THE GIRL'S HEAD.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVII, Issue 14453, 20 August 1910, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE GIRL'S HEAD.

BY EDGAR JEFHSON, Author of " The Admirable Tinker.' " The Passion for Romance," " Lady Noggs, Peeress," " The Dictator's Daughter," Etc , Etc.

PUBLISHED BT SPECIAL A HP, ANGF.If F,NT.

corvnifiHT. CHAPTER Xlr. •nil-: rossA< k wcitiiku shot. j mini", 110111 f. ill ;iti uncertain mind. I had a fear i hat f hud been too haety letting Soniii. know my feelings; it. would have 1 x-f-n wiser to let- her grow still more intimate, with me be I ore revealing them. Yet 1 was glad t hat. she did know them. I lie knowledge might quicken in her tho growth of a. like feeling towards me. She had indeed been startled by the revelation ; but she mid not been displeased. Of lhat. I was sure. Yet* : I was glad that 1 had told her.

1 .-at in the gaiden after dinner, dreaming of ber beautiful flushed lace arid troubled eyes till tho clock over tho stables struck ten. 1 must, go to New I'omney to look at the villa., tho casket which held my precious jewel. 1 -walked there quickly, dreaming of her. My mind conjured up lier image and held it as present, before it as ever it had hel<i tho image of her dead sifter. I lingered a long while about the villa, passing and repassing if. and only at-1-oro myself away fwni it with a. great- reluctance.

I ramr slowly Ikuls, still dreaming of Soilia, along flu; road by I lie- sea. Alui way bet wi'di New Jioinney ami Pyorhurch the crack of a rifle and tho whirring win/./, of a Itiili< I- over my head roused me with a vengeance. I"tuoMscioiisly I followed the lino of its whirring High! and saw the silver flashes asi it ricochet ted alone' the sea half a. mile out. Then I turned quickly and scanned the Marsh. There was 110 wood or clump of trees liote. lis level expanse was only broken I)v •>• !i 111: of alders two hundred yards away. 1 dropped to the ground : I was far too easy a mark, standing up against, the. (-valine, should the Cossack tire to hit. Arid even an I dropped in the middle of tho line of alders a figure sprang into signt, running. On the instant, another figure sprang ii]). lower down the line, and ran ion. Pardee was on tho Cossack's track. T sprang to my feet. Tho dyke was too broad to jump. 1 raced down its side, to a bridge across ii eighty yards away, casting a glance now and then over my shoulder, as I raced, at the running figures. As I crossed the bridge 1 piuv them, dimlv, a hundred yards beyond the alders, close together. Panioe hail nearly caught his man.

I had run a hundred yards across the meadow; and I saw tlieni stop and close. 1 saw there was a struggle; and I shouted with all my lungs to let Pardee know that help was at hand. Then 11110 of tlieni went down. It must be Purdue, for the other figure w as running again. A broad dyke checked me; and 1 had to run fifty or sixty yards down its side before it narrowed to jumping-point ; and it was a big jump then. However, I just cleared it, and ran on. > lie next dyke was narrower; and I cleared it, in my stride. The line of alders marked another broad dyke; but I luckily came upon it close to

a bridge and ran across tlie meadow to the recumbent figure. ft was Purdue; and he lay very stilf.

1 looked across the Marsh for the flying Cossack, and raw him a faint, moving blurr in the moonlight. Fear had lent him wings; he had plainly known his line of tctreat, and made a straight course of it ; I had lost ground crossing the dykes, i-'ur-suit was hopeless'; moreover it was needless; I could always lay my hand on liini in Rose Cottage; Pardee demanded my instant attention.

The blood was welling out of an ugly wound in his head ; lie was breathing very taintly. Then 1 found that his right arm, crumpled up under him, was broken above, tin? el how. The Cossack must have attacked him with the fary of a tiger.

I. straightened out the arm: but the wound in the head, a, blow plainly from the butt of tlio Cossack's rifle, wis the danger; and I set about binding it up. 1. made a pad of his handkerchief, and bound it tightly tin to the wound with my own. 1, made sure that it would not slip.

Then 1 set out at a smart trot for T'yeciiurch. I reached the Manor House in. twenty minutes, hurried to the stables, and knocked up the groom*. One I bade saddle a horse, ride to New Romney, and fetch a doctor and the inspector of police; the other I made harness a horse to a iigiit cart.

I Then I knocked up dreg and bade, him I dress quickly to help bring home an ! injured man from the Marsh. Then 1 went | "nto the house, roused the servants and I bade them get a, bedroom and hot water I ready, filled a, flask with brandy, and ; brought out a small mattress and half a | dozen pillows to the cart.

; In less than a-quarlei of an hour we | started. The groom was a stranger to this ) part of the. Marsh, but fortunately Ureg | knew it well ; and as t-oon as we were far ! enough on the. way to New Romney for him to understand exactly the point we j were trying to reach, lie turned the cart l into the Marsh and brought it by a cirj cuit into I he, very meadow in which Par- | doe was lying. I lie lay just as 1 had left him. very pale |in I lie moonlight, breathing faintly. Mis | wound was bleeding very little. We lifted I him gently on to tin* mattress and pillows [ at tho bottom of the cart; then. Greg leadj ing the horse as slowly as possible, we took j our way back to Pvechurch.

! We were just lifting him nut of the cart | ill. the door of the Manor House when the i doctor arrived on his bicycle. We carried | Pardoe lip to the bedroom ready for him; | ;iikl. .Mis. Croft helping, the doctor set I alum). bandaging the wound in his head, j ~r s he examined it. his face grew grave. ' He said that it was a serious wound; there j iviis severe concussion of tlie brain; and I it was probable that the skull ivas fraci tured. He had dressed it and bandaged | it, and was setting the broken arm, when j a maid brought word that the inspector of j police was below.

T wont down to him ; and it seemed to j nie best, since Pardee was in such a s'eri- | ous case, to give him full information. 1 j told him, therefore, how the Cossack, pro- ; bably an emissary of the. Russian police, I had tired at me. and that Pardoe had come ' down to catch him; how the Cossack had i again fired at me, a::;! what I had seen ; of the struggle in the Marsh. He seemed a good deal taken aback at I learning what had been happening in his | quiet district, and put. forward the theory j that the Cossack w;ip a homicidal maniac. I 1 did not discuss it with him, nor did I tell him a. word about the lost- lie,ad. He j took careful notes of my description of the j Cossack. Then, after going tip to the bed-

room and taking a survey of Pardee, lie hurried back to New Roiniiev to arrest Hie Cossack at Rose Cottage, or if he were no!, (hero to set his men scouring the countrv tor him. As he was taking his departure I suggested that there was 110 immediate need to let. the newspaper reporters get hold of the story, since Pardee would not at the best be able to give evidence for many days; and till he could give it the Cossack wouid be remanded and remanded. He fell in with the suggestion with alacrity. " Yes." he said. " Their interference will do no good ; it. will only hamper us. I'll have this. Russian before noon." When he had gone 1 wrote out (luce wires-one to Scotland Yard.'one to Hoylake. and one to an institution at Folkestone, asking that a nurse, might be sent as early as possible. 1 went back to Pardoe's. room and saw to it that the doctor's instructions were understood: and when, the doctor had gone I went to bed. In the morning Pardee had not recovered consciousness, and the doctor, who came soon after breakfast, did not hold out any hope that he would soon do so. Ho said that the blow would have killed <i tninnerskulled man on the spot.; but since none of the serious symptoms had appeared, lie thought. Pardee would probably recover. About eleven o'clock a capable-looking nurse arrived, and I felt that everything that could be done for him had been done. Soon after the arrival of the nurse came a detective, named Page, from Scotland Yard. I gathered that- Pardon's superiors had been much put about, the disablement, (it* one of their best men. and no efforts would be spared to bring the Cossack to justice. Page had been informed fully of all that was known about the coming and loss fit' the head, and I soon informed him of what Pardoe had been Irving to do in the matter of the Cossack. He, too, showed a. praiseworthy desire to keep the matter from the knowledge of the press-, and as soon as he had learned all 1 had to tell him lie. hurried away to New Romney to learn if the local police had already caught the Cossaek. and if they had not- to give them his help. I felt sure that he would he caught, before night. His appearance was far too uncommon to give him a chance of escape. At about half-past twelve the count came, down from the bungalow, and I was not, long observing that he was both uneasy and excited. He watched me with very curious, searching eyes. I had no doubt that, he had known thai the Cossack was

! going to have aiiother shot at. me tiio nio-ht, j before, and T took it, that he had come to { observe the wearing rlfeet, of the process i on my nerves. There was none to observe: j inv usual eerenity was mediated, and I | was neither nervous nor haggard. Tie j must, have been a. trifle disappointed by j tin* cheerful ease, rather more than my | usual cheerful ease, with which T talked | to him about his favourite subject, the ! dulness of Pyechurcli. Then he made a, slip. I " You don't look as vigorous an usual," ■he said. " You look an if you had not j slept all night." And his eyes rested very I keen and searching on my face, watching for tho effect of the statement. I looked nothing of the kind: and in a | flash I knew that lie knew of the. assault j on I'ardoe.

! " It. must bo liveil said, with im- ! changed serenity. "I never felt, better in ] mv life. And I certainly had all tho sleep ! 1 "wanted. Will you stay and luneh witii i me'.''' 1 lie hesitated; his face was clouded by ; the struggle between his desire for tho I strong voting (iminpagne and his fear of ' blurting out' something into my receptive j ear under its expanding influence, if his I wife were not- present to guard him. "Thanks very much: but my wife expects me." lie said bravely but sadly. I was disappointed : I longed to give tho good fellow an opportunity of unburdening t himself. " Yuu are indeed a devoted husband. 1 said witn warm approval. 5 He went away somewli.it disconsolate, ! and left me. wondering how he had heard of tho Cossack's attack on Pardee. He could not. have learnt it from his servants I -—neither he nof tho countess knew enough i Kuglish to understand the story if it bad j alreadv spread as far as tho servants. ! father lie had seen the Cos.-aek since the attack or he had been lurking in tho •Marsh and seen it. His knowledge was I certainly odd, and when I came to think I of it, his air had been ton disturbed for ' a. man wno iiad merely come to observe j tho effect of a shot, on me.

1 rode over to New Komney rather earlier than usual, for I wanted to hear whether the Cossack had been captured, and if he had. whether ho hail made any resistance, and what account he had given of himself. Hut I found the inspector mil, and the man 011 duty could only tell me that the Cossack had' not been caught. 1 rode on to Sonia's vilia. She met. mo with very shy eyes and a faint tlush in her cheeks, and she talked quickly and a little nervously. 1 had been in some fear less she should havo grown angry with me and refuse to come for a ride, and I was indeed rejoiced to find her

in this, temper. It seemed to mo that she was relieved and more at her ease when we were mounted, and there- was less opportunity for talk. She t-aid that she would like a gallop: therefore we wont- down to Littlestone and out on to the sands. A mile's gallop and a mile's earner towards Dungenefs seemed to restore her to her wonted serenity. Her talk caine easily again; and her eyes were shining like stars. Only the}' fell before mine whenever they met "them ; and once or twice 1 caught them resting on mv face with a shy wonder.

1 talked about the indifferent things about, which wo were used to talk. I did not make lov.! ti- her. for 1 wanted to set her again at her ease with me. But I fancy that my eyes and voice were caressing. That, 1 could not help. livery now and again we galloped a stretch ; and at half-pact four we turned our horses towards New Romney, and I asked her if she would give mo tome tea. since riding on so hot an afternoon had made mo very thirsty. She flushed faintly as she said she would he charmed ; and we trotted briskly back to the villa. As we went through into the guldens T slipped mv arm round her. Sho stiffened if its clasp, but did not try to esc ano from it : and f drew her to me and kissed her. " 1 do love you so," I said. She laughed a soft, uncertain laugh : and when we sat down by Ihe littie table J saw that her eyes wore shining with tears. I told her at great length and with many repetitions how beautiful and adorable 1 found her. When 1 started to ride home 1 went round by the [ vol ice station for news of the Cossack. There 1 fould the inspector, a weary, angry man. The Cossack had slipped through tin.' meshes of the net.

Tho inspector had telephoned arid telegraphed in the very early morning to all the police stations and railway stations within a- radius of 30 miles of New Romney. The police and the railway officials had a full description of the Cossack: he could not have boarded a train or gone through a big town without being marked and arrested. Moreover, the police of the towns and villages in the Marsh, and on its edges had been scouring if all the day. In the neighbourhood of New Romney and in a circle round Pvechurch the Cossack was known by sight to scores of people. Itseemed that he had spent much of his days wandering about the Marsh, doubtless exploring it- for convenient spots in which to lio in ambush and fire at me. He had eaten and drunk at half-a-dozen of the Marsh inns, a, silent, sullen figure, inaccessible behind the barrier of his strange tongue. The Marsh-folk had grown used to him. had even ceased to discuss him with one. another-.

But. to-day no one had seen him. Every possible lurking-place had been searched without the discovery of a trace of him. The Marsh is not an easy place to hide in ; there is but little covert in it. The keepers in the woods on the slopes of the hills had been on the .look-out for him and hunted through the denser thickets. Besides. he must come out of any hiding-place for food unless he had started out provisioned to get his ahot at me. Tie had certainly not returned to Rose Cottage to fetch food.

1 suggested to the inspector that he had trot away to France by an early boat from Folkestone. The inspector said that the Folkestone police ha- been on the look-out for him, and were sure that he had not. He was sure that lie was lurking in the -Marsh, and expected to learn his whereabouts from some theft of food in one of the villages' during the night. As it was F had had the last, glimpse of him when he fled from the stricken I'ardoe.

As I rode home, his disappearance grow to mv mind more and more inexplicable. He could not be lurking in the Marsh. It was an excellent place to shoot or club a man in at night ; but it was far too full of shepherds; to hide in bv day.

Suddenly the explanation Hashed on me; that, was why the count had known that I had had a broken night, and that was why lie had worn so nervous and excited an air; the Cossack was at the bungalow.

CHAPTER XITT. A LETTER FROM I.IMIECK. I could not. make up my mind whether to he pleased or vexed by the removal of the Cossack from New Romney to hetome so near a neighbour: and as I dressed next morning T regarded the bungalow with a less complacent air than ever. In the morning and the sunshine it lost, of course, a good deal of its sinister appearance, but I had not got rid of that first impression of menace it had made on me. Doubtless the fact that that noxious rogue, the count, lived in it had done something to strengthen the fancy awakened in my mind by the carelessness of the architect.

In the middle of breakfast it occurred to me that the count must be having a good deal of trouble in that one-storeyed building to keep the bulky presence of the Cossack concealed from his servants. Indeed, it seemed to me almost to render it impossible that the Cossack should be in the bungalow. When after breakfast .Mrs. Croft came to me to discuss the question of lunch and dinner, an important and daily discussion, 1 said to her, " How are the Count, and Countess de Xoyal getting on with their servants now? 1 think you told me that at first they had a. good deal of trouble with them." .Mrs. Croft's face filled with an expression of the liveliest concern : and she said. " It's terrible to think of. Sir John, but. a lady born and bred, a lady of title, too. like the countess, though foreign, should do the work that she must. It's over a week since she turned those two Pyechurch girls out of the house, and had Mrs. Fitch, the deaf old woman who lives in the corner cottage, come i:i morning and evening to do the rough work. The rest, she does herself—cooking and all. though what a fine lady like her makes ol of it is more than I can say."

I daresay she does it very well. Freneli ladies are quicker at that kind of work than English." It may be so. Sir John, ii may be so. But it's a sad come-down." she said, and departed to convey the results of our deliberation:; to the rook.

This change in the domestic economy of the bungalow had come at a very fortunate time if the tight with Pardoe had driven the Cossack to take shelter in it. It made it far more probable that 1 had guessed rightly his whereabouts. On thinking it over 1 was not sorry that he was. so to speak, under my hand. A wire or message to New Romney would bring half a dozen policemen, of the sleek, country variety, down on him, so that whenever it seemed fit to disembarrass myself of him. I could in an hour have him hauled away to an innocuous repose in the nearest gaol.

As a law-abiding citizen I ought, doubtless, to send that wire at once. !>m yet again I found myself in the position of concealing an important fact from the police. It seemed to me that if in their investigation of many crimes they had to deal with persons of such secretive natures as mine they must indeed be hampered in their work.

Hi,l it was quite plain to me that 1 coujd not tell them where the Cossack was hidden. \'o suspicion must fall on the bungalow, if I could prevent it. till it had been used by the plotters as the base of their filial, serious effort, and they bad brought my quest to a successful end. Assuredly the police would of themselves never dream of seeking the Cossack there. Thev would never look for Pardee's assailant in the nearest house to that in which he was lying ill of his wounds, especially when that house was the abode of members of tin' old French nobility.

Even Pardee himself, though he had seen the count visit the Cossack at Hose Cottage, did not know that if was the count, or that lie was staying at the bungalow. Had 1 Toylake been 011 the spot it would have been a. very different matter; the bungalow would be searched at once. But fortunately Hoy lake was in London, and too busy to get away. i r lV> he continued 011 Saturday next.)