ROMANCE IN A WINDMILL

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIX, Issue 21296, 24 September 1932, Page 13 (Supplement)

ROMANCE IN A WINDMILL

CHAPTER XlV.—(Continued) The idea of accompanying Professor Arthurs, for whom Professor Summerleigh had a sincere liking, •was infinitely more attractive than the alternative of spending weeks among strangers, paying high fees, and being treated as an irresponsible invalid. The possibility of paying for his holiday by means of /lectures which would not entail an excessive strain on his bodily vigour settled the matter. He would go to America and find for himself whether the air of that particular State, which Arthurs and his young friends " boosted " so earnestly, were indeed as health-giving as thai, of the Swiss village for which he had get out. Although weak from his recent illness he was no longer suffering from any specific disease, and was therefore enabled to get a clean bill of health from an official doctor who" inspected him. This had been the stumbling block which Arthurs feared. Having got Professor SummerJeigh through his medical examination the 3 est was merely a matter of hustling. Arthurs sent.cables hither and thither, nnd dragged the Professor before numerous important officials, and finally got the business through in time to take him back to America with his own party. He had retrieved -the missing luggage, but, efficient as he was, he could not extract from the woolly recesses of the Professor's mennjry the address of the manager of the sanatorium. So no word could be sent to him concerning his missing guest. Among all the turmoil of setting off. however, the Professor did make time to write a long and detailed letter f:0 Peggie, giving all his adventures and plans, and also ail address to which to write to him. Unhappily, while quite certain in his own mind that he was sending it direct to Peggie at Mrs. Smith's, he had completely changed the name of the street, and the letter never reached Peggie. Soon after his arrival in the States he delivered a " popular " lecture, and it was so popular that he was soon booked in advance for as many more as his somewhat feeble health admitted. But hq was getting seriously uneasy concerning his daughter, from whom he had naturally had no word. At length, when nearly a month had gone by since lie had left her, he announced his intention of postponing his lectures and hastening to England in search of her. He could afford to do so now that his work was secure. Arthurs helped him to arrange this, but bearing in mind the delightful fellow's appalling,absent-mindedness, he took the precaution of sending with him two young men, students, who were going to England on a short visit themselves, but who Mere secretly and stringently ordered to watch over the elusive professor and to pee they produced him in time for his next lecture, three weeks hence. Sylvia Dawson was finding life intolerably dull. The Sylvia Dawsons of the ■world who, seeking their pleasure only among smart crowds, are condemned by circumstances to a dead-alive existence in remote villages, do find life a dreary affair. They are truly to be pitied, whether the fault lies in themselves or in their early training. For them, the trees have no tongue; they find no delight in running brooks; indeed, the whole of nature contributes but to their dullness. Existence in a country villages may be a joyous thing, teeming daily with fresh interest:;, but it was not so to Sylvia Dawson. ' ' Periaaps she would have been happier had her mother shared her tastes in any particular. But- Mrs. Dawson was that self-contained and estimable creature usually known as " an ideal housekeeper." She was not an ideal home-keeper, for her husband never came in till he was obliged, and Sylvia hated her home, but it was undeniably kept • in perfect order, meals were plentiful and well cooked, and it was all so clean it seemed too clean for use. It might be thought that so unsullied a house would have little need of spring cleaning, but this was not so. On the contrary, Mrs. Dawson's spring cleaning was so terrific an upheaval that her husband and daughter fled for their lives. It was during a particularly virulent attack of this annual disease that Sylvia, not knowing what on earth to do with herself, called again at the Lone Windmill to invite the Fletchers to tea with her :n Ljnchester, her father haying pro-

used to know her when she was a child. . . . Do you chance to know if she has been long in her present situation?" " I don't know how long," replied Sylvia. " She was at school with me, and used to be in quite a different position. I can tell you that it was a dreadFwl shock to me when I went to call on the Fletchers and Peggie opened the door to me in full regalia of cap and apron and cuffs._ , . . However, it is a very good position. The Fletchers are awfully kind to her. In my opinion, she should think herself jolly lucky." " Indeed ?"

" Oh, rather. There cannot be any harm in my mentioning to you, if you know her, what is more or less common knowledge, and that is that Peggie Summerliegh is handicapped by having a disreputable father."

"You don't say!" "Gosh!" exclaimed the young men simultaneously. The older man was still looking thoughtfully at Sylvia and, this time, even sho felt the electricity in the atmosphere, though she had no idea that her words had generated it.

" Did she tell you this about her father?" he asked, quietly. Sylvia laughed. "Not she! Peggie looks upon her father as a little tin god, but her friends do not share that delusion. Most people believe that lie is either in a madhouse, or in a prison. At any rate ho has vanished from the face of the earth, and Peggie has got the wind up most frightfully. Before he vanished, he was awf'ly ill, and so Peggie had to go out as a parlourmaid to get money to send him away for his health. " What a blackguard Ilea* father must be to allow her so to slave for him," observed the white-haired man in great disgust. " But, if he is a madman or a criminal, as you say, one can hardly wonder at it."

" I didn't say he was a madman or a criminal," said Sylvia, clutching belatedly at the flying robes of caution. " I suppose Peggie could sue me for libel, if she chose, for hinting such a thing. I was merely repeating village gossip. At any rate, it is true enough—(because his daughter is wild with anxiety)—-that the man has disappeared into thin air." " Better that, than to disappear into a thick London fog, as we did the night we arrived," remarked one of the young men feelingly. " May I offer you a cigarette, Miss—or~?"

Sylvia told him her name and accepted the cigarette. She remained for a cheerful quarter-of-an-hour, chatting with these nice-mannered boys, while the whitehaired man remained curiously silent. It was not until she had rather reluctantly remounted her machine and was scudding down the slope on the further side of the hill that she remembered with some uneasiness that none of the three men had volunteered his own name, or anything about their business, except that their destination was the Lone Windmill.

As soon as Miss Dawson had become a mere speck on the landscape, the elderly man with the white hair jumped up, and began to pace to and fro in great agitation.

" A servant girl!" he ejaculated. " My daughter! Slaving to maintain her selfish and dissolute parent! How can this have come about ? I wrote directly I had arranged to go to America, and I posted the letter. I recollect doing so. ... I told her I would send her a cheque as soon as possible, and I sent it to her as soon as I received the fee for my first lecture. . . .What does it all mean, Hall ?" " She can hardly have received it, Professor," remarked young Hall, the taller of the two students. "It sounds, from what the girl said, as though she had received none of your letters. Are you sure you posted them all?" " " I believe so. I particularly remember posting the first one, but I have—before now—omitted to post important letters. I confess it. Still, I don't think I can have omitted to post all the rest. I think I—"

He was interrupted. With a roar and a rattle, a motor cycle shot over the crest of the hill and was rushing past when, all at once, it came to a standstill, the rider nearly pitching head over heels with the suddenness of his stop, and the brakes grinding excruciatingly. He was a tall young fellow, wearing no hat, and, directly he had recovered himself, he advanced toward the party, looking with evident curiousity at the Professor. " Please forgive my cheek, sir," ho said, with a disarming grin, " but does your name by any chance happen to be Summerleigh V' " That is my name," was the curt re>ly.

raised her the use of the car for an after

noon. She was looking forward to a nice ~ lively chat with the big young lawyer from London. But disappointment again waited her at tho Windmill. The lawyw, she was told, had had to return to town, and the Fletchers, though they received her politely, did not press her to stay that afternoon, nor did they accept the invitation she brought them. They asked her to come to lunch one day th e following , week, but said it was impossible tor them to leave the mill during the next day or two. Syl via was dejectedly cycling, homewards when she observed a party of motorists who were having their tea by the roadside. They were all men —three of them —all very presentable men, too, and two of the 'three were young and looked like Americans. Sylvia could hardly say why she took them for Americans,' but she did, and, as it happened, she was l ight. She was interested in the party. lherg| were not nearly enough presentable meS in her neighbourhood. She was then rid* ing up a slight incline and against the wind. She alighted, and began to wheel her machine uphill. When she was almost abreast of the picnickers one of the young men rose, and, coming to meet her, said : " Would you be so obliging as to direct ns to the I>one Windmill ?" Sylvia, full of curiosity, put on her nicest smile. "Why, of course," he said. " I am only just coming from it myself. I ho Fletchers are friends of m;rie. . . . Keep straight along this road for about a mile arid a half, and you will come to a village called East Brambling. There is a signpost with Compton Langley on it pointing to the right, about the middle of the village; close by the Cat and I'iddle. If you go up that road it leads past the X.one Windmill." " Thank you very much," said the young man, looking admiringly at Sylvia in her trim white tennis frock. She had a well-turned-out appearance, and seemed inclined for conversation. " We are looking forward to seeing the Windmill where your friends live," he went on eagerly. "To reside in an old windmill sounds such a novel stunt. These three ladies must be delighful people." "Three?" repeated Sylvia, hardly thinking what she said, as her eyes roved from one to the other of the three men. * 4 There are three ladies, are there not?" askod the young man in some surprise. " We were told there were a Mrs. and Miss Fletcher and a Miss Summerleigh, living in the mill.' " Oh, I see. I was puzzled for a rairiute when you said three, because you know Peggie Sunnnerleigh is only the servant girl." There was a sudden silence. Sylvia was pleasantly aware that each of the men was staring full at her. lliey were all near together, although only one of them had jumped up to ask the way from her. She felt that somehow she must have impressed them. The older especially, seemed as though he could hardly take his eyes from her face. A Very handsome man, with white, hair, and something remotely familiar about his features, but she was sure she had never seen him before. It was he who spoke next. " I am afraid I had not grasped thß point that Peg—that Miss Summerliegh was'acting in the capacity of to the windmill party," he said slowly. I

Then, sir, have you a daughter called Miss Peggie Summerleigh ?" f have," said Professor Summerliegh —and waited.

J'iie tall young man slapped his thigh in a boyish gesture of unrestrained jubilation, crying: "By Jove, how topping! I felt sure of it the instant I saw your face, sir. You are awf'ly like her, you know." " Was that why you risked breaking vour neck just now ?"

Rather I'd break my neck half-a-dozen times for the pleasure of being able to tell Peg—Miss Summerleigh, that her father has turned up O.K. She has been in a perfectly beastly stew about you, sir, a;- you never wrote to (ell her you were alive. Naturally, she came to the conclusion that the worst had happened. Oh, this is splendid! I'll dash 'ahead and tell her you are coming, shall I. Professor ?"

j"I should be greatly obliged if you would first tell me who you arc, and what my daughter's affairs have to do with you,"" said the Professor, fixing the young man with a fierce blue eye, through his- single eyeglass. The young man paused, one foot on his pedal, and the other still resting on the ground, and his whole face lighted up, as he responded seriously: " My name is Christopher Weaver, Professor Summerleigh. and your daughter's affairs interest me tremendously, because I intend to marry her—if she'll have me." Hp had already s'arfed the engine with a vigorous kick, when he came back to say .solir>] Iv : " Only, you see. sir. I haven't asked her yet. Just now. I've got no money, and she's still very young. Besides. I've got to wait until after the 22nd., because of Theodore." And this time he was off, without waiting to explain the mysterious Theodore. CHAPTER XV MORE MIDNIGHT ALARMS Although Mr. Francis Richardson had sent off his telegram recalling Armitage about lunch-time, it did not reach the windmill until early evening, the village postman being much too busy with his own affairs to hurry himself in the delivery of a message which merely concerned a " pigeon.' The Jate delivery of this telegram placed Nigel on the horns of dilemma. If lie went up at once to see his employer, he must leave the ladies alone for tho night, as there was no train back. He did not like to do this. Yet. he knew the matter was urgent, or Mr. Richardson would not have sent that particular code word.

He decided to go by the earliest train next morning, which was Sunday. At about eleven-forty-five that night he climbed up to the top of the windmill before going to bed, to assure himself that all was well. He found that it wasn't. The steel door had been dropped into place again, and though lie pushed against it, he could not raise it. He hurried down to give the alarm to the ladies, and found them parleying at the door with Christopher and his sister. " There's a man climbing up the outside of your mill," Jill was saying, eagerly. " Chris and I both saw him."

By CAMILLA CARLISLE ■' Author of " Silverthorne," ** Mysterlout Mr. Nicholson,** etc.

THRILLING NEW SERIAL OF LOVE AND ADVENTURE

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" Great Scott!" cried Nigel. " Thai accounts for the steel door. Look here, Mr. Weaver, are you working for us or against us ?"

" For you—this time," said Chriii, promptly. " You climb up outside, and wc 11 rush the inside. Unless you'd rather I did the climbing ?" ' No. I'd like to catch the fellow myself —right on the platform," Nigel was plainly spoiling for a fight. " Don't you try any funny business inside, Mr. Weaver," lie cautioned, as he disappeared through the door. " } sce that he doesn't," remarked Mrs. Fletcher, as they all rushed pell-mell up the stairs.

They were halted by the steel door. " Now that you have had the lock broken, this won't hinder us long," said Christopher. " I put it in, and I know how to get past it." And Christopher, who on his way upstairs had calmly helped himself to the stout kitchen poker, took a run up the steps, charged the trap door, and inserted the poker in the aperture which appeared; he then proceeded to shove and to lever alternately, until he heard his remaining weighta slide away, and was thus enabled to push up the door.

"Could we have done that?" asked Joan. " Last night, for instance, I believe that someone was up here. If we had come up and pushed, could wo have opened the door so easily 1" " Certainly—if you pushed hard enough," responded Chris, cautiously. I hey all clustered inside the little room at the very top of the windmill, which was now empty and strangely bare-look-ing. The dogs immediately set up a furious barking, and tried to spring up to the open door in the roof which was reached by a short, narrow ladder. The room was lighted by a lantern hanging from a beam, and thick, black curtains shielded the windows. Voices and a noise of scuffling were now clearly audible from the platform outside. Though audible, however, the voices were not conversing with anything like coherence. All the listeners could make out were strangled phrases, such as: " Got you at last, have I!" " You thief!" " You swindler!" "Leggo! Arrrrr. Grrrrrr.'

By jove, they'll pitch one another over the edge," cried Christopher, and sprang up the ladder into the turmoil above.

For tho first few seconds after his intervention, the sounds of combat became terrifyingly louder. Then, all three combatants came tumbling down into the room, and stood gasping for breath. " Captain Browne!" exclaimed Mrs. Fletcher and Joan together in amazement, as they recognised the third figure. "Of all the blithering owls!' remarked Chris., who was the first to recover power of speech. "If you want to fight (and boys will be boys, ye know!), why, oh why, choose the top of a windmill and the middle of the night J"

" Hold him!" gasped Nigel, pointing at Browne. " Don't let him escape. He's the burglar-" " All right," responded Christopher, tranquilly. " Time enough to hold him when he starts trying to bunk. Miss Fletcher, I think we should got on better if the dogs would allow us to hear ourselves yell." Joan turned Punch and Judy, still protesting loudly, out of the room. They could be heard scrambling unsteadily on the staircase outside, and still shrieking threats at the burglar, but their defiance was now endurably muffled. By this time Nigel had regained breath enough to speak coherently. " There's your burglar, Mrs. Fletcher," he announced again, indicating tho nonchalent Captain Browne. * I caught him in the act of trying to slide down the sail outside. In his haste to get away he had left his lantern burning up here, and at the bottom of the sail he had a rope made fast to one of the trees—just as we guessed he would, when we found that tennis ball. I must admit I was surprised. I expected—someone else. . . But, since he is caught in- the act, nothing remains to be done but to hand him over to the police." "You think so?" inquired the captain smoothly "On the contrary, I hope to prove that a great deal remains to be done. Mrs. Fletcher, do not, I beg, allow yourself to be further deceived. There stands the real burglar beside you! It was young Weaver who was up here with his lantern to-night, as ho has been many a night beiore. This time, because he knew I was out to serve you, he took the precaution of locking me up in a shed before he began to work. I can bring plenty of witnesses to prove that Christopher Weaver is the burglar who has disturbed your peace here so often, and I- strongly advise you to let us tie him up for you before he can {jet away, for he's a slippery customer, if ever there was one." " This is extremely interesting," observed Mrs. Fletcher, looking from one to the other of the three men. " I could have wished that the meeting of Greek with Greek might have taken place in the daytime, but, since it has occurred now, we will try to thresh the matter out, and I do -hope it will result in getting tho Windmill mystery cleared up at last. Girls, are you warm onough ? Then, please go on, Captain Browne. I have not quito taken in your statement. It sounded to me rather puzzling. You are caught in the middle of the night inside my windmill, for no apparent reason, but you wish us to understand that actually you have been locked up in a shed by the real culprit. Is that it ?"

Browne was about to protest at Mrs. Fletcher's prejudicial manner of stating his perfectly good case, when Christopher again cut in, shaking a sad and reproachful head.

' Oh, Captain Browne, Captain Browne, what an unconvincing statement to be sure! I fear tho refreshment at the Cat and Fiddle has been too potent for you." Browne turned on him so furiously that it seemed as though he meant to attack him, and Nigel moved closer. "You blackguard!" shouted Browne. " How dare you talk to me like that, you—you —you —''

" I say—steady there," from Nigel. " I'll give you ' steady ' in a minute, when I've finished with Weaver," bellowed the Captain, wheeling on him vindictively. " Now, you Weaver, you listen to me. I intend to instruct my solicitor to proceed against you for assault. You'll get six months at least for that, apart from what you get for breaking into tho mill."

" Quite. . . . Where am I supposed to have locked you up ?" " That is best known to you, you rotten—"

" Half-a-scc., old dear! If I locked you in a shed, as you assert, how is it that you were found here ?" " Because you got scared at what you had done, I suppose, and sent your hireling, Matt Burley, to release me."

" How do you know who it was released you? Did you see him?" " No, but —" " Did you speak to him ?" " No, but—" Christopher grinned wickedly. " I suggest that you were not locked in at all. How you found yourself in a shed is not for me to say, but it seems evident that when you were slightly more sob—l mean, when you found you were in a shed, you simply opened the door and walked out." (To be continued on Saturday next)