“THE MOUSE OF ROGUES'”

Manawatu Times, Volume 61, Issue 157, 6 July 1936, Page 9

“THE MOUSE OF ROGUES'”

Instalment 5.

push,” he said slowly; “in fact, I believe I will encourage him a little. It can’t do any harm, only”—he hesitated—“ho may think that t cm selfish in m'y interest, that I'm wanting him to win Polly so that Uncle John won’t marry her, and thus ruin my chances of my coming into Uncle John’s fortune.’’

“I shouldn’t worry about that if I were you,’’ Mrs Kiugslake answered silkily. “I wouldn’t worry about that in the least-’’ She touched her handkerchief to her mouth, making a satisfied little smile. She had won herself an ally and she herself intended doing a "tile missionary work —with Polly. Paul’s opportunity to give Bob Dolllvcr “a little push” came sooner than he expected, and with greater consequences than he would have thought possible—if he had stopped to consider consequences, and which ho did not. At tlie other end of the room, by the tire, John Strawn was still talking about tho House of Rogues; there seemed to be no end of the subject with him. .Mrs Eastman and Polly were listening, both of them beginning to be a little weary of it. The counterfeiting plates and the package of banknote paper rested on the floor beside Slrawn’s chair. “If you don't mind, Dolliver,” said Strawn, reaching down for them, “I'll have you take these articles upstairs and put them in the desk in my study. I should have done it while I was up there. I’m going to take Polly and her mother down into the lower regions and show ’em the place where the Black Fox had his money factory.” “I’d love to sco that,” agreed Pollyj rather half-heartedly; she was thinkink that thero was a suspicion of puffy pouches beneath John Strawn’s eyes and that his mouth was a little coarse. A woman cannot help but look critically at tho man whom she is considering as a husband. What a difference there was between him and—well, Bob Dolliver.

“You run along, Polly,” said Mw Westbury Eastman with a smug little ismile; “I don't think I'll go.” “Oh, the money factory 1” exclaimed Mrs Kiugslake. “Yes, we must see that.” Permit Strawn and Polly out of her sight? No.t for a single moment If she could contrive to be present. 1 “Surely," urged Polly; “you must come along, Mrs Kingslake." "Of course," nodded Strawn, “you were included in my little expedition.” But, as a matter of fact, ho had forgotten her presence for tho moment. Bob Dolliver picked up the counterfeiting plates and tho other package, making his way toward the stairway In the reception hall. “I shall go along after all," decided Mrs Eastman.

"Not I,” said Paul Grimshaw, “I’ve been over every fool of that cellar. I’ii stay here." A moment or so later he was alone; lie moved over to the fire, lighted a cigarette and watched the tiny ribbon of smoke as it was drawn toward the chimney. “If he marries her,” he mused bitterly, “he’ll probably kick me out —cold. It Isn't fair; I’m the only relative he's got In the world 1” Bob Dolliver, having finished his errand to the study, came back, and Paul, Vera Ivingslake’s suggestion fresh in his mind, turned impulsively. “Come over here, Bob, and sit down,” lie said. “I—er—l hope you're not going to - mind if I butt into what you consider strictly your own private affair. You—hum —you're quite fond of Polly, aren’t you?” Bob Dolliver’s head jerked up and a flush spread over his face. “Oh, 1 know it sounds impertinent as the very devil, Bob, but, oh, confound it, I’m going to get this off rny chest. ... I think a good deal

of you, old man, .and—-haven’t you noticed Uncle John’s atlttudc toward Polly?” “I don’t think wo'll discuss the matter, Paul," Dolliver said quietly. “Yes, we will,” the other insisted. “Let’s call things by their right names. Polly’s mother is a fortunehunter; old Caleb Eastman didn't leave them a whole lot, and Mrs Eastman’s been spreading it pretty fast—too fast for it to last. She’s determined that Polly shall marry money—and Uncle John has it.”

“Stop it 1” ordered Dolliver. “No matter what her mother wants, Polly isn’t the girl who would ” “Oh, wouldn’t she? Perhaps she would if the right man dipped in his oar, but I’ll bet a ilvc-doliar bill to a German mark that you haven’t opened your mouth to her. What s the girl to think —that you don’t want her?” “ See here, Paul, you mean well, but I think we won’t let Ibis talk go any further. No matter how I feel . His hands went out In a hopeless gesture and his fact, in the light from the fire, was drawn and haggard. “ —i am dirt poor. I haven’t money enough to —’’ "So that’s it, ch? Pride! A funny kind of a pride. I’d say, if you really care anything about her. Polly is twenty—or is it only nineteen?—rnd Uncle John is past fifty. Do you think he’ll ever make her happy? Do you think that a few pretty baubles, a few strings of pearls, will be all that will he necessary to make her happy? “Polly's got grit; she’s the sort that would go through fire for a man If she cared enough for him. A little thoroughbred, that girl, Boh. It’ll be a rum go for her, being married to Uncle John; you know as well as I do that under the surface of his geniality that he’s as hard as nails, that he’s got the devil of a temper. If he ever flew Into one of those rages of his —’’ Bob Dolliver’s hands clenched, you suppose that I’ve seen what’s been going on? But I never thought for a moment that Polly would—would— ’’

“ Let herself be auctioned off by her mother to the highest bidder," grunted Bob Grimshaw. “ Well, she wouldn’t if you declared yourself, let her know how you feel about things. No doubt her mother is nagging her day and night, pushing her into the thing. Polly’s young, and her mother’s domineering, relentless. Unless I miss my guess, the engagement will be announced before the week-end is over —unless you get busy and do a little love-making yourself.” There fell a brief silence. Bob Dolliver’s 'hands wero still clenched, and his face set into haggard lines. So softly that neither of the men by the ppen fire heard his footfall, John

(By“ Christopher B. Booth)

CHAPTER V. The Print of a Hand.

Strewn came In from out of the hallway. llis face was in tho shadow.^ “ Dolllver," he said quietly. ’ I find that the door to the cellar stairs Is locked. Will you find daggers for m“ —if you please?” Hob turned with a start, tried to compose himself and, without response, went 4° obey his employers request. When he had gbnc, John Strawn closed the door and advanced across the room. Paul Griinshaw s sallow face mottled; there was something ominous In his uncle's approach.

Ale \ John Strawn was no longer tho affable, genial host of the evening; his flabby cheeks, as ho loosened control of his anger, were livid. Ills mouth parted into a snarling grimace. “You contemptible pup!” he rasped. “ You underhanded, ungrateful whelp I I ought to kick you out of. tho house.”

“I—Uncle John, I—” His jaw moved helplessly as the words broke off into a mouthing nothing. “ Don’t waste times with lies and explanations,” snapped Strawn. “ I heard the conversation. The motive for your advice to my secretary is quite clear damn your greedy, money-hungry soul 1 ‘lf Uncle John remains unmarried, I am his only legal heir; he’ll HAVE to leave me his money. That’s the way you reasoned. You grasping, spendthrift idler, you parasite I I wish to Heaven that I’d left you In the poverty where I found you. “ You’ve cooked your own goose, my cunning, scheming nephew; you’ve not only cooked it—you’ve burned it to a cinder. I’m through with you—through. You know what that means;” “You’re going to—to kick me out?" faltered Paul.

“ That’s it," grunted John Strawn, with a gloating satisfaction. “ Y'ou’ve said It. I won't distrupt the houseparty with a family row; you can stay until Monday—if you can swallow my food without it choking you." His voice took on a sarcastic inflection: “ Perhaps you will enjoy staying to offer your congratulations to the future Mrs Strawn 1"

Paul Grimshaw sank back heavily Into tho chair, tho room swimming dnmkenly before him. Disinherited; kicked out without a dollar. Under his breath ho cursed Vera Kingslake for making the suggestion that had got him ‘nto this fix.

John Strawn had become a past master in that difficult art of concealing mental stress. He readorned his good natured urbanity, and when he again joined Mrs Eastman, Polly and Vera Kingslake at the cellar stairs his face gave no evidence of the unpleasant scene that had just passed between himself and Paul. Dob Dolllver had got the keys from Jaggers and had thus unintentionally joined the little group set out to explore the lower regions of the house, the place where the King of Counterfeiters had executed bogus currency to the amount of hundreds of thousands. Strawn took the key from Dob and unlocked tho door. “ Don’t worry about coal-dust or cobwebs," laughed the master of the house. “ You'll find Hie place clean as a new whistle.” He snapped on a light. “ And there’ll be no shadows for lurking * haunts,’ you see.” “It would have been much more thrilling by candlelight,” said Mrs Kingslake, “ but, at that, I think I like it better this way.” In the light of the glamour that John Strawn had woven about the “ money factory,” Polly was somewhat disappointed, and said so.

“ I expected to line! secret rooms and all that sort of tiling,” she complained as, reaching the end of the basement, she saw only a room cut off from the rest v of the space by a stone partition and an ordinary looking door. Within this room there were some work tables and nothing else; every article used in counterfeiting had been seized by the Government men as evidence fifteen years before. “Hi ere was really no good in secret rooms,” answered Strawn, “ for the moment that The Black Fox fell under suspicion he was through. His long success was that he did avoid suspicion. When the raid came it was so swift that he had no time to destroy his printing and engraving nlant.” Crash! Ten feet away a loose ooard, leaning endwise against an upturned box, clattered to the floor with ilmost the violence of an explosion. “Oh I” screamed Mrs Eastman, and groped for the wall. Even John Strawn for a moment, was startled out of his calm and Polly clung to Bob Dolliver's arm, pressing close to him. A quiver went through Bob; it was not fear, but her electrifying nearness.

“Someone Is behind—that box!'* whispered Vera Kingslake. There was a rustle of paper and a grey streak sped across the brick flood. “A rat!” grunted Strawn. “Don’t be alarmed, ladies; it’s only a rat." “Only—only—a rati" moaned Mrs Eastman. “ Take—take me out of this horrible place.” She might have even preferred The Black Fox. “I know that I shan’t sleep a wink this night." “ I—l’m not wild about rodents myself." said Polly. “ The cellar has given us our thrill and I think I’ll go to bed." Her fingers released their clutch about Bob’s sleeve, and as she looked up at him with a brief, tremulous little smile, Bob gulped. John Strawn scowled slightly; he made up his mind t-hat he would propose to Polly at the first opportunity, and that, he would make that opportunity In the morning.. The five retraced their steps to tho stairs. Strawn suggested that they tarry to have a good-night cocktail and listen to the radio that he had installed for evening diversion, but Mrs Eastman seconded her daughter's suggestion about retiring. Thus they all decided to turn In, and it was Polly who took the lead up the steps to the second floor; she seemkd just a little inxious to get off by herself. 5 “But there’s no one here.” interrupted Strawn with a smile; “that rather seems to settle the argument about it.”

“I know—l know that I wasn’t mistaken,” Polly insisted, becoming a trifle hysterical. “There was a light through the keyhole; that was something I saw with my eyes, I couldn’t very well