LOVE THE JESTER.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVIII, Issue 147683, 31 August 1911, Page 3

LOVE THE JESTER.

BY ALICE AND CLAUDE ASKEW, Authors of "The Shulamite," The Paignton Honour," etc., etc.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER XIX.

It was wi'h feelings of the deepest wonder that Jack' realised the import of the latter part of this strange epistle. It was to Osbert Royle that a debt of gratitude was already owing for tfio frustration of the plot against Sir Galßraith—but now this! . A huge fortune bequeathed to a man who was little more than a stranger to the testator! ' . ~

With fingers that shook a little Jack unfolded the sheet of manuscript paper upon which the will was written. It was signed firmly with the signature of Osbort Royle. Jack wondered if tho two .witnesses had been pledged to silence as to this, or if, perchance, hero was the explanation of the suggestion which had been made in the smoking-room of the Normanton that Clement Walsh was no other than the convict Osbert Itoyle.

In the body of the document it was fairly stated that the property to which the will referred had 'been realised in the name of Walsh. And the whole —roughly estimated at half a millionwith the exception of a small proportion to be paid by the legatee to a certain Nathaniel Kane, was bequeathed to Jack Carstairs upon his marriage to Miss Brenda Lindley, Failing such a marriage Nathaniel Kane was mentioned as the sole legatee. Jack burst into a laugha laugh that was worthy of Nathaniel Kane he mastered the terms of the will. Half a million of money, on condition that he carried out what his heart most desired} yet neither the money nor his- heart's desire would ever be his! For it was only a few hours ago that he had renounced love and Brenda Lindley in favour of honour and Lucy Ford. • "'What a jest it all is," he cried"life and love and all our puny hopes and passions and desires! Why, mankind is only acting in a big farce on the world's stage, and I suppose there is someone who laughs at our anticsor is-there no purpose in it, nothing but a haphazard pulling of the "strings that make the puppets work? It would be all right," he added, fiercely, "if the puppets didn't feel but their tears, their pain, their sorrows—are these part of the jest as well?" A little later in the course of that morning Vernon called for Jack, as had been arranged between them, and the two young men . travelled together _to Wimbledon. Vernon had news to impart to his friend. He had paid an early visit to Sir Galbraith's house in Portman Square, and had found a letter from his chief awaiting him there. Sir GLilbraath was < to set out upon an important diplomatic mission in the course of a few days' timehis actual destination was not mentioned, but Vernon guessed it to be Egypt. Sir Galbraith was returning to London from Paris that evening. Vernon would have to meet him, and take up his residence ill Portman Square until it was time to leave England. There would be a great deal of preliminary work to be got through. Nothing had been definitely stated, but Vernon was practically cer- I tain that he would have to accompany his employer abroad. Sir Galbraith would, of course, learn that day of what had happened the night before, and there might be a delay in consequence of the inevitable proceedings. \ " There's ■ the inquest upon that poor wretch, Bates," Vernon said. "Both you and I will have to attend that, Jack. 1 'notice that the papers are very guarded in what they report, and your name is not mentioned. The police profess to be on the, track of our friends of last night, but they let them slip through their fingers when they had the best chance of catching them. And, somehow, I've an idea that they'll get clean awayoven | though there's murder up against them. That fellow who talked to me so suavely, with his false beard and his broken tooth, and his continual 'Don't you think so?' was not an ordinary sort of criminal you may be sure of that." So you'll have to go away just as I return, commented Jack. " I'm sorry, Vernon." "Yes." Vernon drew a deep sigh. "And I can't tell for how long I may bo abroad. It's possible quite pos- J siblethat Sir Galbraith may get mo an appointment somewhere. He's spoken of | it." Vernon had quite determined to remind his employer: of thai promise. For how could he remain in England now that Jack hed come home ? How , could ho endure the torture of playing the part of tho mere faithful —now ? Oh, no, let him get away to the uttermost end of tho earth. Lucy would forget him. ! ■For her love for Jack was bound to revive. He had but to present himself before her, to bo in her company for a little while, and her heart must go out to him. Gazing at his friend's handsome face, and comparing it ,■ with his own— which, as chance would have it, he could see in a mirror set in the partition wall of the carriage, and directly in front of him—Vernon felt, with that modesty which was his great weakness, that there could be no question as to which Lucy must really care for most. He, with his freckles, his tanned -skin, his characterless features, his stubbly, nondescript-coloured hair—how could he imagine that Lucy or any woman, should be seriously in love with, him? It was. only Jack's prolonged absence which , had eventually told in his favour—; and Lucy's recognition of his faithful friendship. • Yes, Vernon was quite sure that Jack had only to present himself at Brooke Lodge and, Lucy would' soon be for throwing herself in his arms again. So he was glad that he was going away from England There was a scene with Lucy to be lived through. It would hurt him very mv?h, but ho would nave the strength to bear it, and then he would leave the lovers together, and, lowever much his heart might be aching, he would wish, them nothing but happiness in the future.

At Wimbledon Station the two young men parted. Vernon was to go straight to Brooke Lodgo and see Lucy; Jack would pass the time by taking a long walk over the common. They would meet again in the afternoon, at Vernon's rooms, in order that the latter might report proceedings and then, if all were well, there was no reason why Jack should not go straight to Lucy, who would be expecting him. Jack had no appetite, but ho forced himself to eat a little at an inn near the station, then he set out for his stroll upon the common. He walked briskly until ho reached the great open space, then he turned off at the first path that presented itself and sauntered slowly along, flicking now and then at a blade of grass with his stick, his eyes turned down, his thoughts very far away. It made no difference, of course sort of difference Osbert Royle should have perpetrated that extraordinary will. Jack must not allow considerations of money to stand in the way of what he had decided to be his duty. -But, nevertheless, he was wrestling with temptation —he would hardly have been human otherwise— he strode along, and the beauty of the day, the warm sunshine and the pure air, had no charm for him, for the whole world seemed distorted and out of gear. He wished that Royle had not made so .absurd a mistake. He might just as well have left his money to Nathaniel Kane direct, for it was Nathaniel and no one else who was going to profit by it. :■ . " "Is honour of such account after all?" Jack exclaimed, standing still for a moment, and staring, without seeing* them, at three small and rather grubby children , who were playing among the furze-bushes. " There's a fortune within my grasp, and there's a girl who loves me and whom I adore, but I can take neither the one nor the other because I entered into a contract years agoa contract which honour tells me I must observe. If only Lucy did not care so 4 much! But she loves mo, she has been time and faithful to me all these and if I hurt her i I should never forgive myself—l shouldn't

know another minute's peace as long as I lived. Even the half-million wouldn't atone for that."

He waved his stick, slashing it down upon the protruding .branch of a neighbouring bush. ' The three children had now gathered together, and were standing,, hand in hand, gazing at him, half afraid and half disposed to jeer. Jack laughed at them, conscious now, for the first time, of their presence, and this seemed to decide them that he was a dangerous person, for they scampered away with little squeals and were lost among the bushes. He wandered on, a litlLa aliva now to his surroundings— the'', beauty of the green, brown, and gold of common, to the sun which blamed dowii upon the warm earth, to the love-making couples whom he ' came across accidentally, and who turned off at sharp angles to avoid him, to the sound of mirth emanating from little gatherings of boys and girls lolling here and thero upon the turf— nature was beautiful, and there were happy folk in the world after all. Jack felt mildly surprised. But when his steps led him at last to one of the ponds he found collected upon the bank a little group of people whose demeanour was more in keeping with his own. They were grave of face, and they whispered to each other as they bent over somethingsomething that lay quiet upon tho grass, and which Jack could not distinguish clearly yet because of thoso who surrounded it. But there were police and there were men in uniform—keepers, no doubtwho appeared to be in command of the situation, and who were keeping back the childrendriving them off when they approached too near. Jack addressed himself to a policeman. •' It's a suicide," he was told. "A young woman. They've only just found her. She was under the weeds close to the bank. Went in last night. I expect/' Jack was about to turn on his heel and go away. He had enough troubles of his own just now without forcing himself to look at the face of an unfortunate suicide —probably distorted and ghastly.. But an exclamation in a woman's voice arrested his attention

"Poor young thing! Why, she's little more than a child."

Ho felt he must —one glance. Something seemed to compel him to do bo. He pushed forward. Then, despite the heat of the day, a cold shudder ran through him. For the dead girl's face was familiar to, him, though he had never seen her in life. But the likeness was unmistakable—Trixie Kane had found rest at last.

(To be continued daily.)