He Who Fights

Taranaki Daily News, 27 May 1931, Page 10

He Who Fights

By

LORD GORELL

SYNOPSIS. Madame Anatole, a shrewd old wife of forty years’ standing, knows well cnougn the doings of her husband, pie £, re -„., tier own methods she finds out his natrea of one. Gregoire. Pierre. a tall man wilh '' moustachious, goes in secret fear or nis wire, hut a husband at ease is not Madame Anatole's idea of conjugal felicity. Barbara Dallington lives with her mother In Devonshire. Christopher Frayne. Bai - hara’s fiance, resides in the same district, with his sister. Sally. . _ ~ Mrs Dallington is friendly with Mortimer Brown, a man whom everyone dislikes. CHAPTER XI. No Way Out. ■ Neither Christopher Frayne lior his sister enjoyed their normal night of tile unbroken sleep 'of healthy youth. Sally had been wrought up by the hour’s wait for her brother’s return from an interview that could hardly fail • to be unpleasant, and was not a ■little disturbed by the confirmation of her fears; her' brother’s aspect, with his gory cheek and stained shirt, gave her a shock she long remembered, and she was decidedly unhappy about the eventual outcome of the adventure. Mr Brown was obviously not the man to take such an occurrence lightly; he would revenge himself either by direct retaliation, as seemed most in keeping with his violent character, or by issuing a summons. Frayne also was uneasy, ? more so than he admitted to his sister, to whom ?he tried to pass the whole, thing off as for the best; but lie could not but agree with her in his mind—and, moreover, his cheek ■was distinctly painful.' And in addition to all the excitement and disadvantages, physical and mental, of personal combat, the original cause remained. The thought of Barbara was alone enough to make sleep difficult to ■win. Between dissatisfaction and intense delight the hours ,of sleep swung restlessly both ifor Frayne ..and for Sally. Both in consequence were a little late 'down to breakfast, and met each other affectionately but in slight embarrassment. They sat.down to the meal with irrelevant and. trivial ihter- '/ change of remark. "How's the wound?” asked Sally after a while. “I must do it up again for vou after breakfast.” ' “Oh, it’s all right. A bit awkward lying; on that side—nothing to shout ' about.” ' ' . '' ■ ' ' , “We don’t want it to leave a scar, ■' though.” “No; I’m not' one of those who can . afford to have his beauty ■spoilt’’. Sally smiled; glancing at her brother, she .wondered jsecretly whether anyone, even Barbara, could think him more handsome than she did. But, like a true sister, all she said was, “It might improve you, of course.” The entrance ,of the maid with the letters interrupted them. Nellie was burstingly.- important. '. “Oh, if you please.” she said, with a rush/ “such a night. and wc never, heard a'word ' Of-”it.“ ' '. “What's the matter, Nellie?” inquired Sally. ' '“There was a fire on the moor,’’ ■answered Nellie, breathlessly; “a grand, sight it was, John - Notsworthy ,j says.” :.■ 1 . ■ ■ .'•/‘More s waling.?” asked Frayne carelessly., ■ ■• ' 1 - ■ “No, indeed, sir. It was that bungalow by Great: Tor, sir,: and they found the poor gentleman what had ,it all burnt up inside. ’Twas George Henford that found him first,, after they’d all , been Hooking ever solong“What!” cried Frayne and Sally, both, rising and staring at the maid ■ ' aghast. ' . . “-Tis so: you can ask anybody. Terrible, ’ isn’t it?” answered Nellie . with much complacence.. “They say he couldnit get out; Tom Pilcher knows all about jt. and told Sergeant • Tuxworthy. Locked , in, that Mr Brown was, so he said.” . in!” repeated Frayne in a hollow voice hardly recognisable. He felt suddenly exactly as a man does who,is at one moment walking along in an ordinary manner and the next has his foot through an unsuspected, bottomless pit, and comes to a realisation of disaster clinging desperately to the crumbling edge. His heart seemed to stop; his face went ashy, his breath came' in a great gasp. . “Horrible!” said Sally quickly. She did not see the whole of the situation as it' presented itself to her brother, but she saw enough. She realised that .he was utterly overwhelmed and her whole thought was instantly bent upop his relief. “Some mistake of Pilcher’s, of course. All right, Nellie, we must ask about it. By the bye, tell, MrsJDUnter we’ll probably be out to lunch, will you?” “Yes,.miss,” answered the maid, recalled to practicalities. “But ’tis as I’m telling you. John Notsworthy was one of them as was there; he see it with,his.own eyes,.and it was awful, ■ he- says.”. ■/•,: / .■• , , , i 4 “Yes, yes, we don't want to near horrors. That’ll do, Nellie. ’ Putting upon herself the utmost restraint, Sally facilitated Nellie’s departure without calling direct attention to her brother’s state. . He had recovered slightly from his first abyss . of. dismay,' but cold beads of perspiration were breaking out' on his forehead, and he was clutching his hands . together in a frenzied effort to pre- • serve’his self-control. Nellie, whose . information was still incomplete, noy ticed no rriore than the extreme sensi- ] bility of her young master and mis- , tress to a sudden rather gruesome , tragedy the neighbourhood. She ; withdrew to gossip, and Sally ran j quicklv to her brother. | ■ “Chris, Chris!” she cried, “what , makes you look like that?” ( “Don’t you see, Sally?” he gasped. , “Ohl my God! What shall I do? What j shall I do?” 1 “p you—l don’t understand,” she , answered uncertainly. “It s horrid j your row with him last night and then , this; ..it’s awful, but —” i .“i locked him in, don’t you see?” j “Yes, but —” “And that’s why he couldn’t get out.” i “Chris, my dear, you mustn’t think j of it like that.” ■ “How else can I think of it? It’s hell. Sally.” “Yes, I know, but —”

“Oh, Sally, don’t go on saying ‘but’! lam responsible. I locked him in and he couldn’t get out. old Grainger had bars put on the windows so that he could lock the place up and leave it. I never thought of that. Don’t,you see? He was locked in like a rat in a trap. God, and I did it!”

“Chris, Chris, don’t go on like that! lou diif.i’t burn the bungalow. That's an accident, a dreadful one, but it isn’t -your, doing.” “You don’t know'.what you’re saying, dear,” he broke in with a ghastly look. “It is. I upset, the table, lamp and all, as I jumped for . him, didn’t I tell you? After I’d shoved him through into the bedroom and was clearing out I smelt burning. I stopped just long enough to stamp out what I thought was catching fire; but I ought to have made sure. I lost my head after that and ran like a rabbit.”

He gazed at her wildly, hoping for some further quick denial of his responsibility, but she had gone white and could find no words except a quavering. “I—l don’t know. You didn’t tell me.”

“I forgot. It didn't seem important. But now-—” he broke off and groaned. After a moment’s agonised silence he went on dully, “I'm for it, Sally.” • ■ ' ■ I

“What do you mean?” “I damned myself up to the hilt with the Pilchers. I ran into them, I told you, at the gate. Like a God-for-saken fool, I lied to them about it. I told you; I said I’d gone up to have it out vyith Brown for putting, me into the bog. I wanted to keep Mrs Dallington’s name out of'it.”

“I—l don’t understand,” whispered Sally, whiter than ever. “Don’t you?” he cried hollowly. “A jury will all right.”

“A jury?” “Yes, I’m for it, I tell you—absolutely done for!” “But, Chris, you didn't, mean—” “No, I know I didn’t,” he interrupted almost fiercely. “And- so do you. and Barbara, but who else does? Look at it as it is. Igo up there to have a row, I’ve said so to the Pilchers. I have it, I lock him in, I knock over the lamp, and I clear out.” “You knocked over the lamp before you locked him in.” “I can’t prove it, and even if I did it doesn’t make it much better.”

“It was an accident,”' cried Sally desperately. “It was an accident for which I shall swing," he flung out, striding up and down the room in torment. “There’s no way out. I can’t prove it was an accident at all; and everyone knows of the bad blood between us. Besides, there’s what I said to the Pilchers, and they saw the state I was in.” ■ ; i "u

“It was an accident, repealed Sally with pallid lips. "No one will think you deliberately burnt a man to death." .“A good counsel might get it down to manslaughter,” groaned E’rayne. .“That’s possible, the only possible hope. It’s that at the very least; I am responsible for the man’s death. . If I hadn’t fought him and locked him in—-” he broke off. “But I did,” he went on after a moment, walking to the- window and struggling with himself; “that’s all there is to it. What am I to do now? Thats the question.” “What can we do?” asked Sally wanly. “I won’t be' taken like a trapped rabbit and liigged off to gaol!” said Frayne over his shoulder; he pressed his lips together in grim despair. “No. You must get away from here, and then we’ll think of something.” ;; ■ ' z “Too late,” sharply cried Frayne. “They’re after me already. Look!” He pointed with a wild gesture of stricken laughter. At the bottom of of the drive, just coming through the gate, showed-the burly figure of Sergeant .Tuxworthy, his' step determined, his face set in an illuminating blend of solemnity and importance. CHAPTER, XII. Evasion. “Y’ou must hide, Chris 1” were Sally's terrified words as she gazed wildeyed over her brother’s shoulder at the approaching menace of the police. To her, as to many to whom the workings of the law are mysterious and remote,. its clutch upon someone dearly loved was. the end of all things. Christopher free, she could think; Christopher’in gaol, she would be paralysed. In any case, they must both know more..., •■. '-.u • ■ • ? ■ “There may be some mistake, ’’ .she went on tremulously. “He mustn’t get ypu, he mustn’t!” “I must see Barbara first at any rate,” he answered grimly. “Yes, yes; but we’ve only heard Nellie, and you know how inaccurate servants are. I’ll find out all I can, and, if I whistle, slip out and away. It’ll mean it’s true. But vanish now —quickly.” He obeyed; the initiative seemed to have passed from him. His brain was in such a whirl'that he could make no plan of any kind. His heart was just beginning to feel the burninganguish of what all this meant not merely to him but to Barbara also. He moved like an automaton impelled not because of his will but because of the abeyance of his will. The moment she was assured that he was out of sight, Sally regained some measure of self-possession. They seemed to her to have won the first round of the battle, only the merest preliminary, she knew, but, still something, . enough to give her an encouragement of which she was so very sorely in need. They had at least gained a moment’s breathing space; it rested now with her to turn that to the best advantage. Forcing herself with all the power of her love to seem natural and quite at her ease, she hurried from the dining-room into the hall and out on to the drive. She was just in time.

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