THE BONDAGE OF HATE.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume VI, Issue 1808, 29 November 1919, Page 14

THE BONDAGE OF HATE.

[All Right* Reserved.] I By CAPTAIN FRANK H. SHAW, Author of i "The Lore-Tides." "A Life's Devotion,' etc. CHAPTER XXV.—(Continued.) IN THE NICK OF TIME. It was pretty work while it lasted; and to this day the men of the "Einmanuelo" speak with awe-stricken wonder of the strange British sailor who took thenship and used her as if she were a toy. Somehow, and no man could tell how, Bobbv was on the " Ksperanza's" deck, unlashing the rope about his body and fixing it to his friend's. Bobby never knew precisely whether he swam jr jumped aboard the wreck; but somehow he got there; that was enough for him. "All alone here?" he yelled, his fingers busy with knots. "No: the man we're after's in that house there—still alive. AVe must save him." Bobby shouted for fresh ropes, and himself'entered the deck-house. "Not much time," he said. "She's sinking fast; I can feel it. Give us a Isand here, Maurice —Jove! What a time it's been! " « Thev bore the almost senseless Huron to the open, and fastened a rope about him, despite his struggles; they took him to the nearly-submerged rail and literally threw him aboard the gunboat. '"'You're first," said Bobby, standing aside. Farquharson was dragged into »Mv through spouting foam. Bobby f< T -ved him; and as the "Emmanuelo" swung away, the " Esperanza" gave that sick lurch which signifies the beginning of the end.

"It doesn't matter, old chap," said Bobby, hanging round Farquharson like a mother round a child. "She's done her share; but what in all the wonderful world's happened to you?" "I don't know yet; I can't remember —I ought to be in Paris," said Farquharson shakily. "But one thing I do know; Huron's got some inkling of who killed Mrs Grenfell, and we've got to find it out yet." "We'll find it out," said Bobby cheerfully. '' But —not yet; I think I'm going to faint." And he pitched like a log into the arms of Dr Inghelto. "It is his wound," explained the surgeon. "But he would come. I warned him that it was too much, and he still came. But I will attend to him, yes; he will be safe with me. As for you, Major Farquharson, is all well with youf" "Yes, yes, I suppose so," cried Farqnharson in confusion. "That is—but I hardly understand—what has happened f " "That is a long story, my friend, and it will require some telling. You are weak also; and a glass of wine, or brandy " He offered no further suggestions, but hurried Farquharson below in Bobby's wake. "For heaven's sake," said the rescued man as he sank on the locker-seat in the tunnel that was called the gunboat's cabin, "for heaven's sake don't let Huron go." "He shall not be allowed to go; rest easy," said the surgeon. "Although even if he went he could not escape —I have seen his face, and it is the face of a dying man. There is something broken inside, I gather " "Shouldn't be surprised." The wine he had drunk was bringing the colour back to Farquharson's cheek. "We had a bit of a fight for it, and I handled him rather roughly. But—what—what dav is it?" The surgeon told him. ''To-morrow is the day of the trial," cried Farquharson. "Can we reach England in time? Cannot we send a

message ?'' "There is no wireless installation; but be easy," said Inghelto. "Already Signor Bobby has wired to his brother, directing him to stop the trial if he can do it." And the speaker did not know that the message had never been sent; that the messenger had been himself in league with the society that was never named. "Then we've got to make Huron talk," said Farquharson, with a sigh of relief. Half an hour afterwards the three men held a close conference, Bobby being by now partially recovered from his indisposition, although there was a pronounced pallor about his face that told of the suspense he had endured. "So long as we got you, I don't mind," he exclaimed, in answer to Farquharson'a commiseration. "It was when I feared we'd lost you that I gave in—and there was the reaction, too. Now, what about Huron?"

"If you will leave him to me," said Inghelto. "Let us understand one another fairly, gentlemen. This man, we say, is a rat; a«d like a rat he must be made to squeal. Y.'e will frighten him—l know a way." Bobby looked at Farquharson; the soldier nodded imperceptibly. "Come, then," said Inghelto, rising, and leading the way to a spare cabin that had been made into a prison. The door close'! upon them; once and once only was it opened during the next bour; at the end of that period Bobby Leatham staggered out into the alleypassing through the corridor sniffed,