WOOING OF DARIEL

Taranaki Daily News, 15 July 1933, Page 21 (Supplement)

WOOING OF DARIEL

By

May Wynne

CHAPTER XXlll—(Continued.) You will remain at the mill till I see which way the cat jumps. McAlne Is In love with you, and I think both he and Waikes •will 'consider you of more Importance than myself. Anyhow, you are a valuable asset. Will you walk up the glen, or shall I have to carry you —or drug you?” He held up a tiny syringe as he spoke, and there was an ugly gleam in his dark eyes. Here was a man at bay. Ready for any desperate deed. Dariel had plenty of pluck, but her heart failed her now. Ellen Pearns was reviving. She had opened her eyes and there was recognition in them. “Colin,” she muttered. He turned to her with a snarl. “So you chose to betray me, hag!”; he muttered: “but you shall pay. You hear that? I ” He stopped, ais hands clenched, his face white with passion. Dariel saw her chance, in making or trying to make her escape too she would be helping the poor creature, who was almost too faint to be afraid. Dariel made a dart for the path and ran as fast as .she could towards the gap leading out to the moors. But Colin was too quick for her. He 'Overtook her in a few moments, and as Dariel tried to shake oil his hand from her shoulder she had at least one comfort. Ellen Pearns was left in peace. Brlnloch had already forgotten the latter. , • "So," he said, “you are clever; but not clever enough. Am I to carry you, or •" Dariel shook her head. She hoped he did not guess how afraid she was.

"I will come,” she managed to articulate, and together they walked back through the wood till they reached the cleverly-concealed car. It was growing dark by now; the western skies showed bars of dull crimson and grey. The moon lay mysterious and hushed. “Get in,” said Brlnloch; “we’ve no spare time. I have an appointment to keep in Perth this side of midnight.” Dariel was not likely to forget that motor ride. Brlnloch drove recklessly and the car swung perilously from side to side. It was the smaller, of his cars, but a perfect machine, or there must have been an accident. It was growing dark rapidly, clouds gathered and a storm threatened. The shivering girl heard the ominous roll of distant- thunder as the car stopped before the -old black mill, which stood, stark and forlorn, with broken arms and window, there on the edge of the marsh. “You are not likely to have visitors,” chuckled Colin; “the door is looked and the holder of the key is not likely to be here. If he Is, you can entertain him. You will not find him quite a stranger. We shall have to-mount the ladder leading, to the loft. The door is open above, and the quicker we get under cover the better.” “I can’t” moaned Dariel, “I can’t I The place is evil. There are—worse things than ghosts inside,”. “Nothing worse than bats, on my life," retorted Colin. “Come, you will risk both cur lives and limbs if. you Insist on being carried. Hurry up, my dear. The quarters might be worse." And what could she do? Step by step, rung by rung, Dariel mounted, feeling she was going to an execution. She was frankly afraid, though’ her fighting spirit was not crushed. .As they atood within the loft a flash of ' lightning, zig-zagging cut from the clouds, showed her mere cf the placejto which she had been brought. A gloomy . place, with great bins standing gaunt and moulding to decay —a spider-curtained window, grimy beams,.and rotting ropes hanging from the rafters.; The floor was thick in duet ’with' tracing of footsteps—and an open trap-door led down into the Mill. • “Come," said Brinloch with a chuckle, "things a”en’t so bad downstairs. You can have a light, if you ; wish, and supper. The ladder is safe. I think, however, I shall leave you to explore. Here are matches, and there’s a lamp, as well as candles. If—a visitor does come, tell him I shall be back In the early hours of the morning. You had better have a late supper, as I shan’t stop for breakfast when 1 come." “Tell me,” said Dariel, “what you mean to do. I am in your'power, and 1 want to know your purpose.'- I realise, money is all you are after." Brinloch smiled. “You happen to be quite wrong there, my dear," he retorted. "Money is certainly a necessity, but I am after several other things. Revenge is one. I ought to have been the master of Glanferne Castle—-had it not been for an old man’s black heart. I hate Graham McAlne—and >1 love you. If you want my full programme you must wait until I am less pressed for time. Goodbye for the present, little sweetheart. Make haste and get down to the room b&low. The loft is—unhealthy.” He glanced significantly towards the rotting rope. "The last miller followed his master’s example and hanged himself from the- same beam,” he added. “These folk are wonderfully conservative. Ta Ta." He hesitated, and Dariel guessing why, stepped quickly back towards the open trap. “You darel” she whispered. Brlnloch laughed. “What harm in a kiss?” he queried. “But there, again—j must wait. lam extraordinarily successful in getting all I want." He did not follow the frightened girl, but began to descend the ladder. Dariel crept to the edge of the loft and watched him. She had had a vague hope, which was speedily squashed, as, having reached terra firma, he placed the ladder carefully on the ground and then stood up to call a last warning. -Dariel did not wait for it, but re-crossed to the trap-door. There was a. ladder leading down into darkness. Dariel knelt down, then stretched out one leg cautiously. It was not a pleasant feeling to trust to an unknown ladder, but she felt she could not stay in the dark dreariness of •the loft. As she descended slowly and carefully she heard the scampering of little feet over the boards above her. Rats! She shivered. Would the brutes follow her down the rungs? The thought quickened her steps. She was standing in a wide passage, with three doors —one evidently leading out of the mill—the door of which the key was held by the mysterious visitor who might be coming. The other Dariel -turned the handle and Peered in. She had matches and struck on. the room was small, crowded with nlturej’a red striped cloth oO '’ er c n table on which was placed a small joint of beef, .a loaf, butter, an d an empty jug. There were several bottles o? P beer and spirits. The atmosphere suggested that quite recently someone had been smoking a cigar. There were papers on a second table. How the wind swept through the lonelv’ mill. The match burned out, and Dariel feverishly lighted another. She was afraid of the dark -afraid of the’ mill — afraid of the evil which haunted the ■ place. - She was cold with fear. A lamp stood in

wards it when she heard the sound pf akeFbeinglTitedTn The unnamed tenant was coming to keep her company until dawn. Blowing out the match, _Dar!el g.oped her way till she stood behind the closed door of the living room. -he could not think sanely, for te "° r crazed her. At any price she must escape from the haunted mill. Boom! How the thunder rolled! It was pitch dark outside But Dariel did not care. She would not stay another minute in this place. The door opened, and someone came in. She could hear the newcomer move forward—-and she screwed up her courage. Now! , She sprang but, and in another second was out of the room, wrenching at the outer door, which, she supposed Would be unlocked. Vain hope 1 And, as she searched fo- the key still in the lock, a hand caught her arm and dragged her back, whilst the light of an electric torch flared in her face, at the same time revealing to her the sharp features and high forehead of Brlnloch's fellow plotter Charles Restyne. CHAPTER XXIV. Flavla Consell sat looking at herself in her mirror. She had dismissed her maid, who was nervous of the storm, and now the latter was over she was regretting she had sent her to bed. She had not begun to undress; In fact, late though it was, she was not sleepy. She had too much io think of. McAlne’s refusal of her offer had angered her. She had been the spoiled darling cf a millionaire father, and accustomed to having her every whim granted. But—had fortune .shown a sturner face, she would have been a fine woman. To-night she was somehow regretting the part she had played in telling her detectives to carry on in spite of Brlnloch’s threat. McAlne’s horror at her calousness had stabbed her, she was heartily wishing her bravado had not egged her on to act so unworthily. She had dreamed in other days >of playing heroine and winning a world’s applause. To-night she was herself condemned by one at least whose good opinion she would have liked to keep. “I guess I’ll go right home to New. York and marry Harvey Desby,” she whispered—and the decision warmed her heart, since Harvey Desby had been her girlhood’s first lover—a true lover—devoted and romantic in his . pride and poverty. Flavia’s chin went up. The thought of Harvey’s worship saved her selfrespect. She was. smiling as she pictured the young farmer’s rapture, when a panel clicked, and someone entered the candle-lit room. The -girl sprang up, her hand on the bell, her breath coming quickly. But she was no coward, and when Colin Brinloch called her to desist, and hear his offer, she waited. Here was a big crisis—and Flavla liked big issues. Brlnloch bowed. "I know Durrook and Mollone are here," he said, "or, rather, they are watching the road with ■men from Scotland Yard—from here tp. Perth I should be in danger of arrest if I drove my car. And yet it is necessary for me to reach Perth by early morning. .1 hope to be in Caithness before another twenty-four hours are over. But that’s ho matter for us. I have to reach Perth with Dariel. Deene by .seven o’clock in the morning. I have had to change my plans three times to-night owing to your—friends. And you owe me your help. 1 have come to ask you to motor me and Miss Deene to an address just outside Perth. I Intend to marry her, though she will probably refuse my proposal for a time. She will come abroad with me, where circumstances —may change her 'opinion. I believe she will realise that I shall make a moder husband.” Flavla stood speechless. She could not rage—.for the very force of her indignation choked her. Also, she could not help feeling a vague admiration for such superb effrontery. “You are sure mad," she said, "as you will understand when I ring for the servants, who will arrest you for an impudent thief. You’ll answer to McAlne for your treatment of Miss Deene.” He raised his hand. “Wait!" he replied . sharply, “You ought to have played business woman and asked for terms. I’m not such a fool as to suppose you would serve me for—love. Listen. I have brought you back some cf your jewels. Here they are. Your necklet, your bangles, and the emerald star. You shall have the others, with three exceptions, later. If you will do as I ask I shall give you these Jewels, probably the remainder an arrival at Asynth 'House. And the road will be clear for your marriage with Graham McAlne. No one will know the part you play. Dariel Deene will become my wife and disappear from your stage. McAlne will, of course raise Cain, but he will be caught by your woman’s wiles in the rebound. You will give him sym-. pathy—and Glanferne. It is quite simple, and who is the worse off? I have a sufficiency even for matrimony, and Dariel is used to poverty and dependence. What do you say? You must decide at once, Miss Consell, for my car is outside in the wood. We have to travel some distance across the moors to a certain Mill, where Dariel is waiting.” Flavia stood erect, her hand pressed back against her breast, her breath coming very fast. There was a long pause—then the girl spoke. “Yes," she said, “I will accept your bargain. ] ■will d ‘ve you to Perth." (To be Continued.)