THE BATTLE OF THE GIANTS

New Zealand Herald, Volume LX, Issue 18519, 2 October 1923, Page 4

THE BATTLE OF THE GIANTS

; 'BY J. B. HARRIS-BURL AND. Author of:" The Splendid Sacrifice," " The Half-closed . Door. ■;\ "Tho FelgMe Taint," ':. .V" . '',"-''■ Etc.. Et,o. ' .:,•■: •-. ( Copyright) ...

-■' SYNOPSIS. April 'Humber daughter J ber comes whistling down fe » th Tom . staircase. She welco.w.3. ner »«» • 0 v 1... arrives unexpected! •-. " c A n toUa ~.,,. to »t cn Mw* n/tf soo clary A him that her Af«f^ tells him that John Price.. She ao> , e cn . TC3 to Biltfe Rixon is the only m™» greets ■ the d»nce with. , f-«V with a Becre>ry. a dark. ™%™f™ anixig a party £ble; about, forty. notices an oil paintM »' » M - N , Wcst . in » snow-scone cut the cards One haa m die. **"£ has lost. Humber ~d i h, S"f- nS so as to keep it ever had had Ui» aim ¥{ no from his » h» mem &r Uh' and toon are past lne. Ija; »" B {\ m a j; rtv envelope alone the guest W'*c™ draws'the King from which the of hearts. The r( HuS: X .ho cheated a "asm out -of his life. ■

CHAPTER (Continued.) _ . n i Hnmber rose from his chair, Conrad Humber re re .place. and stood with his back to Uic Elonj » h .. Ido not know you biit ry wen, fact ■£ said slowly, very l?d dancer I don that you *" * ffe k nown you at ah. is your game? " ; to Oliver this letter, ii ] pronnwa a letter. I have done so. yourtask! ■- b tKSt I wouldn't use it if 1 were you. Have you got a pack of cards?." ; ; ■ ~ ■ " A dozen." (l . " Unopened packs? . >t " Half-a-dozen, I daresay-. Well, we'll cut for it! " For what?" . „ " For your reputation. ■ d Gcnrad Humber laughed. ;§ not hurt that, kie saia. M believe voor word against mine. > „ " » Ah.' but I have Margesson's letter. The financier snapped his fingers. • « Ter>..ld fake, a dozen letters like tnat, xo S; me down-a dozen liars'like you.and M » r fo S son in the financial world, perhaps. But the truth makes .quicker -headway among a man's private mends. ... "Do von think anyone would brieve that Vriiur letter? You must be mad my dear RSn ' Even-one knows that I have been iooking tor Margesson 'l~h£* I. honour his memory—wny, that picturein the dining room! ■ Do you think l a keep that always before my eyes,, if I d cheated a man out of his life. .-. . >, " Yes,". Rixon answered coldly.; -a think vou are just that sort of man. 1 th nk vou • keep that picture just to £/ vou-of death ; The. anchorite used to keep a- skull always by, him for the same reason. Some of the brute is dead in vou, Humber. That is ,an incident you think of with horror, I cannot decide whether to rum you, or let yon escape your punishment, I swore an oath to a dead man. On the other ..hand I don% really wish to destroy your reputation. I cannot » make up :my mind, lhe cards shall. decide for us. ,-■- r ' .<■ ~ -: " Well I suppose I must humour on, said Humber, rising from his chair and : opening a- drawer m ■ a writing-table. "Help yourself to another drink- , ..; : Rixon smiled when Humber's back was turned to him. Then he J««AB»;gla«; with soda water. '■■•;; ,He watched; Humber open out a.card table, and place an unopened pack of; cards; upon the $ green °" Yon shall open the pack/'; said Humber, " and you shall cut ■ first lor yourself, and' then for me." ' '■'■ -> . . Ob. nonsense. You don't : suppose I think vou're'likely to cheat— ; . V I will not touch the card?. You can •play your own little game. : You y might have done it by yourself— your ~ own little fiat. Fire away, and decide this question of right or wrons.' There about as much/sense in it as fighting a duel. Rixon ripped off the coyer . from *,ho cards- and placed the pack on the .table.... Ace lowest,", he said,; and joker not' to count at all." » „' ■■■*' Why not remove the joker? . « . . , ; \ " Because I should have to ( go through the pack. Best out of three? " .. > f -. '•' Right you" are. Cut for me first. _ ,' ;- ; Rixon cut a ten of spades for Humoer, ' and nine of diamonds for himself. " That's one. to you." he ; s?id, and, 'cutting acain, he gaveAHnmbcir'thesiXiOi; clubs and himself the eight. of hearts.. !V 4 "That's all quits," he .said, and he cut the knave of hearts. That's an unlucky card for you,". laughed, and he paused for a moment watching .Humber's face. His eves were like tho eyes of a hawk. _ j "Would yon like to cut this one—this ; ■last card—my last card? " "Go on," Humber: answered contemptuously. ' . " Rixon's lean brown.hand swooped down towards the pack, hung over, it for .an instant, and .then lifted up the top half o, th" cards.' -, '' . ' ,„.,., "The king of diamonds, he said quietly. " One would almost think that the ghost of Richard Margesson was in this yoDm—watching us'." ■::''■ -:;;/..' ; ,'.".' '■'~ Humber, white-faced and 'impassive as usual gathered up the pack of cards and flung'them into an empty drawer. - ' ; ; ■• , " It's -getting very. late," he said with a vawm '"I'm afraid I must say goodnight arid good-bye. ; I don't suppose you ' will be coming round here again." , .;■;•;. Rixon drained his glass to the last drop before he said, "It -is a terrible.., thing, Humber,, to bo an instrument in the hands "of Fate.. I '' '-"'•'., " \ ' " 7 " Very, likely," Humber .answered drily, "but it is almost as bad to lose a night's rest—at any rate for a man of my age. I think you can find your way out." Rixon walked towards the door, ■ turned as if about to say something, and then left the room. " \ '■ ■ " I must play this game slowly and carefully," he ' said +# himself, '.'or else I shall lose everything." v ; \. .- He opened the hall door and closed it with- a crr.sh behind ,him. ? There was a smile of 'triumph on his grim face as he walked homewards' through the empty street!;. * The luck of the cards had been with him. He had "almost been frightened at the extra-ordinary coincidence of that last cut. There' had been something impressive—super-natural—about that. It •was just as though •' God had been; fighting on his. side Well, that, of course, van hardly likely :to be the case. But turelv a righteous God demanded the punishment of a, scoundrel like;. Conrad Humber. .'' .:■?■-:";^ ; " '':■'-■■■■.'■ ' y :':;4v That had > been a masterly, idear-that •»ÜBgestion that once again Humber should try his fortune with the cards-'r It would mem as though he, William. Rixon, had been content to let chance decide, the fate of a brute who had tried to cheat a boy of bis life—as, though "he, William R;.::cn, had no •personal: interest _in the matter, nothing to gain by letting the world-.know the truth.

..'-■■" "Ho will offer mo money," thought "Rixon as he climbed the stairs to his little flat in Half Moon Street, . '* and. I shall refuse it. I shall play him as an . angler plays a trout, slacking the line and winding it in again. Finally, 'wo shall become great friends. I shall give in and he will do anvthing for me." •i".. >, Biackm-ii! . No, there must not be even a hint of Blackmail. It would have tc? be a most gentlemanly affair. '•-■■-;■.' i-J<\ 'CHAPTER IV. ::■■' ; ' April sat in front of an old, 'carved Venetian mimr. It-had been cunningly " made into a looking-glass (that would '..•stand upon her dressing-table. «.The table . ' itself was 'i rare piece of Lous XIV. furniture, for which her father had given - " . five hundred guineas .'and - had, so everyqrm caid, obtained -a bargain. The inlaid 'top of it 1 was covered with .a sheet ,: ' ■ of plate glass, arid on this were strewn ' ; dainty articles"' in .silver' and gold and ■'••,. ' ■ to.v'oLsershell. ', The" tnblfj and . the .mirror "• , ' were:'in keeping with the reft of the ' room."" The bed was one that a queen had : orjco slept on. >'■■&.?%iiJ-~^- : -i '"■:•': : ;'-;* : " ; :''■;'-■'.■';: ■■'' : : 1 : ■ ,;i L-:.'" .\ 1 : . ~'•.; '.',';■.. :.."' : ; '" ' :; . «i^':-:t ; '-■~■..■::■,>: ■• -,■..•.-.■ : .'.v.\. ■ ■• ■■

; The : wal!3 were" hung with faded rose coloured : silk. It was . the ; chamber ■of a princess. Conrad; Humber had grudged his daughter lothing that she had desired. For'(.himself he was content, to sleep in a loom, where the floor , was covered with oil-cloth, and the ; bed was a cheap iron affair without even a spring mattress.-and the whitewashed walls were not. hidden'-'ibj so much as .a '■■ single picture. But nothing was, too -; costly or too beautiful for his Tittle April. ' '■ : " Life is just splendid," she thought. " and I'd like to live for a hundred years. I don't believe I'd ever grow old." ' : -'X' --'■ :':■:' ■'-■'■>■:■;:

Indeed, the face she saw in the mirror die! not. seem as if it ever could grow old.' One could not even picture it as a face lined with sorrow or pain. And yet. at that very moment, in the library beneath her bedroom. William Rixon had just cut the -king,, of -'diamonds. Her dancing partner! A jolly pal, but nothing more as yet There, "beneath her feet, he stood, looking at her father with that hard smile of his— the man who could not oniy dance so perfectly, but make others dance to the tune he chose to play to'.them. - ;. '•;.'; _ ■ ,/--•',,;-.

A few minutes later she heard tho hall door close. It was a heavy door, and it seemed to her that someone must have closed it with anger. She smiled. No doubt Rixon had been playing-cards with her father and lost. Her father had the most wonderful luck. It was said that every thing he touched turned into gold. She continued to brush her hair, more because she liked to sit there in front of the mirror than because ..it was necessary to add lustre to that shining crown of bronze and gold. And she thought it likely that her father would come in to say good-night to her before he went to bed—just knock at the door, and call out, " Good-night, little April," and then go on to iiis room. She waited for another ten minutes, and then she went out upon the landing. Everywhere there was a soft, dim light. Gorgeous as a butterfly in the Chinese silk robe that served as a dressing-gown, (Kpril leant over the rails of gilded bronze, and looked down on to the hall below. She laughed to herself as she remembered that her father always boasted that he never slept unless he was in bed. He was certainly asleep now. The door of the'library was ajar, and the room was ablaze with light. An arrow of yellow light came out into the faint glow that pervaded the hail. She listened and there was silence Then she crept down the stairs on tip-toe, and flung open the door of the library. There was no one there. Conrad Humber was not in the library. At first sight there ' might have seemed nothing very extraordinary about that to anyone who did not know the . man's habits. But April, his daughter, stared round the room in surprise. To her it was as though her father had suddenly been spirited away from the house. When ho sat -. up late at all, he never sat in any other room but this. And he' had most certainly not come up the stairs to bed. ■:.,,.. ■■■:-...■:-

/"Perhaps he went out with Rixon," she said to herself. But that again was most unlikely. She knew all her father's ways so well. He lived a life that was regular—almost monotonously reguhv. Occasionally, as on this night, he would go out to a dance or a dinner or a theatre. But he was always up and dressed by half-past eight in the morning. And when he returned from any a'musement, he went to bed as soon as possible; It was very odd that he should have asked Rixon into the house at all. but quite, quite impossible that he should have gone out with Rixon to walk part of the way home with him.

Then suddenly she . remembered and laughed. Of course, her brother was still out. * She had forgotten all about her brother. He had driven home with the Walkers, and no doubt was staying to some kind of supper. An undergraduate with one night in town was not likely to be wasting much of it in sleep. ;'V She hoped he was not in love with that Walker girl. What a curious thought to come into her head at such a time, when she was so worried about her father!

She glanced "at the doors of the other rooms which, opened out of the hall. No tight came from underneath them, but they fitted -so perfectly, that this meant nothing. - She tried the handle of the dining room and found that the door was locked. Then she went from one door to another. They were all locked. " " Father must have gone iout," she said to herself. She returned to the library, and seated herself in a chair and lit one of her father's cigarettes. He would certainly be surprised to find her sitting there when he returned from his little expedition. 4 v ' ' A'"few minutes later the hall door opened and closed, and the bolts were shot back. Then steps across the marble flags of the hall— light for the steps of her father! Tom pushed open the halfclosed door and said."Hello! 'What on earth's, this? What's' your game, April —playing/at being the mistress of the house, 'or. what ?". . - .'• . '

April explained, and Tom laughed. "I'll have a drink anyway," he said. . Why are you so late, little boy?" .; '■•"Oh, I've had a jolly supper."at the Walkers—-regular 'spread you know, champagne and ah'that." r " Then I wouldn't take whisky on the top of it, Tom." , ' ; " I believe you're right," he said, and he poured back a very moderate allowance of whisky into the cut-glass bottle of the tantalus. .Then he filled up his glass with soda water. -•■ c '.

•'I don't believe the ,J guv'nor is out," he .continued after a pause. " Anyway, it's no business of ours. He won't care to find you sitting up for,'him, like the angry wife of the comic pictures." , "I'm going to sit up, Tom. • And you'd better unbolt the front door." • ' "Well, you look jolly pretty 'sitting there," laughed the young man. "I'm sure if Rixon walked in—" ' "Don't talk rot, you silly 'little boy,'' she exclaimed,■ and rising from' her seat she picked up a heavy cushion and hurled at him. He ducked, and there was a crash of broken glass as tho tumbler was knocked but of his. hand on :to the floor. He picked up the cushion,. smoothed it, and laid it on a chair.

"Great Scott!" he said. " You. think you're back at school. And a rotten shot anyway. You should never let go of a pillow until you've hit someone with it." He went out into the hall, unbolted the door, and returned to the library.

" I'm going to take you upstairs," he said,'-" unless you prefer, as the police say, ' to go quietly.' " "Oh rot, Tom. Besides you couldn t carry me." - "Could I not? Do-: von know, my chicken,: that I'm very likely going to put the weight next year for Magdalen?'-'. "Not a' weight like me," she laughed. "Well, if you can carry me. up the* stairs, I'll stay in my bedroom." ' .■■■.; " Is that a bargain?" " Yes, Tom. You couldn't do it. You're such a little chap." '■,'■■ " You won't kick or struggle?" "No—how could I be so undignified?" He picked her up in his arms, and carried her out into the hall, and began to climb the stairs. Half-way up he paused and breathed heavily. April laughed. _ "Go , on, .my hero," she said "It's nothing. I often read about young men climbing a rope with one hand and holding .the heroine * in. the other. This is nothing." .- '.:,.. "■ " I've had a pretty, long day," he said. And then he struggled gallantly up to the landing, and set his sister on her feet again. His face was very white, and there were beads of perspiration/on his forehead. '- '■'. . '"• ■'•■"'" : •-. • • •

"Weil done, little fellow," she laughed. "I like the way you stuck to it. Father once said that if the Humbers hadn't got any other good quality, they knew how to hold on to what ''they'd got. Goodnight, old thing. I'll" stay up here, but I'm not going to bed until father comes in." ; ' •- .She returned to her bedroom, but it was not until an hour later that 'she heard her father's heavy footsteps on.the stairs and landing. She did not open her door. She noticed that he-walked unsteadily, paused now and then, and. went on again. Shoiheard the door of his room close, and then, ten minutes . later, she . went to sleep. .'■'-■";-'. .'■ , "- • (To bo continued daily.)