THE SECRET FOE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3334, 6 February 1918, Page 48

THE SECRET FOE.

THIS NOVELIST

[Published by Special Arrangement.]

By EDGAR PICKERING, Author of "The Falconhufst . Mystery," "Love, the Conqueror," "Murder Will Out," etc., etc. v [Copyright.] CHAPTER XXXIV.—AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR. The Orion was throbbing-to start for her long voyage to Australia, and on her deck the last little tragedies of sorrow and tears were being enacted as friends and relatives said their final farewell; hurry and con fusion reigned supreme, the last luggage was being hoisted on board, the last passengers were coming up the gangway, and leaning -over the side stood Neville Strange, looking down on the motley groups of people, indifferent to all this. There had been no one to shake him by the hand, no one to offer an adieu, nor give him a parting word of comfort. He wasalone with his thoughts^—about to be exiled, and, as he waited for the moment when the sight of his native country would be gone, memory was active iri recalling the events of the past few months which had brought him so much disappointment and pain.

The upturned faces of the people on the landing-stage, as he looked down from the upper deck ;f the liner, did not interest him. There was none he recognised, none to whom his goincr was of any concern, and again the feeling of utter isolation came to depress him. There was the sense of uselessness in everything, and it robbed him of energy —he was leaving all he had ever valued and striven to gain. Amy, the woman he loved with all his soul, had been faithless. Nay, worse than untrue, and a fate more bitter than death divided them. The past could never be forgotten. Something unusual seemed to be happening at .the gangway, where the officials on the landing stage stood like guardians against the admittance of any unauthorised person on board the ship, and Neville's attention was drawn to the commotion.

What he saw was an under-sized figure apparently engaged in a wordy struggle with one of the burly janitors at the gangway. A hatless. energetic little man, who was resisting the effort to restrain him from going on board, and there was a soundi in his voice very like Mr Huncote's ex-clerk's.

"It's Armstrong, by all that's wonderful !" exclaimed Neville. "What possible reason had he for coming to Liverpool?" and he went to.'jJie head of the gangway. "I tell you," shouted Peter, "that I must see Mr Strange. It will be too late if you don't let me go up !" and whether he forced a passage, or the official was influenced by his excited entreaties Neville did not know, but the next instant Peter had gained the deck and on recognising Neville almost fell on him with delight. "I thought I should never be in time, sir," he said, breathlessly. "They wouldn't let me pass, but I've managed it." "Are you going to Australia?" asked, Neville. "What is the matter, Armstrong ? Come this way out of the crowd." "Something has happened, Mr Strange," and Peter tried l to speak calmly. Something of the greatest importance. You must come back, sir."

"And lose my passage," laughed Neville mirthlessly. "That's something else which would happen. There is no going back for me this side of ten years." "Mr Strange! Sir, listen to me. I've only just got here—l've been hindered a dozen times, but I'm in time. You can't leave England. You're wanted at Nethercliffe. Never mind losing your passage. You don't want one." ' "Look here, Armstrong," and Neville spoke seriously, ( Til listen if you'll talk like a sane man. At present you're not. The ship will start directly, and if you don't want to be taken to the Antipodes l you'll acknowledge that you . are acting like a madman and clear off." "I'm not a lunatic, sir," replied Peter. You're the heir to Nethercliffe."

He absolutely shouted the words. There was a ring of exultation in his voice, a commanding sound, and Neville stared at him in blank astonishment. "The man who called himself Mortimer is dead—Mr Huncote is dea<dl Drowned both of them. And that's not all, sir. There's better news still for you to hear." The shrill call of a bugle rang out as ha said this. It was the signal for strangers to go ashore. The last moorings had been cast off. In a few moments the Orion would glide into mid-stream, and Neville's decision had to be made instantly ; yet even now he hesitated to credit Peter Armstrong's story. "I've a duty to my firm," he said. "One that unless some greater claim on ms has to be considered, compels me to so."

"Hasn't Miss Goodwin a greater claim on you, sir, than all the firms in England ?" demanded Peter. "It's for what Miss Goodwin has done so nobly for your sake that you can let the firm go " Ho was prevented from saying where Neville's firm might ultimately find itself, because, at that moment, a hoarse shout of "all ashore" silenced him. The last bugle call was heard, the last farewell had been repeated, the broad gangway was being hauled in, and the Orion had started on her voyage, leaving Neville on the landing stage with , Peter Armstrong, the latter being in such a state of triumph that the onlookers wondered at him.

"Well, you see what you've done," said Neville, turning to take* a last look at the ship. "There goes pretty well all I possess, and how I'm to make my peace with the firm T don't ouite see." "And what the consequences would have been if I hadn't stopped you, sir, nobody

could say," replied Peter. "In another minute I might have been too late. You've heard of the ' Canal mystery,' of course." " You're the only mystery I know of, Armstrong. I've not heard anything of the other. What is it?" "The man who passed as Mr Mortimer has been found drowned, along with Mr Huncote holding on to him, in a canal that goes through Monkstown. How they got there is the mysterj. The bodies were recovered when daylight came, but nobody can give the least information how they fell in. "My idea is that Mortimer pushed Mr Huncote in and fell by accident himself. It wouldn't be the first murder he.had committed, for he murdered Jacob Orme." Neville did not reply, for a flood of conflicting recollections prevented him, and Peter continued : "it was Miss Goodwin who found the proof of that, at the risk of her life. It is Miss Goodwin who has cleared your name, and you'll forgive me for saying, Mr Strange, that she's- been [very badly treated. I respect her too much to let people go on accusing her of being the cause for your arrest. They have said so, and the time's come for doing Miss Goodwin justice." He had worked himself up to fever heat by the end of this little speech, and Neville" gave a look at his glowing face. "I agree with you, Armstrong," he said. "I ought to have always done so. I believe you're speaking the truth, and Miss Goodwin shall have justice," and they went on for several minutes in silence.

All that Peter had said concerning the mystery of Mortimer's death and his startling anouncement that Neville was now the heir to Nethercliffe was unimportant compared with the revelation of Amy's loyalty and her unjust condemnation. He was humbled as he recalled his harsh, cold rejection of her faithful love. It was he who needed forgiveness. " You'll understand now, sir, why I've prevented you from leaving England," said Peter, presently. 'The death of that man, who's real name was Gerald Williams, makes a change in everything. There's no one but you to follow Sir Charles. I would liketo say that I called on him. I do not complain, although he wouldn't listen to me when I tried, to put "the matter straight; but I did my best for all that."

"I'm sure you did, Armstrong," replied Neville, "but perhaps you were too astonishing. I'm not likely to ever forget how you surprised me on board ship. If you hadn't come as you did I should be on my way to Australia at this moment. I owe you a debt I can never fully repay." "I'm quite satisfied. I mightn't have been in time to stop you, sir." " Can you tell me where Miss Goodwin is living?" asked Neville. " I left her at Featherstone Buildings; but she had made up her mind to go back to Mrs Meadows," answered Peter. " Have you heard anything of" Sir Charles since all this happened?" "Nothing, sir; but you'll see him soon, for the next thing to be done is for you to go to Nethercliffe." " Nethercliffe can wait," replied Neville. " Monkstown comes first, Peter Armstrong."

CHAPTER XXXV.—LOVE'S VICTORY. Dusk was hiding the bouldered road, and stealing over the little sitting room as Mrs Meadows quitted her house on an errand which she had promised should not keep her away half an hour, and, left alone, Amy sat in the gathering gloom, too inert to heed it.

As the darkness deepened the gleam of the dancing flames in the grate strengthened to light the room and give a fictitious colour to her pale cheeks, and the window was uncurtained, on the sill of which Peter Armstrong had rested his sprained foot long ago. The quietude was so profound that the rustle of the fire came sharply now and again, and the stillness had lulled her -into a dream of what could never be —a promise of something that would never be fulfilled, and it brought a troubling un- ■ rest, as she lay back in her chair with wakeful eyes, before which seemed to be passing the events of the last few weeks. Mortimer, Madame Lenoit, Peter Armstrong, flitted by ghoatily—then Neville, who had lingered for an instant and was looking so sorrowfully at her, and the seeming reality caused her to turn towards the uncurtained window. Then she was standing erect, unable to speak or move, for Neville himself was returning her startled look.

His' very self. He was in the room and she, dazed by wonder and gladness, was the first to speak, her voice coming strangely. " Why have you come back?" It was like a reproach, and he held away from her. "Are you angry that I came?"

" I've never been that," and her heart wp<s beating so rapidly that it was an effort to sneak. "Have I come too late? Too late for you to forgive me?" " You might have known I had done that." " I know how brave and true you have been. Only that." " What have I to forgive? I have never blamed you, Neville." She did not move, nor' show a sign of what his return meant to her. The great joy of it was holding her—there was the doubt of its being real, and he gazed at her sweet-face, which seemed to have no welcome for him. "We've both been deceived," he said. "I'm not going through the story, nor say what it meant to me. Amy dear, dear Amy, when I came to love you it was for ever. Will you remember that I said this?" "Yes. I'll remember." " But I doubted your love. I've come here to ask you to forgive me—to take mo back to y'our heart. To let the past

be as if it had never been. I know all you have done for me, my brave darling, i'ou are more to mo a thousandfold now than when we first loved each other. Has your love changed?" His arms were outheld, and around her, as through the blinding tears of love and ineffable happiness Amy looked up into his face. There was silence for a moment, and the past was in a very truth as though it had never been.

Holding her close still, as if even then then; regained joy were to be kept secure, Neville recounted the historv of his life since she and he had parted so sorrowfully. -

Amy s needed no telling, for Peter Armstrong, whilst he and Neville journeyed back to London, had told it. And of Amy's fortune, although to that Neville paid only a passing notice. What value had it comparable with the priceless riches of her love and constancy? Mrs Meadows's little room "seemed to have been transformed into a paradise that evening, as the lowers sat talking together, very quietly, for perfect love needs few words. " There is no necessity for us to wait, my darling," Neville told her. "Nor shall we want that little" house we were to have had. You are to come to me at Nethercliffe." ♦ "When?" 5 * Neville drew her to his side again, and the smile she so fondly remembered was on his face once more. tt "It is for you to say." he replied, and your coming there is to be for ever. There shall be no more parting between you and me, my darling," and Amy, nestling in his arms, returned the kisses he rained on her lips for answer. CHAPTER XXXVI.—THE MISTRESS OF NETHERCLIFFE. The little world of Monkstown had been stirred to its depths in a fashion never experienced before, when the news spread of the tragedy which had overtaken Sir Charles Mortimer's heir. Mr Huncote's untimely end aroused" only a fajht interest, but Mortimer's dearth called for ! neighbourly sympathy, and to administer this Mrs Templemore and Adelaide drove over to Nethercliffe Hall one afternoon. Sir Charles received them with a serenity which, in xMrs Templemore's opinion, was unnatural. He displayed not the least sign of grief —in fact, his manner showed a certain satisfaction. It surprised her and rather discounted the value of her carefully-arranged speech of condolence. He did not appear to require any consolation, and had not even put on a trace of mourning. " We were awfully shocked when we heard the news. I could scarcely believe it," she said, turning to her daughter, and Adelaide echoed her mother. " Poor, poor Mr Mortimer." " You needn't pity the rascal," replied Sir Charles, drily. " How can anyone help pitying him? Think "what a brilliant future lay before him." " It was a future you wouldn't have cared about, madam," was the old man's answer; "but I'm not going to abuse a dead man." " You've had so much trouble, lately, Sir Charles," interposed Adelaide, and he turned to her. "Yes, I have. Strange left me." "After showing the basest ingratitude to you," said Mrs Templemore. "I can't help saying that. What has become of the person we understood he was to marry. One feels a. sort of curiosity about her, although I really don't know why one should," and Adelaide, laughed satirically as her mother spoke. Sir Charles had touched the bell, and a footman came into the room to whom he . whispered something which Mrs Templemore did not overhear. " The lady you referred to," said Sir Charles, "happens to be possessed of a considerable property. It's an interesting story. She shall tell it herself if you care to hear it. Here she is." Mrs Templemore had twisted round in the chair, putting up her lorgnette, and Adelaide was erect, with a sudden paling of her face, as Neville and Amy entered. There was no greeting on either side, and Sir Charles was speaking again. "Allow me to introduce the future master and mistress of Nethercliffe, Mrs Templemore," he said, in his courtly way.

Mrs Templemore flushed through her painted cheeks, and Adelaide walked to the door haughtily. She had given Amy a look of deadly ' hatred; but it was not and as her mother stood waiting for a moment, Sir Charles spoke again*, as though to complete a sentence that had been interrupted. "In spite of a secret foe,- madam," he added, as Mrs Templemore swept past him to the door.

Peter Armstrong had, days before, told the story of Amy's parentage to Neville. She was the daughter of a well-to-do gentleman, who had left Mr Huncote trustee of his property and guardian of the orphaned girl. It was not a very uncommon story of fraud and deceit, but, thanks to Peter, it had a happier ending than many others. The recovery of the papers from Palmer's burning house, proving her right to a fortune, was due to his devotion to her, and as time went on his reward seemed to increase, for his home was with her at Nethercliffe, where the evening of his life was made supremely contented by her friendship and honest affection. [The End.]