SHORT STORIES.

Otago Witness, Issue 3418, 19 September 1919, Page 65

SHORT STORIES.

[All Rights Rkservicd.] • HER RANSOM. By Percy James Beebner. A dull morning had turned into a wet afternoon, and the weather had a depressing effect on me. By arrangement a cab was waiting for me at the small wayside station, and as we splashed along the muddy country road I found myself worrying over the recent interview I had had with .my guardian. His advice always sounded kind and sensible, but somehow it always irritated me. I suppose my independent spirit had much that was headstrong' in it, and I was convinced that I should have liked Charles Neville much better if my father had not left him my guardian. " Of course, you must do as you like, Nora," he said when I told him that I was going as a companion to an old lady in Yorkshire. " Except as regards your financial affairs I have no longer any control over you." "I suppose yoxi do not like my going?" " No. There is no necessity for youto do anything of this kind ; you are too young and far too pretty to be entirely independent, and I should much prefer your staying with Mrs Lucas for the present." " Where you can so conveniently look after me," I said. " No, I am tired of doing nothing. I am nearly twenty, and quite old enough to take care of myself. , Besides, all I have in the world is a hundred a year, -which you will go on doling out to me in quarterly instalments until I am five- and -twenty, and -' " Unless you marry before then with my consent," he said quietly. In that case I hand you over the capital." " I am never likely to ask your consent, so I will fill the intervening years with work.'' He shrugged his shoulders, a habit which always made me angry. It seemed to express such superior knowledge joined to such profound pity for my ignorance. He was a barrister, rather a well-known one, but that did not mean that he knew everything. " When do you go to Yorkshire':" he asked. " To-morrow." ■" You did not think it necessary to tell me until the last moment, until it was all settled?" " Was it necessary?" I asked, but tha pained look in his face touched mo a little. "What -would have been the use? You never do agree with me." *' I only know of one other point of difference between us," he said. "My objection to Roger Stoneham." " For which you are unable to give any sufficient reason," I retorted. " Unwilling rather than unable, perhaps,' he returned. " But let that pass. I suppose you have taken steps to find out all about this Mrs Roworth you are going to in Yorkshire/" " Yes, and Mrs Lucas has seen her letters.' I think this statement lay.a little heavily on my conscience as I drew towards my journey's end. It was true enough, but it was Roger who had made the inquiries, and I knew this would not have satisfied my guardian, so the statement was a misleading one so far as ho was concerned. I wanted to get away from him, and- from Mrs Lucas, and, for a time, even from Roger. A month ago Roger Stoneham had asked me to marry him, and I had said "No" : not very decidedlv perhaps, but he ouite understood that I was not willing to give up my freedom yet, and I had given him no right to 'suppose that, when I did, it would be to him. I would not have told my guardian that I had said "No" to Roger for anything j he would have supposed that I had taken his advice, and that was the last thing in the world I intended to do. Besides, I had not really made, up my mind - about Roger. I liked him, bub I wasn't sure that I loved him. I did not want to give him any promise now, but I might be very glad to do so presently. The fact of the matter was that I hated having Charles Neville as my gus*dian. My father had been a most eccentric man, but the most eccentric thing he had done was leaving me in the care of Charles Neville. The terms of the trust were utterly absurd. At nineteen I was free to order my life as I would, but if I married -without my guardian's consent my hundred a year * ceased until I was twenty-five, when I got my little capita! of about three thousand pounds. Any girl of spirit would have resented the situation, I argued, but somehow the wet afternoon and the early closing in of the November day took' much from the glamour of the'new start I was making in life. The cab drew up before a door in a high wall, and the driver got down. " This is the Grange, miss. Shall I ring the bell?" " Do. please." I did not want to get wet, so I waited in the, cab until the door was opened bv an angular, hard-faced woman, who looked at me critically, and then ordered the driver to carry in my luggage. My heart sank a little 'lower than it was already. This was evidently some cantankerous old servant, who probably resented my advent, and would take every opportunity of making me uncomfortable. " You ve brought bad weather with you, Misa Heathcote," she said, not unpleasantly, as she led the way along the covered path which ran from the door in the wall to the house. "You'll be glad of some tea, but very likely you would like to go to your room first." It was a largo house with long passages in it, and full of echoes. It gave the impression of being half empty —of not having sufficient people in ik It waa de/»

pressing, but my room was delightful, a chintzy room with a low ceiling and a window looking over the gardens. Of course, nothing could be anything but depressing on such an afternoon as this. When I went down the angular woman was waiting for me in the hall, and tooK me to a room at the back of the house, very cosy and old-fashioned. She closed the door, and crossed to the little teatable which stood by the fire. 'You will find that chair comfortable, she said, and, to my surprise, she sat down to pour out the tea. • "When am I to see Mrs. Eoworth?" I " I am Mrs Eoworth," she answered, handing me my tea. "You!" I exclaimed, and then I went on hastily: "Of course, it is not really strange, but somehow I had expected Mrs Eoworth would be different." "Don't apologise, my. dear. I can assure you 1 am very lonely here, and need a companion badly. I am not fond of servants. I keep only one in the house, and as she was getting tea I opened the door." " Only one servant in a house like this?" " Don't be alarmed," she answered. You won't be required to do any menial ■work. A woman cornea in every day—two when cleaning ha 3 to be done; and I keep a good many of the rooms shut up to save work. If you don't like epiders, I should advise you not to go into any room when you find the door locked." The girl, who cleared the tea things away was quite young, and not too bright, I fancied. She seemed uncomfortable ■whenever Mrs Eoworth looked at her. It was certainly a curious situation I had come to, but during the evening my * spirits revived considerably. Mrs Eoworth improved upon acquaintance, and became quite hilarious over a game of bridgepatience. . That night I slept like a top. If there were any sounds about the house during the hours of darkness they were not sufficient to rouse me. I was down quite early next morning, but Mrs Eoworth was already up. She must have been well over sixty, ,but she was exceedingly vigorous. "You'll want to write and tell vour friends you have arrived safely," she said after breakfast. "Don't worry about me; I-am always busy in the morning. That room opposite is the drawing room; there •is a piano. Play and sing if you want to; you won't disturb anybody. There's the garden if you want to go out." That evening we played bridge-patience again, and afterwards she would persist in telling my fortune by the cards. I laughed, but quickly understood it was no laughing matter with her. .She believed in it, and was most elaborate in her methods. "Why, my dear," she exclaimed, "I didn't know you had money." "It is a very small amount, Mrs Eoworth." "Three thousand pounds if it's a penny, unless the -cards are deceiving me," and she touched two or three of them, as though she expected me to understand. " But there is trouble coming unless you are careful: There is a dark man and there is a fair one. Oh, my dear, take my advice and have nothing to do with the dark man." "And the fair one?" I asked. She dealt out half a dozen cards rapidly, " Happiness, prosperity, everything you can desire. Marry the fair one quickly. Ah, there is colour in your cheek! The cards are speaking the truth. Wait." She gathered the cards together and dealt out twenty-six of them. "Does his Christian name begin with E?" she asked. "You are very wonderful, Mrs Eoworth." " It's the cards. People are so sceptical in these days." Eeally it was wonderful. Eoger Stoneham was fair; I think that was why I first liked him. My capital was about three thousand pounds. I was certainly impressed with Mrs Eoworth's fortunetelling when I went up to bed that night. Thinking about it kept me awake, for hours it seemed, and when at last I became drowsy only part of my brain appeared to go to sleep. I was still halfconscious of my surroundings, knew that I was in a large house with many locked - up rooms in it, which might hold all manner of secrets. I felt rather lonely, as though no one else were sleeping under the same roof, and then quite suddenly the whole house seemed to be alive. I was sitting up in bed, wide awake now. Had I heard a scream cr had I been dreaming? Dreaming, of course, and I was about to snuggle under the bedclothes again when I threw them back and sprang out of bed. There was a cry, distant but clear, and it \Yas certainly in the house. I will not say I was not afraid; I was, •but it was the kind of fear which compelled me to do something. In a second or two I had put on my dressing-gown and was in the passage. I went along the passage and across the landing to Mrs Eoworth's room; but as I was about to knock at the door I stopped. Was I certain I had not been dreaming? The house was still now, the tick of the clock in the below alone breaking the Silence. I did not knock. I went back to my room. I said nothing to Mrs Eoworth about my disturbed night. With daylight I felt convinced that I had been alarmed without adequate cause. After breakfast I went into the garden, which was. large and in rather a tangled condition. Mrs Eoworth had told me that a gardener came in two or three times a we.ek, and I caught sight of him digging amongst some cabbages. I walked in his direction —I felt like talking to somebody; but the moment he saw me ho slouched away. I found him later in another part of the far den, but before I could get near to im he walked away again. When I entered the house I went up to my room for a book which I had left there, and as I was coming down again

I heard Mrs Eoworth speaking angrily. She was in one of the rooms to the right. " 'You'll do it carefully or not at all. I will not be " Someone evidently interrupted her, but it was only a murmur that I heard. " Very well, see that you do," she returned, and she came into the passage, slamming a door after her. I could not tell which room she came out of. "Workmen irritate me," she said when she saw me at the top of the stairs. "I suppose I'm a fool tp let the gardener do odd JOD3 about the house. You must think me a very bad-tempered person." I said I didn't. Evidently there were two gardeners at "The Grange" sometimes, and if this one were like the one I had seen I hardly wondered that he tried her temper. Mrs Eoworth and I were together for the rest of the day. She would make- me talk about myself—said it made her feel young again. "And I am inclined to feel rather old to-day," she went on. " The fact is, my ►uear, I was dreaming about you all night." "What were you dreaming?" . Was this remarkable old lady uncannily clairvoyante as well as a fortune-teller? "It's the cards—your fortune," she said. " I had a horrible dream that you were in the power of the dark man. My dear, marry the fair one as** soon as you can. There is a fair one, isn't there?" " I know a fair man," I said, and perhaps I blushed a little. " Marry him," she repeated, and then, looking at me strangely,' she went on: " I believe you have said 'No' to him. Take it back, my dear, while you can. Would you like to ask him to come here and see you?" " Oh, no," I answered. "Why not? I am good enough as a chaperon e." " Dark or fair, I have no intention of marrying yet." I must have spoken very decidedly, for she changed the conversation at once. It was rather late when we went to bed, but I did not go to sleep. I never felt more wide awake in my life. There was no attempt to delude myself that I was dreaming when a scream raag the stillness. I was out of bed in an instant. I felt sure that it was Mrs Eoworth who had screamed. I believe I was less afraid than on the previous night. Mrs Eoworth was curious. She had strange dreams—she had told me so, —tfnd I, thought that she must have cried out in one of her dreams. Once again I slipped on my dressinggown and went hastily down the passage to her room. This time I did not hesitate. I. knocked, opened the door, and went in. There was no answer, and I crossed to the bed. It was empty. I was .quite unprepared for this, and I stood for a moment unable to move. Fear had suddenly gripped me. Then, with a great effort, I turned, and immediately hands were over my mouth and rough arms about my body. In a few minutes I was lifted, almost thrown, on to Mrs Eoworth's bed, my arms and legs firmly bound. " You can feel what this is," said a man, touching my forehead with something cold. " It's a revolver, and if you utter a sound, except to answer questions, I pull the trigger." A candle was lighted, and I saw there were three men in the room. " You have money," said the man beside me. " No—only " " Never mind where it is. You- have money, and until the money is in our hands you will remain a prisoner. If it is not ours within a week from to-night you will be quietly got rid of. Before morning you will be far away from th& Grange, so you need not think of rescue. Bring the candle," he went on, turning to his companion, " and paper and ink." These were brought, and the man lifted me into a sitting position. "I will undo your hands," he said, "and you will write as I dictate." " I shall not." " We shall see," he answered grimly, and then as he began to unfasten my hands he stopped. "What was that?" I had not heard anything, but the other two men left the room quickly. The man beside me continued to listen, and presently there was a sound of a scuffle on the landing. Then the door was burst open and the two men returned, dragging a third between them. " Now we can make her do anything," laughed one. " This is her lover —been spying, he has, and got trapped." I gaVe a little cry of bewilderment. It was Eoger Stoneham. " Stand him up against the wall there," said the man beside me, and then, turning to me, he went on: " Now, will you write the letter. If it isn't commenced at once I will nut a bullet into this fool of a lover of yours." ""What are you asking her to do?" said Eoger. He was out of breath, but he spoke calmly. " We want three thousand pounds for her ransom," was the short answer. " We know all about her guardian. She cannot fool ns." " Will you let me speak to Miss Heathcote alone for a few moments?" Eoger said after a pause. The men hesitated. " That can't hurt. They're both bound," said one. ■ " We don't want to have any death in this business if it can bo avoided." "Verv well," muttered the man beside me. " We'll give you a quarter of an hour. It is death or the letter then." My brain was in a whirl. I could not arrange mv thoughts in anv order. Even Eocev seemed unreal. " Can you ever forgive me, Nora, for bringing 'you to this?" he said, as soon as we were alone. He had shuffled across the room and sat on the edge of tho bed.

" Is Mrs Roworth in league with these men?" I asked. "I am afraid so." "But you made inquiries," I.said. "Indeed, you first called my attention to the advertisement.'' "I know, and yesterday something irresistibly compelled me to com© and see that you were- all right. What I heard in the village convinced me of your danger, and I broke into the house tonight to save you, with this result," and he lifted up his bound wrists. "But there is a way out. I can give guarantees that will satisfy these men if you will give me the right to do so. Promise to marry me, Nora." " How will that help us?" "Oh, don't waste time, dear. We have only a quarter of an hour, and my life is in jeopardy, and yours, too, perhaps. Promise to marry me and it can easily be arranged." " Could you give me the guarantees without my promise?" I asked. Never in my life had I felt less inclined to marry him than now. " iNora, you do not understand. I " "And you, too, have made a slight mistaken, Mr Stoneham. Miss Heathcote does not come of age until she is twenty-five." Roger stumbled as" he si-arted to his feet. The door was opened quietly. I thought it was the gardener I had seen that morning who had entered the room; certainly the clothes were the same, but the man- was my guardian. " The police have already secured your accomplices; this officer will see to you," he said quietly. My guardian never shrugged his shoulders once as he told the whole story. He had not always trusted Roger Stoneham, but he had never guessed near the real truth. Charles Neville had followed me into Yorkshire to make inquiries about Mrs Roworth, and learnt in the village that she had only just taken The Grange furnished, and that she lived alone with only one servant in the house. Then in the village he saw a man he recognised, a criminal who had not long finished a term of imprisonment, and when he found that this man came to The Grange he feared the worst. He at once communicated with the police, and became the gardener that day to watch the house. He and the police had entered at dusk, and had been on watch all night. " You were in the hands of a notorious gang, Nora. The whole thing was carefully planned, and they attempted to frighten you first so that you might be the more ready to fall into the trap. Stoneham wanted your money." This was the explanation of Mrs Roworth's wonderful fortune-telling, then. If I had asked her to let Rodger come and see me, probably nothing would have happened. My guardian was a 'dark man. I hadn't thought of that. "All for my poor three thousand pounds," I said. " Yonr father was eccentric, Nora. I thought that I was the only person who knew the facts of the case, but somehow Stoneham must have heard of them — through an eavesdropping servant, perhaps. His mistake was in thinking that you,came of age when you were twentyone. I was not to tell you until you married with my consent, or unless emergency should arise. It has arisen. Your father handed me nearly a quarter of a million of money, which I hold in trust for you. His whole idea was to save you from fortune-hunters." "A quarter of a million !" I gasped. " It has been, and is, a difficult trust," he said, "because—well, because you didn't seem to like the trustee. Your father did, you see, and hoped " I don't know quite what I said; perhaps it was more the way I looked, but the next moment Charlie was telling me what he declared he had been longing to tell me for years—ever since I was in short frocks, in fact. In a sense, I suppose, he is still my guardian, but he i 3 something far dearer than that.