DEFIANT DIANA

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXVII, Issue 8481, 16 July 1913, Page 2

DEFIANT DIANA

By E. EVERETT-GREEN, Author of "A Queen of Hearts," "The Lady of the Bungalow." "The Marriage of Marcia," "Marriei! in Haste," etc.. etc.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

(Copyright.) OHAPTEB XIV:—CONFIDENCES AND AN ALARM. Muriel Hurst was in those days a very happy woman David Quayle loved her, and had toid his love. It had boen perhaps an open secret to the piace how matters were tending; but when the pair became formally betrothed there was satisfaction on all hands, and Muriel felt the advantage of being an affianced wife. Neither she nor Daid was very young, and they had met at her house as well as at his with considerable freedom. Nevertheless there was a pleasant sense of stability and satisfaction now that the engagement was an accomplished fact, ana it was one of the pleasantcst factors in Muriel's daily lite that sho might expect to hear his footstep up hor garden path as the evening drew on, and that walking up and down its pleasant paths, or seated at ease within her dainty house, they could discuss the day's doings or speak freely of past, present or future as best suited their moods, and make plans together for that future life which opened so sweetly before them. David had long been counted as a family friend, and knew a good deal of the ins am! cuts of family history, but' just at this juncture it was a relief to Muriel to be able to speak with more freedom to him; and many of her confidences just now were concerned with her niece, upon whom she and he bestowed the title of Defiant Diana.

Muriel was at a loss just now to understand Di. The girl would not confide in her. Her brothers could not understand her varying moods. She spent much time with Norman, which was natural, and was often at the Braithwnites’ place closelv shut up with Lilian. As the summer gaieties began to take place, the Hursts were not infrequently thrown into the company of Richard Durham, and on these occasions she often greatly perplexed Muriel ; for she seemed to welcome his approach, and to be willing to be entertained by him. yet in private she invariably spoke of him with bitterness and contempt, and at times refused to be present if he were asked to the house. Her moods were wayward and difficult to understand, and when Muriel’s thoughts were somewhat freed from her own immediate personal concerns. she resolved to try and get to the bottom of the motives which were swaying Diana’s words and ways just now. ■

As a result of this she-was awaiting somewhat anxiously the arrival of her lover, and her face was gravely serious, tinged with a real anxiety and distress.

During these past six or eight weeks Muriel had grown rather to like Durham. She had considered herself old enough and independent enough to ask him occasionally to her house, and on these occasions Godfrey or Irvine had joined her. Norman and Di invariably refused, and twitted her with “sucking up to,the enemy.'’ But she liked Durham’s .visits.. Now,and again he dropped in casually and on more than one occasion he caught her at work about tho house or garden, in which he had joined with zest, and with strong' capable hands had the task and worked wonders in a very short space. When men work and talk at one anti tho same time, thev are wont to disclose something of their inner life and thoughts, without anything of. set purpose. Muriel found him stimulating, interesting, original. . She gathered that he had been in the wild rough daces of the earth; she divined that he had done deeds of peril, perhaps of violence, and had lived amongst those ‘whose elemental passions were luick to rise and to prompt primitive ictions. He fitted fairly well into the now life of an old civilisation; but it was easy to see that he had known things vastly different. And he spoke so little of himself or his past that here was always a lurking wonder in her mind whether this arose from native reticence common in strong natures, or whether there was some hidden secret in his life which he desired to keep inviolate. So that all confidences wero tacitly repudiated. This question was exercising her to no small extent this evening ns she waited for David Quayle. And when she heard his step in the lane she fiew to the garden gate to meet him, ami soon they were deep in talk together. “David. I have got upon the scent. I knew that Di was keeping, something back from me. I took her to task, and found out something. That made mo go to Lilian Rossitor. David, did she over tell you anything —about that time—in Paris?”

“Never. Our cousinship is somewhai remote, and she came back widowed and ill just after I had been inducted Her father seemed to wish the mat tor to be dropped. I gathered there had been something tragic—that sudden death—-by accident.”. “Yes; wo all guessed that there was a hidden tragedy. It was said that ho fell and fractured his skull. They had the embassy doctor to him —a personal friend —and nothing got out. I suspbctod some discreditable gambling affray, by what I heard at different times. David, did you know that Mr Durham was in Paris at the timef That it was with him Sydney Rossitcr went out that night, and that it was ho who brought him home—-dead —to his wife.”

“You don’t say sol 1 bad no ideal How do you know?” “From Lilian horself. David, the filing is getting serious. That is why I speak to you; because _ you roust speak to Mr Durham. Lilian Rossitor believes —and Di believes also —that he murdered Sydney in some gamoling den in the heart of Paris!”

- “Nonsense, Muriel I Impossible!” “Unfortunately it is not impossible —1 mean impossible for either Lilian or Di to believe it. They both of them do so. Lilian has told me her story.” Muriel rapidly repeated the facta to her lover. “I pointed out to her that her deduction was pure surmise. And then she looked at me with those inscrutable eyes of hors and said, ‘Go and ask Ailsie Devenish —Ailsie Laroche!’ ”

“That mad girl who went away with her before I came here, and has outre back, and is kept close by old Oipsy, for rear of her being considered unsafe at largo. What is the good of asking any question of hex?” “1 went to the quarries to see. I only saw the old woman; but her manner was very mysterious, and a little threatening. She kept quoting Scripture —“whoso sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed.’ No, she would not speak openly; but at Durham’s name her faco darkened savagely. David, if those men think they

lave a weapon of attack or defence in ..heir hands put there by that mad .■rcature, they will iw it for all it is worth.” “vSho was Lilian R-ossiter’s maid in Paris, was she not?” “Yes. and married a Frenchman, ind remained there lost to sight until her sudden return a few weeks back. She has applied that word murderer Mr Durham. And there can have seen no collusion between her and Lilian. It happened before Lilian linow of her return home.” David looked very grave and some, what disturbed. “Muriel, wo do not want this kind if sensational falsehood Hying round the parish. It must be stopped.” “Yes, David, that is what I feel. r ßut how?” ’ “I must speak to Dick Durham myself.” •Vluriol drew her breath rather sharply- “ David, you feci quite—quite sure —it is a falsehood?” “Quite. Do not you, dear?”

“In a way I do; and yet—some times —when I hear some of the tilings .10 says, when I hear a curious hard ring in his voice, and see the curl of • iis lip and the flash in his eyes—then L begin to wonder what his past has been. I could fancy his doing strange and rather wild deeds —in tire past."' “Taking human life, and hiding his -■rime? Could you fancy that of him 1 And bringing back the body of his victim, and leaving it in the care of the young wife!” “No, no, and yet—David, I sometimes feel as Lilian does about men—some men; that you can't tell what they will say or do. She always speaks in that way, as though you could not toll. Sometimes 1 feel she is right. Not with all men—not with men like you or Godfrey or Irvine, dut oven with Norman 1 don’t feel -iuito sure or happy. He’s not quite like himself lately. I believe he has something on his mind. Once 1 thought he was going to confide in me; but ho didn’t. He turned it off. And if one feels like that about the boys one has known all one’s life ” David made a sign of assent. He could well understand such words as chose. Durham was his friend. Ho iiked and admired the man. He utterly disbelieved this wild tale. And yet he could not utterly repudiate it. There wore reserves in Durham’s nature ho had never penetrated. Of his past life ho only knew a few leading facts. There was room for much filling up of the picture. “I must see Durham. I must inquire into the truth of this matter, if it he a fabrication or mistake, he must openly/ contradict the Story if ever it should get about.” “Will he, David, do you think?” “He must.”

When presently David left her, Muriel still remained out in her scented garden. The daylight was fading, the bats circled round with their sharp squeaking voices; the flush in the West began imperceptibly to fade, and colour seemed withdrawn from the flower borders, whence sweet pungent odours arose.

Suddenly Muriel was aware of the sound of hasty feet approaching at a run; and soon a man’s harsh hard breathing became audible. It was as though one ran, pursued by some implacable foe; but Muriel heard no other stops, and as she looked towards the lane with startled eyes, wondering whether she should find shelter in the bouse or wait to see if the runner were in need of aid, she saw only the one fleeing figure rushing towards her gate. Nest moment she uttered a quick, sharp cry of recognition and ilarm. . “Norman 1 Norman 1 What is it < iVhat has happened?’’ Again she was at the gate as a hand was laid on the latoh. Norman drew us breath in great sobbing gasps, and ns check was white. "Norman, what is it? Tell mel “Muriel—what in the world am 1 vj do?” the words came, broken by deep gasps. • “Can you hide me? Oh, what shall I do? I have killed a nan (To he continued.)