Flotsam

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 102, 21 July 1927, Page 12

Flotsam

By

Coralie Stanton and Heath Hosken

A athora of " The Real Mra. Dare/* “ The Man She Never Married " Sword and Plough," &c., £xc.

To have Flotsam, i.e., goods floating on the water; Jetsam, i.e., goods cast out of a ship during a storm, and Wilsam, i.e., goods driven ashore when ships are wrecked. These wrecks were called by the vulgar, Goods of God’s mercy. (Ancient Charter of Dover.) SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CHAPTER I.—John Bolton kneels on the shingle beside the animate form of a lad who has just been rescued from drowning. The saitor who has brought the boy from the shipwreck can give no information about him. Later, inquiries proving futile, John Bolton carries the lad to his motor, covers him with rugs, and drives off. The boy refuses the stimulating drink that John offers and wants to go. This request is refused. Questioned the lad states that he is Jack King. He and his father were bound for South America. Complains of feeling sick and collapses. Arrived at Saye Castle, John Bolton’s home, Mrs. Manton, the housekeeper, undertakes to get the boy to bed, but he fights, kicks, bites, struggles, and makes off. John Bolton catches him and he capitulates by fainting. He is got to bed and Dr. Goring is sent for. About six in the evening Mrs. Manton seeks her master and informs him that Jack King is a girl,—a young woman about eighteen. Dr. Goring says the patient must be kept perfectly quiet for a few days. John Bolton communicates with the steamship offices in London. Scotland Yard tells a sordid story. The girl’s father is really Michael Dennis Croft, company promoter, whose gigantic failure has engulfed the savings of millions of hard workers. His daughter, Jacqueline, is penniless. CHAPTERS I (Continued) and 11. John Bolton writes to his fiancee, Lady Maud Genge, tells the whole story of Jacqueline, and asks her to help him. He has his first interview with Jacqueline. She reveals herself as a striking-looking girl, full of character. She has taken the news of her father’s death quietly. Lady Maud Genge, in the Swiss mountains, reads in the paper of the death of Dennis Croft. She talks it over with her maid, Clarice. Later she muses over her past life, her runaway marriage, her divorce, her father’s accession to the peerage. A letter comes to her from John Bolton, giving her the history of the arrival of Jacqueline, and expressing a wish for her presence and advice. Lady Maud gives her maid orders to pack. She is returning to England. She spends the night at Folkestone after crossing the Channel, and in the morning hires a car and motors to Saye Castle. John Bolton is not there to meet her, but Parker, the butler, and Mrs. Manton, welcome her. The housekeeper gives her the latest news of the new protegee, and says how fond the master is of her.

CHAPTERS 111 and IV.—Lady Maud wanders round the gardens and comes upon Jacqueline. She gets into conversation and tries to win the girl, apparently succeeding. Maud discovers that Jacqueline is well educated. John Bolton arrives about five o’clock. He is pleased that the two women are friends. Lady Maud goes back to her hotel, where John dines with her that evening. When they are taking coffee the subject of Jacqueline is introduced. His fiancee refuses to be dragged into mothering her. When John asks her to do this she says, “Not on your life!” She leaves the ultimatum with him that he loses her if he keeps Jacqueline. CHAPTER X. “Dear Miss Croft,” he wrote, “I was sorry that you were not in town with Lady Maud, and that I had not the pleasure of renewing our acquaintance at lunch yesetrday” (he wrote this some days before he received the invitation to Saye) “especially as, from some remarks of hers, I gathered that I have been the unwilling cause of worrying you. I want you to accept my profound apologies and to believe me when I say that the last thing in the world I should wish to do would be to cause you offence in any way. “I do not suppose that there is any likelihood of my seeing you again, since it is highly improbable that I shall revisit Saye Castle. This is my excuse for writing you this letter. I cannot endure the thought of your misunderstanding me. “Pray do not trouble to reply to this which I am impelled irresistibly to write, and believe me, my dear Miss Croft, to remain,—Always yours, Martin Stone.” A stupid and objectless letter to write; but it gave him a certain sense of relief. He felt when it was posted that he had in a way delivered his soul. And he never regretted it. The letter aroused in Jacqueline mingled feelings of fear, annoyance, resentment and regret. So Lady Maud and Mr. Stone had discussed her. So Lady Maud had meant her to go to London to meet Mr. Stone at lunch. How she detested her! And how she hated herself for letting her feelings get the better of her the other day. What a fool she had been! She tore Stone’s letter into minute fragments. She had not the remotest intention of answering it. She resolutely set herself to put Martin Stone out of her mind. She knew within herself that he could mean no good to her. She prayed vaguely and formlessly that he should never cross her path again. When three or four days later Maud casually remarked that Mr. Stone was coming down on the following Friday, Jacqueline received the news without comment, though there was tumultuous alarm in her heart. But, after all was said and done, what had Martin Stone to do w r ith her? And Stone came as arranged, with half a dozen other people, and Jacqueline did her best to make herself agreeable in her quaint, retiring fashion. It was the duty she owed to Mr. Bolton, who had been so incredibly kind to her. Stone’s behaviour was beyond reproach. Maud was watching him, lynx-eyed all the time. And he knew it. He was conscious, too, that Bolton was closely observing him. He knew that he had to sustain a difficult part, and he did not fail. He did not actually avoid little Miss Jack, but it would seem that he evaded a tete-a-tete. He made a point of paying particular attention to Maud and gained some solace from the fact that in consequence Bolton grew increasingly more friendly toward him. He kept his eyes very wide open and very soon realised the way the land lay. None but a blind fool could fail to see that the main object in life, as far as Bolton was concerned, was Miss Jack. It grew more obvious every day. One must need be an even bigger fool not to observe the distress, however well disguised, of Maud. Stone had, as it were, smelt a rat, at the outset. Now he knew. “What are you going to do about it?” he asked her, after a frank exchange of confidences late one night. “There’s notihng to be done,” she said, “unless someone steps in and takes her away from him.” “I see. But who?” “I had vague hopes that it might be you.” “So I thought. But I don’t seem to have a dog’s chance. Anyone with half an eye can see that she simply worships Bolton.” Maud winced. She had asked for this, but the bald statement was like the slash of a whip across her face. He saw her distress and laid his cold hand on hers impetuously. “I’m sorry, Lady Maud But we know each other well enough to be perfectly frank.” “Horribly frank —brutally frank.” “It is the truth.” “Who knows? A mere child’s infatuation. A phase. We’ve all gone through it and survived.”

‘'You don’t think it serious enough to worry about them?” ‘‘No,” she answered boldly. “But you wish that you and Bolton were married?” "Yes: if you want to know the truth.” “Y r ou’d feef more secure?” “As you say. But —look here, my good man, you seem to be in love with Jacqueline. You’re a man. You ought not to want any help from me. Go in and win her. Take her away. The girl must go. You must see to that. John is a silly 012. idiot and looks like making a pei'fect exhibition of himself.” “And you look like not becoming John Bolton’s wife and mistress of a million or so.” •'Exactly.” “And what really is the question?” “I,” said Maud, “cannot afford not to marry John Bolton. If I do not marry him I am absolutely on the rocks—bankruptcy, oh, mon Dieu, “And I can help you?” “You can take Jacqueline out of the way. If you do so, you will earn my eternal gratitude.” “But that’s easier said than done. I haven’t a look in at present. And I’ve precious few chances of getting a look in.” “Oh, but you’re a man.” “That’s all very well,” he laughed. “So’s Bolton.” Maud bit her lip and was silent. Stone watched her curiously, stealthily. He was Wondering how much further she would go. And a few minutes afterwards he got the shock of his life when he discovered just how far she really would go. “Can I trust you?” she asked suddenly, breaking a long, tense silence. “Absolutely. Surely you ought to know that.” “Well, I’ll risk it,” she said in a voice that had all of a sudden become lifeless and weary. “I’ll tell you just who Jacqueline is. You have probably wondered.” “I have and have made inquiries. Who is she?” Maud shivered. “She is the daughter of Michael Dennis Croft.” “Who’s he, anyway?” “You have never heard of him?” “Never.” “Or the wreck of the Queen of Peru?” “Sorry, but I haven’t. Ought I to? I so rarely look at a newspaper. “But what has the wreck of the ‘Queen of Peru’ to do with little Miss Jack?” “Do you seriously mean to tell me?” asked Maud incredulously, “that you have never heard of Michael Dennis Croft of the United Temperance and Equity Trust, who robbed millions of poor people of their hard-earned savings, and left them ruined and penniless and then bolted to escape arrest? Never heard of Michael Dennis Croft?” “I’m sorry; but I haven’t. But what has he to do with our little Miss Jack ?” “You never read about the collision of the ‘Queen of Peru’ near here?” “I’m hanged if I did. I am frightfully out of it. What happened?” “The ‘Queen of Peru’ ran ashore in a fog off Shingleness and all the passengers and crew were saved except one—you surely read about it?” “Not a word. But I’m jolly glad they all got off, all the same. Who was the unlucky blighter who missed it?” “Michael Dennis Croft.” “And who the dickens is he?” “He was travelling under the name of Thomas King, with his supposed son, Jack King—as a matter of fact, Master Jack King was a girl disguised as a boy. She was saved. John found her on the beach and took her back to Saye, not knowing who she was, thinking at the time, of course, that she was boy.” “Gad! —that’s a good story. And where is she now?” “She’s Miss Jack.” “Gdod Lord!” gasped Stone; and then, after a long silence he said very quietly: “Lady Maud, I cannot understand why you have told me all this. If you think that I should ever use it to influence Miss Croft’s feelings you have utterly misunderstood my way of carrying on this troublesome earthly life. I’m inclined to disbelieve the whole story. I think you are pulling my leg. Bolton is not going to take all these risks for a small girl washed up on Shingleness—the daughter, as you say, of a notorious criminal of whom, unfortunately, I have never heard or come into contact with. Bolton is a silly old idiot; but he isn’t the man to palm off the daughter of a notorious criminal on his friends. Lady Maud, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. You are overdoing it.” He laughed uproariously. (To be continued.)