THERE WAS NO OTHER WAY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIX, Issue 15073, 16 August 1912, Page 3

THERE WAS NO OTHER WAY.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BY LOUIS TRACY. Author of "The House of Storm," " Rainbow Island," "Hie Pillar of Light," "A Son of the Immortals," etc., etc. COPYRIGHT. CHAPTER Vlll.—(Continued. "What are you driving at?" demanded Winter, almost morosely, for none knew better than himself how unerringly Furneaux had found the weak spot in his armour. " I really meant what I p.aid. I want a week oil'. Five days may suffice, but I had better stipulate for a week, since I may need a, few hours longer than I anticipate at present. You see, I can hardly ask tho department to sanction a trip to Monte Carlo, and lam going there. And I shall return in time for the adjourned inquest."

"And what in the world do you expect to find at Monte Carlo?"

" Of course, the name covets an area as well as a multitude of tins. For present purposes it stretches from the Villa Asphodel at Nice to the Casino at Monte Carlo itself —about nine, miles as the crow flies, but nearer fourteen by automobile." "Oh, I see! Well, have it your own way. When do you start?" ''By the 2.20 p.m. to-morrow." "Meet mo here at ten, ami we will go into matters fully. I shall not entrust this affair to other hands than my own while you are absent."

Scotland Yard docs not require its officers to pay their own expenses, but it was in the mind of each man that a costly journey to and from the South of France was hardly warranted by existing conditions, so far as the inquest on Kyrle wont. Moreover, tho assistance of the Criminal Investigation Department had not been sought by tho authorities or by any interested party. Winter was entitled to act in such matters practically as he thought fit, but an explanation of his reasons for giving such attention to the affair must ultimately be supplied to the chief of tho department, and undoubtedly he was not yet in a position to show valid cause for further expenditure of money and loss of time.

But he trusted Fnrneaux as lie would trust none other. lie knew it was useless to ask his diminutive colleague what he expected to discover in the Riviera—as well ask an opium-eater to describe his dreams —so it was with a whimsical gravity that he said next morning: " Unless you strike oil soon, Fnrneaux, chuck the whole business, send me a wire, and come home. I'll communicate with Penzance, and go shares with you in the exes."

" But the Penzance people will promptly arrest .Mrs. Delamar op suspicion."

" Let them

"Oh, dear no. Whatever happens, she must remain in a fool's paradise till the adjourned inquest." "Did you Eee her yesterday ?"- "Yes; she went shopping." Winter laughed with sheer annoyance. " I'm afraid we've ■ found a mare's nest, Charles," he said. And with this they parted., Fnrneaux to cross the Channel through half a gale and Winter to char up the arrears of other pressing business. That same morning Sir Claude Waverton went to the Dene, and for four days lived like a hermit, or as nearly resembling a hermit as the conditions of existence in a well-kept country house would permit. On the score of ill-health he politely declined to receive the vicar, the estate agent, the head keeper, the head gardener, or anyone who meant to discuss local affairs or business in any shape or form.

Within doors he lived mainly in the library, and his constant companion, whether inside the house or strolling about the domain, was an old' setter who had hobbled into view when he chanced to pass the stables on the afternoon of his arrival.

"Hello.. Bob!" he had cried joyously, and the dog ceased prowling and leaped up at him. In fact, Bob's hoarse yelps of delight brought out an appreciative groom, who was manifestly surprised when the two went off together. "Funny thing!" said the man to Rice later. "Old Bob isn't a forgivin' sort of beast, an' I thought he'd remember the gvn'nor pepperiu' him wi' shot last September twelve months."

" What was that for ?" demanded Rice, who was beginning to think that the. Sir Claude Waverton of former days was an evil dream, a figment of a distorted imagination. "Well, you see, Bob was a bit spoiled by one of the keepers, who took 'im out with a ferret an' a fox terrier, an' he flushed a couple of coveys the first day in the stubble. The second time Sir Claude let drive at 'im, an' he's bin lame ever since."

Oddly enough, Waverton discovered the shot marks in Bob's near hind leg next day, and asked Rice if he could say what had caused them.

For once the valet was at a loss for an answer..

"I don't rightly know the fact, Sir Claude," he stammered. '-The dog was shot. I believe." "I can see that for myself. Was it ah accident ?"

"Something of the kind, sir." "Some clumsy brute blundered, I suppose. Send out for the- head keeper what's his name?"

"Burks, Sir Claude." "Ah, yes! Ask Binks how it happened." Rice hoped that the thing would be forgotten, but Waverton questioned him again next morning, and Rice was compelled to blurt out the distressing information that Bob bad-been the victim of his master's annoyance. Sir Claude did not look confused, nor try to laugh the incident away. His face took on that curious stern look which was one, of his new and rare characteristics.

" Why didn't some man drop his gun and give mo a hiding?" he said quietly. " I was a very perfect specimen of a bounder in those days, Rice, and the other fellows in tin- line could not have been much better."

Rice, having nothing to say, remained silent, and Bob was consoled for past injuries by half of a juicy kidney. While" in London Waverton had purchased a typewriter. His right wrist was still so stiff and intractable that he was unable to use a pen, and, as he explained to Rice, and to Mr. Curtis, the solicitor, in a letter, it was easier to spell out his correspondence on the machine with his left hand than to draw it laboriously with the same untutored member. The cuts on his right hand and arm were healed, and the bruises had vanished, but ho was acutely conscious at times of some damaged nerve or ligament at the junction of the hand and wrist. Nothing could bo done surgically, the doctors at Nice had assured him. Time alone could cure, and time is a surgeon not to be hurried. Sir Claude soon gained a surprising efficiency in his one-handed manipulation of the typewriter, and, on the Friday, the fourth day of residence at the Done, ho spent an hour after breakfast in writing a, letter. In the first instance, he made a rough draft, which be corrected, fair copied, and burnt. Then he addressed an envelope, and summoned Rice. "Don't put this in the letter-box," ho said, " but take it yourself to the post office."

The valet understood that the missive was not meant to be scrutinised by other eves, and Harried away on the errand, the village of Boxham being nearly a mile distant. Being quite a human person, he glanced at the address, and was positively startled on finding that it was intended for "Mrs. Elstead," at Cromer. Now, Rice was well aware that Lady Waverton had reverted to her maiden name, and his sedate face creased in an appreciative grin. "Good luck to you!" lie murmured, as the letter disappeared in a window-slit of the Boxham post office. "If it wasn't for Miss Kathleen there mightn't bo much hope, but now I'll lay a quid to a hayseed that that there blessed kid will bring 'cm together again.'-'-

On Sunday and Monday.he cast an observant eye over his master's correspondence, hut no envelope bore the Cromer postmark 1 . Indeed, Sir Claude's mail was growing smaller every day Rico himself, at first, used to send a stereotyped acknowledgment of nearly all letters, in which "Sir Claude Waverton regretted that his recent accident prevented him from answering yours of the til," and this style of rejoinder exercised a marked effect* in lessening the volume of condolences and anxious inquiries which had poured in from clubs, theatres, hotels, and sporting centres like Newmarket and Epsom. Rice, of course, had seen Lady Wavorton's handwriting quite recently, and lie fancied he would recognise it. lie was not mistaken, though, to use his own expressive phrase, it laic give him a turn, it did, when the expected letter arrived on Monday evening, by hand, and addressed to himself. "Dear Mr. Rice (it ran), —I am staying at the vicarage. Can you come and see me for a few minutes, and as soon as possible? I believe that no one in the village, other than Mr. and Mrs. Norton and other servants, knows that I am here, and-1 wish the fact to be kept quite private at present.—Yours sincerely, Doris Wavkktox." "Who brought tins he gasped, gazing wide-eyed at the unrler-footman who handed him the note. "One of Mrs. Norton's maids, an' a pretty girl, too," came the answer with a wink. " Oh, it she's a pretty one I must attend to her without delay," he smirked, and the under-footman announced in the servants' hall that old Pace wasn't quite such a stick-in-the-mud bachelor as ho made himself out to be.

On his way to the door the valet determined that, come what might, he would see her ladyship, and he told the waiting messenger that he would be at the vicarage a few minutes after eight o'clock. He rushed through his duties when Sir Claude had dressed for dinner, and, by a rapid ecurry on a bicycle, was at. Mr. Norton's house at the appointed time. Hewas shown into tho study, and there found Lady Waverton, who was attired in a travelling costume, and wore a large hat. draped with a dark motoring veil. This, however, was lifted at tho moment, and her charming face was flushed with excitement and anxiety. "I sent for you. Rice," she explained instantly, " because 1 did not care to trust my affairs to any other person at the Dene, and I signed my former name to prevent any chance of error. I want Id see my—to eeo Sir Claude, to-night if possible. How can I manage it?" Rice was wrung with conflicting emotions. He was puzzled, pleased, flattered at the same moment, but he cculd only blurt out a commonplace opinion that if her ladyship authorised him to ask Sir Claude-

"Oh, I don't mean in that way," she interrupted eagerly. "I am afraid, after my experience at Cromer, and from circumstances winch have dome to my knowledge since, that if Sir Claude knew I was in JJoxham he would take every means in his power to avoid me. But I must see him, speak to him—l really must. Don't you understand me, Sir. Rice? 1 want to take him by surprise, to come upon him so unexpectedly that he cannot refuse to discuss certain matters with me. You will help me, won't you? lam quite alone here, and I have no one else to appeal to. Can you manage this thing for me, somehow, anyhow V His right hand rose to the shaven upper lip, and his left travelled to the small of his back.

"Well, milady, see-in' as it's you, I'll do what I can"

"Ah, I was sure of you, Bice," broke in Lady Waverton, with a catch in her voice that went to the man's heart.

"You see, it's this way, milady," he went on. " Bein' a fine night-, an' not givin' much time to his dinner, Sir Claude will probably light a cigar and go out for a stroll with Bob"

"Bob!" she exclaimed. -"Who is Bob?"

"The old setter, milady lame dog." "Oh. I remember. He was my particular friend. But—" She hesitated, in a bewildered way, until the urgency of her ..mission drove* aside all other considerations' "You mean that I may meet Sir (Claude in the park?" "It's almost a certainty, milady. If you was to go now to the boat-house by the lake, Sir Claude will probably pass that way before nine o'clock." "But, if he does not? To-night, just because I happen to be awaiting him, he may remain In the house." Rico coughed, sure sign of a diplomatic utterance.

"In that case, milady, if Sir Claude stops indoors, he will bo in the library, an' the drawing-room windows will be open. I'll take care that thev are." "Ah!" Lady Waverton sighed her gratitude. and opened the gold purso which hung from her neck bv a. chain.

"If your ladyship doesn't mind—l'd rather—" began 'the valet,, sheepishly. She closed the purse with a snap, and smiled brightly. " I quite understand. Rice," she said. '-' You are acting as my true well-wisher, ■ not as one whom I would pay for- services rendered." Rice's pallid face flushed with pleasure. "I can only hope, milady," ho blurted forth, but, recollecting himself, checked the expression of a pious desire, and went on to ask if she needed any assistance in reaching the boat-house, since she would probably wish to avoid the lodge gates. She laughed at that. " 1 have not forgotten my way about the Dene," she said. " By walking a quarter of a mile down the avenue I can enter the park by climbing a gate, and then take the path through the wood to the lake. It is not dark, and the distance is short, so there is nothing to be afraid of, and a scampering rabbit or two will not alarm me." So the valet raced back to the house, and, watching developments from an upper window, heard Sir Claude whistle ihe dog, and saw the pair descend an Italian "terrace and stride off across the sloping pasture land That led in a gentle descent towards the smooth sliest of water some few hundred yards away. Bice looked at his watch— minutes to nine. "It's as good as a play!" he chuckled. "Now, 1. wonder if it will work out all right. ' What a facer it 'tid be for Mrs. Delamar if Sir Claude an' her ladyship came together again !" .Meanwhile. Lady Waverton had gone to her self-appointed* tryst. The avenue she had spoken of was" a public road lined with elms, and hallway along its straight and level arcade a gate gave access to a densely-planted wood which provided cover for some of the pheasants reared at the Dene. The gale was locked, but this active young woman made light of that, and a "drive," or shooting road, which led to the lake, was really less gloomy than the arched-in avenue. The drive stopped somewhat short of a belt of willows and osiers, but a. path to the left would bring her to the boat-house, while the same path to the right circled the lake after crossing another shooting alley some two hundred yards further on. In the gloaming of that midsummer night Lady Waverton could see the water shining like a sheet of burnished silver above "the triage of willows. She stepped out smartly, ant' gave no heed to the bolting of white-tailed rabbits or the rustlings of birds. She might have met a keeper" making his rounds, but. much to Iter relief, she saw no one during that traverse of the wood. But it did not follow that, because she did not see she was therefore unseen. As she turned into the narrow path bordering the lake a, man rose front the wood's undergrowth, midst which lie had crouched when her ladyship's dainty figure appeared in the alley. '"Unless I'm losin' mo eyesight, that's Ladv Waverton!" soliloquised the apparition, who had "poacher"" writ largely on face and garments. "I couldn't see, 'or pretty phiz, bless 'er little heart, but I'd swear to 'or walk an' style among a thousand. Now, wot's she after? Wot's she doin' 'ore? The papers said—'nut cursa the papers '.—they mostly tell lies. Son, j me boy. vou believe your own eyes, an' p'raps," if "you're lucky, your ears." And with that he followed his quarry, stalking her with a wary skill born of the woodland and the wild. (To be continued daily.)