The Battle of the Giants

New Zealand Times, Volume LI, Issue 11786, 24 March 1924, Page 4

The Battle of the Giants

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

ToXtierful Story of LoVe and jldVenture

By

J.B. Harris-Burland.

Author of: "TK« Splendid Bacrilo#,” " The Half-closed Door." "The Felgate Taint." Ac.. Ac.

[COPYRIGHT.] CHAPTER XU.—(Obntinued.) Conrad Humber stayed for a quarter of an hour longer, discussing various details of business, and then left the house. Richard Margesson,'from the window that overlooked the steps, saw him seat himself in the big car, and noted the strength of that large, impassive faoe. When the car had vanished, Margesson drew the green silk blinds, and forced his mind back into the past. Once again he saw that waste of snow, and the' clump of trees like an L with the corner rounded off, and the cards, and Conrad Humber looking down at him. uuce again he realised what it was to be faoe to face with death.

“Could any punishment be too severe?” he asked himself, and neither reason nor sentiment gave any other reply than “None.” Torture and death I That was what Conrad Humber had meted out to him. The mere loss of a fortune was little enough 'compared to that. What did it matter that Conrad Humber hRd tried to make amends—that Conrad Humber had advertised for his victim, intending to compensate him with money? All the wealth of the world could not pay, for the agony of those two nights and three days. “I have been down into hell,” thought Margesson as he remembered, “and I have returned from it with the brain and heart of a devil.” He saw himself exactly as he was, but so strong was hi 6 purpose that he did not shrink from what he saw. He was glad he was just as he was. If he had been more human he would have had the weakness of humanity The thought of Mrs Humber, and the eon, and April might have moved him to pity. As it was, he was a devil, and he was glad of it.

• • • • • “Well, if you won’t have me, there b an end of it,” said Tom Humber gloomily., “I —I’m so sorry ” faltered Mary Rixon. “Oh, Tom, I —l haven't really given, you any reason to think that I would marry yon.” “Not a bit,” he replied. “It’s only that you’re just the most wonderful woman in the world.” They were sitting on a desolate piece of beach between Gooden and Norman’s Bay. It was not an ideal plaoa for a proposal, but Tom Humber had suddenly blmted out what was in his mind, as they sat there together in the sunshine. “I’m a very ordinary woman indeed,” she said, after a pause, “and I haven’t a penny, and neither your father nor mother would approve of me. Why, Tom, you know nothing about me at all.” “Only that you are- kind and unselfish and beautiful,” he replied, “and that’s enough to go on with.” “Oh, I could tell you tales about myself that would make you jump up and run away home." “Oh, that’s all rot, Mary.” “I wish it were.” “You’re just trying to put me off. Well, yon can’t. I shall wait for yon, and when I’m my own master—well, we’ll see.”

Mary Rixon smiled. “It’s no good, Tom, old boy,” she said. “My future has been arranged for.”’ “Oh, there’s someone else, is there? Well, I’ll get the better of him.” “Don’t be silly, my dear boy. There is no duelling in these days, and if there were, you'd be killed.” “Who is it?” said young Humber, roughly. Mary Rixon shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she replied. “I love him, and even if he were dead, I should love Mtn. Please don’t talk any more about this, Tom. I do want to he friends with you. If we can’t be friends, I shall have to leave the house. I shall lose my home, and yon don’t know what home has meant to me all these weeks. You couldn’t understand that unless you’d been a wanderer as I have been.” Tom Humber picked up a stone and flung it into the calm sea, a tew yards away from them. “I say, it’s rotten for you, isn’t it?” he said, after a pause. “No,' I'm not going to worry you again—just yet. In fact, I’m going up to Scotland in a few days’ time, and I have to stay with some people in town. I expect I’ll be off to-morrow—perhaps to-night. And when I come back, the others will have gone back to town, and Conway House is a big place, and I shall be working hard. 1 don’t suppose we’ll see very much of each other for the last few days of the vac." He sprang to his feet and left her. Crossing the railway line, ho walked home along the golf links. He wondered who this man might be—this lover of whom Mary Rixon had spoken. A battle would have to be fought, and it could not be fought in the dark. He must see this adversary, get. the measure of him, know exactly how they compared with each other. “The money is on my side, I’ll wager,” he said to himself, “so it’s a case of real love. Ugh, some fellow out in Canada, I expect.” He shuddered as he thought of Mary Rixon's past. Some of that had come to light at the’inquest. But most of it was m darkness. That fellow Rixon had been a scoundrel. There was no doubt of that. Perhaps that which was known about him was better than that which was still unknown. A blackmailer, murdered by a confederate. That was how most people thought of Rixon. But Mary was npt Rixon’s daughter. Her name was really Mary Lowis. She had only lived with Rixon as his daughter. Ugly and terrible thoughts came into his mind. He was ashamed of them, and thrust them away from him. He crossed the golf links, and entered the garden through a small wicket gate. The house lay white and low and pleasant amidst its lawns and flowers. His mother and April were sitting in the shadow of a long, wide verandah. “I’ve been watching you for a long time,” laughed April. “What have you done with Mary?” “Pushed her into the sea, and left her there,” he answered, with a smile. “Where’s the guv’nor?” “At the telephone." “Trunk call?” “Yes, London.” “The house?”

“I don’t know, Tom. But if you want to speak to the house, it may be a chance." CHAPTER XIII. The young man made his way to the dining-room, and, as he opened the door, he heard his father say: “I will get up to town as quickly as possible —motor up, very likely.” . “I say,” Tom called out, ‘‘don’t ring off. I want to speak to the house.” Conrad Humber Baid, curtly: “It wasn’t a call from the house,” and he hung up the receiver. “It was the police.” “What’s happened?” “Someone has tried to poison Price, or else Price has tried to commit suicide.” “I say—that’s a shocking bad business. I want to go up to town myself. Shall I go in your place, and find out just-what has happened?” “Why do yout want to go up to town?”

"Well, I’m going up to the Walkers’ to ehoot on Friday, and I want to see about a few things in town. That’s why I wanted to get on to the house.” “We’ll drive up together. Go and order the car, will you? And you’d better tell the servants to pack a few things. I shall stay the night. I’ll ’phone up to the house.” Tom left the room and gave the order to the servants. Then he ■ went out on to the verandah, where April was now alone. In the distance he saw a woman walking aoross the golf links. She was by herself, and she carried no olubs. It was Mary Rixon returning home. “How stupid of her,” he thought. “Everyone will know now that we’ve quarrelled about something.” “Hello!” April called out. “So you haven’t drowned Mary, after all.” “I’m going up to town,” he answered roughly, “and I had to hurry home. I didn’t know she was going to follow me so soon.” “But, my dear Tom- ” . “I’m going up with father,” he continued. “I’ve ordered the car. I’m going to stop at the house for a day or two, and! then go up North for, some shooting—you remember—l promised the Walkers’ two months ago. You were asked, too, and yon said you wouldn’t go.” He spoke hurriedly—saying anything to distract his sister’s attention from Mary Rixon. He was successful. “What’s father going up for?” she queried. “Oh, the police have ’phoned him. A rotten thing has happened to the Secretary Bird. He’s either poisoned himself,_ or someone has poisoned him.” He did not turn as he spoke. His eyes were fixed on that tall, slim figure moving aoross the golf links. The secretary was nothing to him —just his father’s secretary. He was startled by i cry of horror, and, turning swiftly, he saw April standing upright, and looking at him —an April that he had never seen before.