorpe a cue. "I have saved you from heaven alone knows what danger by preventing you leaving the house," he said. "Why continue this miserable pretence? Do you suppose I do not now know you for the scoundrel you are?" "Hard words will neither help you nor hurt us," said the woman sharply. "You ought to bo thankful to us for having saved you."

"What aro you orders?" asked | Olive, of Galthorpe, ignoring tho woman. I am in your power. I understand that of course now." "I think you had hotter return to your room," he said after a pause. You aro right in one thing. We will have no more pretence. I will come to you presently. It's just as well you should recognize that you are in my power." Without replying Olive went upstairs, followed hy tho woman, who watched her cross tho room to the hod. She hesitated as if ahout to say something, hut changed her intention and went away, after carefully locking th-3 door this time and trying it to make sure that it was securely fastened. Olivo threw herself dejectedly on the bed. Everything was clear to her now. It was Galthorpe who lured her to the | Beeches, having carefully prepared the trap into which she had so thoughtlessly stepped. The attack on him had been the merest sham and the woman, Loveday, his accomplice in all the rest of his schemes, had thrown tho cloth over her head and held her until ho could complete the work of drugging her. Ho had then played the part to the end, prtending to have been wronged in her defence with the object of rousing her compassion, and tho whole story he had told about Mr. Bulstrode was false from beginning to end. Ho had stolen Don away from her, using this woman as his accomplice, and there could bo no shadow of doubt as to his object all through. Ho meant to force her to become his wife in order to secure her fortune. Probably her boy's life and possibly her own would be tho price of her refusal. And sho was utterly helpless, and, as she had said, absolutely in his power. It would be worse than folly to blink the facts or to attempt to minimise tho danger in which sho stood. What should she do? Again it was thought for Don which must decide her. To live with such a villain was out of the question; but she could marry him without having to do that. When onco sho was free and her boy was again in her arms she would find the means to make that freedom a reality. • No power could force her to be anything but wife in name only to Galthorpe, and no power should compel her to allow him to interfere with Don. It would be better for them both to be dead than to endure tho degradation of companionship with him. Having made her decision, sho was anxious for Galthorpe to come and state his terms. She would -first try to buy her freedom and Don's. Any sacrifice would bo better than marriage with him, and sho was not without hope that ho was contemptible enough and sordid enough to bo bribed. Ho came at last, and as she heard his footsteps on the stairs, no longer staggering and stumbling as before, she braced herself for the interview, whispered a fervent prayer for strength. "I am very sorry for what has happened, Mrs. Armytege. I have not the slightest wish to " "What are your terms?" she broke in. "Spare mo anything but tho plainest statement of them." "You know what I asked you once. You know that for years I have thought of your happiness, and have tried my hardest to serve you; not for what I received, but becauso I " She interrupted him again. "Your terms. I am in your power, I know. What price do you demand for my child's freedom and my own?" "I love you," he said, fixing his glowing eyes on hers. "I mean your price in money," she replied, coldly. "I do not seek your money, but you yourself." "It was agreed that we should make an end of all this pretence. State your price, and I will pay it." The contempt in her look and tone roused his anger. "You will be my wife?" It was halfcommand, half-question. "No; I will pay your blackmail in money," she replied firmly. "You will be my wife!" he repeated doggedly. She paused, meeting his eyes firmly. "Why do you insist upon this form of torture? You know that if I were free I should loathe myself if I even harboured a thought of marrying so base and unclean a thing as you! You can have what money you want. Let that content you!" "You will be my wife!" he said again, more insistently. "How would such a marriage profit you? I do not understand. Show me, and whatever gain you look for from it I will freely give to escape the pollution of your presence!" j "You shall bo my wife!" he ex- : claimed fiercely now. "You are only wasting breath in these insults!" "And the rest of your price?" she cried scornfully. "Half your fortune;" and he took out a paper. "You will sign this." She took the paper. "I will read it. Meanwhile, bring mo my child." "Read it now and sign it. Don shall come to you afterwards." : "How do I know that? What assurance have I?" "I tell you so; I pledge, my word." "I do not trust you. I must see him and know that he is safe." "It is for mo to make the terms, not , for you. If you care for your child's safety, you will do what I say. You can have one hour to decide. You will marry mo here tins evening, or you shall never see your child again. That is my last word!" he said furiously, and went out of the room. (To be Concluded.)