SERIAL STORY

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 362, 13 April 1910, Page 6

SERIAL STORY

A ROYAL WARD. By PERCY BREBNER. (Published by arrangement with Cassell «nd Company, Ltd., publishers, of London and Melbourne, the proprietors of tlio copyright). CHAPTER XXI. THE BANQUET IS SERVED. Finley Baxter had gone out upon his own .business this morning. Possibly the news of Leipzig necessitated a certain amount of work, on behalf of his country, and he was quickly lost in the crowd. Had anyone set out to dog his footsteps, he would certainly have tost all trace of him, for Baxter was an adept in the art of escaping notice, or he would hardly have retained his freedom as he had dene. Some time later, however, he suddenly turned into Pall Mall, and made his way to the house of Lady Betty Walmisley. He paused thoughtfully before the door for a moment, and then knocked. Some little time elapsed before his summons was attended to, and the fact caused Baxter to alter his manner a little. It was :a rule of his to take the circumstances of the moment as a guide. "I thought you had all gone to the show yonder," he said to the servant, jerking his head in the direction of Whitehall. "Not all of us." "I guess the mistress wouldn't think it necessary to take her maid, eh?" "Mary Rowarth is within, if that ii what you mean." "My word; you're smart in London," Baxter answered. ''Where I come from they would have bad to ask a whole lot of questions before they got at my meaning. Yes; it's Mary I want to »ee. I'm a relation of hers from the country. Do you think she'll see me?" "I should say she'll be glad to know she has a respectable relation," said the servant. "No offence! but Mary Rowarth is a mystery to this household." "Fancy that. There was no mystery about her where I come from; but, then, she's been in London some time, and it's a mightv wicked place is London. so I've heard." '"Gay, that's what it is—gay," said the man, with an air of superior Knowledge. "I might show you a few of the lights some day, and we could have a talk about Mary, for she pleases me. She's the kind of woman that appeals to me; but one has to be careful." "She's making some fine friends, is Mary," Baxter answered. "She'll think Me a very ordinary sort of fellow after knowing you." "You're well enough," returned the

servant, with condescension. "Come in. Who shall I say wants to see aer?" "Just say a cousin from the country. She's evidently become such a fine person that maybe she wouldn't see me if telio knew who it wa<«." j Baxter waited in a small room at the end of the 'hall, and, for once in his lif". was a little nervous. He was at 1 a loss to know what to say to Mary. He tried to imagine what she would gay in her surprise at his presence there, and.ifidgeted about the room framing answers to meet * variety of possibilities. As is so usual in such cases,'nothing happened as he had imagined it would. Mary entered the room, and, seeing who the visitor was, closed the door carefully before she spoke, i "What is the matter?" she asked eagerly. ; .j "Nothing." i "Why have yoj come, then? You evidently did not want the servants—- ' the other servants—to know who you were." ] "Well, I guess I wasn't thinking so much of that when I knocked at the ; door as of your possible refusal to see me, if you knew who it was." j "I should certainly have seen you, lie- , cause I know my mistress trusts v wou," said Mary. "And like mistress, like maid, runs I the saying; so you trust me, too?" 5 i "Up to a point, Mr. Baxter." ' "Well, as long as that point does not limit your trust too narrowly, I won't complain," he answered. "A woman's a fool to trust a man too easily, and that's a fact. I came here to—to see you, for one thing, and to talk about Lady Betty, for another; but chiefly . to " i "To talk of mv mistress," said Mary. "If that reason pleases you best, why ' —yes. Two days after you came with Lady Betty to my lodging, Mr. Dubuisson fought a duel with a man whom he iniagCned had spoken evilly of your mistress. "And he was " "No," returned Baxter, "he 'was not killed. No damage was done at all, and I don't pretend to understand the business. Mr. Dubuisson appears to have found a friend in his opponent, but lie has not given me much explanation. The night before the duel, however, he wrote a letter, which was to be given to Lady Betty if anything happened to him. Of course, T gave the letter back, 1 but T do not fancy Lady Betty would mind knowing that it was written." ! "I don't quite understand your meaning. Mr. Baxter." "No? Well, I take it they are in love, and neither of them has the courage to say so. In the delicate wayj suggest we help them out of the difficulty." "And you took the trouble to come 1 'here on such a very foolish errand?" ' ■ said Mary. "Am I," on my honor, to answer that 1 question?" Baxter asked. ! "Certainly." "Then I frankly admit it was an «x----1 cuse for coming. I wanted to see you." Mary attempted to look' angry. "The fault lies with you, not with me," Baxter went on. "Fate has .brought us into the affairs of Lady Betty and Mr. DubuiasOn by a train of circumstances hardly equalled by the imagination of a balladmonger; I reckon

Fate had some good reason for such behaviour."

"Indeed, Mr. Baxter, I fail to see why you should think so" "And it's no wonder," he answered, "for I'm talking all round the business, instead of coming to the point. The point is this: When I saw you I immediately realised that I was in love."

"Do you realise tlir.t I am already married?" said Mary. "It's difficult, out. I have overcome the difficulty. I acknowledge the existence of Jacob Pinfold; but you have too much sense to look upon him any longer us « husband."

"He is my husband, and there is an end to the matter."

"Pardon me. not the end. Jacob is well on in years, and a great sinner; you're certain to be a widow some day, and I'm merely applying for the position of consoler."

"I ought to be angry, but you are so stupid that I can only laugh," she answered. "I think you had better be going."

"Mary Pinfold, listen to me," said Baxter, solemnly. "You are going to be my wife. At present it is impossible to say when, because, under the delicate circumstances, I can hardly undertake to remove the obstacle; but you are going to be Mrs. Finley Baxter, that's certain."

"This is love-making extraordinary," said Marv.

"Naturally, since the circumstances are peculiar.' "And would you like my answer now?"

"It might add to the peculiarity of the affair."

"That would be a pity," said Mary; "but so determined a gentleman as you are deserves to pay the penalty of his—his crime." "Crime!" exclaimed Baxter.

"It seems so to me," she returned: "but I will come to your level. I thinlc one husband is one too many,find lam delighted with my present freedom, that I am not anxious to make a further experiment, thank you," and she curtsied to him.

"Your gracefulness is copied from Lady Betty," said Baxter, bowing. "And about yours there is something of Mr. Dubuisson," she Retorted. "Both good models to follow," he answered imperturbably. "They are in love with each other, and I draw the most pleasant conclusions from the fact. That is why I do not greatly fear my rival."

"Rival! What rival?" "Ah! Then already I have more than one,"

"You are rather insulting," she said. "So, I thought, was he. Command me, and he shall be chastised as he deserves."

"I do not know whom you mean." "[ do not know his name," said Baxter, "but he looks brave enough in uniform. He did me the honor of confessing that you had found favor in his eyes, and that he would like the opportunity of questioning me concerning you, since so lofty a gentleman as himself must needs be careful."

"Who dared to speak of me m this way?"

"He opened the door to me," said Baxter, "The word. Mistress Mary, and he shall lie incapable of opening any door for weeks to come. I had hard work to keep my hands from him as it was, the impudent scoundrel! There will be others like him, and "

"And one other is known to meal read}'—is that what you would say?"

Mary's hand was on the handle of the door, and Baxter was close to her. There was an angry little Hush in her face, uut she found it difficult to be angry when she looked at this man. Whatever his faults were, he 'was genuine, she could not doubt that. "I would not have you say so," he returned; "and, more, you do not mean it."

"Perhaps not. .There are degrees of impudence," and then she laughed. "You may call upon me to punish the impudence at any time, whatever the degree; I shall punish myself by thinking constantly of your cruelty to me."

She opened the door, effectually putting an end to the conversation, and a few moments later Baxter was walking slowly down Pall Mall, trying to decide whether his interview 1 had been propitious or'not.

As he approached the to,p of Whitehall, Baxter was rather astonished at the excitement which prevailed. ,The procession had evidently .passed, but, the crowds were still excited and expectant.

''What is the matter?"'he asked. "The Prince has just been shot at," was the answer.

"By a French spy!" volunteered another man.

"He missed!" said a third. "And has got away!" shouted anothar.

Baxter quickened his pace. His thoughts flew to Dubuisson, whom he had left alone in their lodgings, not expecting that he would go out. Could this be further villainy against him? Baxter stopped again to ask questions of others. That the would-be assassin was a French spy was a persistent rumor, that for the moment he had escaped seemed equally certain; but the soldiers were after him and his companions. Then Baxter went quickly, but cautiously, to the house by the river, and found the lodgings were empty. •Rumor, that easy liar, for once told little more than the truth. As the procession started again a dozen soldiers ■were detached from it, and, led "by Ijjvertsen, started in pursuit of the fugitive. Dubuisson could not be seen, but Evertsen's keen eyes had noted some of- the men who were about him. They were doubtless in the conspiracy, and through them he would be able to discover the arch-traitor. The sudden and complete disappearance of Dubuisson, which these men had intended to prevent, and the fact that the attempted assassination 'had proved abortive,, confused them and caused them to act in a suspicious manner. One or. two withdrew cautiously, but several of them acted together, making for the side street down which Dubuisson had paas-

Ed a few moments before; and Fjvertsen Iww them. The denseness of the crowd impeded the soldiers' movements for a little while; but tile fugitives got little start, and although they soon caw the wisdom of separating, they seemed to have only one idea as to the best place of safety.

'"'Let them think they are escaping," Evertsen said to his men; "they will lead us to our quarry." In the long room of the Brazen Serpent Jacob Pinfold waited anxiously. The -well-planned scheme could hardly miscarry 011 this occasion: yet he had not neglected to think of his own safety in case of accident. There was a secret way out by which one man had escaped, and what he had done Jacob Pinfold could do. Jacob had already fastened a rope to the staple in the cellar wall—the longest rope he could get. a lantern was placed there in readiness, to descend would be only the work of a few seconds. He had no relish for such a journey, it would onlv be taken as a last resource, but it might become necessary. He shuddered at the contemplation, and drank some neat brandy. His hand shook as he raised the glass to his lips. 'lt's all right," he muttered. "It must be all right. If any notice is taken of us, we shall be patriots for laying hold of the assassin. Two birds with on« stone —the Regent and this fellow Dubuisson. Dubuisson! Ilea's his cursed health. I owe him some toast for having shown me the way of escape," and he drank again, with some attempt at a laugh. The gurgle ended in a gaßp, and Jacob jiearly choked, as the door was burst open. The big man who has boasted bo loudly that morning flung himself into the room and fell panting into a chair.

"Drink, Jacob! For Heaven's sake, a drink!"

"What's happened?" said the landlord.

"Drink, I say. Cure you; do you ax;pect a long history from a dry throat?" Jacob hurried himself, anxious to hear the news.

"There's wine, the best in the place. Drink. That's it, quickly. Your whistle's wet enough to pipe for a 'Whole month now. Out with it, What's happened?" "It's no long story. We've failed. Lighterwood coudn't shoot straight—fired twice, and missed."

"Hush, you fool! Do you want to let everyone passing in the street hear you? What about Dubuisson?"

"The soldiers are after him—same as they're after the rest of us." "The soldiers! Are they after you?" whispered Jacoh. "Of course." ' 1 " "And you tame here? Curse you; they'll be coming here, too!" "Of course they -will. The game's up, Jacoh," and the great fellow hurst out singing: "'lt's a tavern for me; away with all sorrow, We'll dring deep to-night, tho' we all hang to-morrow.' "More drink, Jacob. Why looked scared? There must come an end." The boaster shrank in his chair, and looked a coward. Bold words could not hide the fact that lie was afraid.

"Get out, curse you!" said Jacob; »nd in his own terror he forgot to be afraid of this bully. He had raised his fist to strike him, when the door swung open again.

"Failed!" gasped Lighterwood. "Take your failure shrieked Jacob, careless now, apparently, who heard him., "Do you suppose I'm going to be brought into your cursed bungling? I've nothing to do with it, and you're not wanted here."

'Stop it, Jacoh, or I mightn't miss again," growled Lighterwood. "Give me some drink."

"That's right," said the bully. "Let's make a good end nf it, I say." "Must you howl like that to keep your courage up?" said Lighterwood. "Drink, Jacob—sharp! What! Have you forgotten that you are a tavernkeeper, and are privileged to entertain gentlemen?"

Bebwen fear and rage, Jacob was almost beside himself. Whether he would have brought the drink or refused, it was impossible to say, for the door again swung open, and three more men entered, quarrelling as they came. "We might just as well give ourselves 'up, as all come here," said one. "Why did you come, then?" retorted another. ,

"A little less" noise may help us," said Lighterwood. "Come, Jacob, give them all drink to keep them quiet." "Curse you all! Help yourselves. Pm not going to wait on any of yu," said 'the landlord, shuffling out of the room and along the passage to the back of the house.

The prospect of having free run of the bottles doubtless accounted for the al, at any rate," said ne man, strikattempted to stop him. , "He'll get no payment for this carousal, at ftnuy rate," said one man, striking the neck from a bottle, and laughing stupidly as he poured out the wine. "'lt's the tavern for me; away with all sorrow, We'll drink deep to-night, tho' we all hang to-morro.'" sang the bully, and it was some time before the others could quieten him. "Jacob is right, so far," said Lighterwood. "We are fools to all run for this hole. Each one of us imagined that no one else would be idiot enough to cme here, that th<j truth of it. We've got to make tie best of the business. Maylbe we've all been fortunate, and given the soldiers the slip; if not. and they do come, what can they bring against us?" "That devil of an officer had keen eyes," said one. "There's a way down that rat-hole in the cellar where Dubuisson went."

"A good idea!" cried the bully. "Jacob shall let us out that way." Again the door swung open, and another man came in. He closed it quickly and shot the bolts. "The soldiers!" he cried.

"To the cellar!" cried one man. "It lrns a stout door, and with two doors between us we may have time." (To be continued on Sat.urday).