THE BONDAGE OF HATE.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume VI, Issue 1787, 5 November 1919, Page 2

THE BONDAGE OF HATE.

[All Rights Reserved.] By CAPTAIN FRANK H. SHAW, Author of "The Lore-Tides," "A Life's Devotion," etc. CHAPTER XI. THE WOMAN OF MYSTERY. "But, Maurice, dear, something must happen before then. Either your Moira will speak, or some evidence will crop up that will put a different aspect on affairs."

"I don't know,. Rosie; everything's in a whirl. 1 thought that when I saw her 1 could persuade her to speak, to tell me what the row with Mrs Orcnfcll was about; but it wasn't any use. She said the row didn't enter into the matter at all. I pleaded with her; it was of no avail. Slie said there was nothing to hide, but she drew in her breath sharply when she said it, and I know she is hiding something from me and the world. If only I knew something about her—something that counted! But I don't." "Poor old boy; I call it a shame. Why should you, of all men, have fallen in love with this one girl? As if there weren't thousands of others who'd have given their ears for a smile from you! And you don't seem to care that you're the Farquharson, the man of the moment. Look at this, and this" —Rosie Farquharson tossed, unopened, envelopes about recklessly. "Invitations, every one; crested at that; why, you've only to lift your finger to have half London go mad about you." "All the honour and glory of all the world doesn't weigh in the balance against Moira's case, Rose. The fact remains that the magistrates have committed her to the Assizes, the Assizes open on December 10, and—before Christmas she mav be sentenced to death. Think of it!" "She won't be sentenced to death, Maurice, dear. Oh, I wish I could help you! Isn't there anything I can do?" "No; and yet—l don't know. You're a woman; you might be able to get something out of her that I can't. You could understand her." "I'll do anything for you, Maurice. I know it must be terrible for you tp hang on in such suspense. When shall I go?" "Let's go at once; I'll pull strings and see if I can't get an interview." Rosie Farquharson had presented herself at her brother's rooms early on

this morning in November. Beyond a mere interchange of civilities she had not seen him since his return, and in her secret heart she possessed a grudge against this unknown Moira Seymour, who had usurped the place she had once held in her brother's affections. '' I suppose—you 'll forgive me, I know, Maurice—but I suppose that there is no doubt in your mind that she is innocent? T mean—do you think it is at all possible that Moira might have done it—not knowingly, but in a fit of aberration?" "I'd as soon believe that I'd done the thing myself. You insult her by such a suggestion, Rosie. Why, you've only to look into her face to know that she would never have committed such a horrible crime." "Well, I'll ring up Molly and tell her not to expect me back until late. She's furious because you've never answered her letter; she wanted you to meet a crowd of people and show you off."

Farqnharson made a grimace which would not have flattered the absent Lady Hildebrand. His elder sister was something of a lion-hunter; she delighted to fill her house with notabilities; and Bosie knew the misery that had been caused by her brother's failing to appear. To produce a veritable lion, and that one her own brother, would have set the seal on Lady Hildebrand's happiness. ! "Can't be bothered meeting" a lot of people I don't know. Yes, ring her up, there's a dear, and tell her you mightn't be back to-day. Did she write to me? I haven't opened any letters except those that -bear on the case; though they aren't much. My detective doesn't advance a step; he's at a dead-end; and he thinks—l know | it, although he doesn't say it—that Moira is guilty." Rosie Farquharson thought the same, but she forebore from expressing her opinion; her brother's wrath was not easily aroused, but when it was let loose a tornado was insignificant bv comparison. There was a telephone box along the corridor of the hotel, and Bosie betook herself towards it. Whilst she was absent, and whilst Farquharson was striding up and down his small apartment, there came a cheerful whistle outside, a staccato knock on the door, and Bobby Leatham burst in. "Thought I'd look you up to see if I could do any good. Anything fresh?" "No; but we're going to try to see Moira—Rosie and I. She's just telephoning Molly."

"Is your sister here?" Leatham's cheerful face underwent a change. He had once led an insufficiently-armed cutter's crew 100 miles into a warlike portion of Africa, and rescued a British party which was in supreme difficulties. He was known amongst his men as one without fear, hut now—his face turned a little white, ami his eyes were uneasy. "Yes, she's along the corridor." (To be Continued.)