BIRDS OF PREY

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIV, Issue 22710, 23 April 1937, Page 18

BIRDS OF PREY

By JOHN GOODWIN

CHAPTER XXVI. THE PROOF Joyce stood the shock well, for, like Jeff, she had felt all along that this was what she was going to hear. Her chief feeling was one of utter emptiness and confusion, and sho had to.struggle hard to sort out her thoughts in an endeavour to see where she stood. It was Jeff who asked the question which she had been trying to word. "You married him, Mrs. Holt?" " Yes," said Mrs. Holt. " I was as fond of him as he was of me, and 1 didn't suppose 1 was doing anything wrong. We were married by the Methodist preacher when he, came his rounds, and —and we were very happy. No woman could have asked a better husband than Charlie. He stayed at home and helped us every way lie could; ho didn't drink or gamble, arid it didn't seem to matter that he'd lost his money, for he had plenty of sense -to carry on. I mean he wasn't crazy or anything like that." Jeff nodded. "No reason why lis should be. There are plenty of such cases." He paused a moment. " But what Mrs. Nisbet would like to know, is how you came to have any suspicion that Charles Holt was Charles Nisbet." " I was coming to that," said Mrs. Holt. " It was when little Lucy was six months old."

Joyce drew a quick breath. " You have a child?" she asked, sharply. " Yes," was the quiet answer. " My baby was .born just after Christmas last, and sho was very strong and healthy till May, then she got measles and when slio was better I took her to my sister's at Rocky Point for a change. Charlie carpe with us. One day a man named Le Blond came in, and when he saw Charlio he stared at him as if he was a ghost. " ' Good heavens, Nisbet." he said. ' I thought you were dead.' " Charlie looked worried. ' My name isn't Nisbet,' ho said. ' It's Holt.' " Le Blond couldn't take his eyes off him. ' You're "the exact double of Charlie Nisbet who was supposed to havo been killed at Bogue River,' ho said. ' If it wasn't for that scar on your face I would swear you were the

same man.' ." 'My name's Holt,' Charlie said again, and Le Blond didn't say anything more. " But, of course, I was worried, and when Le Blond -went out, I followed and asked him about it, and from what he told me I came to be almost sure that my husband was really Charles Nisbet who had somehow escaped from the train accident and lost his memory. And then I asked Le Blond to tell me all he could about Charlie, and —and he told mo that ho had a wife in England." Her lips quivered again and she wiped her eyes. " You poor thing," said Joyce, softly. Mrs. Holt went on. " I could hardly believe it, and I asked Charlie and he said it was all nonsense. He couldn't be married —couldn't remember any- ; thing about it. He got all fussed up j and was queer for days. But I just j felt I had to find out the truth. I couldn't go on like I was —a wife, and perhaps no wife. So when I got home, I told Dr. Milliken all about it. He's a good sort, and 1 knew I could trust him not to talk, and he went to work and found out all he could. And when he told me what he had found, I hadn't any doubt any longer." A sob escaped her, but she dried her eyes and went on resolutely.* " The doctor said the best thing I could do was to keep quiet. Charlie was happy enough, and what was the good of stirring up.trouble for him and me, his wife. He said maybe she was dead or married again." She stopped a moment. "It was a big temptation to do as he said —keep it all quiet and say nothing. But I'd been brought up as a Methodist, and I knew it wasn't right. I just felt I must know at any cost, and so I told mother, and she said 1 was right. We had some savings—not much, but enough to pay my faro and baby's. I couldn't leave her, you see. And—and I found out where you lived and came right here." She broke down completely and wept piteously., Joyce leaned over and laid her hand on -Mrs. Holt's shoulder. "You poor thing," she said again. Then she. turned to Jeff. " Go into the dining room and get some wine and biscuits. She is worn out, and must have some food before we talk any more." Jeff nodded and went. He was hardly surprised to find Dench in the hall. He signed to him to come into the dining room and told him what he wanted. "You've been listening?" he said, curtly, as Dench got the biscuits from the sideboard. Dench showed no sign of shame. " Yes," he answered. " I'vo heard pretty near all." "It's a bad business," said Jeff, grimly. " Bad enough," allowed Dench, as he put a decanter on the tray, " but has sho got any proofs, sir?" " I'll find out," replied Jeff, as he took the tray and went back. Mrs. Holt had stopped crying. She wiped her eyes and drank a glass of sherry which put some colour back into her pale cheeks. Then Jeff spoke—- " Mrs. Holt, I want to ask you a question or two." " Anything you like," was the frank answer. " I'm hero to toll you all I know."

" You say you are sure that your husband who calls himself Charles Ifolt is really Charles Nisbet, and from what you have already said there does not seem much doubt. Still, there have been cases of doubles. What we should like to know is whether you have any definite proof that the two men are one and tho same." Mrs. Holt opened her handbag and took out a purse from which she extracted an envelope. The envelope contained a photograph which she handed to Joyce. One look was enough for Joyce. " It's Charlie," she said, in a choked voice, and handed tho picture to Jeff. It was a snapshot showing Mrs. Holt with a baby in her arms standing besido a youngish man in front of what Jeff recognised at once as a small backwoods hotel. " You are sure, Joyce?" asked Jeff. " I can't be mistaken," said Joyce. "The. only difference is that scar on his left Cheek. Otherwise it is Charlie —• and no ono else."

f CHAPTER XXVII. JOYCE DECIDES Mrs. Holt searched in hor bag with trembling fingers. "I have this, too," she said, and gave Joyce a man's gold signet ring , set with a carnelian. "Charlio was wearing that when ho came to us," sho added. Joyce bit her Up. "Yes, it's his ring and his monogram," she said. "I remember the ring quite well. He always wore it."

(COP7MGHT) Author of " Dead Men's Shoes," " Without Mercy," etc.. etc. STORY OF INTRIGUE, ROMANCE AND CURIOUS SITUATIONS

CHAPTER XXVIII. JUST THE BUTLER It was raining next evening when Jeff reached Deeping. All day lie had been busy on Joyce's account. First thing in the morning, he and Jovco together had driven to Exeter where thev interviewed tho manager of a branch of Joyce's London bank, and got him to send off the necessary telegram. In tho afternoon, Jeff had returned in Joyce's two-seater and fetched the money in notes. Dench met him at the door and helped him oft with his coat. "I see you'vo got tho money, sir," he said. "I'm just as glad to bo back with it," replied Jeff. "Five thousand pounds in notes is a lot to bo carting about the country!" "I've seen men done in for a deal less," remarked Dench, drily, as he hung up the coat. "When's tho lady coming, sir?" "At seven." Dench glanced at the clock. "She's pretty near duo then. Mrs. Nisbet is in the drawing room, sir." Jeff did not at ail like Joyce's looks. All the delicate colour had gone from her cheeks; there were dark marks under her eyes. (To bo continued daily)

Whatever small hope Jeff might have had that Charles Holt was not Charles Nisbet was shattered, for Joyce's recognition of tlio ring put the matter beyond doubt. It was a terrible business —-far worse even than he had suspected. His wits were stunned by this utterly unexpected news. All the hopes ho had cherished, had crashed together. As for Joyce she laid the ring back on the table beside which Mrs. Holt was sitting. Slio thought hard, trying desperately to remain calm. What was she to do ? If she claimed her husband she wrecked this poor woman's life, and —what' was almost worse—branded her child as illegitimate. On the other hand, if she gave up her claim to Charlie she must also abandon his fortune to which, after all, she had no right so long as he was alive. She would be left With just enough to live in a third-rate boarding house, or in a cottage like Jeff's. That seemed a very small thing now. It troubled her scarcely at all. Jeff —that was the cruellest blow of all, for now unless she got a divorce from Charlie she could never marry

Jeff. And to get a divorce meant publicity which would be ruin to this poor little woman who had come so far in an effort to do what she considered to be her duty. Whichever way she looked at it, whatever she did, Joyce saw her own life wrecked and happiness made impossible for her. And so she stood with set lips and a white face, until Mrs. Holt, mistaking her silence, suddenly broke down again and sobbing bitterly made a wild appeal.

"Don't take him from me," she begged, "for my baby's sake, if not for mine." •

For the first time since the beginning j of this trying interview, Joyce showed : signs of strain. Her lips quivered and for a while sho could not speak. Jeff , watched her in distress, but in a j moment or two Joyce had hold of her- ; self again. "What do you wayt me to j do?" she asked. "You know, I sup- j pose, that my husband is a rich man." i Mrs. Holt stretched out her hands | with a passionate gesture. "I don't j want his money, if only I can have j him. And I believe he's happier now j than he'd ever been before. Forgive me , for saying that, but I know it's true, j I can support him. I've done it up till j now. I couldn't ask you to give up his fortune, even if I wanted it—why i should you? It's just a cruel trick that 1 fate has played me." She wiped her eyes and went on in a quieter ■ tone. "But I do think that something should be done for my baby —my little Lucy. I've spent nearly all my savings coming over here, because I felt I must make sure whether this j dreadful thing was true. You see, I , couldn't trust it to anyone else, and— : and I didn't want to do what was I wrong." Joyce, though very pale, was quite j composed again. "I am going to do j what I think he would do," sho said, j firmly. "I feel I can't take him from j you. 1, who believed him dead! I'm : going to provide for you and for your | child with his money. After all, it is j his—not mine. Have you anything i left?" The question was so sudden that Mrs. j Holt started slightly. "I have my re- j turn ticket," she answered, "but besides that only a couple of pounds." j "Only two pounds," repeated Joyce, j in dismay, "and you were going to travel back with that.". She picked up her own handbag and began to search in it. "1 have only a few shillings here," she said, "but I have some money in my safe upstairs which will j do for you to go on with. And to- ; morrow I will wire to my bank and ask them to transfer a sum to your credit. ! You shall have five thousand pounds : inside twenty-four hours." "Five thousand pounds—twenty-five ; thousand dollars!" gasped Mrs. Holt, j in an awed voice. "Why—why, it's—" "I. shall certainly do it," said Joyce. : "As I told you before, the money is not ■ mine—it is Charlie's. The rest of it j' must all go back to him. It must be j secured to,him; but I'm going to make ! you secure first." I

Jeff felt forced to interfere. He came closer. "Joyce, are you quite sure?" he asked, in a low voice. "Sure!" repeated Joyce with scorn, and picked up the photograph. "Do you think 1 don't know my own husband?" Mrs. Holt paid no attention to the interruption. She got up quickly and caught Joyce's hands in hers. "You are the kindest, most generous- woman I have ever met," she cried. "I don't want all his money or yours, but for Lucy's sake I will take the five thousand." She stooped and tried to kiss Joyce's hand, but Joyce drew it away quickly. "Don't do that," sho said, sharply. "I am not generous. I am only trying to bo just." Jeff saw that Joyce had had as much as she could stand. She was at the breaking point. Ho turned to Mrs. Holt. "If you will come back to-morrow evening you shall have the money," he said. "But where is sho to stay?" asked Joyce. "Don't trouble about that," said Mrs. Holt, quietly. "I have engaged a lodging in the village. I knew there was no train back to London to-night, so I bespoke a room at the little inn. Indeed, I -shall be all right," she added, as she picked up her photograph and started for the door, sobbing quietly, but much less unhappily. Jeff saw her out, and came back to find Joyce sitting in a chair, staring straight in front of her. Her hands were tightly clenched, her face was terribly white, but it was the look of despair in her eyes that went to Jeff's heart. He knelt down beside, her and put an arm round her, but did not speak. For some moments Joyce remained rigid—then all of a sudden ho felt her relax. She flung both arms round his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. "Oh, Jeff!" she gasped. "Oh, Jeff!" Then the tears came, and very wisely Jeff did not seek to restrain them.