FICTION.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1249, 6 February 1896, Page 40

FICTION.

(NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.) LADY TURPIN. <3p

BY HENEY HERMAN", Author of 'Eagle Joe/ 'Scarlet Fortune/ &c, &c, and part author of the play, ' The Silver Xing'.'

(All Eights Reserved.) (Continued.) CHAPTER X. GERALD IN TROUBLE. Gerald, driven to desperation by the unconscionable demands of the rogues who were ruining him, and standing at bay as any honest man would when his eyes are opened, had indeed played havoc with the scoundrels' pretensions and demands. Good fortune had favoured him. Rogues are mostly cowards, and any card, no matter how low, is a trump card against them, if it is properly played. The conspirators had all along held Gerald in toils of the flimsiest nature, taking him as an altogether guileless young man, who could be made to do anything by sheer bounce. They had drawn from Gerald close on fifteen thousand pounds, and had ruthlessly ignored every single item of their own side of the bargain. It was so patent a conspiracy to defraud, that any jury -would have sent the lot of them to prison without very elaborate evidence.

The principal man among them, and also the principal thief, was a certain Elibart Markrow, who had. tasted the joys obtainable in one of Her Majesty's gaols during a period of fifteen months' hard labour, and who, having changed his name to Michael Spencer Horsham, had migrated from Liverpool to London and gone through ft course of reading at Gray's Inn, and had obtained a place on the rolls of solicitors which he did not care to lose.

He was simply knocked sky high, as they say in sporting parlance, when Gerald came to him on the night of the burglary and told him, in a voice the stermiess of which was not to be mistaken, that he was tired of being made a fool of by him and his confederates, that he insisted upon an immediate and thorough account of the • moneys paid by him and the return of the tea warrants, with the alternative of an "immediate prosecution for conspiracy to defraud. Such a turn of affairs did not suit Mr Hoi'shara's book at all. He saw that the electric light game, with Gerald Theveney as a tool, was at an "end, and-he immediately consulted with his partners and confederates how to satisfy Gerald Theveney. Gerald insisted upon the return of the warrants which belonged to his firm as a preliminary. Money was scarce among the fraternity. It is a strange fact, but a fact nevertheless, that men Avho get their money easily and principally by roguery lose what they steal in an exactly srailar way. There was never a truer rhyme than Swift's about the flea with the smaller one on his back. When they do not fling their money away on the Stock Exchange, racing and card-sharpers relieve them of their ill-gotten gains, and thus it came that the scoundrels Avho fleeced poor Gerald Theveney Avere each and all as poor as church mice. They had pawned the warrants for two thousand pounds, Avhile even Gerald was only responsible for tAvelve hundred pounds against them, and that twelve hundred pounds had to be accounted for by ex]:>encliture on account of the electric light investment. Not one penny of it had gone anywhere but into the pockets of the rogues.

Gerald for the first time did-the sensible thing, by consulting- a respectable and shrewd solicitor about his case, with the result that the rogues who had been draining him of all his possessions Avere in a, state of great consternation. Most of them had business and connections in the city which were profitable' to them, and which they did not care to jeopardise, and they saw at once from the communications they received that Gerald was guided by proper and influential legal advice. Matters had proceeded so far that they had all met in conference, and had agreed to return to Gerald the sum of six thousand pounds out of the fifteen thousand which he had advanced, to iclease him from all further claims, and to return to him on the Saturday the Bonded Warehouse \\ arrants which were fraught with so much danger for Gerald. But with these gentry there is a great gulf between promise and execution. The Saturday came, and no warrants were produced. Gerald's solicitor gave them until the following Tuesday, under a threat of immediate prosecution if they were not then handed over. 'I do not think for a moment, Mr Theveney/ he said, ' that you will ever see one half or one quarter even of that six thousand pounds, but if you can get out of immediate danger to your credit and your good name, much will have been done/

At that time the incident occurred which became a source of the gravest danger to poor Gerald. Contrary to all expectations, the tea in the docks had been sold, with an ai'rangement for delivery for the following Thursday. There was time, and barely time, to obtain the warrants, and, without them, Gerald would have to confess to his partners that ho had been unfaithful to his trust and had disloyally disposed of the warrants which were the firm's property, and even then it would be no light question to discover how recovery of the documents could be obtained, even by releasing them from those who held them in pawn. Gerald was nearly distracted. lie went to Mr Went worth, his solicitor, and told him his story. The man of law gravely shook his head.

' I know all about these men/ he said. 'Thay are between them not worth two thousand pounds. They are trying to raise

the money. If we press them too hard, we shan't get anything, whilst if the time can be tided over, Ave may get the warrants back all right. Of course, Ave can play the bold game, and tell them that if they do not deliver the papers within so many hours we will immediately prosecute them. But they knoAv, as well as we do, that you would have to confess your fault, and confess it publicly, which would be quite enough to ruin you for ever in commercial life. Of course, that would not save them, and the whole business of the conspiracy would be gone into, and Mr Horsham and his friends would most likely have to go to hard labour, a style of life for wdiich they seem to have no inclination.' Endalie, in the meantime, had gone from Windsor to Richmond, where Mike Roan

awaited her Avith the trap and her

straight to the Well House. She understood the great importance of the immediate destruction of all the clothes she had ever worn as disguises, and of every article and everything connected Avith any cf the burglaries in Avhich she or her confederates had been engaged. They had all been carefully prepared by Mrs Hill and Mike, and after being cut up into shreds, they were mixed with pieces of cigar and cigarette boxes and other easily ignitible articles, and a bonfire was made of them in the kitchen grate. The crucibles and sin el ting-pets were reduced to powder nearly by being smashed up between two great stones,, and their remains buried in the garden. She visited every room in the house, and personally assured herself that nothing of any kind was left that could A-erify or prove her presence at any of the different places where she had been concerned in burglarious crimes. All the Avhile she AA r as carefully considering her future life and prospects.

An examination of her bank and investment book shoAved that she possessed nearly fifoy thousand pounds, parti}' in cash on deposit in a first-class bank, partly in consols and other gilt-edged securities. Her whole fortune was invested in such a Avay that it could not possibly be seriously exposed to any of the different crises which now and then shako the financial Avorld. No rash investments, no securities bearing heavy interests payable by countries Avhoso credit was doubtful. She could always feel sure of about fifteen hundred pounds of annual income. 'With that/" she said to herself, 'Auntie and I can live, even reckoning that from time to time I may have to help Mike and Reuben. It is about time I looked for a husband iioav.'

She thought of Gerald. Through her connections in the City, who Avere among the sharpest, shreAvdest and best informed, she soon learned all about his dangerous position, and she learned also sufficient to know that his danger was no greater than what she herself could relie\ r e by signing a small cheque, Avere she so minded. But then came the after question—when she had saved him, Avhat had she done? What Avas left ?

The money-lenders held his reversion. They held the farm which had been his own, every pawnable or mortgageable scrap had gone to them, and poor Gerald at that moment had absolutely nothing excepting what came to him from the firm where he was engaged and the small amount his father allowed him. Was it Avorth while to link herself to such a man ?

Of course, Gerald AVtxs very fond of her. All other things being equal, she would certainly have preferred the man she married to be fond of her, rather than to take her upon trust, so to speak—Avithout affection, without a look towards happiness. Which woman would not, let her say what she liked to the contrary Avhen any of the loud-voiced fin da siecle sisterhood are by to intimidate her?

There could hardly be a more callouslyminded, cold-tempered and calculating worn in in the world than Endalie; but, call it what you like —even if you do not call it heart, call it pride of property or pride of conquest, anything—but every woman who has gained the love of a man looks upon that man's love as an acquisition worthy of a jflace of honour among her possessions. Gerald's position, as it at that moment stood, was at the best a not very enviable one. Junior partner, with a very small share in an ancient and most respectable City house, his wife would not have much to boast of even if she brought a considerable dowry to increase the joint fortunes. Of course, there was the prospect of bocoming one day Lady Theveney, and the title 'Lady Theveney' had a magic attraction of its own. The Theveneys had been among the earliest baronets created, and they had always kept their escutcheon clean and unsullied from bars-sinister and other undesirable markings. But that might be in ten years, in twenty years, any day. Sir Peter Theveney was at that moment ill and threatened; but he was known to be a generally hale and hearty old man, who might outlive his son. As Endalie looked around her she saw others were aspiring to her hand. She would have had to be blind not to have noticed it. Sanscrome was a young man well-to-do in the goods of the world. His father owned an estate in Scotland and another in Northumberland, bringing in between them five thousand pounds' a year, and Leopold was an only son, an only child, in Jkct. But Endalie could never get herself to take Leopold Sanscrome seriously. He seemed to her a poor glowworm, that shone when circumstances were favourable, and vanished into darkness at the first untoward moment.

On the Saturday Endalie moved to Earl's Court, and it took her all that day and a portion of the next day to get all her little nicknacks into order. Every woman's belongings are more than half made up of trifles of comparatively small value, but which are absolutely indispensable to her, and of a number of much more valuable articles any one of which can well be spared. Endalie was wondering whence all the things which filled her room had come, when she received a letter from

Reuben Mayes, informing her that the Baronet would most likely not live through the next day, that the doctors had formally expressed their opinion that he could not possibly suiwiA r e, but that Miss Theveney Avas kept in charitable ignorance. It Avas a sore blow for Endalie. She felt that she was the cause of the Baronet's death, but after all, w r hat was to be done ? She could only grieve and be glad that such a thing was never likely to occur again.

The Sunday passed, and' with it the Monday, and the Tuesday came. Endalie had not heard from the Rook's Nest, and she Avas engaged in Avriting a letter to her solicitor on the Tuesday morning, Avhen Gerald Avas announced, and at the same time a letter Avas handed to her. The letter was from Reuben Mayes. It stated in a feAv words Sir Peter was dead. CHAPTER XL ' A LUCKY MAX INDEED !' Gerald's face was so white and disturbed that Endalie thought that the news of Sir Peter's death had reached him, and was about to address him as Sir Gerald, Avhen she stopped herself, she knew not by what impulse. ' If your face is the sign-bearer of your message, Mr Theveney,' she said, ' the tidings you bring are not propitious. How is poor Sir Peter ?' ' I haA r e not heard for two days/ said the young man. ' I hope he is all right. I don't know Avhat to think about him. One day I get a message that he is improving slightly, and the next comes the iicavs that he cannot live for two days. I believe that old fogey from Windsor does not know himself.'

' What lias happened, then, to make you look so troubled and dismayed ?' said Endalie, advancing her chair so as to be closer to Gerald. 'You can trust me. I ha\ r e heard something about your trouble, and about those rogues Avho ha\ r e been robbing you of so much money. Ido hope you have got j'our heel on them at last.' ' I come to you as a last resource, Miss Verpoint, as a last resource.' Now to lend money, no matter lioav little, to Mr Gerald Theveney Avas one thing, but to lend money to Sir Gerald Theveney, baronet, Avas quite another. Sir Gerald Theveney Avas a young man whom the young ladies of Belgravda and Kensington would run after as an eligible husband, Avho Avould only have to appear in the salons of Mayfair to bo accepted gladly ; and she had only to hold out her hand and he Avould come to her, smiling, in ready obedience. Still, she was a cautious young woman. Gerald would want tAvo thousand pounds exactly, and two thousand pounds was tAvo thousand pounds, all the pros and cons notwithstanding. 'And what is the terrible thing that has happened, Mr Theveney?' asked Endalie, seemingly quite unconcernedly.

He drew fiis seat closer to her, and took her two hands between his.

' Endalie/ he said, ' I am in a mess —a terrible mess. I Avant too thousand pounds to pull me out of it immediately. There is more at stake than I can tell you, more than I dare tell you. 1 hope to get my business affairs all right in the space of a few Aveeks, at any rate, and then I will repay you faithfully. Noav, can you, will you lend me two thousand pounds ? There ! The murder is out/

For all reply Endalie rose and went to her secretaire, from which she fetched a cheque-book. She wrote a cheque for two thousand pounds and handed it to Gerald, who took it, put it in his pocket, and then printed a kiss upon her fingers. ' You're a little brick,' he said. ' There isn't another girl in the world who would have done it, and you have saved me. If I were not so down in the world I'd ask you to share what I have got with me, but a fine division wo would have to make just now —debts, principally.' She walked up to him and looked straight into his eyes. 'I am not the kind of woman, Gerald,' she said, ' who requires bank-books and all the rest of the thing before she gives her heart to a man. I have got enough to live on for both of us, if wa live carefully and don't want to cut a dash in the world. I can run up an income of fifteen hundred a year, and that's a good deal in a small way as things go. And if you have got thousands, or if you have got nothing, it's all the same to me. Besides that, you are in trouble, and you want somebody to share your troubles with you. That's the time for a woman to come and say to a man, " I will be your partner if you will have me."'

Gerald did not know whether or not to believe his ears. The woman whom he loved dearer than anybody else on earth was to be his prize after all! The woman whom he esteemed and loved most in this world had helped him out of dire trouble. He did not know what to say, he did not know what to do ; his joy was too great to be expressed by words. He had come to Earl's Court one of the most miserable of men, and he was about to ltavo it in brilliant, high spirits. He hung around her neck, as around a sheet-anchor—his goddess, his over-crowned lady, his bride! Then, on a sudden, he remembered that that terriblo tea warrants had to be found and redeemed, and he rushed away to the vicissitudes of everyday life, as to a humid fog of the coarse commonplace, away from all the light and brilliancy of this world. When he was gone, and the maid had drawn the heavy curtain behind him, his Endalie executed what, in vulgar parlance, is called an Irish jig. 'Lady Theveney/ she cried, treading the measure as nimbly and correctly as any young woman on the stage. ' Lady Theveney ! That's worth for Ellen !'

. Ellen was the maid from Well House, who had joined Mrs Hill at Earl's Court. 'I shall be Lady Theveney. What do you think of that!''

Gerald quickly ran to Piccadilly, where he exchanged his cheque for two crisp

thousand-pound notes, which he secured in the inner pocket of his waistcoat. Then he journeyed straight to the City to his solicitor, Mr Wentworth.

'Now we must get hold of those infernal warrants, Mr Theveney/ said the man of law. 'Then we can talk as high and mightily as you like to that rascally crew.'

It took Mr Wentworth until the afternon of that day to ascertain the name of the money-lender who had advanced two thousand pounds upon the documents. 'Now we will see some of your money back/ said Mr Wentworth.

And when Gerald had handed the warrants to the clearing clerk, so that he might take the tea out of bond on the following day, he felt as if the load of Atlas had been taken from his shoulders. The great weight of shame, of dishonesty, could not jDress upon him again unless he put his neck anew into the noose—and he vowed he would never do that again. Just as he was going to his club the same evening a telegram was handed to him, and it brought him the news of his father's death. ' Poor old dad !' he said. * Gone at last! I wish I had never spoken to him about this business. He never was the same man again after it. I shall have to go down to the Rook's Nest instead of going home.'

He wired to both Endalie and Winnie, saying that he was coming to the Rook's Nest that evening to look after the arrangements for the funeral, and asking Endalie to meet him there.

He obtained the first recognition of his rank when he drove up in a hired chaise from Windsor station to the verandah, and Wright, the old butler, addressed him as Sir Gerald. The poor old man's eyes were led with tears, and he seemed to have lost his memory. He had seen Gerald box'n, and Sir Peter, who was twelve years his junior, born. ' I have known Sir Frank/ he said, and Sir Peter, and now I know Sir Gerald, but I will know no more. You will be the last of them, and right glad and happy shall I be if I shall bo allowed to end my days in the butler's room upstairs. Poor Sir Peter ! Many a time I have rocked him ou my knees, though I was only a page boy then/

Winnie was nearly frantic with her grief. She was so helpless. Lady Mexey and Mary were kind enough, but they had too little self-reliance and small strength to support the wretched girl in her loss. Gerald told her that most likely Endalie would come down to the Rook's Nest, and the news immediately buoyed up her spirits. Endalie's presence would give her strength. Endalie was brave, and Endalie was kind, and she was so glad—ever so glad—that Endalie had consented to become Gerald's wife.

As Gerald came to think over it, he thought that Endalie's course of action had shown the greatest self-denial. Without knowing anything of his rise in fortune, without knowing anything of his claim to the title of Theveney, which was so soon to become a fact, without asking for an explanation of his position —without anything, in fact, but the knowledge that he was in trouble, and that she desired to help him out of it, she had helped him out of his distress, and had thrown open her arms to him, and said —■ ' I show you what I am —no more, no less. If you can be content with that, let me share what I have with you/ Noble, kind, great, womanly above other women ; and where was there one who could compete with her in beauty, in brilliancy ? He was a lucky man, indeed, had not this present loss of his father come in like a rain-storm into the midst of a sunlit landscape. CHAPTER XII. WHO IS MISS VERPOINT ? Sir Peter's funeral was over. -To Winnie it seemed like a horrid dream. She could not get herself to believe that her father, who but a few weeks ago was so halo and so hearty, so strong, and so i'ull of the joy of life, was lying in that little churchyard where the Theveney vault stood. Endalie was walking about with a greater grief at her heart than anybody in the little throng imagined. She charged herself with Sir Peter's death.

' Say what you like,' she said to herself, ' it cannot be countersaid that my act, or at least the act of my instigation, led to poor S'"r Peter's death. Had it not been for the stealing of the jewels he would be alive to-day. Oh, that I could wipe it out —that I could efface it. But that can never be—never, never, never !' Under the mournful circumstances it was but natural that Winnie's and Christopher's marriage should bo postponed, and postponed it was by common consent.

Sanscrome had returned to the Rook's Nest and had become a great chum of Mr [nsjDoctor Bender. They spent hours together in endeavouring to ferret out the crime which had there taken place. It had been a great card in Gerald's favour, as far as Sanscrome was concerned, that he had not obtained possession of any considerable sum of money; but it became speedily known that Gerald had paid a large sum to free some warehouse warrants belonging to his firm. At least, somehow or other, Sanscrome became possessed of that knowledge, and immediately confided it to Bender.

' What do you say to that now ?' he asked the inspector. 'Of course, if he stolo the jewels, he could not get the money before they were sold. Most likely they had to go to Italy, or to Spain, or to Russia for it, and you see you cannot get a letter back from Russia in a day.' 'He did not get that money from Russia,' retorted the detective. ' I know where that money came from, and the diamonds had nothing to do with it, and I can tell you what—l am devilishly sorry that he did get the money, for it shows me that he is well in with a certain young lady in whose books I wouldn't mind being,'

'What?' cried Sanscrome. 'You don't mean Miss Endalie Verpoint ?' ' Yes; six times yes/ retorted the .inspector. 'I do mean Miss Endalie Verpoint. Now put that in your pipe and smoke it. You have got no more chance there than I have, perhaps not so much. So you had better try somewhere else, and leave whatever off chance there may be—and I don't think there's much —to me/ Sanscrome approached a little closer to Bender. • Look here, Bender/ he said; ' I don't know much about you; at least, I have not known you long enough to know you well. Don't you think that's rather a clumsy game you are playing ? Have yon an idea where Miss Endalie Verpoint gets all that money of hers from? how she lives? where she comes from ? and all that kind of thing that people generally like to know ?' ' Well, I suppose the Theveneys know, else they would not have allowed her to have the run of tbe house/ 4 That's no proof/ was Sanscrome'a retort. 'That's only a surmise. I know that she has paid nearly thirty-five thousand pounds into the bank within the last three months. One of my cousins is a cashier at the place where she banks, and they were talking about it only the other day. The bank, of course, don't care I where she gets the money as long as she i keeps a big balance. But people nowadays don't make thirty-five thousand pounds every two mouths very often/ Sanscrome suddenly awoke to the fact that he was guilty of a despicable meanness. He was belittling a woman whom he pretended to love, to his companion, for the purpose of making that companion think less of her. He turned red in the face as the thought sprang to his mind, and rose in a fidgety manner, trying to hide his shamefacedness. ' True, but devilishly mean/ said Bender to himself as Sanscrome rose and left Mr Bender to his own thoughts. ' It's a piece of information well worth knowing, and has drawn my mind into a channel into which it would not have gone otherwise. That's worth thinking over. Thirty-five thousand pounds in two months ! That's worth thinking over, George! And it might be, in this case, here especially. It might be. She was with that girl up to the last moment —alone with her. She alone was alono with her. She alone could have opened that bolt which gave the burglar entrance to the room. She could have furnished the impression from which the forged key could have been made. I never thought of that before. That would bo a find, if it were so ; and Miss Endalie Verpoint, the most charming young lady in London society, a real live burglar. It would be a sensation, no doubt. But we'll not say a word about it to Mr Sanscrome. When he speaks of it again I shall have forgotten all about it/ Sir Peter had been buried about four or five weeks, and the engagement of Endalie and Gerald had been announced in the family circle. Gerald seemed to have become an altered man. All the flights >nieness of youth, all the reckless escapades which used regularly to crop up in the recordings of his diary wore gone. He did his work in the city with a regularity which astonished his partners and the employees of the house, and then dressed and took Endalie and Mrs Hill to dinner at the Bristol or the Burlington, and then, after escorting Endalie home, he went to his chambers without even thinking of his club. Endalie was his goddess, his idol, his saint, his Alpha and his Omega, and, to I do her justice, Endalie now really reciprocated his devotion. She had said to herself, and had believed it as good as sound truth, that she nevor could really love any man. Her own self would ahvays stand in her way, she said. But gradually the image of self, which had been her sole idol, her be-all and endall, grew dimmer and dimmer, and then vanished from the mirror of her thoughts, and the picture of Gerald shone there. It became no longer a question with her how such and such a thing would affect herself, but how it would affect Gerald—and this self-effacement was the greatest triumph she made over herself. Mr Inspector Bender had treasured in his own heart the words Sanscrome had spoken to him; but Endalie had been a clever woman, and a shrewd and cunning one, and was not to be easily caught. There is a long distance between suspicion and even a satisfactory clue —such an one as the police authorities, for instance, would accept. But beyond the merest tittle-tattle and small talk, Mr Sanscrome could furnish nothing, and retired in disgust from the scene of his operations when Mr Inspector Bender informed him that he ought to be ashamed of himself, and that he had a good mind to tell Miss Verpoint all he (Sanscrome) had said about her.

Thus repulsed, Mr Sanscrome made up his mind to carry on his investigations in private. 110 was one of those spurious philosophers who derive great enjoyment from deceiving themsolves. He pretended that he loved Endalie, and that he was the only man who really loved her; loved her so well that he would ruin her to prevent any other man getting possession of his prize. He surrounded his argument with all kinds of fallacious sophistry, and although ho had not an idea in the world to call his own, ho might porhaps have found 0110 in the pursuit of his present gamo.

Ho knew that Endalio lived somewhere in Gunnersbury, in fact, that the name of her house was the Well House. One afternoon he took a train to Richmond, and thence to Kew Gardens. At Kew Gardens he alighted, and walked across the Bridge to Brentford. At the Star and Garter at Kew Bridge he enquired for the Well House, but nobody knew it or knew anything about it. An old canal boatman directed him, however, to the lane where the Well House was situated, and told him that he would find it there- or thereabouts There or thereabouts he did find it The reader knows already that Endalie had left

it to go to her new quarters at Earl's Gourt, but Mike Koan was there, lord, ofall he surveyed, sitting astride the "wall, smoking a wonderful briar wood pipe. Mr Sanscrome at the time looked what he really was—thirsty, dusty and travel-worn, and his piteous appeal to Mike, 'I say, old chap, can't you give a fellow a drink of water?' at once brought a ready response.

Mike considered for a moment what danger he would run. But there Was nobody in the house, and he was not bound to let the fellow come into the grounds even. He went to the house and brought a great jug of water and a glass. Provided with these, he opened the little door and immediately set the alarm bells ringing, which he as quickly stopped when he had completed his first offices. The big draught was quaffed, and Sanscrome pronounced it good and refreshing. 'That's for you, my good fellow,' he said. ' It is not according to the reckoning of the water rate, but it is worth it to me. By-the-way, who lives here ?' ' That's telling,' retorted Mike Roan. 'Telling! There's surely no secret about it?'

' There ain't no secret about it. For the matter of that, there's nobody living here except me. The others have all gone to town* and it's as pretty and as handsome and as good-looking and as stylish a young lady that's living here, when she does livo here, as ever can live anywhere.'

' Is she rich ?' 'Heaps of money.' ' Where does she come from ?' • Now you're commencing to ask. Why don't you go and ask her ?' ' I would if I could find her.' ' There's nothing like trying, my friend. When you never try you never succeed.' r JDo you know when she will come back here again ?' ' I never know anything. You have had the value of your shilling now, so I think you had better step it, and good-bye.' Sanscrome heard the little door shut behind him with a snap, and looked about him with an uncomfortable annoyance. He had not been prudent, he had not been clever. He would have to come back again and try some means of getting further into the confidence of Mr Mike Roan. The best thing would be to walk on a little farther and try to fiad a lodging somewhere in the neighbourhood. Many things might come of it. Who knew what lay in the womb of time ? (To be continued.J