MANTRAP MANOR.

Otago Witness, Issue 2801, 20 November 1907, Page 70

MANTRAP MANOR.

Jtt/ GUY THORN E,

Author of "When It Was Dark," "Made in His Image," "First It Was Ordained," "A Lost Cause," etc., etc.

[COPYBIGHT.]

CHAPTER VI.— FIRST VIEW OF MAN-

TRAP MANOR.

IR WILLIAM ATHERTON

and Mr Julius Wilshire passed through the gay laughing groups that were scattered over the gardens, talking earnestly to each other. Everybody was watching them. There was a stir and

movement of talk, and wild

rumours grew upon the instant, and within half an hour were consolidated into believed fact. Ah, then, Mr Wilshire had come to Moorchester at the invitation of Sir William Atherton. They obviously knew each other — had known each other before. This was no chance meeting ; it explained much. - Mr Wilshire was the proprietor of great electrical works in New York. He bad come over to discuss the amalgamation of the two interests with Sir William Atherton. A great trust was going to be formed. The mechanical industry was to be captured by the great American and great English manufacturers. It was all arranged, and this was almost a historic meeting. And young Gilbert Atherton was, of course, to marry Miss Wilshirc — that tall girl with the beautiful hair (co the young gentlemen of Moorchester said), and everything was being arranged to these ends.

Sir William bowed and smiled and raised his hat as this or that group bowed and smiled to the great magnate of the town. And then the two tall men passed on together and were lost to view in a long avenue which went towards the lodge gate, that opened out upon the moor.

Dolly Butterworth made an excuse to Mr Benger, the mild curate, and fluttered away in search of further information and excitement. Her quick eyes marked Gilbert Atherton and Miss Wilshire strolling together upon the archery ground under the tall elms, which whispered in the light breezes, but from which the doves with their "hush, hush" had fled in terror at the gaudy moving throng below.

Dolly Butterworth was looking for Lucy. She found her at length talking to old Mi«s Blacow and to M^b Mayne, the vicar's wife. Lucy was talking to those two ladies in a conventional and perfunctory way. All the animation had died out of her face, and she seemed listless and sad. "What a distinguished-looking man," Dolly heard Miss Blacow say, as she came up. '"We none of us had any idea that he was an old friend of Sir William's. But I heard Colonel Harrop saying so i,o AJr Cotsford just now. They cay that Mr Wilshire is over here on very important business with Sir William. And, really, from the way in which Mr Gilbert ajj-

pears to be going on with Miss Wilshire. I suppose it is a settled thing." "You don't say so," said the vicar's wife, a plump and sleepy lady resembling a Tather well-fed slug which was quite indifferent to all that went on around it. "Now, my dear Miss Blacow, I see my husband is coming. He will take us to have 6ome tea. I am curious to see the interior of that delightful marquee." Dolly Butterworth took Lucy by the arm.

"My dear," she safd — "such surprises, such surprises ; no wonder you look pale ! What a cat that red-haired girl looks, don't

you think so?"

"Hush," Lucy answered. "Dolly, you really must not say such things."

"My sweet love," answered Miss Butterworth, "you look pale and tired. Let's go and sit down and have a little chat together. As I was looking for you I saw Mr Gilbert and Miss Wilshire in the flower garden together."

Lucy winced ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly to any eyes save those of envy and jealousy.

Miss Dorothy Butterworth's heart was filled with bitter pleasure

"Ah," she thought to herself, "you may be able to have as many new frocks as you want and to go into county society ; but I know where the shoe pinches, my dear Lucy Harrop !" Sir William Atherton and Julius Wilshire paced down the avenue, and for a time neither of them spoke It certainly did not seem that the surmises of the Moorchester aristocracy as to the important business relations between them were true!

Sir William broke the silence at length.

"This meeting, Wilshire," he said, very quietly and humbly, "is, of course, bitterly painful to me. My hoy has told me what you have said to him, however, and it has come to me with an enormous surprise. . I had looked upon you, I confess, as vengeful and vindictive, as determined to wreck what remains of my life and happine&s at any cost. When I first saw you here in Moorchester I confess that I acted like a coward. I was frightened, Wilshire — frightened of you." The voice trembled a little as Sir William made this odd confession, a confession of curious weakness, and utterly unlike the bluff and ready front he presented to the world.

He did not look -up as he spoke^ but gazed down upon the gravel, and swung his stick nervously and uncertainly. He did not see his companion's face. It was well for him that he did not.

"William," the American answered after a pause, "I cannot pretend to say that you did l not injure me very, very deeply. The whole course of my life has been altered by what you did. We will not talk now of one "that has cone. I can't bear to talk of her. But X will tell you this. When I had discovered your treachery to me *nd left you vowing that I would be revenged upon you- before I died, I spoke with perfect sincerity. You knew me ; you knew that words like those were no empty boast, though you must have known also, as events showed, that I would not — could not, indeed — injure you while your wife was alive. For, whatever were my feelings towards you, tliey were always the same towards her. The years went on, and, as years must, they softened the power of my resentment, and began to dilute my hatred with indifference. Young blood is hot and passionate. You and I are both older now. But I want to ask you one thing. Why, when you saw me, were you in such terror? A guilty conscience, I can understand, must make any man who has deeply injured another fear to meet him. But you are rich, powerful, honoured, and respected ; you are among your lifelong friends. And, apart from your natural sense of humiliation, why should you go in fear of a man from another country? How could I injure you? Did you think that I came armed with an assassin's knife?"

Sir William suddenly looked up and mat the keen, quick scrutiny of the other. He saw Wilshire was looking at him with hard, internee interest, ac if he rTere a scientist watching an experiment, as if he desired to learn something, to obtain some data for future work. And at that moment something of the old chill end horror came back into the baronet's heart — the chill and horror which Gilbert had done so much to remove during the last few days. But inhere was more manhood in the voice when he answered the query. "Because, Julius," he said — "because I knew you. I knew your character, I knew your strength of will, I knew the tenacity with which you always pursued an object, and forgive mo if I felt that, having lost what you most desired, no scruples would stand in your way." "And yet," the other Teplied, in a somewhat lighter tone — "and yet you are walking with me alone, and we are on friendly terms. Five years ago, William Athertan, I heard of you here in Moorchester, when a dwelling house near your works had caught fire. I heard that you had rushed into the burning house ana brought out a child that had oeen left behind, running a great risk as you did so." Sir William made a quick movement of his hand.

"I knew," he said, "that you were watching me." " I saw it quite by chance in an English newspaper," Wilshire replied indifferently. "Why should I have watched you all these years?' As if I had nothing better to do than that ! However, that is not the point. You showed great courage on that occasion, though you were no longer a young num. As a yottng man ako I never found you wanting in physical courage. What is all this talk, then, of fearing me £o much?" Sir William did not answer. At the moment, as he walked by his enemy of twenty-nine years, he felt no fear of him at all. Here he was real, concrete, actual. But he could not telL him cf the Ijoug houre of appiehcnsion, of ftar oi &ome

swift, subtle Wow falling upon him fron^ the unknown. Hie did not dare to speak of those horrid year 3of waiting and wondering when and how the blow would fall— those years during which there had always been a dark cloud in the back of his mind, a cloud which spread and obscured his life. It lined the hours of darkness

iind of dawn when he wa6 alone and felto the unseen determinabon of an implacab 1 © hate throbbing near to him.

Near or far away — who could tell ? But real, waiting, waiting!

Ac he walked up and down the long avenue, making no answer to his questioner, he did not know that the tall, massive man who strolled by his aide understood very well indeed what his victim had suffered. He did not realise that now, even at. this minute. Julius Wi'ehire was beginning to taete the first 6weetnees of revenge. He did not know the savage joy that throbbed behind the grave, compoeed face ol the American as he heard that already, and during the past- years ako, he was able, and bad been able, to grip and maim tine weaker mind of his enemy. Nor did he see the sudden gleams thafc came and went within the striking, questioning eyes, gleams such ac one may sea in some beast when it is crouching to spring, and gloating upon the terror of it« "Well, well," Wilshire said at lengthy and there was something so human and kindly in hie voice that Sir WiQiain looked up quickly and thankfully— "well, mv dear William, ac I say, you did ma a great wrong; but It is all over now. It would be idle for me to pretend thafc I had forgotten, but you must not regard the wild and, I think, very natural words uttered by a passionate you»g man in a moment wh«n he had discovered that he was robbed of his life and tfeat bis best friend was a traitor— you must not, I say, regerd. such, wordu as having any significance to-day. I coffees frankly to you that I caano to Moorohester to see you. It was necessary for me to be in England in order to do come scientific work which could not well be done in America. As I had to come to this country I determined to settle down near you. And if your boy had not come himself the other day in his spirited endeavour to heal the breach between us I should! have dm© so myself without a doubt. Let me use the simple old phrase, 'Bygones shall bs bygones.' One thing only I ask of you in return, and that I think you owe me. That is, forgetting all tfoe past, that we shall be intimate and friendly; thai between your house and mine thero shall be a. real «mity and kindness. Let ue spend the future together, and let us regard the past as a mack storm-cloud that bus been swept away. You have your son, and a noble youmg fellow he :e.: c. I myself married a worthy woman, who was a good partner to me, and who bore me a daughter, wihom you have seen today. Well, we will 6ay -no more now, and I think peTliaps we ought to rejoin our host. , Believe me, we ehall have many pleasant talks over all this before," he hesitated for a moment — "before we part." Sir William, turned round and heW ou* his hand. The long lights of the* afternoon were now pouring their radiance through the avenue of elms. A little summer breeze rustled and whispered 1 among the leaves. It was a pteasant and kindly hour, and the baronet's heart was filled to overflowing. He stood up, however, a bluff, sturdy Englishman, and took the hand of hia long-time enemy. ' "Julius," lie said, "I should feel a proud and happy man if I had been capable in the past of the real fineness and nobility of boul you have displayed toward* mo this afternoon. You forgive me, then? You forgive me? I onoe and for all tell fou how 'bitterly I have repented what did, and how even the joy and happiness of what I won has always been tainted by the treacherous way in which I won.it. Accept my repentance and let us, if we can, be friends to the end." "Yes," Wilshire answered, gripping the other's hand, "till *)he end!"

Then, with an odd little laugh, which the baronet hardly noticed, Wilshire thruet his arm thorough his and led hint once more towards the gay crowd in the gardens. They returned to the lawns-. By this time all the gueeta had arrived, the first constraint of the occasion was over, and one and all were enjoying tliemselvee without pretence, without boredom, and in a hearty North Country way. "We ought to find Colonel Harrop, my deaf William," Wikhire said, giving the aria he lield something which seemed almost, on affectionate squeeze. "I wonder where he is?"

They walked through the groups arm in arm, and as they did so the rumour, which had already grown enormously daring their absence, was crystallised into certainty.

| It was true then — there was to be a great amalgamation in the English and American firms. Mr Gilbert wax most certainly to marry Muss Sadie Wilshire 1 There was a buzz of comment as the two men went by. They found Colonel Harrop seated with Canon Mayne at a little table which a. footman had brought to them. They were having tea. ; "Ah, here- you are!" the colonel said, 1 "just in time to join us. Canon Mayne, let me introduce Mr Julius Wilshire, a new resident among us." They all sat down- again, and began to chafe about ordinary affairs of the town and its surroundings. Wilshire took a long green American cigar from his case ana began to smoke. The canon indulged himself in a cigarette, and the four men were soon interested in each other and convert* ing without a break. "Well, Mr Wilshire," Colonel Harrop said, "you heve certainly found a good opportunity of getting to know all you* neighbours to-day. Everybody in the town ia here, I suppose, and from a> good many miles of the country side. On the whofr, I think you will find us a united family. We don't backbite more than t other communities, and as vre are Notto

CJountry folk, when it becomes necessary to consolidate for any public purpose ye do so urith singular unanimity." fie was about to continue on his favourite theme, when he stopped suddenly in «, flow of talk. "Now I think of it," he said, "Mr WilBbire, I am sure my daughter sent a card to tlie gentleman who is staying with you — the foreign gentleman, whose name I don't remember. At any rate, if she didn't send a card, I believe I mentioned in my note how glad I should be if he would come with you." "Ah, yes," the American answered, "you mean Senor Ramon de Toros. I had quite forgotten, and I ought to have told you et once that the senor sent his apologies by me for not being .able to arrive -with us. He is conducting a delicate experiment which he could not leave, but he told me to say that he hoped to have the of joining your party a little later ; in fact,, this is just about the time in which he .paid he would come." "We shall be delighted to see him, Mr Wilshire," said the mayor. "A scientist, you sayS" "And a very distinguished scientist, too," the American replied, ' : though you will not find hie name in the published annals of inventors. Senor Ramon de Toros is a man of great wealth. He is from the Argentine, and owns enormous ranches not far from Buenos Aires. Indeed", I may say that he is a unique personality. And, unlike so many of the wealthy South Americans, he has never been, content to live a life of idleness and pleasure ; he bafi devoted himself to science, and for two years now he has been, in a sense, a partner of mine. That is to say, I found his assistance invaluable, his intelligence remarkable, and his knowledge of obscurer forms of magnetic waves almost unsurpassed. He is a singularly interesting man, and I am not ashamed to confess that I owe much of the success of my more recent work to his help and his suggestions." "Dear me,". Colonel Haxrop answered. "Wo are really very fortunate in Moor-che&t-er just now. But I think this, surely, must be Senor de Toros." He had turned, and saw that the butler was bringing the latest guest towards them. Ramon de Toros presented a sufficiently striking figure in this party of Northern Englishmen and women. He ■was dressed in a suit of white duck, dazzling in its spotlessnese. A sombrero panama was on his head, and his necktie was of a bright Yennilion. He seemed some figure stepped 1 straight from a southern plantation, brilliant and startling in his attire, with the dead black moustache, eyes, hair, and brows, and the dusky yellow of his complexion. He came up, and was introduced. Refusing tea, "but asking for a glass of soda •water, he sat down among them, and began to smoke the inevitable maize-leaf cigarette. Sir William Atherton and Colonel HarTop also looked at the new-comer with great interest. What they had just heard about him was unusual, and his connection with Julius Wilshire did not seem entirely explained by the American's account. They certainly found him an interesting person. His English, more soft and liquid than, the well-defined northern accentuation of the two Moorchester magnates, was nevertheless fluent and perfect. There was a certain grace of expression in all he said, end when the white teeth flashed in a smile of appreciation or compliment both Sir William and his host were forced to allow that here was a man with a considerable fascination. De Toros confessed himself charmed with what he saw around him. "It is all new to me, senor," he said, with a little impulsive movement of his brown hands. "It is a great privilege and ' pleasure to see an English garden party on an English summer's afternoon. It is co different from our sunny South — ho much more green and pleasant, and with a freshness, even in its summer air, that w« do not get in South America until the sun has sunk long sinco and the fire flics are dancing among the shrubberies." "It is very, interesting, senor," Colonel Harrop said, "to hear you co so. I know something of hot countries myself. I was stationed ,in India for a long time when I was in the service. But if you would like to see *tbe whole grounds, get a sort of bird's-eye view of them, that won't be difficult!" • He -pointed towards an ascent at one side of the largest lawn — an ascent upon which an articficial mound 1 , covered, with turf, some thirty feet high, had been constructed, and which woe crowned with a srmmer-house. "Suppose," he said, "that we stroll up there? Then we shall be able to see everything that is going on. I had the place made five yeare ago, and I used to have my coffee there after dinner in my poor wife's time, when we could look out beyond over the moor when the sun Rras setting." De Toros bowed. Wilshire rose, and once more hooked his arm into Sir William's. It was almost es though, in his new friendship, he did aiot want to let the baronet go far from Bum. It was as though, he had: taken complete possession of the friend of his youth. Laughing and talking together, the five men strolled up the gravel path which led *■> the top of the artificial eminence. ilvnon de Toros went first with Colonel Harrop, then Wilshire and Sir William together, and Canon May&e followed beiasd. The eminence was crowned with a large

lhatohed summer-house, a pleasant place*, .very Ehgljtfh in its character, and built of oak. Chain: were set within, and when they had seated themselves it was indeed e>3~ their' host had' said. The whole grounds came into vivid view. Upon the emerald green t<be colours of the women's O.reases, the brilliancy of their parasols, white flannels of the younger men yho were playing tennis, all suggested a ipieat flower garden,. The music pf the

band came up to them in drowsy pulses of pleasant sound, and beypoid it all over the high ivy-covered wails the golden moors stretched away into purple distance. It was a beautiful vista, and all of them there realised its charra.

Ramon de Toros began to ask questions, pointing hither ands thither over the sweep of the landscape. The mayor, pleased at the foreigner'e interest, explained this or that, and indicated the direction of the various villages and country houses which, at great intervals, studded the lonely expanse, now bathed in the long yellow radiance.

"And that, senor?" the Spaniard said, pointing with a lean brown finger towards a distant group of buildings surrounding something which eeemed like a tall, gaunt house, -without tree or shrub to break its black _ silhouette upon the moor — "and what is that place over there? It must be five miles away, I should say."

"Oh, that V Colonel Harrop answered. "Now you ha:Ke given me an opportunity of telling you something interesting and romantic."

He lifted his cigar from his mouth and sent out a blue cloud of smoke before continuing. Then in a slightly less ani- , mated voice be said, "That, of course, is 1 Mantrap Manor." j (To be continued.) I

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