THE TOWER OF SILENCE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIV, Issue 19558, 10 February 1927, Page 16

THE TOWER OF SILENCE.

BY J. B. HARRIS-BURLAND.

CHAPTER Xll.—(Continued). Ho moved across the room toward the door —limped very slowly as he passed her, standing by one of the marble mantelpieces that had been wrought to the design of Robert Adam, and then turned end stood still; " The curse of God is on me, he said in a low voice. " Wherever I go I bring death and unlnppiness. There aro people liko that, you know, Audrey. But it is a satisfaction to think how they Buffer themselves —because of the suffering they bring to others. He walked forward a pace or two and held out his hand. " Good hick to you," he said with a pleasant laugh. " Good luck to you both." She. shook hands with him, but could find nothing to say to him, but " I wish you happiness and success. ' ! " Thank you, Audrey," lie said, and with that he left the room, and a few minutes later he was out of the house. And Audrey thought of Rosemary, and seeking her, found her, in the bilhardroorn, staring out of the window at an

angry sea. There were tears in Rosemary s eyes, but when Audrey said gently. " He'll do much better work in London. How can one work down here?" Rosemary turned on her and cried out: " You have driven him out oE the house—you and Glen between you. And this is the only home he's got. You never wanted him to stay here—after father's death. And now you've got rid of him—you and Glen. It's not. fair." "My dear child " " I'm not a child, any more than you etc, Audrey. And you think I don't understand. 1 know Glen had quarrelled with Mr. Lambard — oh, yes, I have eyes and can see the way Glen had behaved to him the last fortnight. I think you are beasts—both of you. Yes, I know Glen is in lovo with you, and you've made him get rid o£ Mr. Lambard—l don't want you for a sister-in-law—not a bit—and I'm glad you're going—yes, glad, End I wish Glen would go, too, and then —and—then " She flung herself down on the settee, and began to sob. She was so much a child that no one could possibly be angry with her for anything that- she said. Audrey knelt on the floor beside her, and took her in her arms, and kissed her.

" Dear, dear little Rosemary," she said, " I understand. But it will all come right in the end. I know that everything will come right for both of you in the end."

Three days later the engagement of the Seventh Earl of Torkington to Audrey Paulina, only daughter of the late Hon. .William Glenower, was announced in all the principal newspapers of the United Kingdom and few of those who read the news had so short a memory that they did not at once exclaim: "Torkington — yes, his father committed suicide —or was lie murdered ? I forget. I know there was something very odd about his father s death." Others, who lived in the same county and knew about Audrey and Lord Torkington, said: "Yes, I thought that was bound, to .eomc. The girl. has pots of money, and all iri good cash. Lady Torkington was not likely to rest until she'd brought that match about." For a fortnight the happy couple lived in an atmosphere of congratulations, discreet questions about wedding presents, and chaff and advice and all the publicity that forces so many well-known people to get married at a registry office without saying anything at all about it until they are man and wife. * And then, at the end of the fortnight, 'Audrey said: " Yes must tell me all about that quarrel, Glen. You know you promised you would tell me alb about it." They had walked far along the cliffs on that wintry afternoon, and returning, they had paused not far from old Yellow's cottage. It was a clear, bright, frosty afternoon; the setting sun was like a red ball of fire, hanging over the sea. " Yes—dear—but I asked you to give me a little time to think it over—to decide whether I ought to tell you or not." " And what did I say to you Glen—in reply to that?" "You said—but of course you didn't mean it—that you must know why I had quarrelled with Lambard—why I believed that ho had killed my father, and that if I didn't tell you, you wouldn't marry me."'

" Yes, dear, that is what I said, and I meant it."

But look here, old girl, does it really matter—so very much—l mean, can't you take my -word for it that I had very good, reasons for —for seeing red that afternoon—and flinging myself on thafc devil—- " I don't believe he is a devil, Glen, and that is just what you have got to prove to me."

" But can't we let sleeping dogs—or devils—lie ?" ' " No. I want to hear from you what there is against Lambard."

" Why ?" " Rosemary."

"Rosemary? What do you mean?" " She's in love with Lain bard. Can't you soo that she is utterly wretched now he has left V

" She doesn't look to me to be quite the thing. But I never thought—oh. of course, this is all nonsense. And rev."

" It's a very serious matter, Glen. We must both think of Rosemary's happiness "

" She's a child—she'll get over it."

Not for years."

" Well, she'll have to, poor kid, for she can't marry the man who murdered her father."

•' You must not say that," Audrey exclaimed angrily. " I will not let you fay it again. You have no proof." Enough to account for what you saw that night, anyway." He paused and thrn added, " I don't think I ought to tel! you."

\ou must tell me. I insist." Hadn t we .better get along home, find then—well, over "the fire—before tea

o Xo J;°"\ Glen, and now—now, at happened that night?" ci> little and yet in a sense a good cieal. I reached the room some distance ahead of Lambard. It was in darkness and I switched on the lights rhero was no one there, and do you know, .t ga\e me a bit of a shock' to find 110 one there.

" Did you search the other rooms as rou went up : asked Audrey. ' " No. - I only thought of getting up to the room and seems what had happened „ V ul° rT, ther ?'* Woll - T switched on all the lights, and went to the writin? table to examine the hell push One Tithe windows was open, and as I leant over the table a gust of wind scattered the papers that were lying on the blottingpad. and one ot the papers—a letter"turned over, lust as though someone had turned it. and lav there ricrht before mv oyes, ..writing uppermost and plain enough to read, for it had been tvped. I simnK-«-ouWn't help reading it for mv own name caiiffht my pyes.

" Dear Lambard (I r »ad).—Von had better be caretul. Williams, the new footman, is.a detective, and ainious to win his laurels.—Yours, faithfully. - X.Y.Z." " You found that ?" queried Audrev " Ivmg on the table— so that anvo *£ could re-'id it I '' Lambard had not expected anyone to read it. No one. could have gone" up to the room without his know-led e«. And it

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| was lying face downwards under some | papers. The gust of wind just turned them upside down, and blew some of them away. It was a thousand to one chance against my seeing the letter, and a million to one against anyone else seeing it. But fate was against Lambard, and when he came into the room, I was holding the letter in mv hand. 1 What's the meaning of this ?' I asked, and he said, ' Don't worry about that, Torkington. Who rang the bell V and I went up to him and said, 'There's no one here but you and I, Lambard,' and he suggested that there might be someone on the roof, and he crossed the room to the iron ladder and climbed up it and pushing open the trap door, said, ' I think we may find a cluo to this on the roof, Torkington.' " He paused, and a hard look .came into his eyes. " I'm not a coward," he went on after a few moments of silence, " but I didn't fancy being alone on that roof with Lambard—not just then anyway. For all I knew to the contrary, he might have been armed—and he was armed as you know—and even if he'd had nothing but his two hands, it wasn't a pleasant idea to think of him waiting up there for me in thedarkness. Of course I could have smashed him to bits if I'd got a firm hold of him, but—well, I'm not going to brag about my courage. I had to sec the tiling through, once I'd started on it, and I climbed up on to the roof. It was jolly cold out there, I can tell you, and snowing like blazes, as you remember. And the leads were slipper)- and I couldn't see Lambard at all."

" Why didn't you switch on the electric light?" queried Audrey. " Well, I didn't like the idea. 1 thought of all the village looking up at us, and wondering what on earth we were up to. I just kept near the trap-door and said to Lambard. ' I want you to explain that letter. Who is X.Y.Z., and why have you got to be careful because there is a detective in the house V and Lambard did not answer my question. He just said, 'Who rang that bell ? Who rang that bell?' And just then I didn't care tuppence who had rung the bell. I could only think of one thing—that Lambard was the only man who could have killed my father, and that someone had written to warn him against the presence of a detective in the house. I groped for hiih in the darkness, and found him and caught him by the shoulder. " ' You devil,' I said. 'lf you don't tell the truth about that letter, I'll chuck you into the sea.' Of course I didn't know we wore quite so near to the parapet, but I think he must have known, for lie cried out, ' Let go of me or I'll shoot you.' And then the light blazed out, and I —l did what I could to save the situation—and he played up to me. You see I didn't know that you'd heard him threaten to kill me. And you'd have said nothing if Lambard hadn't told you. Well, that's all there is to tell." " Not all, dear," said Audrey. " Where is the letter ?" " Oh, I've got that all right. I'll show it to you when we get home. I ought to have taken, it to the police, but I didn't quite like the idea of that. It seemed to me that there might be some explanation and that I ought to give him a chance. But he would not explain. He as good as told me to take the letter to the police. And I thought—well, after ;I , knew—that you—you really cared for me, Audrey, I thought you ought to decide— I mean, help me in my decision." " Burn the letter," said Audrey. " And don't think anything fnore about it." " Oh, I say, Audrey, you can't really mean that ?" " I do mean it."

" But you aro so illogical, Audrey dear." he retorted. "If the letter is of importance, it ought to be given to the police.. If it is of no importance, , why burn it ?"

• " Well, give. it back to Mr. Lambard. You have no right to it." For a moment an ugly suspicion came into his mind. Audrey was in love with Lambard. But he killed the suspicion as quickly as one might kill a small, venomous snake, and flushed red at the shame of-having harboured it, even for an instant.

Audrey put her arm through his, and said, " Glen, dear—we are so happy—we do not want to make everyone else miserable."

Lord Torkingfon made. no reply. The fall of a stone on the beach below had attracted his attention. Ho freed his arm, and walked to' the edge of the cliff. And there, on the sand, close to the foot of the low cliff, he saw Williams, his new footman.

The man was not looking up at Lord Torkington, but was apparently interested in a small shell that he had picked up. Lord Torkington drew back quickly from the edge of the cliff no more than twelve feet high at this point and said to Audrey, " We'll get along home, old girl. It's cold work standing about in this weather. Going to be a frost to-night, I expect. By jove a that's a fine view of Goclsmark, isn't it—black and big against the dull red sky 1 My feet are like ice Let's have a bit of a run. I'll give you to that next furze bush, and race you to that battered old hawthorn tree a couple of hundred yards away,"

She did not move, and ho came closer to her and whispered, " Williams is down there on the beach. I daresay he's heard most of what we've been talking about. Run along sharp, that's a good girl."

Audrey ran, and Torkington caught her up just after she had passed the battereld old hawthorn tree. She clutched him by the arm and said " Williams 1"

" Yes—of course lie may not have heard very much, but—" "You'll have to burn the letter, Glen dear, and deny everything ?" " I don't know." ' /

" You ought to have got rid of Williams," she said angrily. "As soon as you knew he was a detective, you ought to have dismissed him—on some excuse or other. What right have they to send a detective to the liouso without asking your permission?"

"No ritfht at all. But you see I've only the evidence of that letter that Williams is a detective. And I couldn't very well —oh. you most see that I couldn't go up to Williams and say, ' Look hero, I know all about you, and you'd better clear out.' "

clear," she replied, as they walked briskly homewards, " but you could have made some excuse for dismissing him." " Oh, he'd have seen through that, and he'd have thought—heaven knows what lie would not have thought. And, besides. if that letter was all a hoax—like the letter the poor old guv'nor got, I don't know what to make of it all, Audrey dear. It is all so—so utterlv incomprehensible—and yet—look at the Eagle Tower, Audrev—so black and definite against a sky that is red as blood." " It holds a secret," she said with a shudder it is silent. The Tower of Silence. That is how I think of it—a nuge monster that will not speak—that cannot be forced to speak." (To V continued daily.!