OUR SERIAL STORY

Taranaki Daily News, 3 November 1926, Page 14

OUR SERIAL STORY

“ Love in the Saddle ”

(By

J. C. LOCKE.)

(AH Rights Reserved.)

(Chapter VI Continued.) “•I drink to my two clever said she, and did so with relish. “Harry and I will thank you and love you for ever, Tommy. So Uncle's a swindler. Poor dear, and Fancourt’s a swindler, naturally, and they've gone into partnership. Well, what’s your next move?” “Next move is that Harry calls on your uncle on Monday and delivers an ultimatum. We’ve got full proof now’, and we’ve decided it's time for that.” “And then?” “According to his attitude. If he caves in, right, it's joy-bells at once; if he's defiant, the big stick.” “Yes, but no scandal, mind, if you can possibly avoid it. I can’t help feeling a bit sorry for Uncle. He was always kind to me in his way, and one never knows why people go wrong. Besides, it would make me feel so, so dirty.” “We thought you’d feel that about it, ■my dear, so we’ll stick to private persuasion as long as we can.” “It’ll be gloves-off afterwards, of course; won’t it put them on their guard, sort Of?” “Well, you see, Harry won’t go into details or breathe a word about the Fancourt end of it, so we reckon that, not knowing what we know, or that I’m in it. They may grow’ panicky and take a wrong step in the dark, then we’ve got them fast. That’s just roughly how I look at it. Meanwhile, we go on digging up proofs.” “I see. That good little Kewley! I reinember him. I always thought he looked a kind of pale, puffy Satan.” “By Jove! Describes him rather well, Harry, what ? Yes, he’s a good little man. Worked like a Trojan, and raked up simply piles of evidence against your uncle. You’ll have to be generous to him when it’s all over, Toozle.” “I will, of course. Oh dear! How exciting -it will be on Monday.” “Talking of Monday,” said Harry; “what will you be doing then, old girl?” “Scooting back to Aunt Matty. I’ll He doggo here till dusk to-morrow, then you’ll drive me over to Thraplode—you can get a car from the Blue Bull at Chippenden—and Tommy will take me up to town and shove me into the night-train for Paris.” “Oh, I will, will I?” said Tommy blankly. “Doesn’t matter about any little arrangements of my own, I suppose.?” “Not a bit! There’s a war on —you said it yourself—and one mustn’t study one’s comforts in war time. Now pull that big chair up to the fire and let’s be happy. Isn’t it an angel-fire, and doesn’t it smell like heaven!” Happy they were till Dobby came to pack Toozle off to bed; happy the next day through every jolly, cosy hour of it. Especially happy were Toozle and Harry when Tommy Dawson —good fellow and good friend —took Chuggo for a long walk and left them to tell each other how deep they were in love in any fond and foolish way they chose; and again in the evening, when he drove them to Thraplode and Toozle lay close and warm and murmuring in Harry’s arms all the long drive through the frosty day. In a happy dream they heard those twenty-five miles slide under the humming wheels, and it was with a happy sigh that Toozle roused herself at last, as they flashed through the lights of a village, and put on her hat by touch in the dark. “It’s your fault for not letting me bob, if f look like the Battle of Waterloo,” she said. ‘Harry dearest, are you glad I came? Really? So glad as all that? Even though I was a weeny bit naughty? You dear old angel! Harry; you will be good about Gioria, won't you?” ' “My beautiful, I can't be any gooder than I have been, but I’ll go on being that. She’s helped us, anyway.” “Yes I know. I suppose she thought that would melt you. No. darling; I will be good! That was Coplode we just passed; soon be there now. Hasn’t it been a dear little time, my blessed *boy?” . “Dearest ever, sweetheartt. I don't feel so dismal about your going this time. Do you?” “Numps- We were dismal last time, ■weren’t we? ’-Member how blue we were when we sat and smoked by that old thorn. I often think of it. I call it Farewell Thorn. Go and see it sometimes and think of me, but don’t be unhappy any more, ’cos we're winning through now all right.” “We are so! and we’ll all be cheery, scrapping for you, so you keep cheery your end. I feel I could fight giants, you’ve made me so absolutely busting with happiness, you splendid darling!” Thereafter their talk became less coherent and mostly kisses, till the car drew up in a quiet dark side-street short of the station. “Como on, you vagabond,” said Tommy, as lie opened the door. “Nice time. Good-bye, old chap; I’ll tSke care of her. Send me a full report about to-morrow, and be wary!” “Good-bye, my precious,” said Toozle. “No; no one'll know me with my collar up- Fight happily, and don't be too truthful to uncle; it's a waste.” Harry sang happily, at all events, as he drove back alone. The tunes were not exactly pretty, but they sounded war-like and were certainly light-heart-ed. CHAPTER VII. The library at Hurstbury was a stately room; walled with books, many windowed and gravely beautiful. When Harry walked along its noble length on Monday afternoon the vast fire leaping in the vast grate filled it with warmth, and the wintry sun with light that gleamed in serene pools on the mellow leather and dim gold of old bindings. Mr. Rjngland rose from a great oak table strewn with books aud papers and came towards him“Ah. my dear Hawkshaw, your visit add- another pleasure to this radiant day. Will you have this chair? It is large and jovial, fit for Rabelais himself to lat'gli in: I shall t'tis’. that you may find it a mirthful seat. ’ “I trust so too, sir. I'm sure; these aren’t such very mirthful times. ’Hope I haven't disturbed you at important work.” “Thanks; no- It is freshening to exchange my vagrant studiousness for warm blooded human intercourse. You hint that life is not so fully mirthful to you as your youth should warrant- I regret that deeply: the more so, as I fear I am in some measure the mo'- ->:g spirit of your discontent.” Ilarrv hesitated.

“Why, yes, sir; I am afraid in a sense you are.” “In a sense, only! Thank you! I perceive you -discriminate. That is to say, you are just enough to distinguish between the primary distress which my duty forces mo most reluctantly to inflict upon you, and that which arises otherwise out of the disappointment of your hopes. Am I not right?” “Not altogether. The fact is, sir, I fancy my errand to-day may not be quite what you suppose.” Mr. Ringland’s thick white eyebrows twitched together, very slightly, and drew down, very slightly. His dark eyes stared out at Harry from beneath them, steady and watchful. “Indeed!” he said, drily. “Perhaps you would enlighten me.” Harry hesitated again, unconsciously sliding one hand over the other as if he were peeling off a glove. Then he straightened and drew a deep breath. “It’s just this, sir,” he said evenly. “It is useless to -beat about the bush, and I’m a poor diplomatist, so pray forgive me if I put It bluntly. It would appear you have misappropriated Dursilla’s trust bonds to the extent of sixty-five thousand pounds.” Mr. Ringland sat very still. When Harry’s voice stopped, the soft mutter of the fire and the slow, muffled ticking of a fat, moon-faeed clock on the mantel-piece sounded loud in the quivering silence. Harry’s strung-up attitude relaxed, and he sank back in the vast chair with a sigh of relief. The gloves were off now, with a vengeance. How would the old rogue take it? The old rogue was taking it very quietly. He eat sideways at the big table one arm resting outstretched upon it, with the hand clenched round the handle of a paper-knife on which his eyes were fixed. The skin over the knuckles was strained and whitened as if the grip were fierce and the ruddy face was a shade less ruddy, but so far as Harry could see Mr. Ringland gave no other sign. A single silvery stroke for the halfhour chime from the moon-faced clock; Mr. Ringland stirred at the sound and lifed his eyes to Harry’s. The sudden watching look had gone out of them; they were tranquilly thoughtful. “Do you know, my dear Hawkshaw,” he said very softly (but his eyes were like bits of black flint); “when you said that to me I experienced a strong wish that this paper-knife were sharp steel instead of ivory and that I might do murder with it upon your person. An impulse I can only regret, my boy. I fear the savage lies very close to the outer skin in most of us' still.” A small, tight smile twisted Harry’s grim mouth, and a half-admiring light softened the hard red glitter of bis eyes. “I quite understand, sir,” he said. “In other times you could have called me out and slapped a bullet or a sword through me —and, ’pon my soul, you take it so gamely that I don’t think I’d have refused to fight you. Since the days of duelling are done, however, I can only regret, in my turn, that duty— I have heard you speak of it—compelled me to shock your ears with an accusation to which I shall be glad to hear your reply.” “Duty!” said Mr. Ringland musingly. “Your thrust has a keen point to it, Hawkshaw; and yet it is delivered with a certain courtliness. So'you think you might have waived your right to refuse me a duel? Well, that is courtly, too. I thank you, and am happy to have provoked your commendation, the more so as I assume you think I have forfeited my right to ineePa. gentleman on equal terms, at sword-point or otherwise?” “I am afraid I do think that.” “Yes. Well, J agree you have some reason —in fact, the best of reasons.” Mr. Ringland's manner became suddenly brisk. “To lie unnecessarily, my dear boy, always strikes me as ill-bred and a waste of mental energy, so I will say at once that I have forfeited that'right; that I have, in short, stolen that money. And what then?” He looked squarely at Harry, with a smile of gentle irony on his handsome mouth. Harry stared back at him in sheer amazement at this swift yielding. “Since you admit it, sir, then I suppose restitution follows.” ‘By no means, my dear Hawkshaw. If I have embarked upon criminal courses it may occur to you that I did so for important ends. What those ends are I shall not disclose, but they are so important to me that I shall not restore the money.” “I see. You have considered the penalty. I suppose?” “Possibly seven, years’ penal servitude; possibly even more. That would be distressing, naturally, and I should probably have to perform tasks of the most displeasing kind. But of course I might not be sent to prison.” “I should imagine you would be, sir. Your admission to me puts the offence at once beyond doubt, and I am afraid prison would follow quite promptly ” “My admission to you? All! Permit me to ertuse a moment’s interruption.” He struck three ringing notes on a bell that stood at his elbow. Almost before the last humming ebbed away the door opened and • a colourless kind of young man came in. . Harry inspected him with some curiosity as he walked down the long floor, and saw that he was rather weedy, had very pale eyebrows and lashes, and altogether gave a somewhat rabbitish impression. “This is jfr. Fradgeley, ray secretary, Hawkshaw,” Mr. Ringland explained. “I wish you to remember, Fradgeley, that you have beep present during the whole of my interview with Mr. Hawkshaw and have taken a shorthand note of our conversation. Is that understood?” “Perfectly, sir,” Mr. (Fradgeley replied. The unwinking eyes he fixed on his employer held no expression whatever. “Very good. I will give you the materials for the shorthand note later. That will do now.” Mr. Fradgeley made a solemn little bow and departed as quietly as he had come. Mr. Ringland turned to Harry with a smile. “You look amusingly startled. Hawkshaw,” he said. “Do consider, my dear fellow! However distasteful it may be to lie to you in private it is quite another thing if it comes to a public fight for freedom, and in that case not only will my confession never have oeen made but Mr. Fredgeley’s evidence will lie of a most useful nature.” “I am sorry you intend to fight. It looks to me as though it will be a fairly

dirty business, and I believe it would pay you in the end to square-up and trust to the generosity of your niece.” “Possibly; but one can never see the end, and meanwhile I fight as I can.” “With very ugly weapons, evidently. Take care you don’t hurt yourself with one of them. Your Mr. Fradgeley aud blackmail does not seem to me an altogether impossible combination.” “Not altogether,” said Mr. Ringland, smoothly; “but I do not think lie will blackmail me. No; I do not think so. Now, I have been very frank with you, ray dear Hawkshaw; I wonder if you will be as frank with me. I have a natural curiosity to know how and when and with whose help you ascertained so accurately the nature of my operations. You would not care to satisfy it, perhaps?” “I should not, sir,” said Harry. “Like yourself, I fight as I can.” “You are perfectly right. What is Drusilla’s attitude, by the way?” “She docs not know—-yet!” Harry answered glibly. He told the thumping lie in his best poker-face manner. It was according tb plan—Tommy Dawson’s plan—and he remembered also Toozle’s pronouncement on the wastefulness of over-exact truth where her uncle was concerned. “Ah, really? That is very interest* ing! Then I suppose, as we have ex* hausted the essential facts of the situation, the discussion may be considered at an end for this occasion—unless you desire to express your views on the general moral aspects.” Harry laughed, angrily, but with genuine amusement. < “Oh, morals!” he said. “I’m afraid, sir, your morals are beyond me entirely.” “The morals of most people would be like that to all the other people, I fancy, were they honestly exhibited; and yet they do exist. How interesting a consideration for you that even I may have some.” “Very. I shall bo considering ether things, though,” Harry retorted, drily. “Of course; the best method of providing for my incarceration, for instance. As I cannot hope to enjoy your esteem, my dear boy, I believe, in the circumstances, it will lessen the awkwardness of our farewell if I omit to offer a handshake. Mr. Fradgeley will attend you to the door.” He rang the bell again, and again Mr. Fradgeley appeared, as quietly as before. “Be so good as to show Mr. Hawkshaw 7 to the door, Fradgeley,” he said. “Good-bye again, my dear Hawkshaw.” "Good-bye, sir, and do think things over! ” “I shall do so most carefully, you may be sure.” Harry took a good eye-full of the quiet Mr. Fradgeley as he went out of the front door, but the pale-lashed eyes and meek face betrayed about as much as the countenance of a dead fish. He walked home in a state of abstraction broken by chuckles, and was greeted by a reproachful Chuggo when he arrived at Chase Cottage. “What! Was lie done out of his walk, then? Well, I never did! Come on! Give us a smile and a wag, old chap. That’s the stuff! We’ll go walkey after tea; you wouldn’t really have 'liked to call' on Mr. Ringland. He’d have called, you a faithful little dog. Oh, hullo, Dobby! Tea for me and Chuggo, please.” “Tea for you and that dratted dog, indeed!” said Dobby, scornfully, when she brought in the comfortable-looking tray. “Nice if all the folks start calling you moon-struck along o’ the way you go on with him—talking to him an’ all same as he was a Christian.” “Let ’em, if they want to; bless their fat heads,” said Harry cheerfully. “He’s a jolly sight better than some Christians I know; ain’t you, Stumpy-tail?” “Meanin’ that old Ringland, for one,” said Dobby, with venomous disrespect. “Much good you got out of going an’ seeing him, I’ll lay. But you wait! I’ll tell you something about him one of these days as’ll surprise you an’ set him all of a shake, so it will, the smooth old toad!” “If you can tell me anything about Mr. Ringland that’ll surprise me you’re a marvel, Dobby; and if you can set him shaking you’re a bigger one, by What I’ve seen of him. Do wish I knew what you’ve got up your sleeve, Dobby; you do nothing, but give mysterious hints. You might tell a fellow, Dobby; it might be useful.” “Useful it’ll be when it’s told,” Dobby answered, nodding mysteriously. “But you wait; we ain’t ready yet. There’s a message come from Mr. Barter as you’re to go over this evening’ not later than seven.” “Right-ho. And that reminds me. I’ll go down to Chippenden first and pay for the car. Who’s ‘we!’ Dobby?” “Never you mind! Don’t you forget to be at Westings at seven, and be'back in time for dinner, mind,” said Dobby, and bustled out. “These women! Don’t they lead us a life, Chuggo? Sugar? Sit up and waggle your paws for it, then. Do you know, Chuggo, your pal Ringland is the slipperiest old rat you’ve ever tackled! We’ll have your Uncle Tommy down again for the week-end to see about him some more, shall us?” Chuggo, crunching his sugar, gave an assenting wag. “You agree? Then us'll write the letter now.” Tea done and the letter written, the pair set out for Chippenden. When they came to Farewell Thorn some recollection moved Chuggo to bustle off and have a sniff at that place of parting, but a yard or two from the path he checked and stood at gaze, bristling and growling. Harry, peering, made out a shadowy figure standing motionless near the gnarled old tree. “Come here, Chuggo! Ass! Must you butt-in on a chap waiting for his girl? It isn’t done, you sawed-off mongrel.” But Chuggo seemed to think it was done, for half-way along the down-hill path lie vanished into black shadow beside the fir-copse, and Harry heard his sudden angry snarl and bark, followed by a squeak in a girl’s voice and an oath in a man’s. “Chuggo! Come here!” he shouted. Chuggo came: bristling and growling and looking back. “What’ve you got to lie angry about, you blighter? If you don’t like sweethearts keep away from ’em. .Seem to know both those voices,” he mused. “Chuggo, who were your friends ?” But Chuggo was too wellbred to tell, and the rest of the road to the Blue Bull was free of sweethearts. They got a jovial welcome from the portly, redfaced landlord when they turned into the bright and cosy Tap. “Bless my heart and bones, here’s good compant- blowed in! Evenin’, Mr. Hawkshaw; I hope I see you well, sir.” “Thank you. yes, Crummaek. And yourself?” “Pretty tidy, sir, pretty tidy: on’y gettin' a sight tno plump: clean stun I’ve put on since October twelve month. If yon was to take me huntin' along of you I reckon you’d have to get me a cart-horse for a mount, and I'd make him wheeze an’ all, I lay!” The chuckle

he ended with was as plump and jolly as himself. “Well, if there’s rather a lot of you it seems a fairly happy lot, Crummaek, so why worry?” “Worry, sir? Not me! That’s a mug’s game. And how’s my old pal Chuggo? ‘Pretty well, thanks, an’ all the better for a biscuit when you’ve done jawin’, says you? Why, catch, then.” Chuggo caught a biscuit the size of a small saucer and set to work on it, after polite waggings. “1 do jaw, to be sure. Excuse me runnin’ on so, Mr. Hawkshaw. What now, sir?” “Why, I’d say a tot of that rattling old sherry for the good of the house, anil perhaps you could manage one with me, what? After that, I’ll settle for the car.” “Ay, it’s a rare good wine, that; for them as has the nose and mouth for it.” He poured the two tawny amber draughts. “Here’s to you.” “Drink hearty,” said Harry. \ “Yes, vintage wine goes with vintage blood, I say,” resumed Mr. Crummaek meditatively. “I'm good old homebrewed, o’ course; but then it’s my trade. Now, there’s that young Mr. Fancourt, as has took to droppin’ in here odd times. He’s setting up for gentry, but show him a wine like that and he’d look at it same as a fish at a eigar Scotch is all the tipple he knows. His blood ain’t been long enough in wood, I reckon, not by a sight.”