THE HOUSE ON THE RIVER

Stratford Evening Post, Issue 85, 8 February 1928, Page 3

THE HOUSE ON THE RIVER

by FRED M, WHITE. \ Author of “Thft Cardinal Moth,” “The Ci'imson Blind.” “The Man Called Cilrey,” etc., etcCHAPTER V.—A BOOTLESS ERRAND. At _ the same time;, there w ( , s margin to simro, because, within an hour the moon' would he up, and CJumt was taking no risks so fur as tMit was concerned. He stood outside the ' library window presently, under the shadow of the house with Ins hands on the clasp. Ho knew t nit the application of a stout kuif'ehlado would be sufficient, for iris purpose. A quarter of an hour later, und the tiling would he done. Ho lelt in his pocket for the casyi of tools that ho had picked up on In's way If >st the old hoat-house, and the touch of the cold steel seemed to give him fresh courage. Not that ho needed the stimulant, ho told himself hall-Loa'stlully. for ho was never more cool and collected in his lifeStill, he could hear the regular piston beating of his heart as li e worked iu the indigo dusk of the night, lie could catch the faint warm smell of leather in the, library ils he pushed hack the catch. Then a point of golden flame stabbed into Hie dniknostt of the? feud a tense silence broke into a shatter o( sounds with the tilunpiug of feet, and the crackling of parted bushes.

In an intsant, Quint realized that he had been betrayed. ■ He wriggled hiick like an cel. This vas a phase of the game at which ho was emphatically at homy-. Thrusting Ids hag of tools deeper in his pocket, he headed instinctively for the river. But he was not clear yet. Two dark figures rushed him from either side, cunningly and wa'rily. like men who know their work. Quick as light. Quint feinted as l he darted between them, side-stepped in that priceless way of his, and the two minions of the law crashed together with ,s tunping force. Quint Mis through now, and grimily set Ill's face- towards- tfici goal—the big lodge gates leading to th e Windsor Bond. He ran on, and that great chest of his was Billing aloud for a halt. Would lie he safe, now, lie wondered ? But where wa« ho going to find safety? The old boat-house, perh,aps, for the next few hours, bub after tlx.it, what? His senses were wonderfully alert as he crept into the old boat-house. He •seemed to feel more tha'n see that, he was not alone. He rctiched out his arms in a -cfirkncss that was pungent with the smell of decaying wood, and grasped something with those wire a'nd whipcord muscles ol his.

‘‘Please, please,” a pa rued voice, whispered. ‘‘Michel, I didn’t know you were as strong as all that.” “Ennie!” Quint gasped, with n vibrant note of thankful hie-ss that had almost a touch of tears in it. I ‘‘My dearest- girl, wliit madness haw I brought you hero?” 1 hen you re not glad to see me, Mike?” , “God knows I am,” Quint almost sobbed. “But why do you take tin's risk What real good can von do: Mul suppose yon ’ had been’ scan ? Wui’ro almost as well-known as I am!” -“Not in my present ,Qirb.” Emile chuckled. “You ■ can’t roe. of course), but I’m iu by lady-burglar kit It was quite easy, Mike, i went back to the flat and changed without anybody being a bit the wiser. Then I caino down hero by train, 'because I 'could' nof wait. I knpw you’d come Hick bore to hide the tools. Well, von got the papers, f sunpose?” “Indeed, T haven’t,” Quint groaned 1 . “! failed, Ennie, failed miserably _ I don’t know what happened, but the police were there, an ad if I hiridn’t been what I am they would have got me to a certainty. It’s no use- talking about things, little air!, not a hit- Eve had a lug cl ■twice "and missed it, and the opportunity is never likely to occur again. I’m done old girl. The best thing | can do is to follow Somerset’s example a'nd give myself up to the authorities.” “Oh, not yet, not yet,” Mimic urged. ,! ! think there’s just one other way. Suppose you could go into hiding so securely that they couldn’t find yon? Couldn’t yon show mo -i

wav then in which i could help? Oh, .surely there is some way! So long as you have your freedom, everything is not lost.” ' I'n the boat-houso now', Kmiic could just catch sight of Quint’s fate. It was tense and drawn witli the rackiiitr emotions of the moment, the palms of his hands were- wet. and his hrowl seemed to he frozen into a- frown. Physical courage lie had to the full, moral courage he had never lacked, hut the spiritual heart in him was slipping away, and lie knew it. ‘‘ I am afraid it’s no use, Knnie,” he said. “I. have done, all I. can, and that’s all there is to it- I don’t thing I’m a- coward. I have carried through too many a tight light for people to say that of me, hint f am not going to drap von into this dirty business. I don’t know how to thank you for what you have done already” ‘‘’then why try?” Knnie asked. ‘‘We have- always been the hesf ol pais, haven’t we, Mike.” “More than that,” Quint groaned. “Much more than that, though. I never dared to say so, and because why ? Me cause you are the- only -daughter of great millionaire, and T am just a rotter of a sportsman without- a. hob in the world. Now, 1 think you understand, only I’ve never dared to say so much before.” .He bowed his head in his hands for a moment in an attitude of utter dispair. I nstiiiet i vly Knmie’s srm went round his shoulders. At the touch, ho sat. up again suddenly. “This won’t- do, Knnie,” he said“Oli no. .Inst think a moment. Perhaps, some day —but there never will he a- some da'y. Nothing ea.u he done now.” “All,there you are finite wrong.” Knnio said with a queer little; catch in her voice. “Von have forgotten about my eccentric nude-” “Your uncle,” Quint- echoed, “Why. what’s he got to do with it ”

(To be Continued).