SHORT STORY. IN HIS OWN TRAP.

Otago Witness, Issue 2451, 6 March 1901, Page 58

SHORT STORY. IN HIS OWN TRAP.

The June «nn glaied dully through the morning haze, a sign of the heat to come. In Park lane the gay stripes of the awnings in the balconies, and the masses of brilliant flowers beneath, made a spot of colour pleasing to the eye.

Early equestrians cantered slowly aloiv the cool tan of the Chain ride, enjoying to the full the snatches of breeze which later on in the day would be but a memory. Francis Aspden noted but little of'thß His straight brows had met in a frown which disfigured his good-looking face* and made it ill to look upon. He read the note through word for word :

"Dear Frank,— l am duly installed as your future wife's companion. Funny, isn't it? What splendid jewels, eh? Tne jewels are worth— how much? If you are short we can manage it. Come down Ella."

He swore softly beneath his breath, and tore the note into a thousand fragments. Taking a case from his pocket, he selected a cigar, cut the end carefully and methodically, lit it, and iaced the difficulty. His contemplated marriage with Miss Fallon was of the sort of which people talk. It outraged that sense of fitness which the world possesses so strongly in regard to the marriage, not of itself, but of its friends. She had inherited the millions of her father, a successful soan-manufacturer, whose workpeople constituted a colony of themselves.

He had no millions whatever, but he was young, and the handsomest man about town.

Sinister rumours were afloat as to his past — his present proved food for speculation. Just who he was, and from where he got the money he squandered with such profusion, no one could tell.

These facts notwithstanding, Helen Fallon loved him, and it wanted but three weeks to his wedding-day when this newfactor in the case had arisen to confront him.

His brow grew dark with fear and anger. He had thought all the old life done with and buried out of sight, whilst here, almost at the very altar, a dread apparition, appeared to menace all his dazzling plans. The situation struck him almost tragically. This woman, Ella Delaney, had been his helpmate in many a great coup in the past.

He had made passionate love to her, love whiclf she had returned. Imperative circumstances had rendered it necessary for him to leave the Antipodes. That he left Ella in durance vile and took her share of the plunder as well as his own had not troubled him then.

Who would have dreamt that she would follow him to England?

He laughed aloud — a grim, reckless laugh — startling a white-dressed nurse who was sauntering by with her tiny charges more than a little.

"Good heavens!" he muttered. "She will spoil everything. I must think of some plan to get rid of her ; she is dangerous !"

He sat in the cool shade of the trees for a considerable length of time before he moved. When he did so his face had cleared. Rising to his feet and swinging his cane lightly, he left the park. At the nearest telegraph office he stopped to send two wires. The first, to Ella Deianev. read : "Meet the s.4o.— Fr\nk." The other was to his betrothed, Helen Fallon :

"Am inviting myself down for a few days. Expect me to-night. — Fbancis." The train was late ana Ella Delaney impatient.

As she walked the little platform of the rural station the warm blood ran riot in hex veins. This man who was so swiftly coming to her had onee — not so very long ago — been her lover. Now he was almost the husband of another woman.

Her dark-grey eyes contracted with the intensity of her emotion. When they had last seen each other she had stood in the felon's dock "down under." She had suffered willingly for his love sealing her lips. For what? she asked herself bitterly. To be tricked, robbed, cast off like an olddibused glove — deserted for another ! Could she ever forget or Vrgive such baseness, such dastardly treachery?

A bell rang somewhere, and a minute later the train ran slowly into the station.

Aspden sprang out of the "smoker," his quick eyes taking in at once the tall white figure waiting for him. He raised his hat to her, for the benefit of the few inquisitive onlookevb, and held the slim band for a moment.

"Let us get out of this," he said, bluntly. "I am known here." She followed him through the little white gate on to the dusty road. "There is a short cue across these fie'ds md through the plantation," he went on in a softer tone. "We can say our say as yre go along." Her eyes had been searching his face fcr some token of the old affection in vain, and a revulsion had come over her. This man with the light-grey suit, the crimson flower in his Buttonhole, the faint perfume of the cigar he had been smoking lingering about him, was callous, heartless. What she had undergone for his sake was as nothing to him. She felt her hc?rl grow cold and cruel and revengeful as she tho iiglit of her wrongs.

II "Beautiful weather, Ella,' he said, a3 they got into the second field, and safely ovt oi earshot of the station. Beautiful weather! She could have laughed aloud. The plan which had matured in her brain when she wrote him xha note which had brought him hither recurred to her. "Yes, the weather is perfect, she said calmly. „ • -'I never expected seeing you here, he exclaimed, slashing the heads off the big golden daisies with his cane. "Nor anywhere else?" — cynically. "Oh, I won't say that"— reddening. She gazed at him from under her long lashes. "What I can't understand," he continued irritably, "is why you have taken up the position you have done." Hl'H 1 ' "I took the situation before I knew ' that Miss Fallon was engaged to you," the girl answered gravely. "I should not have known you by your new name or found you at all had I not seen your photograph at the Hall." "Since when have you taken to Ibe 'companion' business for a living?" be asked, with a short laugh that ended ir. a sneer. "Since I came out of prison and foun.i myself homeless, friendless, penniless, ai;d deserted!" He clutched her arm, and glanced around. "Sh-h-h, Ella!" he ejaculated hoarsely. "Someone might hear you." She freed herself from his grasp, and walked calmly on. The man felt half afraid of her. "' He glanced therough an opening in the trees to where the Hall stood bathed in the slanting rays of the setting sun. "You are a reformed character, then?' — lighting a cigarette.

"But your note mentioned something about a necklace?" — tentatively.

"Yes." 'Confound ft, Ella, don't be so monosyllabic. I could do with that necklace. I'm deuced hard-up, and it would only be taking what would soon be my own, in a sense. You must get it for me, that's a good girl." "You intend to marry Miss Fallon?" she asked. ' "Why, of course. That is a foolish question, Ella." " Perhaps it is." „,«>' " And you'll get the necklace, if possible .' You are clever, Ella, and can manage it. If there is any contretemps, however^ I shall trust to you not to implicate me" — ( anxiously. Her lips curled with ineffable scorn- " I will get it," she said ; "there is no danger. You can meet me in the long corridor to-night." . He slipped one arm around her waist and tried to draw her to him. She resisted him for a moment, and then, pushing back the hair from his brow, she kissed him once with burning lips. And the kiss was the kiss of Judas. But the man thought he understood. The creaking of a door woke no echo in the wide hall. A window at the end admitted moonlight cloistral in its whiteness. It just touched a softly-stepping figure, dressed in black. In black, of course. How could one tell what trick a stray moonbeam falling on white might play? There was moonlight enough in the small boudoir to see one's way to the curious cabinet.of inlaid Japanese woods that stood in one corner. A fragile thing in appearance but not in reality, unless you happen to know the mechanism of its secret drawers. When you did, what more easy than to touch a spring and assist the hinge that noiselessly turned, exposing the indistinct contour of the coffer behind? The box was light of weight despite the value it represented. But those swift, dexterous fingers had no thought of carrying it. Already they had pressed the secret spring that opened it, and lifted the padded tray. From the delicately-scented satin of its lining the liquid fire of diamonds, the living whiteness of pearls, detached themselves. Just then the moon passed behind a cloud. But there was no possibiliy of mistake in the touch of those cold chained stones, slipping like a snake against the Pa This was the wonderful Fallon necklace, enriched with gems scarce anywhere to be matched. The tray was replaced, the coffer put back, the hinge turned. The Japanese cabinet stood in its corner as if no touch had violated it. The dark figure in the light of the reappearing moon glided from the room as noiselessly as it had glided in. Halfway up the long corridor a second figure joined the first. " Let me see — have you got them ! a loan's voice whispered hoarsely. "I must 2ee them— be sure. Come to the window, Ella ; the moon will give sufficient light.' His grip on her delicate wrist hurt the woman painfully. Her breath came in hort, sharp pants. Dazzling, bewildering in their beauty, the gems lay in Francis Aspden's palm. Outside, the moonlight shone in one long, unbroken path, lighting up the verandah trhich ran along this side of the house. He turned to hw exultantly.

"You have done well, Ella! These gems are worth a king's ransom ! Let us "

He stopped suddenly, startled beyond measure at her action. Her outstretched hand pointed to the window behind him. The necklace scintillated like living fire as it dangled fi-om his nerveless hand ; his feet seemed riveted to the spot ; some strange agency denied him the power to raise his head.

Thus they stood for one long, awful minute ; then the man, with a gasping cry, turned to face the unknown.

On the balcony, with the moonlight shining full upon her beautiful face and figure, her white dress swaying gently in the breeze, stood — Ella!

Francis Aspden gazed at her as if fascinated.

"Who, then, are you?" he cried fearfully, turning to the cloaked and hooded figure by his side*

Even as he spoke the black folds fell noiselessly away, revealing to his startled gaze the face and figure of his betrothed wife — Helen Fallon.

From the Morning Post —

"We understand that the marriage arranged between Miss H. Fallon and Mr Francis Aspden will not take place."

— There are over 200 brands of wine produced in France, but morp wine is> drunk in England than in Trance, and London is the grew^3 l win« market in thj world*