WHEN – – LOVE RULES.

Otago Witness, Issue 3384, 22 January 1919, Page 54

WHEN - - LOVE RULES.

THE NOVELIST,

[Published bx Special Aebancfment.]

WILLIAM .GUIDOTT. Author of "Through the Silent Night," "The Shuttered House,"- "What Delia Dared," etc., etc.

[Copyright.]

CHAPTER. XI. Mrs Fairfax looked out of the dining room window gazing with something of satisfaction. The vanishing forms of Alys and Brian Tennant as they strolled out of the gate in the direction of Alderstone, pleased her eye. She saw the girl's expression quite plainly as they emerged between the arched branches of the pink and white May trees, and it gave her food for thought. How sweet she looked in the simple black hat shading the wild rose tints of her skin, and the golden threads of her fair hair escaping beneath it glinting as a ray of sunlight shot its way through the rolling clouds in true April fashion and touched them. From beyond the edge of the fields a luminous soft-tinted rainbow swept over the blue and grey sky —April's last message to May, which would soon be here. There had been something so sweet in the girl's eyes as she had glanced just for a second at the man beside her. Yet his happy laugh and the soft echo it found in hers, as it came rippling back, tore at the mother's heart.

A sudden throb of fear and joy came with it, leaving her breathless. Supposing she were to lose Alys, to lose her little girl—so soon. She was so young, so much a child still, it seemed impossible, and yet—into what safer keeping could she wish to entrust her than that of Brian Tennant? There was no doubt in her mind about the way things were going; indeed, even if it had not been so obvious to her watchful eyes, Tennant himself had more than hinted his feelings only the day before. He had not hidden the fact that he loved her daughter, but on the contrary had spoken of his hopes, and she, liking the man with a genuine trust and friendship had given full permission, but added that she should not attempt to influence Alys in any way. That the girl'was very young, and had only known him for so short a time was the sole objection she had made, although in her own mind she had doubted very much whether Alys had given anv thought to the matter. But now she saw with a suddenness which gripped her that Alys seemed to care. She sighed involuntarily, and her eyes became misty as she turned away. A brighter flash of April sunlight swept through the window. She wished that it could shine into her heart.

Then smiling rather sadly at the pathetic mood into which she apparently was purposely leading' herself, she made a little gesture as if to shake off the demon of depression which hovered over her. After all, why, in this sunshine should anyone give in, she asked herself resolutely. How beautiful it all looked. She caught a glint like diamonds flashing on the May trees and the reflection of her own fair hair lit by sunny rays in the mirror over the mantelshelf. Why, she wasn't old herself; she looked quite young still. Even if things came to the worst she and Alys would fall on their feet somehow. And things shouldn't come to the worst if she could help it. Something was bound to happen—something always did. They always had luck. Buoying herself up courageously with these more cheerful thoughts, and with a smile and expression which might have rightly been described as charming, but was certainly determined, Mrs Fairfax wandered out on to the fast-drying gravel paths surrounding the lawn, quite happily once more. What coidd be better than this marriage for her daughter if she loved the man? She walked slowly along until she reached the waste end of the garden, where the big hole in the ground lay gaping almost at her feet. Carefully, for the grass was very wet, she went across to the opening and looked down. The sun was shining straight on to the open iron-barred gate, and she descended the short flight of steps, curiosity compelling her to have another look, now sho was there, at this wonderful find of Mickey and Alys's. How excited they had been when they had almost dragged her and Brian Tennant down to see it. She glanced around. Really there was not much to see. Evidence of the irrepressible Mickey was there in the shape of an old battered chair and table and a notice nailed on the wall, announcing that this was "the Alderstone Tea Gardens—could be used as a prison" was added as an afterthought. She swung the door to. The old lock clicked. The same hand had oiled rt evidently for the key turned smoothly. Really it would make quite a good prison, she" thought, rather grimly, then shuddered and came out of the place with a little run up the step 3. As she went back to the house her thoughts - flew once more to Tennant. What a delightful and clever man he was, and he was well off, too. Little had she thought that she would ever have had to take this into consideration so seriously : but the tragedy at the Court had altered their outlook on everything. Alys was penniless, and she herself had only the tiny income of a hundred and fifty a year "which ceased at her death. Yes, at least this woiild be a happy

solution for her girl, and she must stifle all the selfish thoughts which would keep rising unbidden—longings and hopes that they could yet spend happy years together before her marriage. She wondered if the engagement would be settled soon—that was if Alys loved him, and, remembering that look which she had just seen in her eyes, she believed that she did.

But meanwhile there was the everpresent financial problem. The days were passing, time was getting short and something would have to be settled one way or the other very soon. With knitted brows Mrs Fairfax stood for some moments lost in thought. She had not seen Lady Greatorex since the night of the tragedy, and it was two or three days now since then, and not a word had come from her or the lawyers. In her suspense it seemed a longer time than it really was, but nevertheless it certainly was extraordinary that nothing had been said as to what their position, was to be —at least with regard to the house. She wondered if Lady Greatorex could have told the lawyer that she had seen Mrs Fairfax, and had arranged things temporarily pending some legal settlement later, little guessing how accurate was her guess. No news of the will had been heard, no clue had come to hand—nothing. Tennant had been up to town twice, and now the affair was in the hands of some private detective. Perhaps something would come of it. She shrugged her shoulders again and made a little incredulous grimace. It all seemed very hopeless.

Without much interest she watched the postman come up the path, thinking there might perhaps be some communication from the detective agency. There was. She scanned it eagerly. The movements of Sir Anthony had been traced. At Baker street apparently, before talcing the train, he had gone to have a cup of tea at a small restaurant, Vanelli's, near by. There, however, they professed to know nothing whatever about any papers or documents he might have left, a waiter had left that same day. He, the detective, had been to his address. There they said that he had left,but he would keep a watch on the house. She threw it down on the writing desk with disgust. These people certainly seemed very useless as detectives if that was all they had found out, she commented rather unreasonably. Then she turned without much curiosity to the other letter in her hand. But as she opened it and glanced both at the address and the signature' within, her eyes opened wide and her breath came and went in quick gasps. Feverishly she scanned it. 21a Harley street, W. Dear Mrs Fairfax, —I should have written to you before to send you my sincere condolence in the bereavement which I know you and your daughter must be feeling deeply. Only that same afternoon Sir Anthony came to me, as one of his oldest friends on a little matter of business and he left me apparently in the best of health. I cannot tell you how sorry I was to hear the tragic news. I hope that both you and Miss Fairfax are well.—Believe me, yours sincerely, John Stuart Fellows. She read it through twice with parted lips and eager eyes. So he had gone there that afternoon—to his doctor's. "A little matter of business—in the best of health," she read the words once again. Business? Did that mean just an ordinary consultation ? Surely not, if one were in the best of health. She clutched at the hope desperately, as she was ready to clutch at anything that might even vaguely help. Without another moment's hesitation she ran upstairs and threw on a coat, settled a hat on her fair hair, and almost ran out of the house. It took her but a few minutes to reach the railway station. By luck she caught an incoming train, and well within the hour was standing on the platform at Baker street. From there nothing but a taxi would satisfy her feverish haste to traverse the short distance to Harley street. It was an awkward hour, and the doctor was out, but she entered and sat for nearly an hour in the waiting room. At last the manservant conducted her solemnly into his presence. Doctor Fellows stretched out a welcoming hand wtih real sympathy. He had known and liked Mrs Fairfax and her daughter for many years. He noted the tinge of excitement in her cheeks as she spoke almost before she was comfortably settled in the big armchair he pushed forward for her. " I g°t your letter about an hour agoI came up immediately. It was news to me, Sir Anthony's coming her that afternoon. We didn't know where he had been."

The doctor, looked a little puzzled. "Why?" lie began. " You are wondering why we should expect to know?" Mrs Fairfax asked with little laugh. "I see that." She paused. "Didn't he tell you then- about his marriage?" " Well, no; but I saw it in the papers, of course. He was always a little eccentric. He came here about something connected wtih himself, and I daresay had no thought of discussing or mentioning anything else. Our interview was very short." " Yes, but he had inst left her," rejoined Mrs Fairfax —"left her at Victoria to drive back to the Court alone. They had onlv just that moment arrived from France, and he left her and cam© to you on business. Think of it!" The doctor raised his eyebrows with-a little puzzled smile. "It does look curious." " But the business —was it confidential—am I indiscreet? Please forgive me. Everything hangs on it—on what he did those few hours alone that afternoon. We are penniless—Alys and I. I don't care

for myself, but my little girl " her voice broke, and the tears ran piteously down her face. ''No, no " —the doctor's voice and manner became instantly soothing.—"you are not indiscreet in the least. He looked at her shrewdly from under his shaggy brows. Something—he had as yet no means of judging what—was the matter, something of deep and perhaps terrible consequence to the woman before him. He decided that he was perfectly at liberty to tell the reason of air Anthony Greatorex's visit. .'"Don't give way," he continued, looking away from her, " probably, very probably, I can be of use to you. Anyway, I will try. Your . uncle came here aparently to get me to witness his signature to a document." Mrs Fairfax leant forward: "The will! The will!. I knew it." Dr Fellows could not resist a -smile at hef confident assertion; but he leant forward interested. ' I don't know in the least what the document was, but I am certain that it was an important one; for he first asked me to affirm as a physician' that he was in full possession of his mental faculties, which I did very gladly, and then " he paused. " xes —and then?" "Well, he signed his name at the foot of a piece of paper, and I and my servantwitnessed it. It looked like an ordinary sheet of notepaper." Mrs Fairfax fumbled with quick, nervous fingers in her bag, and produced a letter. "Like this?" she asked. " Why that is it, isn't it?" he ejaculated, catching sight of the handwriting: She shook her head. " No, unfortunately, it is notr Read it." "And the will he says he enclosed?" Dr Fellows asked, looking up from the letter, over his glasses. "It is lost—gone. We can't trace it!" She showed him the other sheet of smudged writing. " Now you see how important it is for us?" The doctor nodded. "Lady Greatorex Mrs Fairfax's gesture was eloquent. " He left her at Victoria, obviously because he wanted to make this will without her knowing it, but where he wrote it or what he did with it I don't know," moaned Mrs Fairfax. "Can you suggest or advise anything?" "I don't know quite what to advise. I know no more than you do. You have seen the solicitors?" "I have been waiting to hear from them. It is rather extraordinary thev have not written." "I should go and see them." Mrs Fairfax looked at him a moment. "I don't know if I ought to tell them about this—at least " she hesitated. " Whv not? You think that they will tell Lady Greatorex?" ' Obviously they will, for as things are at present, they will be working for her. I might go and see how much they know," she added, half to herself. "I think you'll have a difficult job," Dr Fellows gave a little laugh. Mrs Fairfax opened her blue eyes very wide. "It wouldn't be the first time I've tackled a difficult job, and I don't always lose," she murmured softly, as she rose to go. Yet she went on her way none' too sure. For all her brave words she did not really expect to get anything at all out of Messrs Rawson, 'Hardy, and Son, at whose office she had only once been- In fact, she herself could not quite imagine how her visit might profit her. Nevertheless experience had proved to her times without number that by merely seeing anyone you occasionally gathered something which was of use to you and quite unexpected, if you used your powers of observation, so she marched into the outer office, and asked for Mr Rawson with determination. The interview was as non-committal as she had expected it would be, up to a certain point. But she did learn one or two things. 'Chief of these was the fact that the lawyer did not quite trust Lady Greatorex, although he had no idea that Mrs Fairfax saw this, and also that he had been told bv Lady Greatorex that she had seen her, Mrs Fairfax, with regard to her financial position. "She hasn't!" said Mrs Fairfax, bluntly. Mr Rawson wheeled round in his chair. 'lndeed—er, that is very curious." He stammered. "Is it?" " Well—er !" "I'm afraid it isn't," she answered. Thoughts of Alys and not of herself permeated her every move in this tangled web she was trying to unweave. They even caused her to smile bitterly. "I am convinced Lady Greatorex does not mean to do anything'for us." The lawyer looked at her. "We know to much, you see," she went on. "You know too much. Mrs Fairfax?" He leant forward with increased interest. "Yes!" " What exactly do you mean?" Mm Fairfax looked at him calmly and theii she glanced at her little gold wrist watch. " We know there was—there is another will, for one thing. But I haven't very much time now " she broke off suddenly. "Another will? Another will!—why, how do you know? Have you got it?" 'No; it's mislaid," she answered laconically. " Sir Anthony Avrote to me after making it, the afternoon before he died," she said slowly, with a queer sort of emphasis. " Have you the letter?" Mr Rawson held out his hand. This was getting serious. He determined rather late in the day to be very obliging and kind. One never knew, and it would not do to let the lucrative management of the Greatorex affairs slip through his fingers, if there were indeed another will. " No, I haven't it with me." Mrs Fairfax hated nothing more than a lie; but

as she had often told Alys, there were limes when Hie truth was far more wicked than any lie one could possibly invent, and with feminine delight she was thoroughly enjoying the telling of this one.

"That is a pity," Mr Rawson murmured. It sounded as if he only halfbelieved her. That was also a pity, for Mrs Fairfax noted it and rose. She took a pleasant but quite firm farewell. She walked to Cannon Street Station, and there entered one of the telephone boxes. After a moment or two she got her number.

"Is that Dr Fellows? Yes, it is Mrs Fairfax speaking. I only want to say that I don't want you to tell anyone, not even Sir Anthony's solicitors, about his visit to you that afternoon. What? Oh, of course, I know it's a professional secret; but I thought you might perhaps mention it to them, thinking it would be a kindness to me after what I told you to-day. What? Yes, I knew you'd understand. Thanks so much. Possibly we'll have to tell them later; but just at present Yes, I will come and see you again, and let you know everything. Thanks ever so much. Good-bye!"

CHAPTER XII. The days passed wearily at the Court for Lady Greatorex. First' there had been the necessary period during which the blinds had been closely drawn and a dim light reigned over the lofty, gloomy old rooms, and then there had been "the funeral. This, in spite of the notoriety of the whole tragedy, had been a very quiet and comparatively small affair. After it, with considerable heartlessness, the young widow had with her own hands thrown up the heavy blinds of the hall and drawing room, not troubling to smother her exclamations of relief." The past was dead and could not be recalled; why should she bother about it? But the future troubled her a little — vaguely, it was true, but menacingly nevertheless. It was all very well for her to ask_ herself why she should bother about it; but there were Elise and her husband to be reckoned with, and dealt with, and it was no light matter. She beat her foot in its thin and elegant walking, boot upon the parquet of the sitting room floor, as she sat there at an open bureau doing accounts. The lawyer had readily let her have some money; in fact, until things were settled up a bit, to use his own expression, she could draw on the bank up to about a thousand pounds, as the sum was there standing to the late Sir Anthony's account. She bit her pen trying to recall for the twentieth time Mr Rawson's voice and expression as he had said this, and informed her at the same time it might take some weeks to settle things up. What exactly had he meant? She more than shrewdly suspected that he meant he was expecting another will to be produced. Something or other in his tone and whole bearing had not escaped her alert faculties, and she was absolutely certain of it. He seemed to look upon her as an interloper, although an interloper who must be humoured and very much so, in case she became a permanent one. But suddenly she called herself severely to task for being too imaginative and sensing trouble, which in all probably did not ■ really exist. Who could have any interest in. a will. Only the Fairfaxes, and they would have produced it long ago had they had one. Also Sir Anthony would never v have given it to them anyway, if he had made a new one; so what was she troubling about? Yet she felt certain for all her powers of self-persuasion that her position was not safe —that Rawson was watching and waiting, although he had not appeared openly suspicious. She went through into her bedroom and slipped on a loose full coat and a simple black hat and made ready to go out for "a sharp walk in the grounds. She had resolutely refused to wear the conventional widow's weeds in spite of all Elise's insistence. Old Sir Anthony had received no one, and she did not in the least expect people to leave cards, to inquire for her in the customary way.

The .warm afternoon air made the room seem stifling, and impatiently she -went to the window and threw open the casement with a jerk which made it quiver. She was sick of being boxed up in the house. How much longer would she be obliged ttf stay in retirement? She uttered an exclamation of disgust as she asked herself the question, cursing convention, and all the irksome customs surrounding., a woman in her position. Then there came a little smile sweeping over her face, chasing away the frowning look from her eyes. Her position—what was the use of it if she could not do as she wished? What a fool she had been not to think of it before. Why, she could go abroad, and away from this dull place, then all those gorgeous frocks hidden away would no longer be useless. She glanced longingly at the deep wardrobes. She could even go on the stage again, or go and gamble at Monte Carlo—anything. She was free, and nothing that she might do would alter the fact of the money being hers! Yes, that was what she would do—leave this place, leave England, and have some fun. A brilliant r flush' rose to her unusually _ pale cheeks at the excitemesnt of the idea. In a few days, at the most a week or more, she could get something definite out of the lawyer—a large sum to carry her over while she left him to clear up the estate ready for her return. As for Elise and Jim they might be difficult perhaps, but—suddenly a solution of the problem flashed into her mind with lightning brilliance. She bit her lips, and her eyes glittered wickedlv as they fixed with an almost hypnotic stare on the red

roof of a small gabled house just visible beyond the Fairfaxes'. Brian Tennant! Why had she not thought of him before? The strangeness of her position seemed to have blunted her wits these last few days. She felt angry to think that she had not thought of using an instrument so ready to hand. Elise and Jim Reid were here at the Court, and she could be freed of them for ever. Tennant knew as well as she that they were wanted by the French police iii connection with the robbery and death of his friend, and he would be glad to hand them over. - She clutched at her veil with hot, trembling fingers, and, caching up the first pair of black gloves, p>illed them on recklessly. A letter was lying on a table by the door. It was addreseed to her, and typewritten. Another business communication from Mr Rawson she supposed. But that would do presently. She slipped it into her handbag. No one was about in the hall to ask her where she was going. She shrugged her shoulders as she recalled that she had heard the car go out, and concluded that probably Jim was joy-riding Elise up to town. Well, it did not matter. They would soon see, she murmured between clenched teeth, as she passed swiftly down the drive. Averting her head as she passed the Fairfax house and the one next to it, she crossed over towards "The Hut," which lay farther down the road, and rang the bell.

An elderly woman came to the door and answered a little hesitatingly that she expected Mr Tennant back in a few minutes. This visitor, in mourning, puzzled her somewhat.

"I am so sorry he is out: I wonder — might I come in and wait? I am Lady Greatorex." The demand was uttered in a sweet, low voice. The name acted like a charm to the rather flustered housekeeper. Would my lady come in and wait by all means? She led the way into the study. Ladv Greatorex sank into a chair. But the instant the door was closed she stood erect. By advancing only one step she could read the names on the envelopes and papers scattered on the writing desk. An open letter lay there. At its head was printed 'Arnold Jones. Detective Agency." She read it excitedly with parted lips. Sir Anthony had been to a restaurant named Vanelli's, near Baker street, and they were searching for a will he had made!"

She had only just time to register these two facts mentally when a step in the hall startled her. Like a flash she was in her chair again with her. back to the bureau as the door opened. (To be Continued.)