KATE MEREDITH.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIV, Issue 13497, 25 May 1907, Page 3 (Supplement)

KATE MEREDITH.

f ! : ' (rol|wa i E D BY SPEOAL ARRANGEMENT.]

- BY 0. J. CtrrCLIFFE HYNE. . ' „t "Adventures of Captain Kettle," * -nL h Arctic Lapland.'*; Mr. HorLost Contiticnt." etc.

JALO BIGHTS -RESERVED.]

I CHAPTER XlX.— (Continued.) I «wny it's a cheque book," Laura said. I . ..Clever girl. Guessed it at once. : I just I d you a credit down at the ,bank m j J!! palmas for £550 to be going on wuu. That's for chocolates and hairpins, and a r,tili;n and the latest thing in Spanish ■.■•?■■■ man l " - » _ • ■ . Vppjr;. I say, Laura, you must get a ir of those tan ones, with the laces tied ?*' bow just clown over the toes. And if '"u don't go through the lot whilst I'm »ff»y squaring my matters up in' England, I snail take you solemnly round the shops then I come back here, and buy you a trousseau of all the ugliest and most unbe--1/; coming garments they havo in stock." "You are good to me, dear; but I can ■ -ever spend all that." "If you've any balance you find un..ijv. buv Cascaes a smilo with it, if you an find one that will fit. No, seriously, ' ' Id ladv, you will bo marrying a rich man, although you did not know it when you ; ♦nok bun and you may as well get used to Ending- It's no use for us preparing to '"■-'' '" jV ''' --/' '- : »,'- ■ t "••'•■ sa -<\'o ; use preparing to save, poor Laura . ■•■' repeated miserably to herself. '•There will 1 .C, no—no one except ourselves to look forward to." But she said nothing ■ of. this Joiid She just thanked him, and snuggled in to his shoulder and patted his sleeve. . , Far away over the corner of the isle a steamer hooted in the harbour of the Islcta, lai the sound came to them dimly through the foliage plants. Carter looked at his witch. - Hullo, I must go, or the criminal -" who drives my tartana will flog that poor 1 beast of 'a mule to death in his' effort to catch'the boat. So how, Miss Slade, just |: please give me a sample of your best gooddoes not linger in the summer ! months even so far north as Grand Canary. The sun was balanced in lurid splendour J -' on the rocky backbone of the isle as Car- -- ter said His' last words of farewell, making the dead volcanoes look as though at / a whim they could spring once- more into scarlet life. It was dark when.he. got on -■■''the road, and the. evening chill rod© in on the trade. The mouse-coloured tartana . mule sneezed as he' pressed his galled . shoulders into the collar - Carter wedged himself in a corner of the • carriage and resolutely looked on life with » reckless gaiety. After all,.what was this ache called. love? To the devil with it! Hereafter he would eat, and drink, and work, especially work, , and—well, Laura was a good sort, and he intended to play the game and please her. He had given his ' word to Laura, he forgot exactly why, but lie had given it, arid that was enough.; For good-or evil, he was one of those dogged Englishmen who keep to a promise that bad once been given. -•'.- / • Then, with equal doggedness, he thrust ill' these things from'his mind, and resolutely clamped . down his thoughts to Tin dill, and the details of its working. No news had - reached , him of the importance which the freakish British public had placed '-his little arrangement about that -detail of the human;sacrifices. Hei saw himself merely as •an unknown.business man, who, ill the near future, would be able to say a thing.which at present' he knew nothing about, and that .was the tin market. lie idea. unconsciously fascinated him. He i bid ino enmity against : the ■ present producers of tin, "did not know, indeed; who they were, but he smiled grimly.'.. as .he thought of the way in which .presently.be would, govern them. It was the. lust for - power, which is latent in so many men, leaping up into life., The brilliant stars shone down on , him from overhead, and the cool trade carried to him salt odours of the sea, but they got f V from him no attention. His mind was journeying away in the African bush, on spbuting mov . bars, jn offices, Mi; metal exdrange*. ... , > ■**. He was roused from these. dreams with - much suddenness. -In his ; up-country journevings in Africa he had; developed ; that animal instinct for the nearness of danger "which is present in us all, but in nine hun- ' dred and ninety-nine'' men out' of ' the" thousand becomes atrophied for want of - use. In the river villages the natives had given him a name which means " Man-with-eyes- . at-the-back-of-his-head." ■ ■ ■ It was this slightly abnormal sense that sprang into quick activity, and Carter made so sudden a . stoop ? that his face smacked ' against the shabby cushions on the opposite side of the tartana. But simultaneously he turned and clutched through the night, and . .seized a wrist, and. held it- with all his iron I force. A moment later he: found .with his ; oilier hand'that the wrist, was connected I: with a long, bright-bladed knife, so •he / twisted it savagely till that weapon fell on I to the dirty the 'floor., ■• And all ' the time, be it well,understood, no sounds Had- been' uttered, and the mouse-coloured mule jogged steadily on with the' tartana -.hrough the dust and the night. Then Carter began to haul in on the . wrist, and the man to whom it was.-at- ; tached came over into the body, of the rehicle, bumping- his ■ knees shrewdly against-the wheel spokes;en route. .-.:-. .'/ . " Ah,- Cascaes,' that's you, is it? And I I to the dirty carpet the floor. - a gentle- " the time, be it well understood, no sounds \ had been uttered, and the mouse-coloured mule jogged > steadily on. with the tartana through the dust and the night. Then Carter, began to haul in on the wrist, and the man to whom it was attached came over into the body of the vehicle, bumping his knees shrewdly , against, the wheel spokes en route. /'Ah, Cascaes, that's you, is it? And I thought once you claimed to be a gentle- ' man, and agreed not to go at me from behind. Well, I'm afraid there's only one : kind of medicine that will suit you, and 'that's the brand one gives to dogs that turn .treacherous. Have you got any suggestions . to make?'';.''//. ..?., '.:■, - '-:- -,■■■:-.".•'."/-.■'".":■.' ' The Portuguese held his tongue. "Ready to take your gruel, are you? Well, I propose; to give you a ; full dose. Hi, .hire I Driver, pull up. Wake, you sleepy . lead."

. "What is it?" ' '. ''„ ."Why, I've picked up a passenger whilst vou've been nodding, and now we want to | get down for a minute. Here, give me your ffhip." :...;.•■■.

1;... Carter's arm was lusty and his temper raw. Mdreovcr, his whip being the property of a'Las Palmas tartana driver, was i; made [for, effective use. '■!"".'• .■■: "I may. not cure you," said Carter beI tween thumps, "of a taste for cold-blooded I assassination, but I'm - going to make the )■ "■ wearing of a coat and breeches an annoy fj ance to you for the next.three weeks, at any rate." After which statement, as the whip broke, he flung the patient into the aloe hedge at the side of the road, got back into I the tartana, and told the. driver to hurry • on to Iselta, or they'd miss the boat. ~ CHAPTER XX. MAJOR MEREDITH. '■ | | J .the Liverpool Post," said Mrs. Craven, "allows itself to hint' gently that you've, been rather persecuting Mr. Carter, Kate. .? Now, I don't call. the Post a sensational I paper, nor is it given to' introducing personal matters as a rule." ..'I wish it would mind its own business, and leave mine alone!" said Kate, crossly. . '.■'■-; '■ /'The oppression of nations and individuals," read Mrs. Craven, " may begin " v being a matter of merely domestic importance; but when it assumes sufficient dimensions, . it forces itself into public < t notice."- . ■ ' ! ~;Dq they couple my name with that?" 'i : ..Jhey leave you to do that yourself," ' '•tt fi old lad drily. • ■■■;■'. , "fi I don't mind. They may say ri ht they ' like. I'm entirely within my rights." J :| ■" ' rhe Post admits that. Here; I'll read ' i i Ca\ w W'it : says,: my dear:—'Mr. George C • '■'Ij'— m ' L hose name has been so promi--4 " Bntl before the public of late in connec- ■• ' tion with his splendid efforts in winning Ov'er the King of Okky to th*> side ' of , ' numanity, has himself been the victim of ' some very high-handed oppression. He •;; • 'as discovered a most valuable vein of tin ■ "a part of the back country where no r -'i anropean : explores had ever trod before,) ' S„r l S? 1 and care ' and ' in tact, with thev V '?? brou g cargo after cargo of SS!; ore down mysterious African 1 stea£^ d t,vers . to a Bot where ocea" cL *&' . c ? n Yemently ship it. To be pre- > he hired from Messrs. Edmondson's

small factory on the Smooth a piece of : waste, cleared Aground,'dumped his ore on that as he : towed it tediously down those unknown creeks in a string of dugouts, and there, let it accumulate so as not! to flood the markets, and cause ruin to the tin industries in England— Shall Igo on?" -, ••. :• •. ■ "Please do, aunt." ■ ' " ' But presently, an interviewer arrived in the shape of a well-known firm of West African merchants and financiers, bought out Messrs. Edmondson's interest in their Smooth River factory, found that Mr. Carter had ho lease, and gav.e him notice to quit within 48 hours. As an alternative 10 removal they demand an annual rent which amounts to more than 15 per cent, of the value of the ore stacked there; in other words, they are endeavouring, in a manner that almost smacks' of j piracy, to force themselves, into partner-; ship with him.' • '* Sneak," said Miss O'Neill, "to go and tittle-tattle to the papers like that.": . Mrs. Craven looked at the :; girl over her spectacles, and then said:" Wait a minute till I read you a little more. 'We should add that what gives these proceedings a more unpleasant flavour than would appear, at first sight is the fact that Mr. Carter is unable to defend himself. He had left West Africa when action was first taken, and it has been discovered that he was still in ignorance of what had occurred -when his steamer called at Las Palmas. The whole thing will be sprung upon him with a shock of unpleasant surprise when lie lands in Liverpool to-mor-row.'" " ' " ■ . ' "

" Ah," said Kate. , ' ' Mrs. Craven folded the paper, stood up, I and walked towards the door. "As usual, | my dear, you have carried out your plans very perfectly."/ : " What plan?" asked Kate, incautiously. ! "Of treating Mr. Carter so badly," said j Mrs.' Cravon, turning the handle, that presently when he hits back you will be able to 'bring yourself to hate him. But the,n you are always successful, Kitty dear, I in everything you set your hand to—try- | ingly successful sometimes," Mrs. Craven added, and went out, and shut the door softly behind her. • ■/ .; :'Kate'nodded at the door. "Aunt Jane, she said, viciously, "there are moments j .when you • are a perfect cat. But I . will j make him detest me for all that, and then j I can truly- and , comfortably hate - him. j It's all very well their calling him a martyr. Why should everybody feelings be consulted except mine?" /» / j All the same, Kate bowed .in a certain degree, to- public sentiment. One thinks also that she had not toughened herself sufficiently to meet Carter. face to face. Anyway, she discovered that urgent affairs called her to London, arid whirled off Aunt Jane to her flat there that very night. She left Crewdson to fight the invader when he landed in. Liverpool,, and gave the old man definite instructions in writing that he was not to budge an inch from the firm's rights. ''.Show Mr. Carter this letter, "she ordered,' "if there is the least occasion for it." ' "

But it "seemed that West Africa pursued her. The telephone rang as soon as she got to the flat. / •; " That London? That Miss Head? This is Liverpool, Crewdson, London's /just been calling, you up. Will you ring four-owe-seventy-three, Pad. What's that? Number four-nought-seven-three, //Pad. Yes, that's it. , Good night, miss." ■

/Kate had more than half a mind to let 4073 alone. She was tired, and somehow in spite of all her successes she was a good deal dispirited. The British public had bought no less ; than four .great; rubber companies that ■ she had offered them; the shares were all at a premium; everybody was pleased j and she had transferred her own profits safely'.; into ; land; and' trustee securities. Since her first burst of ; suc- ] cess, money had simply rolled in on \ her, and already "it thad ceased ' to give her amusement. Success > lay- sour 'in her mouth.';" She ■ asked fortune for - ; just one one thing more. Because she was a woman she could "not ] go;' and get it . for . herself. She told herself that it was only a convention that held: her * backbut she shuddered and chilled all over , at'the thought of breaking; that convention. ; She sat in a deep, soft "chair, twisting her long gloves into a. hard string, and ! ''staring.'- into the glow of the fire, and then with a "Faugh", at her own ! weakness,' she, threw: the gloves'on"to the fonder arid walked, across to a. telephone that stood i on'* a" side table. '.*■.', .' f Four-—seven— Pad, please. No, forty seventy three, * Paddihgton.; ? Yes -—Hullo? ;;Is; that four—nought—seven— three? 'This is Miss O'Neill.; Liverpool rang up to say you wanted to speak me. Who is that, please?" \ ',;■/, '/ / /'" No one you know," came in the small, clear, voice of the telephone. ■'■" "One of those sort of people who-writes 'letters to the papers above some such' signature as Z Well Wisher.'" / ".'- ;//;... . A

>/'' If you don't give, me your name," said Kate, : sharply, "I shall ring off." ~ - * "I don't think you will when I tell you I'm going i to.. give you some news about your." father." ■/'".//■ :-'/'.:/: : :. .

" " My, -, r father, unfortunately, ". y > is dead. You've got hold of s the wrong Miss O'Neill."

The telephone laughed. \ " Not a bit of it, if it's the lady who is known generally as ?• Kate O'Neill I'm * speaking with, but whose: real name is Katherine Meredith."

Now Kate knew " that Mrs. Craven was only " Aunt Jane" by courtesy, and adoption, and had naturally wondered many times over who her real people might have been. She had always been a, practical young woman, J and had not worried herself unduly over the matter; but still, being human, she had her share of curiosity, and though the subject had always been strictly tabooed at the house in Princess Park, still that did not; hinder her from: discussing it with her own thoughts. And now, " Katherine Meredith !" ■ * "I think you had better tell me who you are," said she to the telephone. " I prefer anonymity. Do you know DayPearce?" • "No. Yes, perhaps I do, if you - mean Sir Edward Day-Pearce, the West African man. I don't know him - personally." , : ; ; " All the ■' Better," rasped the telephone.; " Anyway he is lecturing to-night in a Nonconformist temple in Westbourne Grove the Athenaeum, they call it. Begins at eight. He's certain to say something about Meredith. J should go i if I were you:" ' - '" I shouldn't dream—" Kate began, when whizz went the bell, and she was cut off. She rang again, • got the ; inquiry office, found that 4073 was a - hairdresser's shop; once more got 4073, spoke to the proprietor, learned' that the telephone had been : hired for an '. hour by a gentleman who had -some business to transact. No, the gentleman had just gone. No, they didn't know who he was; never seen him before—Miss O'Neill's ring-off had; a touch of temper in it. '-.;■•■■.-...;;"•-:.-. . •-.' ' " i She went back ; to the \ deep, soft chair, ; and tried to bring her thoughts once more to the subject that had been in hand before | the interruption came. She was a business woman, who had ! trained herself to concentrate the whole of her mind on any matter she chose. But. somehow these two little words; ■' My father," kept cropping up, and presently: she : began trying to picture what her mother was like. She went to the telephone and called up a theatre agency. She had to say three times over " Athenaeum —Westbourne Grove," before the young man at the other end grasped the name, and she was rewarded by hearing; him laugh as he said he had no-seats for Sir Edward DayPearce's lecture that, evening.. "Where can I get one?" she demanded. "At the. door, madam,"-'was the polite response; "I. believe .the prices of entrance are threepence, sixpence, and one shilling, unless -you happen to be a subscriber." ~. - Supposing the whole thing were a hoax to draw her there, • and by some means to make her look ridiculous? It was quite likely. She was a successful woman, and had already learned that one of the prices of success is the spitting of spite and envy. But difficulties - did not often stay long in the path of Miss Kate O'Neill. She picked up a telephone directory, turned the pages, found a number, called it up, and made certain arrangements. Thereafter she dressed, dined and took Mrs. Craven to laugh over the neW - piece' at the Gaiety. • But poor Kate found even the Gaiety dull that night. v There was a man on the stage „ with a red head. He was not in the least " like Carter either in, looks, speech, or manner, butwell, it must have been the hair which persisted in calling up that unpleasant train of thought, which kept her vague- . ly.irritated throughout all the evening. r There was a bundle of type script waiting i for her when she got back to the flat) which

happened to be -the verbatim report of Sir | Edward Day-Pearce's lecture, which she had ! arranged that two stenographers should go j and take down for her; 1 but she did not I choose to open this before ; the keen 1 eyes of Aunt : Jane. ■ Instead, she waited till that astute old lady should see fit to go to bed, and watched "her eat sandwiches,:. drink a tumbler /of sodawatei- lightly, laced with whiskv, and listened to a resume of all, the other plays that had filled the Gaiety boards since the house was opened. , At the end of which -Kate had . the final satisfaction ■-of being laughed at. ' ' • .." You've been itching to be rid of me ever since we got back, my dear, and as a general thing you don't in ;, the; least mind saying when you want to be alone. I wonder in those mysterious papers you're so anxious I shouldn't ask you about. '•■_ Good night, Kitty, dear." -.->,-. '••■••'.' • " Good night, Aunt Jane," said Kate, and opened the package. ' ' ...... • The lecture was unexciting. It was the dull record of a dull, capable man, who knew his work thoroughly, did it accurately and in the telling of it left out all the points that were in the least picturesque or interesting. Sir Edward had spent :; half , a lifetime in colonial administration, and the only times <he rose into anything approaching eloquence was when he had to tell of some colonial interest that was .ruthlessly sacrificed by some ignorant official at Home for the sake of * the vote or a fad. w Four several instances he gave of this, and these stood out warmly against the grey background of the rest of, the speech. But to Kate, who; knew her West.Africa all by heart, it was all dull enough reading till she came to almost the last paragraph./ . -/'/.; ■..-/'.-. :: "It is by a peculiar irony," the typed report said, " that an agreement should recently have been come to by which the. notorious King of Okky promises to discontinue his practice of human sacrifice. It is six and -twenty years since I first .went out to West Africa, and my immediate superior then was Major Meredith. He was a man of the highest ideals, and, we all thought, of tremendous capabilities...He saw what was wanted on the spot, and ■ carried out his -theories';with small enough ; regard for ignorant criticism at home. _ By the exercise of tremendous personal influence, and at a fearful risk, he made his way to Okky. City V itself, saw its unspeakable horrors, and made a treaty with, the then king. In return: for certain concessions the .king was to come under British protection, and, of course, give,;up objectionable practices. .'.-.'■ Well, i I don't know whether .there' are any of the anti-British party here, but I daresay most of you will think, that the addition of a quarter of : : a million square miles of rich country to the I Empire was no mean gift. Ladies and I <rentlemen, you little' know what the Government was then.. 'Perish ' West Africa, was one of their many creeds, and with Exeter"— the reporter I- had written the word ."Disturbance," and evidently missed the next few sentences). "I dont care whether you like ; it, or whether. you are decently ashamed, the things -true. They refused to ratify the treaty, and my poor, chief was censured for > exceeding instructions. Well, • .the backers of the high-minded potentate, as I believe they called themselves, got their way, and I wish they were not too ignorant to realise what their mean little action cost_in human lives. ■ Putting-the human sacrifice in Okky ; City < at the very low estimate of 'i- eight thousand ■, a year, in five and twenty years that brings the figure up to two hundred thousand black men and I women :'. whose blood \ lies at the door of I those unctuous hypocrites who made it t their business to break Major Meredith because he was an Imperialist." ' Again the reporter : put in : the ; word "disturbance," but he apparently managed' to catch the'next sentence^'-Ay, you may yap," the ; old administrator went on, "and 1 daresay from the smug ; looks of some of you you're own sons of the men who did it, and I hope you feel the weight of:' their /blood-guiltiness. ;; Two hundred thousand lives, gentlemen, and all thrown away to pander to the fads of some ignor-, ant' theorists who had never been beyond. the shores of England. >>If\ Major Meredithcould have held out against the clamour,' 1 believe that ; he would have: been a man to stand beside Olive, and Rhodes, and Hastings in the/work he would have 'done for the-Empire; but as it was, left the scfrvie^in' disgUst.: Uilf^^r-ifted^rtwuy'inter the" savage depths of that Africa 1 he-knew so well, and had so vainly tried to help. His wife went with him, and, so I heard, bore him a daughter before she died: A rumour 'reached me that some -trader brought the child to England and adopted her, poor Meredithwell, he has disappeared from the record.; ... ~';,•'</. The lecture closed a few paragraphs; fur - ther on,, : again with "disturbance." _ •: Kate folded the sheets, put them m the. table. She,was somehow conscious of a queer thrill of elation. One of the -discomforts "an adopted child who does' not/know ; her history must always; carry through life is the feeling of having been bred of parents that '■} were probably.:discreditable. : She had vague memories of her babyhood. There was .a village of thatched houses and shade trees. She had clear recollection of ; one day playing in the dust/ with the ; village dogs i and - the other babies—black; babies, they were— when . a ; huge spotted beast sprang. among them, roared, and for. a moment stood over her, the white baby. At. intervals she had dreamed of that beast ever since/ From maturer knowledge she knew it must have been a leopard, and leopards do not grow beyond a - certain normal : * size. ■/But.. in dreamland that leopard was always enormous. .... She could never remember whether in the dusty village street under the heat and the sunshine it had '.done damage, or whether, the pariah dogs had frightened it away. ./ : ./' /'..//: Try how she would she could remember no mother. The women of the village were all black; and she; lived, so faint memory said, first with one, and then with another She had no clear recollection of any of them.... /-.'-. .- And, indeed, there might have been many villages,-because there were hammock journeys,: with a pet monkey riding on the pole, • and walls.of thick, green bush on either side that. held dangers. .' /■'-.' She still had a scar just below the nail on the first finger of her right hand where the monkey bit her one day when she ,teased it. ' = But/plainest''of all; these dim pictures of the memory, was one of a white man, who at rare intervals came into the scene, and took her on 'his knee. He had irongrey hair and beard, which were shaggy and matted, and he always- had a pipe between his lips and a glittering eyeglass on a black watered silk ribbon for her to play with. ■ Furthermore, he always brought some present when he came to see her, and gave another present also, if he were pleased, to the black woman with whom he lived. It was he who hung round : her neck the Aggry, bead, that she,still had locked away in the bottom, tray .of her jewel-case. _ i .' She remembered this man with a vague kindness.' But if Godfrey O'Neill cut her off from him with such completeness it must have been for some profoundly good reason. Uncle Godfrey had been far from squeamish. Uncle Godfrey in his lazy way stuck to friends when everybody else voted them far outside the pale. And therefore she had argued the iron-grey haired man with the eyeglass must have done something -peculiarly disgraceful. r / "v ' That he was her father she was entirely sure. Occasionally she had tried to argue with herself that she was little more than a babe when she saw him last, and was no judge, and that possibly the iron-grey man was her father's friend. But something stronger than mere human reason always rose up in arms against such a suggestion. /.-.../ /-'.' : "••'" '*■■'".' : . -■- r/ - ; Sir Edward's halting lecture had roused up one recollection in her head that heretofore had persistently: eluded her. A thousand '. times in those .'dreams of Africa, and the hot villages, and the pet monkey with its red seed necklace, and ■ all the other old,' dim.scenes, she had on the tip of her memory the name of the iron-grey man with eyeglass, and a thousand times , she had missed catching.it by the smallest hair. -In a flash it came back— was Meredith. ■'/...'':/; . ■'■"•'■'. ■ • '•'.-//•

Was I .lie still alive? She could'not tell; but that she would find out now. For once she 'adjudged old ( Godfrey O'Neill to !,c wrong. She was not going to let the discreet veil "remain any longer over a man, who, . whatever his subsequent career had been, at any rate was a martyr once, and her father. ' " ' ~ " , '.'." ..-* ■

(Tc be continued on Saturday next.)