THE TANGLED WEB.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVII, Issue 20650, 23 August 1930, Page 9 (Supplement)

THE TANGLED WEB.

BY. ELIZABETH YORK MTT.T.TCH.

CHAPTER XXII. Jim Tremlett was a young man who (Sid not believe in-half measures. Also was hard-headed to tho point of stubbornness. He hadn't fought for Meriel End waited for her all those months to be bowlod over now by a situation jvhich he refused to acknowledge might jdefeat him. He meant to leave no stone unturned jtvhen it came to the legal right of little John to the name of Tremlett, and if puch a course became necessary, he Hvould lead Meriel to the altar a second jtime, but now that Eric Saunders was really dead, Jim gave Meriel no time jn' which to debate the higher ethics of Ith e case. i Ho took her straight back to the Jittle house in St. John's Wood, and he pent for Nanny and the baby. Jim could bo fierco in his way. " Make po mistake about it," ho told her, ?' you're my wife, and it's pretty late Jn the day to try to pretend you're anything else." Meriel was too bewildered to protest, lind in ..her heart of hearts glad that {Jim felt that way about her. " I was never Eric's wife," she said. I! Not really. You know that, Jim." He did not want to discuss the matter ht all with her. It was bad enough that ho must discuss it with the Jawyers and his father-in-law. Eric Saunders was under ground, but fclio harm ho had done Meriel still lived. Her face grew shadowed again and Jher laugh did not ring out as in tho days when tho little house had known Life became increasingly irlifficult under tho burden of this secret.

Now that she was back from that (holiday in Cannes and the " tiff " —as the family supposed it to be—was made jiip with Jim, people flocked nround her Some of them were curious, too, for' queer little rumours had got about. Cyril St. Grys had held his tongue, like the gentleman ho was, in spite of his lady-like mannerisms, but the fact that ho did so only whetted Lady Pelhury's curiosity all the moro. Yet, of tourse, there was not very much that Cyril could have told her. One day sho brought what she imagined was news to Mori el. "My dear, what do you think! Our poor Captain Saunders is really dead. .1 heard it from that Leonora person. He had rooms ia Folkestone with some relative of hers. Do you remember ,\ve thought ho must have died long &go ? He never paid ino back that xnoney. Leonora looked so queer when I mentioned it. She asked how much it was and thought perhaps I'd get it hack whon his estate was settled. Now iWh'at do you make of that, my dear ?" At her aunt's first reference to Eric 5n connection with Leonora Begby, iMeriel's heart had leapt into her throat. She didn't want Angel to know; at least not until everybody had to know. But Angel hadn't the ghost of an Idea. " So funny, Merry dear, but I'd got it into my head that Leonora , had some kind 'of a hold over you. 'So had Cyril. She behaved so oddly, didn't she?" ." I don't quite see iu what way," Meriel murmured. " Apparently you've found her satisfactory as. a dressmaker." " Indeed—yes. But I'm afraid her prices will be going up. They always do the minute a .woman, like that gets nnv success. Slie tell 3me she's trying to'get the next-door premises to enlarge her business, and she's got a boy in buttons at/the door now. Make no mistake—we will have to pay for all that., I told her straight otit that.if she starts raising the ante on me I'm hot standing in on her game." Meriel sighed with relief as the conjversation switched by a natural progress from Leonora to poker part .es, for which Lady Pel bury had recently developed a inild passion. 'lll en there was Grace Peabody, who decided to pay that long-deferred. call upon Mrs. James Tremlett, and Grace *lso gushed a lot about Madame Leonora, dragging in a wholly unnecessary reference to Captain Saunders at the end of it. " Never—never shall 1 get away frwm *ny past," thought poor Meriel. Between her and Jim there was a growing feeling of estrangement. He was sleeping in his dressing room and respecting, a little cynically, his wife's idea that she was Erica Saunders' widow. So lotig as she made no great protest at living under the same room with him, Jim humoured what ho regarded as hairsplitting on her part. . But he was deeply hurt, and Meriel knew it. His point of view and hers Were so different, and each was being very eare.ful to give way to the other up to a point. They went separately to visit the nursery. f° r they could not have borne to be together, with little John. Meriel was out a great deal, and something always seemed to keep Jim at the office until after tea-time. They gave dinner parties in order to escape the torture of each other's society, arid encouraged invitations from their friends.. Everybody, said how gay the young Tremletts were getting to be. Was that a sign that their ideal and somewhat overdone domesticity had begun to pall ? _ Once only did they have anything approaching a confidential talk during the few weeks following Eric Saunder s death. On that occasion they had returned from the opera, to which old Tom Tremlett was a box-subscriber/ and Jt'j'eritl was turning to go upstairs after her usual " Good-night, J'.»n d*ar, when he asked her to come int.'.' his sludy for a moment. Sho followed him with a pang of apprehension. What what wa3 ho going to sav ? That if she did not wish to be hii wife it -would be easy enough to arrange their future accordingly ? " Sit down. Merry. I won't keep you long," ho said. Ho seated himself behind the desk and took up his fountainpen. " I only want a little information."

lie then questioned her about the details of her marriage to Eric Saunders and took down tho replies. Ho might have)been a lawyer for all the emotion he showed; When slio looked puzzled and embarrassed// at one question, Jim said, " It's merely to find out what grounds there might be for nullity. It would make all t/he difference where little John is concerned. Don't you understand " I was never his wife " she whispered. " Not in that way, Jim." " There has to bo proof, or at least somel sort of evidence." Ho went on and asked her to recall every minute in so far as she could of tho timo she and ,Eric had spent together after their fatal visit to the Town Hall. "We may havo to rely on the Begbys for evidence," he added. Mortal's head drooped lower and lower/'- More than tho width of that desk separated her and Jim. Ihey looked at each other as from across a great gulf fixed. " That's all. Good-night; Merry." " Hood-night, Jim, dear." Ho held open tho door for her and Ktood with something of tho manner of a soldier at attention as she passed him. She \yanted to throw her arms around his neck, but his rigid bearing filled her with timidity. Jim must wonder, indeed, at her behaviour now that Eric was dead, since pha had gone with him to Cannes on that second honeymoon. So difficult to explain that at that timo she hadn't fully comprehended the situation; that she

A MOST DELIGHTFUL AND THRILLING SERIAL.

had been stupid enough to believe that Leonora Begby's silence was sufficient to ensure her own peace of mind. It was daddy who had mddo her see things as they were. * * » » * A few mornings after this unhappy talk with Jim, the post brought Meriel another letter from Leonora. The sight of the mauve scented envelope was not particularly welcome, but it had no power to frighten her now. As she opened it a cheque fluttered out, representing the amount she had been coerced into putting into the dresskl"B business. That was queer. So soon . Ihe letter would probably explain. 10, Madden St., Knightsbridge, July 3, 19— Mrs. James Tremlott. Madam,- 1 take the liberty of retho sum you lent ine over and above your account for goods supplied, with thanks tor the timely accommodation thut saved me a lot of worry. Captain Saunders named me in his will of what he died possessed, except a small gift to mother, and thinking you may feel yourself slighted, madam, it seems only right I !v? ?u i ® x P ll M n something to you. Also, I tnink Captain Saunders would wish me to SO it US . I am sure he meant to tell you himself at the last only he was not able to say anything. There is such a lot to it that I would noed to see you as I have some papers you might want to see so aB to understand about it better. ,1 havo thought often of you dear madam, since that sad day of the captain's death, and would have written before, except I have been so busy. You wcr<> very kind to t in©, not seeming to mind when you saw how broken up I wns over the captain. I think he must have liked mo more than he let on or ho would not have left mo his money. I thought I would come to see you tomorrow afternoon unless you telephone to the contrary.—Believo me, madam, respectfully yours, L. Begby. ! * » * • •

Meriel did not telephone. There was something about Leonora's letter which warned her apart from the cheque. The return of the money, in fact, meant very little as far as Meriel was concerned. She had almost forgotten it. But she remembered well enough that Eric had, wanted to say something to her at the last. Could it havo been just a plea for forgiveness ? If so she had forgiven him long ago. Even though he was so much older than she it seemed to Meriel that the fault was more hers than Eric's. She hurried back from lunch with Angel and gave orders that she was at home to no one that afternoon but Madame Leonora. Yet she might have spared herself any haste, for it was not until nearly six o'clock that Leonora arrived, and by that time Meriel's emotions had run the gamut from high expectation to dull apathy. Sho even began to suspect that Leonora was planning something deeper and darker than before. A shrug for it, then. " The dressmaker's come, madam." " Show her in here, Ada." Meriel received Leonora in her little rose and ivory drawing-room, where sho would have received any other visitor. She, herself, had on a light-coloured dress, but Leonora was clad in obvious mourning, even to the extreme of a blackbordered handkerchief and ruckings of crope at neck and wrists. " It was very kind of you to see me." this girl said. "What a lovely room! It does suit you, madam. When I get my premises enlarged porhaps you'll oblige by giving me a word of advice on the colour scheme." "I should be very pleased," Meriel replied. " Won't you sit down ? Would you like some tea?" " No, thank you. I always have mine early. You'll be wanting to know what I came about, I expect." " Naturally. Oh, and thank you for the cheque. I hope it was convenient. I mean—l scarcely imaginadi >ou would return the money so quickly." "Guess you didn't think I'd ever return it. But I'm not so bad as all that madam. And getting his money from the poor captain's made all.the difference. They're letting me draw on it as much as I want, although the estate won't bo settled for some time yet. You see, the captain's left a matter of some 12 or 15 thousand pounls." "Did he?" Meriel exclaimed in surprise. " Well, I'm glad he didn't have to worry about money at the end. I supposeit came to him from his uncle?" Leonora threw her a shrewd glance. " Madam, haven't you wondered if he over had an uncle ?" Meriel shook her head. "Of course, I haven't. Why, I know he had," She was thinking of that telegram which had arrived in time to part them on their wedding day. " He never did," Leonora said quietly. " That is not that I know of."

Meriel spoke of the telegram. "It was signed Aunt-something-or-other, ~and zeferred to his uncie being dangerously ill. I think the name was ' Sid." Short for ' Sidney," I daresay." " You're right about that." Leonora replied. Sidney Saunders was the captain's wife, and the woman who sent the cable was her aunt." " His wife!" cried Meriel.

" Don't get excited, madam. Yes, it's quite true. Part of it he told me himself a few weeks before he died, and the rest I've been able to piece together from papers and old letters. I've brought them to you, madam." Leonora opened her bag and took out a large bulging envelope which she offered to Mcricl. * I'd rather you told me." Meriel said faintly. •' Do you mean that Eric was already married when he married me?" " Yes, madam, he was. But his wife had sort of foolerl him. You see—or you will if you run through those letters—lie went away and left her and she was crazy mad to get him back. It was her that sent him money when he needed it. Well, towards the end when he was, courting you, madam, his wife hit on a scheme to make him come back. She wrote that she was dying and wanted to see him. Then came a cable from her aunt saying she wasn't expected to live a week. I believe she was something of an invalid and she may have been worse than she thought. The captain believed she was dying and ho took the risk of marrying you without positively knowing. But he'd cabled again for full information and the reply was the. one he had that day. " Then he must have seen what a hole ho was likely to be in and he thought the best thing ho could do was to hop it for Cape Town, which, as you know, he did. The upshot of it was, his wife didn't really die until about six months ago. Ho took her off somewhero into the wilds because he was afraid your people would find out about him, and 1 guess he was kind enough to her towards —the end. He wasn't anv too well, himself, because ho had this .trouble coming on him. He ought never to have como back to England at all." " Leonora, is this true ? You wouldn t be so cruel as to —" " Look at the papers, madam. Beliovo me, it's all truo. 4 Ho would have told you, I think only when you came to see iiim ho thought you must still care for him. I took the liberty of putting him right about that and it gave him the stroke that finished him." Here Leonora applied her black bordered handkerchief to her eyes. " However, it's all for the best," she added philosophically. " The doctor said he couldn't have lasted much longer anyway." " It means, doesn't it, that I was never Eric's legal wife?" Meriel said in a shaking voice. "Of course, it means just that, madam." How does a prisoner feel when his shackles are struck off ? Meriel thought she knew. Jim and she were to have dined at Lady Pelbury's that evening, but she rang np and begged off. It was not a formal party, ana Angel was only mildly

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annoyed, but considerably puzzled when her niece said: "No I'm not going to fib, Angel. I've taken a vow never to deceive anybody again. I'm not particularly tired and I haven't got a headache. It's only that Jim and I haven't been together alone for such ages, and it's suddenly struck me that I want him all to myself to-night." " You sentimental idiot," said Angel. " The next time I ask you to dinner you'll know it. Good-bye." Model laughed as she hung up the receiver and then she raced down to the kitchen to see what cook could manage in the way of a gala meal at such short notice. After that she sped up to her own room to find something pretty to wear. .What should it be ? A little later sho heard Jim moving about in his dressing-room and she called out to him not to bother about putting on his tail-coat. " I hope you don't mind, but I've rung up and told Angel I didn't feel like dining out to-night." There was a brief silonce, then Jim said: " Oh, well, in that case I'd better cut along to the club." " Please don't," Meriel replied. Her voice must have betrayed her for Jim came to the door and opened it. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and his hair was still moist and rumpled. Ho laid down the brushes he had been about to use and stared at his wife, even more puzzled than Angel had been. " What's up, Merry ? What are you wearing that—that dress for?" " Don't you like it?" ehe asked smiling and blushing. " It's your wedding-dress," he said with a slight "catch in his voice. " I suppose you're going to say it's old-fashioned." "Merry, what's happened? You're different all of a sudden." " Oh, Jim, I love you so!" Ho took her in his arms and held her close, all the starved affection expressed in his fierce embrace.

"Darling, you're taking my breath!" she gasped. " Jim it's all right. I am your wife!" "Well, don't I know that? I'm glad you've come to your senses at last. Oh, Merry, how lonely and miserable I've been all these weeks when you've treated me like an I-don't-know-what. Not even like a brother."

" Poor Jim. But you weren't more unhappy than I was. . . . But darling, what I said just now is true in every way. I was never Eric Saunders' wife—l mean, even legally. He was already married when he married me. So of course it wasn't legal Or was it ? A flicker of doubt crossed her features. " If he was already married course it wasn't legal. But for heaven s sake tell me how you know this. What proof have vou got ? Who told you ! When did you hear? Why didn't you let me know ?" The questions tumbled over each other in Jim's eagerness for information. " Oh, I hardly know where to begin," Meriel said breathlessly. "It was Leonora Begby. She came here this afternoon. She brought a big envelope full of old letters and papers and newspaper cuttings. I put it in the top drawer of your desk and after dinner you can. . . Oh, goodness, there's the gong, and you haven't finished dressing yet." ***** What more does one need to say about Jim and Merry. Did she,, keep her vow, never again to commit even the smallest deception ? Did they live happily ever after ? The dark chapter was closed. Take a last look at that sleek, golden head above the soft ivory of the wedding-dress at the sweet tremulous smile and the slender fingers caressing Jim's pearls —his gift for her great gift to him. See him as he holds her in his arms, and find himself offering a prayer of thankfulness for their escape from the consequences of her youthful waywardness. Lovely, beautiful little Merry—but somehow always mysterious, even now in this moment of joyous surrender. She had left him alono with that envelope Leonora had brought, but he was not very long. "Jim, is it all right? Really?" He nodded just a little grimly. " Kiss me, please. I want you to forget how tiresome I've been. Jim I never meant to hurt you so." In a curious flash of memory Jim's mind went a long, long way back into the dim past. He could not imagine what he, himself, had looked like at the time when he would have been about fivo years old. But ho did remember Merry in her cradle and how he had lifted her out and claimed her for his own. Ho had known then that he was going to lovo her all his life. " I don't mind your hurting me," he said huskily. " It's when you stumble and hurt yourself that I care." " I'm going to try not to stumble any more," she murmured, her face pressed against his shoulder. " Lend y" ur hanky, please. I—l can't find mine. "Oh no, you don't! We've finished with tears for the present. Hold up your face. Now tell me what you've got to cry about?" . " Because I'm so happy, Meriel replied. THE END.