A GIRL’S MONEY.

New Zealand Times, Volume XL, Issue 8945, 19 January 1915, Page 9

A GIRL’S MONEY.

[Published et Special Arrangement.]

BY MARGARET HAMILTON, Author of “At the Eleventh Hour,” “A Bird of Evil Omen,'' “Love—the Conqueror," “Confessions,” Etc. (COPYRIGHT.) CHAPTER VIII—CATCHING A TARTAR. Morris Melliman received Croswaite’s statement as to the receipt with a face of brass. Not a muscle twitched, not a nervous tremor shook his well-knit frame. “Hands up!” he said, grimly, and with the words pointed a fiistol at the other s head. Croswaite, unmoved, held up his hands and looked more of an injured innocent than ever.

“Where's the receipt?” The question was barked out in a voice stripped of its pleasant cadence. Croswaite permitted himself to smile. “You didn’t think I should bring it with me, Mr Melliinan?" he asked, plaintively. . „ , .... “Where’s the receipt? the solicitor repeated the question. . .... “Now, really, you know, sir, to-- is not cricket,” protested the gentlemanly “Answer!” His look said ail the rest. “And if I do” —the man's mouth contracted into a. snarl —“and if I do, am I likely to let you know the truth?” "You will if you’re wise.” “Why," Jim laughed derisively, how’ll vou know?" “As easily as I know you’re a fw>lLie my friend as fast as you like fpr the next few hours, but before six o’clock you’ll tell the truth—or never speak again.” ~ ~ . “You’re mighty clever"; the cheap sneer fell flat. „ t , . , “And you’re very uncomfortable. Are you tired., Croswaite, do your arms “No. and if they do ITI smash your face to give ’em rest.’’ "I think not, Croswaite. You’ll cool down in a bit; then I’ll talk.’ He leant back easily against a desk, from the drawer of which he had taken the revolver, and faced the other w 1 i u steady and unblinking eyes. The mettle of tha man came out at the crisis. Glean built, every ounce of his sturdy figure told, he could have hammered Croswaite, the taller by inches, into jelly and not turned a hair- “ Now, if you’re ready I shall put your statements to the proof, as you make them. I shall send to any and every place where you say the receipt is to be found, until you name the right place. I shall humour you in this matter until six o’clock, by which time it the document is not in my hands-—you it go to kingdom come.” ' “Oh. you may get the paper, but you won’t shut my mouth." „ “No, prison will do that for “I can blab if I am in stone jug, he said sullenly. “I reckon I could get paid for my information as to who killed Bussell Gordon,’and why he did it. . “X know of who . ■would give you a brass farthing.” , “Not if I told who and what the claimant to the Gordon million is? Not if I told the real name and history of your Margaret, etc. ?" _ “You’re optimistic. Peggy of Pentonville ha 4 no money to pay you. "But she will have.” "Problematical; a bird in the hand is always more to you than twenty in the bush. It’ll pay you better to keep silent. and play the game.” "I’ve a lot of chance to play with a pistol at my head.” “Your own fault. You should have been first. You’re not quick enough. I know you’ve got a barker in your liip pocket, but it'*® iu your pocket. Mine's at your bead.” "What do you want me to dor Jim Croswaite showed, signs of fatigue. : It is a strain to the muscles to stand with your hands above your bead, and impairs facility of thought. * Melliman--bent ; . forward .to put the muzzle of the pistol, on the others fore- “ Take out. your revolver, unload it, and throw it on floor. If you shoot—you’re dead ” . , Croewaiters nerves were not proox against the cold rim of deadly steel. He obeyed his master, and threw his weapon from him. • ■ • "Now you-may sit. Mellima-n pushed him towards a chair, and with, a sudden collapse Croswaite sat down. On his smooth, dark face hung the beads of perspiration, and his knees knocked together.

MeUiman looked him over, "There's some whisky on the sideboard; you'd better take a drop. It’ viU pull you together." The other eagerly obeyed, conscious the while he poured out a generous dose that the little man had a pistol covering his back, “Now, my friend, where s the receipt ? ” , , , _ . „„ “But if I tell you, what do I gain? Jim was driven from defiance to debate. "If you don’t tell me you’ll lose your life." 1 “But, Helliman, it s low—it s downright low—to play this on me." "When you've handed over the receipt we’ll discuss how we’ve to play the game. Give it up, Croswaite; I’m not going to sit up all night." "Give it——’’ the man’s jaw relaxed. "Yes; it’s iu your sovereign purse. Bah! Do you take mo for as big a fool as you? You come here to-night to’ dictate terms to me, to fix your share of the million, in your own way, at your own figure. You knew me well enough to realise I should not deal unless you showed me the receipt. Hand it over, man. the hour’s late." "By the Lord, I meant to put you through it, MeUiman." "No doubt. You'd have succeeded, Croswaite, if you’d been a trifle quicker. As it is. I’m top dog. Hand it over." And Croswaite, realising that the little man with the face of. braes was more than his match, consented.

“Here you are.” “So !”' The solicitor took the document, read it, and, turning his back, walked towards the desk. ' Croswaite was on his feet in a flash. It was an emergency that suited him to a “T." In the open the big little man could always meet him; in ambueh his tactics were the better; at least he thought so. Noiselessly he got up, and edged his feet over the carpet to where the pistol lay. He stooped and clutched it with his right, while with his left had he gathered up the spilt cartridges from off the floor.

The barrel snapped as he pushed in a bullet. He rose up erect and ready. But the little man was ready also—with his pistol in position. Croewaite didn’t debate after that. He just sat and listened, revolving schemes of vengeance in his head the while. But vengeance gave way to avarice—as it mostly does with men of Croswaite’a typo. “Do we play this hand together, Jim?” “It seems so,” was the reply. “Good; in that case well arrange terms. I’ll give you what I’m giving Margaret—two hundred thousand Jimmy O’Goblins—if the deal goes through.,’’ “I ought to have half,’’ snarled Jim. "You ought, my friend, to have time. Don’t think to get your deserts. Two hundred thousand,, without risk, isn’t a bad price-” “Without risk?” Croswaite sat up. “Oh. you’ll have to run a certain amount of danger, but no more than you’re accustomed to. The onus of the business, as usual, will rest on me.” "I want something on account." "Yon shall have it so soon as I touch the ready." “I want a bit—now. ’ "Greedy as ever. Well, will five hundred do you?” Jim brightened. “That’s talking, sir.” "Here’s a cheque for the amount.’’ He wrote out the amount on the pink

beneficent piece of paper ordained .by the banks to bring blessings to the impecunious, and handed it over. “Thank you, sir. What next ? The solicitor paused and lit a cigar, and pushed the case over to Croswaite. Melliman was as good a judge of tobacco as he was of men. "You’re still at-the house at Pentonville?" ... _ „ "Yes. and on good terms with Peggy. "Who’s the young chap that met her after the inquest?” "You saw that, did you? "There’s very little X don t see, my friend.” “He’s a lodger, also.

"Name?" , ~ „ “Douglas Kinnoul; a bit of a swell, I believe; quarrelled with his uncle, and cleared out, I understand. to earn his living by, scribbling. ' "Sweet on Peggy?” “Makes eyes at ber, but nothing serious—as yet." “All the better if there were. It a his connections we've to fear. I suppose he’s connected with the Haygb family?" "Lord Haygh’s his uncle. "He’s not likely to intervene on behalf of a servant girl. But, all things considered, the the girl leaves Pontonville the better." ,

Croswaite grinned. "I’ll recommend her to a registry office,” he said, chuckling. "That’s good. We’ll find her a suitable place." "You can leave that to me, Mr Holliman." , "I think I will. You have the girls ear at.any rate. . . . How did you get hold of Gordon’s receipt', Jim?’’ Croswaite leaned back in his chair, puffed at his cigar, and smiled in a beatific fashion. "As easily; as tumbling off a tree," he said, vanity exuding from -every pore. "Ah, you were always clever in your own line." "I should think so. Fools. Mr Melliman, that’s'what the police are. . . . I was hanging about . Huston waiting for the eight-fifty, according to your instructions. and 1 was on the spot when the train came in. I’m always a handy man when I’m wanted, and when it came to shifting the corpse out of the carriage I was right there. A touch of his pockets, a feel of hie coat—yon know, and” —the pickpocket smiled in pardonable pride—"it lay in my hand, Mr MeUiman."

"Very neat, indeed." "Ay, it wasn’t had. ... I wonder you overlooked it, sir.” "My dear Croswaite, I left it for you." "You know "

"I realised —everything. And now it’s time you went to Pentonville and I got to bed."

“A minute, sir. You take my breath away. I wont a drink."

The little man patiently waited while big cool, deep confederate, as occasion served, poured out drinks. “Luck to us both,” said Jim. "To us," echoed the solicitor, and the remarkable man chinked his glass against Croswaite’s with nyich the same expression as he had put the cool steel of the pistol against his forehead. ‘ “I’ll ling you up to-morrow, Croswaite —there'll be work for you to do in relation to the Gordon case. No, not now; to-morrow. It'll be a job after your own heart, I promise you that." And that Melliman fulfilled his promise will be seen in the sequel. Croswaite did not take a taxi back to Pentonville; not that he disdained such luxuries or that he was parsimonious in relation to his own convenience.’ He felt he needed the fresh air, and plenty of space. The common lay cool and inviting in the soft light of the young moon. The gorse bushes took fantastic shapes, the trees waved sepulchral branches against a sky of deepest violet, spangled with stars. The friendly night hid the bare patches where the grass had worn away, moth-eaten with time and the tramp of countless feet, and gave one an impression of a boundless stretch of prairie unfettered save by the line of the horizon. Croswaite was not conscious of the aesthetic charm of the scene, but he realised that it was cool and quiet, and that his nerves were jumpy, and he was in need of a rest. He stretched himself on the grass, clasping hie hands about his knees under a spreading clump of gorse, and he thought of many things. The net result of his cogitation would have surprised Mr Melliman. Jim Croswaite had decided he would do his best to marry Pcggy(To be continued.!-