LOVE, THE TYRANT.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVII, Issue 11544, 1 December 1900, Page 3 (Supplement)

LOVE, THE TYRANT.

BY CHARLES GARVICE, Author of " The Shadow of Her Life," " A Heritage of Hate," " Nell of Shorne Mills," " Heart for Heart," "By Devious Ways," " Just A Girl," " On Love's Altar," " Queen Kate," " The Out cast cf the Family," " She Trusted Him," " Once in a Life," " Better Than Life," Etc., Etc., Etc.

CHAPTER Xlll.—(Continued.) Selby Latton crossed his legs, and clasping his knee with his white hands, looked at his companion with a smile that, in its way, was as ugly as Denzil's. "My dear Denzil, don't you think you are a little exigent, not to say a little presumptuous? And does it not occur to you that I may refuse to give you anything; indeed, that I may summon my servant, send•for a policeman, and give y®u in charge? Really, it would be the simplest and wisest way of meeting your exorbitant demand." Denzil did not seem at all impressed. "Simple enough, I daresay," he said, reaching for the whisky decanter; " but not very wise. " " I don't know," murmured Selby Layton, thoughtfully. " The police would take you off my hands, and I should be rid of you for How many years do they give for forgery?" Denzil's sinister face grew black and his eyes glittered. " You don't bluff badly, Selby," he said. " But you forget you don't hold all the cards. I hold some. Here's one of 'em."

He took a dirty pocket-book from his pocket, and leisurely extracting a long slip of paper, waved it significantly. " Call the police, and I'll hand them this, and tell them the little secret you've kept so carefully; .and I'll take care to let the person this' concerns know where to find you. I fancy you'd. pay more than a hundred pounds to keep me quiet." Selby Layton's face went pale, and he watched the slip of paper, as it was restored to the pocket-book, in silence. " Judging by your surroundings, I should imagine you don't want to be disturbed in ! the little game you're playing, whatever it | may be," said Denzil. " There's sure to be I some little game, there always was, for you couldn't run straight, any more than some j others of us; and I daresay you're no more I anxious to face the police than I am. We're j in the same boat, you and I, Selby, and if ;t I goes down, we go down together. I'll say nothing about this, and I'll hold my tongue for a hundred pounds. Give it me in notes, I and try and do it cheerfully."

Selby Layton gat in silent thought for a moment or two, his upper lip twitching, his white hands strained round his knee. "If I were sure that a hundred pounds were the grand total, my dear Denzil," he said. "But from what I know of you, 1 feel sure that it is not. With a man of your expensive tastes such a sum, large though it is, does not go very far. It is quite possible that»you'll be here in a week's time, bent on further blackmailing." Denzil shrugged his shoulders. " I daresay I might." he .said ; " but it's not very probable. I want to leave the country again, and I shall do it with this money. But I don't want to argue, and I don't* want to haggle. And I don't make any promises, neither. Give me the money, or call the police, as you threatened; but while- they are coming. I'll make it worth while sending for them." He rose, and with the cigar in the corner of his mouth, took out a revolver and covered Selby Layton. Selby Layton did not move, and smiled contemptuously. "My dear Denzil, my man is in the hall downstairs; you could not leave the house any other way—the window is too high. KfJvohers may bo very useful in Australia, but they are quite out of place in London quite out of place." Denzil's nostrils expanded with an ugly smile.

" Move an inch and I'll shoot you !" he said. " I'm desperate, and I'd as soon do lagged for this as for the other. I'll give you one minute to make up your mind." " You really mean it?" said Selby Layton. " I suppose I must give you a cheque

" Thanks; I think not," said Denzil. " You have the notes by you, I know; for you knew I was coming, and would be prepared." Selby'Layton laughed. " Your perspicacity is remarkable. Yes, I expected to be blackmailed by you, and I am prepared. I make this admission, my dear Denzil, because I assure you that it is the last money I shall give you, let the consequences be what they may. As you say, if we go down, we go down together, and. from what I know of you, I am convinced that you value your safety too highly to endanger it lightly. If you'll excuse me one moment, I will get you the notes. They are in the next room."

Denzil nodded grimly. " Leave the door open," he said. "If you attempt to escape, I fire." Selby shot a glance at him full of hate, but said nothing, and -went into the next room. He was back again in a minute with some notes in his hand.

" There is the money," he said. " The last yon will ever have." Denzil put the notes in his pocket-book, filled his irlass again, and drank it leisurely, as leisurely lit another cigar, and, with a ncd, sauntered to the dcor. There he turned and looked at Selby Lay ton with sinister curiosity. » " I wonder wliajp you little game is? You would not give me a hundred pounds to hold my tongue unless my silence was worth it. Is it anything I can help you in, Selby? If so, say so. and we'll go into partnership." Selby Layton eyed him under half-closed lids.

" I desire your assistance as little as I desire your presence, my dear Denzil. You have got. your money; let me advise you to depart before I change my mind." With a laugh of insolent contempt Denzil opened the door, listened for a moment, then went downstairs and let himself out. He opened and shut the door so softly that Jack, hidden in his doorway, though he was listening with all his ears, did not hear him ; but he caught sight of him presently as Denzil passed down the other side of the street.

Now, while he had been waiting, Jack had had time to consider the situation. He had intended springing out upon the man, overpowering him. and giving him into custody, charging him with the murder of the real Jack Gordon ; but on consideration he saw that this course was scarcely advisable. In the first place, he would find it difficult to substantiate the charge—the crime was committed in Australia, he had not —nothing beyond his bare word, which would not oe sufficient to prove the man's identity. Then again, if he gave the man in charge, he would have to declare his own identity, would be compelled to break his promise" to his dead chum, to reveal the fact that he himself was Sir John Vancourt, and that Esther, the sister of the man who laid down his life for him, was only a usurper. As the reader will no doubt have discovered, Jack was not supernaturallv clever, and the problem puzzled him. He could only decide to follow the man, to track him to Ids lair, wherever it was, and to postpone the day of reckoning to a more convenient time ; Jack swore to himself that the day of reckoning should come.

He waited until Denzil, walking quickly, had passed him and reached the end of the street, then he followed him. As he had expected, Denzil got into a hansom cab, and Jack jumped into another.

" Follow that cab," he said. " And don't lose sight of it; but don't let the other driver know you're following- him." The cabman winked— thought Jack was a detective— the pursuit began. DenziPs cab struck off north to the great thoroughfare of Oxford-street, passed into a quieter part of the town, and pulled up suddenly at the corner .of a forsaken and neglected little square. It was a dingy place with shabby and squalid houses. Denzil's cab had stopped at a dirty and flaring publichouse, and Jack, at a discreet distance, saw Denzil pay and dismiss his cabman and enter the public. Telling his man to wait. Jack got out, and, buttoning up his coat closely, approached the public-house, and, having assured himself that there was no exit from the back by which Denzil could escape, waited for his man to come out..

There was a good deal of noise inside the house, as if some of the customers were drunk. Presently two or three men came out. They were low-looking ruffians, and, though they were fairly sober, Jack could see thai they had been drinking heavily. They passed him, all three walking close together and talking eagerly and in an undertone ; but as they went by. Jack distinctly heard one word—" Notes." Presently they separated and disappeared, one down "an alley, the others up the narrow streets branching from the square. A minute or two afterwards Denzil came out of the public-house, paused for a moment to look round him warily, then went in the direction the men had taken, and passed Jack almost as closely as they had done. Jack remained in the door-way which screened him until Denzil had gone about fifty yards; then he set out to follow him. Denzil passed the mouth of the alley, a low whistle sounded, a man sprang from the alley, threw his arms round Denzil's neck, and the two other men came running from their hiding-places to help their confederate. This new move took Jack by surprise, and he stopped short and watched for a minute, asking himself what he should do. But very few Englishmen can stand idle while one man is fighting against odds, though that one man should be his deadly foe, and Jack, with a shout, ran towards them. The thieves heard him, and, being only common footpads, they at once took the alarm, and flinging Denzil to the ground, made off. Jack expected Denzil to remain quiet for a time, at any rate; but the man rose quickly, as if he were not hurt, and, without waiting to see how he had been rescued, ran down the street and disappeared round the corner.

Jack started after him, but as he reached the spot where Denzil had fallen, his foot struck against something. He picked it up and found it to be a large and shabby pocketbook. Slipping it into his pocket, he took up the pursuit again ; but Denzil was not to be seen.

The place was a network of narrow streets, each so like the other that Jack soon got confused. Every now and then the line of houses was broken by a court or alley, down any one of which his prey might have darted.

Very much disappointed, Jack, after a good deal of difficulty, found his way back to his cab, and told the man to drive him to the* hotel ; and having paid the man liberally, went up to his room. He had been so absorbed in his pursuit and his disappointment at his failure to track the ranger, that he bad forgotten the pocket-book; and it was not until after he had had his supper and was going to bed that the sight of his overcoat, which he had thrown across a chair, reminded him of his "find." He went for it eagerly, and examined it, turning out the contents of the pockets on to the dressing-table. To say that he was amazed at the sight of the packet of banknotes quite inadequately describes his sensation, but there they were, staring up at him, to the extent of a hundred pounds. The only other loose paper was a certificate of marriago

between "Adolphus Robinson" and " Margaret Mayhew. ■ On the leaves of the pocketbook were written faded and almost indistinct memoranda, and the only other loose paper was a pawnticket for a silver watch. So far as he knew, there was nothing to prove that the pocketbook which lay there on the table was the property of the ranger. His name might be Robinson ; but it might not.' Jack had no means of knowing. The thing might have fallen from the pocket of one of the thieves, though it was unlikely that such footpads should possess so large a sum of money. The thing was a mystery, and Jack felt not a little confused and embarrassed. Here was a hundred pounds in notes, and what should he do with it. If he took it to the police, which would be the easiest thing to do, they would at once ask inconvenient questions, questions which Jack would find it difficult to answer; for the first would be, "What is your name, sir?" " I am afraid I shall have to take charge of this myself," he said. "If it belongs to that scoundrel, he can have it by applying to Mr. Jack Gordon, foreman of the vancourt Home Farm!" Considering that it was the proper thing to do, he wrapped the pocketbook with its notes in a sheet of paper, and ringing for some sealingwax, sealed it and put it safely away in his bag. Then he went to bed and dreamed, not of the ranger, but—of Esther ancourt!

CHAPTER XIV. Jack would very much have liked to have gone down to the place where he had lost sight of the ranger and have tried to track him; but he remembered that he was Miss Vancourt's servant, and that he had come up to London on her business. So, having arranged with the manufacturers to send down the machines he had bought, he packed up his things and took train for home; and though it may be presumed that a man with money in his pocket would enjoy a longer acquaintance with the delights of the wonderful metropolis, he got into the train with a sense of relief and pleasure. He was going back to hard work, but he was fond of hard work, and he had grown fond of the home farm. He might have added, of Vaucourt Towers and the mistress thereof; but he would not admit as much, even to himself. When he got out at the small country station with the bag which contained, among other things, his dress clothes which had seen such adventures, and the mysterious pocketbook, he was prepared to walk to the home farm, but he found a dogcart from the Towers awaiting him. Miss Vancourt sent to meet you, sir," said Giles, touching his hat as usual. "Very kind of her," said Jack. " Any news, Giles';" " No, Mr. Gordon," said Giles. "Leastways, not much. Martin got out of bed yesterday, and hurt hisself, and the doctor sent him back again. And there's been some poachers in the West Spinney." " Martin's an idiot; 'and that poaching will have to be stopped," said Jack. " Hope you've enjoyed yourself in Lunnun, sir?" said Giles. " Oh, very much, thank you," replied Jack, drily, thinking of his adventures.

The dog-cart sprang along the road, and Jack, as he drove the good horse, drew a long breath and felt how pleasant it was to be back. As they were passing the principal gate of the Towers, who should come out but Miss Esther Vancourt herself. At sight of her, Jack's heart gave a curious little bound; lie thought it was one of admiration ; for she was a beautiful picture, standing there in her white frock, with the sunlight dancing in her grey eyes. Closo beside her was Bob— apparently quite happy and contented. Jack raised his hat and was going to drive on; but she held up her hand with a little imperious gesture which struck Jack as delicious, and so lie pulled up. " You have come back, Mr. Gordon '!" she said, with a faint smile, and as faint a blush in the clear pallor of her cheek.

" Yes, Miss Vancourt," ho said. " I've got the machines all right; they'll be down, directly." " I hope you've had a pleasant time," said Esther. " You see, I have Bob here. He fretted after you had gone, and I brought him up to the house. He seems to have taken to me, and he appears to be pretty happy. He follows me about everywhere; but of course he'll desert me now," she added, as Bob, having hoard his master's voice, made futile attempts to climb into the dog-cart. " Thank you very much," said Jack. "Go back, Bob! Go back at once!" Bob, with drooping tail and a reproachful glance, sidled back to Esther. " Oh, let him go with you!" she said. " He will be heart-broken." " No, no," said Jack. " Bub mustn't be ungrateful; and he must learn to obey." Raising his hat, he drove on, and was in due course deposited at the home farm; and there he found Bob awaiting him ; obedience and loving devotion had been in conflict, and the latter had Avon. Jack went up to Martin, and found him despondent and rebellious. " You were an ass to get out of bed," said Jack, " though I can quite understand it; I should have been just as great an ass myself. And now you'll have to lie here a few weeks longer. But don't you worry! Things are going on all rightl've bought the machines you've wanted all these years, and we'll get in the crops as they should bo got in, and by the time you're right again I shall be able to sheer off with a clear conscience." It was not so easy to escape from Nettie, who welcomed him as if he had been away for years, and who insisted upon sitting upon his knee while he had his tea.

" Miss Vancourt's been veiy tind to me while you have been away, Jack," she said. " I've been ever so many rides in the jingle with her. And we talk about you most of the time. She said I must be very good and do as you tell me. But I do, don't I, Jack?"

"It would be very bad for you if you didn't," said Jack, with mock severity. " Now I've come back, I'm going to keep you in order. This measles business is about played out, and you'll have to carry me instead of me carrying you. So Miss Vancourt has been ' tind' to you, has she?''

After he had had his tea he went to the cottage and changed his clothes. With his wages he had bought a new suit to replace his torn and weather-stained one, and he put this on before starting on his round of inspection; for the foreman of the farm, such as that of Vancourt, needed to be always on the alert. He went round the fields, gave some directions to the men and Georgia —the latter still regarded him with saucerlike eyes and gaping mouth—and then walked towards the plantation. It was so called because Richard, in a sudden.spasm. of duty, had planted some larch and firs on the edge of a steep declivity to the west of the home farm; but although he had planted it, ha had neglected it after planting it; and Jack had resolved to thin out some of the young trees. While he was looking at them meditatively, a girl came from amongst them and stood on the edge of the little precipice which was made by the sudden drop of the • land.

She was tall and graceful, and wore a thin shawl over her head, and Jack saw that she was Kate Transom, the daughter of the man he had caught poaching in the wood. She was gathering the broken branches which the wind had torn from the trees, and Jack watched her absently enough. The labourers on the estate enjoyed the privilege of gathering the dead wood, and she was, therefore, not trespassing but Jack, as ho watched, could not help thinking that it was a poor kind of occupation for so beautiful and so strong a girl. Quite unconscious of his presence, Kate went on with her task, and presently stood on the extreme edge of the small precipice. " If that bit of ground were to give way, she'd fall and hurt herself," thought Jack. • The thought had no sooner crossed his mind than the thing" which he had contemplated happened. The strip of soil overhanging the hollowed bank yielded beneath the pressure of her foot, and she fell almost at Jack's feet. In falling, she struck her head against the trunk of an overhanging tree, and she lay motionless and lifeless. . , , -■'■', Jack knelt beside her and raised her head to his knee. She had fainted from the blow and the shock, and she looked like one already dead. If the accident had occurred in Australia, Jack would have had his brandy-flask ready, but he had no flask with him now, and there was no water at hand with which he could restore her to her senses. She was in a dead faint, and there were no means at hand to recover her. There was nothing to be done| but to carry her to. the nsarssti houae; gad l

the nearest house happened to be his own "it was the moat natural tiling in the world that be should carry her there. Though she was tall, she was slim and light, and, raising her in his arms, he put her over his shoulder and slowly carried her to the cot-

tage. The door was open, and he placed her in the old-fashioned chair in which she could recline almost at full length; then he got some water, and, awkwardly enough, no doubt, dabbed her face with it. Kate was a particularly handsome girl, and most men would have been struck by her regular features, by the rich mass of hair which framed her white face; but Jack was 10 intent upon restoring her to consciousness, that he had no mind left for her personal She ot)ened her eves at last and sighed. " It was not my "fault, father," she murmured. " I didn't know that I was so near the edge. I'm sorry!" "It all said Jack. You didnt know that the ground was hollowed out there. Do vou feel better now?" She sat up and looked round her confusedly ; then, as her eyes rested on Jack face, the colour dyed her face a deep crim- " Where am I?" she asked. " Did I fall?" " You are in my cottage," said Jack. " The edge of the plantation gave way with you. But I hope you're not hurt? You fell and struck your' head. Let me look at it. Yes; a nasty blow, just on the temple. I'll bathe it for" you." He got some more water and bathed the wound! She lay back, breathing painfully, with' her eyes half closed. "You havesaved my life!" she said. Jack laughed. " Nonsense!" he said. '" I happened to be near when you fell—that's all. Hold on a minute: Til give you some tea. We Australians always think tea a sovereign remedy for every ill that man is heir to." " Do yon come from Australia?" she asked, faintly. "Father has just come back from there.'' ' Jack bit his lip, and in silence made the "tea. She drank a little of it, then rose and looked round the tiny room, as if she were embarrassed. " I will go now," she said. "I am quite well. But I want to thank you, and—l can't!" She stood, her eves, dark and lustrous, fixed on his, then veiled by their lids. There was something in her gaze, in her very reticence, which made Jack uncomfortable. If it were not inhuman, he almost wished she would go. " Sure you're all right?" he asked. " Shall Igo with you? I know where you live, you know." "No. no!" she said. " I am quite well, quite able to walk now. Jack held out his hand, and she took it in hers; a long hand, browned by labour, but shapely as a lady's. She raised his hand to her lips, and kissed it. " Yon have saved my life." she said. " I shall never forget! Some daysome time— I may be able to tell you how grateful—to repay you— But I can t speak now! Goodbye I"

(To bo continued on Wednesday next.)