The White Glove

Sun (Christchurch), Volume II, Issue 414, 8 June 1915, Page 2

The White Glove

CHAPTER Vl. (Continued,) CONCERNS SIR SOMERS. The wooden bell of the telephone buzzed suddenly, and he started. Before removing the receiver he replaced the glove in the box, covered it again -rilh the tray, and carefully locked the k«x.

Well, who is it?" he inquired/sharply. "Oh, you, Somers.' I thought you . -were always in bed by 12 when not at ••|lie House. You told me so once. Yes? ! Indeed? When did you see .her-? Old i 'Shaxby! . You don't say so! Why did ; ko call to see her? A friend 'of yours. | ,€>h, I know he is. Pretty cool, wasn't i 'ill I know, I know they are going 1 to arrest me to-morrow; please don't ■remind me. I'm up to my eyes setting , My papers" and things in order. Heaven • -Inows what the end of it all will be. Thank you; it was good of you to tell ; me. You see, I can't bear to face her . as things are now. I can't prove an i alibi. Nobody saw me from the time I left Lady Maryon's until my man i awoke me next morning. There isn't ' a scrap of evidence that I' can give in ,my defence. All my friends know how . I hated Alwyn Courtney. . I used -to ! «ay- openly that I hated him, and on '. the very night' of his death, within a '■ few hours of ""his death, X, as good as « told Doris that I wished that he,were • iead. How can she do otherwise than. 1 wrapect-—? Very well, 11 to-morrow. ! anorning. Good-night, and thank you." He hung up the receiver, picked up / ais cigar again, and smiled., Xb\ was an ! -evil smile. There was a look of cunning in the hard, handsome face, a I wicked expression that singularly re- . aembled the look in his eyes which had' no frightened Doris when he and she , kad sat alone in the remote little room , at -Lady Meryon's ball and he had • kissed Doris Courtney so feverishly. Soon after 10 on the following morning Sir Somers Gethen rode his horse" at a walk out of the Park through ■ Stanhope Gate into Park Lane, on his way home after his daily constitutional canter in the Row. It was no fault of his that he was no horseman, and. that rude little boys in the street sometimes remarked upon his seat, for, as he was fond of telling his friends rather boastfully,, he had worked so - kard almost f rom childhood ' that; he • kad not had tinuj' even to get married.' . "And now,' Tvould £ddj- with- a - pretence of ' ( of : 6d\gfee I. ani ■ ,ioo old for to .■ Then he would tsiskle quietly,! as much ■ as ,to say, "As'.&'ough I 1 that half the matclimaaing'mothers arte ; after me for a ■ daughter or* for' some ' aieee." '•

s== BY WILLIAM LE QUEUX ■ . ■: Author of "The Room of Secrete," The Mystery of X." &c, &c.

Usually he looked as happy as a mau with an income reported to exceed sixty thousand a year is able to look, as he came out through that gate punctually at the same hour, almost at the same jninute, every morning in fine weather. But on this particular day his expression betrayed pensiveness. and some anxiety. In point of fact his thoughts, were centred on Cecil Mylne and his impending arrest on suspicion of his having by some means connived at Alwyn Courtney's death, and. then Doris Courtney drifted into his mind. He wondered what she really thought about it all, and whether she did or did not suspect her lover of being in some way to blame for her brother's death.

'' A strange girl,'' he said reflectively, "a very strange girl —apparently so frank and ingenuous, yet all the while discreet and secretive, and well able to hide her feelings. I should not be surprised, if the truth were known, if she is not, in reality, cleverer than poor Alwyn was." His horse poked his toe in the ground, pecked, and recovered himself, though not before his rider had snatched at the reins and jerked him badly with the 'curb.

. x< lJolflr- up-.clumsy brute!" he exclaimed.' "You'll be on your nose in a moment and have me sprawling in tke road. What a pretty picture-for the ha 'penny, prpers, "he murmured, some 'Sir Somers Gethen, H.R, thrown ||oin his horse in Park Bane.' How nay political opponents iWould s my constituents, too, .for 5 that matt«j|; But there, I mustn't insult the. Press* After all, it's helped to make my fortune. ' Gethen's Matchless* odd advertisement pages would look without it." He recovered his original train of thought,'.'■ Yes,", Doris Courtney—how was she taking it, he wondered again? Would she throw over Cecil: on: hearing of his arrest? He thought;* this over for some moments, that she would not. She .WJasiiiot that kind of girl. Of course, :i£ he* were found to have been actively intereistad in causing her brother's But fiow could he be? How could it be proved that Cecil Mylne, or anybody else, had done Alwyn Courtney to death, wJien .it had already been proved that the door and windows of the room where the body was found were securely 'fastened on the inside? Suffocation "by fumes? That, too, seemejf almost "impossible, for some kind of vapour must have remained in the room, odour about the body. Gas? That had been gone into thoroughly by the police Weeks ago, and Hjs own theory was that his' 'friend had ■committed suicide; by some -means whicli defied detection. Yet he had always semecl so absolutely

sane and level-headed,' and, besides, what reason could he have had for ending his life? He had all a man could wish for except a wife. His train of thought ' changed abruptly, and for a minute his mind was filled with melancholy, the outcome of self-pity. He, too, had no wife. Of what use were riches, honours, to a man without wife or children? When he died the bulk of his vast fortune would go to a distant relative, thought a portion of it He chuckled at some thought, then became serious again.

All those years of toil and anxiety and desperate ambition to v climb in the social scale, and the early years which had preceded them when he had been just junior clerk, the confidential secretary to the man in whose office he had begun life —all to what end? With a wife and son now, most of all a son, he felt that he might be one of the happiest men in England, instead of a dissatisfied and elderly bachelor, with nothing to look back upon with pleasurable memory in the way of true happiness.: ■.-: • ./ '-■

And again he thought of Doris. Ah, - what; a wife she i would be! What a woman to be proud of! Lovely to look upon, well-bred, clever and amusing; what a hostess she would make!' And the daughter of Sir C'has. Courtney, Bart. "The marriage has been arranged, and will shortly take place between Sir Somers Gethen, M.P., of 250' Park Lane, and Semperley Park, Sussex, and Doris Hilda Courtney, only daughter of How splendid that would look in the papers. Doris was 25. -His-age-was-well, no matter. A man should judge his age according to,the way he felt, and certainly he, Sir Somers, did not feel a day over 38. His thoughts ran on rapidly, crowding into his brain, which was. more than ordinarily clear that fine .morning after his healthy exercise in the fresh air. It was hot the first "time by any means thatufre :had thought of Doris Courtney inflation to himself. Every time he meJ^er^^nd^Ke' so arranged it that they m«t ■ offeip—'she appeared.to him more every respeiet. And on this particular morning, so carried away was he by his feelings, and so rapidly did his imagination work, he went so far as to" ithink of* the handsome boy-baby she would bear kim, and pictured, himself with the curly-headed little fellow upon his. knee. '' Heavens H 'he - exclaimed suddenly, as. he came. near...his,, own. front door. "I'll do it. I'll ask her this very day —or else to-morrow, "he added, remembering his many appointments; Then all at once there rose up into the vision of his imagination the tall, handsome, figure, with the firm mouth, and of the young solicitor, Cecil Mylne, the affianced lover of the woman he had just'made up his mind that, come what might}.he would force to become his wife. .

He frowned darkly. . x .,'"~■■... . Nothing as. yetvhad eVer prevented his getting what he Waiited; when fair meant -proved of no avail. In his fight to coihe up'-to. the top in his business he had ..crushed every obstacle; setting aside all : feeiings:;of' generosity, fair play, consideration,.and humanity. And thus he had succeeded.' .■ < . > '- As he clambered down"off ■ Ms. horse, at his front door, -which was round the corner of Mount ''Street J his butlercame

out with two telegrams on a salver. He opened the first and smiled. Then he.opened the second. As- he finished. reading it ,the paper slipped out of his fingers and fluttered to the ground, causing his horse, which the' groom now held, to shy violently. sv ',Qt»j(»t! quick! >\ the butler called to the footman, standing behind him in the. doorway. He had sprung forward and caught Sir Somers.;Gethen in his arms just as ho was falling/ "Go quickly for* a doctor! 'Don't stand there like ■ a stuffed -owl,!'-' he cried excitedly.. "Sir Seiners has had a stroke."' - J „, _ , ' -

CHAPTER Vlfc - SHAXBY IS "^APPOINTED. - Faithful to her .promise, Doris had written to her'brother's executors, telling them of Shaxby's visit, and explaining what he wanted, and their answers had now just reached her by the same post. They explained that • they had conferred,' and had gone so -far 'as to make enquiries about the' stranger. Little seemed known however,, and they ,said 2 that-.after deliberate consideration th&y advised her ,to refuse to accede" to "his request. * ' There is no -reason~wJbiat^ver,'' one of them added, "why ypu;should get rid of' any of your t Jfrpther ?S electrical and scientific apparatus. Though no doubt hepaid a good deal for it, fiqm first to last, it is of small intrinsic value, and vyould sell for a mere song. You are not in need of money, so why dispose of these possessions of your brother's, which you now probably look upon in j the light of mementoes? My further advice to you, if ,Mr Shaxby calls again, is not to treat him too cordially. We have ascertained that he is a crank, and to some extent he would appear to be almost an adventurer, for though apparently he has no means, he always I lives what is called 'in style.' We are Informed that he -is a friend of Sir Somers Gethen, who, of course, .you know.'' An hour or so after Doris had read the two letters a servant came up td say that Mr Shaxby had called' to see her and had been shown into the lib-_ rary. . . ......-.•.■' :"

Doris uttered an exclamation of im-. patience. What business had he to call again? And in the middle of the morning, too! She had not asked, him to; she had told him that she would communicate as soon as she-heard,from her brother's executors. ,Now she-would be forced to confront him and perform.the unpleasant task of telling him that her brother's executors to let him even inspect the apparatus. ' How would he take it? Probably he would be greatly annoyed, and he might vent his annoyance on her. . She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, touched h : er : ha.jr, . then . went downstairs. With more difficulty than on the occasion of his last visit the old man rose as she entered.

"You will pardon me —I have a touch of rheumatism, '■' he said, as she approached. "I have called to break some' news to you that I fear may give you rather a shock; Miss Courtney; but as 1 you were so kind 1 -' to me some days ago" it occurred to me that perhaps the shock : would be lessened if I were to tell, you before you read, of it in the pap'ers. Sir Somers, Gnethen was one of: my best friends. I haye known him formally., years. •;, And I know.that he was a friend of vour brother's, and of yourself. ':> : '," ■..-.. ' v - .. , : -"Why, what has happened to him?" Doris exclaimed, startled .at old Shaxby's tone. "I saw him only yester-

'"Quite so. But this morning, on returning from his vide in the Row, he had a seizure. Af this moment he is ■lying, at his house in Park' Lane in, they say, 1 a critical condition:"- : •'"Good heavens,' how dreadful! "Where did it happen? Wliat brought it on?" '■'•l was on my way to his house to see-him <by appointment, when I met one of the footmen rushing out with a bicycle. He called out to me that Sir Somers had had a stroke, that the telephone had gone out, of order, and that .he. was going for the doctor. Then jie : jumped . on .to , jiis ,bicycle and tore away towards Grosvenor Square.'' ■''."'.Oh,.! am sorry!',_ I must send at opc.e.'to enquiry. Hbiy kind of you to t|iink. of coming, to', tell'' me, Mr Shax- '.' boris said, her' conscience -pricking her as she realised how she had misjudged'his feasbnfhi;'calling. Then, when she had asked "for full particulars, and had given then* so : far as possible, she exclaimed, suddenly, '"By the way,. Mr Shaxby, I heard this morning- from those executors, aiid do yoti know—oh, I ain so sorry—they are-strongly opposed to any idea of my selling the apparatus and instruments you i spoke about, or ainy of .them." :..:.. ..■•"But they won't. obic<;t ■to my inspecting them, lain ; ?m".e," Shaxby .said, quickly.. . , ~, . '<lndeed they do. ', lam,so dreadfully sorry! but really I am powerless to interfere. It would take too long to explain why I am, but it is'..sol" (To be continued.)