THE RED STAR OF NIGHT

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXVII, Issue 8559, 23 October 1913, Page 2

THE RED STAR OF NIGHT

[Published by Special Arrangement.j

By W. A. MACKENZIE, Author of “ The Bito of the Leech,” “ His Majesty’s Peacock,” “ The Drexel Dream,” “In the House of the Eye,” “ The Secret of the King,” etc., etc. [COPYRIGHT.} CHAPTER XVIII. The head of the Red Star Brotherhood was genuinely disturbed when he learned that the father of his lieutenant, Schcftel, was in London on a mission of revenge, and that, owing to Scheftel’s bravado, it was jiossible that Kowalski might create complications, might even bring about the overthrow of all his (Farmiloe’s) carefully-laid plans. Farmiloe made short work of the distance to Ullavan House, and was mightily relieved to hoar that Kowalski had not yet put in an appearance there. He gave the Countess minute instructions as to the reception she was to accord to IvowaisKi when she arrived, and then went on with all haste to Jenny a stioet. He got there on Scheftel's heels. As he entered the room where wore Lois and Scheftel, he heard thenvoices raised as if in anger. But they fell at his entrance, and Cjchoftel canto forward eagerly. “I’m so glad you’ve come, Mr Barnes,” he said. “This is my lawyer, Lady Courtneidge, lou can tell Lady Courtneidge, my dear old friend, wuat an extraordinarly careless fellow 1 ant. She has found in my aasence a copy of yesterday afternoon’s Pan Mail Gazette,’ winch contains an account of my cousin's lamented death. And nothing will persuade her that 1 knew nothing of tuo sad affair, until she herself told me this morning. She believes that I had, or have, some ulterior motive in ” “I said, and i say,” broke in Lois, “that you had some motive for concealing your Knowledge.” “But wn;it motive, my dear lady, could Hamer possibly have tor doing anything so incomprehensible}'” “That Ido not know. But Ido know that after my little boy, he is next in succession. And —and ” “My dear lady pray put such an idea out of your head at once. 1 nave known numer from his cradle almost —and 1 Know him for the soul al Honour. Your suggestion is—pardon me if I am mailing a_mistako—your suggestion is mat _ Hamer is oiiinking of keeping his little cousin out of his heritage. Oh! my dear mdy, that is quite impossible; and such an idea is almost, nay, is quite, an insult. He will forgive you, he does forgive you, for a man of ms heart, of his delicate feelings, .cannot but know how greatly tried you are at this moment.”

But in the state of her nerves, Lois was not ready to listen to the voice of reason. She had found a copy of the '•JPall Mall Gazette” opened and folded bade at the story of her husband’s death, and nothing, nothing, could persuade her that Dauior had not road it, and that he had not played a game with her, for what purpose she could not tell, hut very likely, her mother’s heart told her, so that he might defraud her son. She could not tell how such an idea had leaped into her head, Put there it was, and it could not be got rid of. And when a suffering mother, bleeding under the cruel blow of bereavement, gets an idea into her nead, all the Court of Chancery cannot get it out again. “Now, my dear lady,” went on Farrailoe, who saw that he had ia hostile jnd difficult subject to deal with, “put away this unjust idea of yours and try and listen attentively to what I am going to say to you. Mr Darner has explained to me the circumstances of your position, and I must say at once hat I am heartily on your ride, and ,f you will permit me to act as your spokesman to the Earl, I am certain that in the course of a few hours I shall bo able to arrange everything to your satisfaction. You wish Lord femplemar to acknowledge yon as his late son’s wife, and your son as his grandson. He will do so. There can be no doubt on that point. An well as being Mr Earner’s solicitor, I am also the Earl’s. I know his Lordship well —none better—and I know that however unfortunate the impression he made on you yesterday, he is a noble man, with a high sense of justice. Entrust me, my dear lady, with the necessary papers, and, as I have said, everything shall be arranged satisfactorily in a few hours. And—let me say thin, too—-if you will, for the next day or two, honour my humble roof with your presence—Mrs Barnes will bo honoured also—you will bo spared a good deal of inconvenience, and I shall be able to consult with you at all moments. You cannot go to an hotel, and Mr Darner’s rooms aro not suitable for you.” “You are very, very kind,” stammered Lois, on whom Farmiloe’a sugary tones and paternal manner already produced their effect. “But I must get back to Chipperficld, to my little boy.” “But why shouldn’t your little boy come to you? Supposing Lord remplemar wished you and him to take up your residence at once at Tomplemar House? You had better uoth be on the spot. Come, come my dear lady, be guided by me. Just write a little note to your housekeeper, or nur.-e; I shall send my confidential clerk down to Chipperficld within the hour; and by nine or ten to-night, his little lordship will be with you. That will be so much better, so verymuch better.” “You are so kind,” she stammered again. “It is such a relief to havo someone to think of one. If you think it will be best—” And at a persuasive gesture from Farmiloe, Lois moved to a writing-table, and scribbled, as fast as she could, a little note to the nurse to come to town with Ethelrcd. “I am honoured by seeing that you are willing to trust me,” said Farmiloo as ho took the envelope and put it away in his letter-case. “My clerk will start as soon as I have placed you in Mrs Barnes’s care. You have need of rest and quiet; you shall have both with us; and just you leave me to look ifter your interests. And now, if you will let me havo your certificates, I shall get to work at once.” She handed them over—poor, simple, trusting girl. “I have my cab at the door”—the villain took he;- hand and patted it paternally—“and in ten minutes I snail havo yon placed in Mrs Barnes’s care. Come, dear lady, trust yourself to one who knew your poor husband when he was a boy.”

And with a necessarily forced apology to Scheftel for her doubts of him (although the doubts remained as firmly fixed as ever), Lois went with Farmiloe. ■ , , „ “I shall see you later, Mr Darner, he said as he left the room, throwing back a gleam of triumph at his accomplice. Lois was so broken, so weary, so captive to her sorrow', that she wont like one in a dream, content to have lonnd one who would relieve her of the agony of thinking, and not for one moment dreaming that she was being led into a trap. Farmiloe took her to Tjllavan House. Lois was a trifle surprised that a solicitor should have such a palatial residence, but her ordinarily acute perceptions were numbed by her great trouble, and she paid but little attention to the gorgeous livery of the footmen and the general luxury which Lady Ullavan contrived to enjoy in spite of her depleted exchequer. “You will tell vour mistress that 1 w : sh to see her in the blue drawingroom,” said Farmiloe. “At once, sir,” said the tootman, and departed. . ‘•Vou wui bo very quiot here, vent in Farmiloe to liois, ‘‘and Mrs Tsamcs vill see that you are nor disturbed.’ 'hero was an ironic tone in his voice , s ho said that, but Lois detected lothing of it. The Countess came in. 'Lois was startled to see so young i woman —.Farmiloe with his black .card up to his eyes did not seem a kely husband for so radiant a crearure —and in her surprise did not note signal that passed from the archVnarchisb to his supposed wife. Farmiloe explained guilefully. Ladv Ullavan, Mrs Barnes for the nonce,' was all sympathy and what one nay call well-bred sisterliness. _ She • amo at once and sat beside Lois and ook her band “You will come to your room at nice. My maid will instal you. And on shall lie down and have a good •rst. And when baby comes—well. 1 jink wo shall know how to look aftei am—shan’t wef” she added to Farm!.no. Lois was taken to a roam at the nick of the house, a bedroom communicating with a small sitting-room, both furnished with that quiet luxury .vhich is so unostentatious, but which .-os us so much. She had some tea, and no lay down, and after a couple of jours wept herself to sleep. When she awoke the room was in darkness. She lay quietly for a little while, not at first realising where she was. And then, little by little, her sorrow came back to her, opening the fresh wounds that sleep had for a moment closed. The darkness was hateful to her —how hateful the darkness jan be when the mind is tortured 1— and she pms out her hands for the matches, which she had seen laid with a candlestick on the table beside her bed. She found the box and struck a . ght. The clock showed her that the aonr was fen. “Etholred will have cornel” she whispered to herself joyfully, and feeling the urgent need of embracing him, of holding him to her, of telling him how ho was now all in all, she dressed hastily and touched the electric hell. She waited a few moments, but no one came. She rang again. Still no response, nor was there a reply to a third summons. She did not know the house, but surely she could find her way. ,Sho went to the door. It was locked—and there was no key in the lock. True, sho had forgotten. She had entered the apartment by the sittingroom. She passed iu there, but that door was locked, too. It was very curious, she thought. There must be some mistake, some silly mistake. Mrs Barnes would explain it, and . But then fear, unreasoning fear, took her, and she ran from one room to the other, like a caged animal, rattling the doors and pushing tho electric buttons as if she were demented. Then she screamed - once, twice, wild screams. And then sho was silent —listening for tho step of someone coming to her aid. But there was no sound—it might have been a house of the dead. All she heard was tho wild mad fluttering beat of her own heart, and the far-off dull thunderous rumble of London —that diapason no walls or doors can ever keep out. And then, as she listened —yes, there was a noise, a heavy, quick, running step; it seemed as if someone was leaping along the corridor. “Open, open!” sho cried, and battered on the door with both hands. “Open, open!” But Willing-ale', intent on seizing Farmiloe —or Galbraith, as ho called him—hearing nothing, dashed along, hot on making tho greatest capture of his career. (To bo continued.)