CHAPTER XII.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LIII, Issue 12926, 3 August 1905, Page 6

CHAPTER XII.

AN' UNWEI/COMB INTRUDER.

' A i shabby-genteel man rose to meet Chris Davenant as the latter entered the morning room. Despite the iron-gray of his hair and thick moustache and beard, the man did not look more than fifty, and might once| have been good-looking* but a life of dissipation had written its record so heavily on his features that only a keen observer would detect any remains of comeliness. ' Despite these drawbacks, however, his stooping shoulders, and .shabby attire, there was that about the visitor which proclaimed him, by right of birth and cducalion, a gentleman ; even his manner of rising indicated gentility which no moral or physical degradation can utterly obliterate ; even in maniacs, all specialists tell us,

when almost all other human 111 1 haracteristics may be blotted out, • the traditions ot gentle breeding i are never, entirely lost.

"Well, Fancourt," -said Davenant, I Holding out his hand, but not in his j usual cordial way, "what has ! brought you to England ?" j Fancourt's smile was not a plea- ' sant one.

"The fact is," said he, dropping the hand he had scarcely touched, and composedly seating himself again, "I was" awfully hard vp — normal . state — and hearing you were in Iyondon, I came also, and — here I am !"

"My dear fellow," said Davenant, who remained standing, to intimate that he had no intention of* prolonging • the interview, ■ "I've only been in London a fortnight." "I know that. ' I didn't say I heard of it in the States. I have been in Paris for. the ias't ) six weeks— you passed through ; I followed ; quite by a chance I found out where you were living." "You tracked me down, in fact. But, you. know, Fancourt, things are different from what tHey were in New York !" — Fancourt' s glance round the apartment, and nod, said, "I should think they were !" — "I have • a good position, and •nix in the society to which my oirth entitles me ; but, j oi) course, ■that .sort of thing is very expenive ; there is my ward, too " "Oh, yes ! I've heard of ' her— a very beautiful girl. Go on." "Well, I was going. to say," conlinued Davenant, not at all liking liis visitor's manner, "that if you want a five-pound note, I can let you have it ; but I can't do more." "That's a pity," said Fancourt, smiling, "because I want more." The eves of the two men met.

lavenant laughed. "You really don't imagine," he said, "that you can blackmail me on the strength of our New York camaraderie. To lead a jolly life for a few months hurts no man, socially." "Of course not. I'm not a fool, Davenant., Sit down, and I'll tell von a little story, and, when I've finished it, you may consent to ■j^ive me a home under your roof. t shan't be intrusive ; I don't want society, only board and lodging, md a trifle of pocket money."

"Cool, by Heaven " began Davenant.

Fancourt raised his hand.

"My, story," he said. "I've a turn for narrative — wxote. once for a New 1 York magazine. That's tight," as Davenant saf down, feeling a kind ofl inward trembling. What did this man know?

Fancourt clasped his thin hands -otmd his knee, and began : "I won't' be prolix, and I'll mention no names ; you can fill them in for yourself. Tliere was a man, well born, but in character rather dodgy, who was, as we say in the States, c on the make.' Hej came to New York. There he lived by

his wits—honestly, as things g« But, by and by, he met his fate in the shape of a lady, not young, but handsome, and showy— the sort of woman to get on. She was an English lady, not! an. American, ,but, alas ! she" had a past. You follow' me ? "

Davenant, who had turned his face aside a little, made an involuntary movement ; a' curious, gray shadow had come over his rosy face. Fancourt smiled again, and went on :

' "She had been the wife of an English chaplain, in the company of a good-looking Spaniard, and cattle to America ; there she martied her friend, before a Justice of the peace, in California. She afterward divorced him according to the easy laws of that State, and went jto New York, : where she flourished 'as the widow of .an American gentleman. The hero oi my story- married thi^ dubious personage, being made fully awar by; the Spaniard aforesaid, who came across him by chance, of the history of Mrs Three Stars. But the • Spaniard, - who had married again, was content to keep dark ; and 'my herd married , the lady with a past; and came to Europe, finally establishing himself in London, where he reckons to get on in society, marry his ward — I omitled .to mention her before — to a ich swell, etc., etc. Now, ,if the truth about my hero's — wife, shall I call her ?— were to leak out, it j would be a little awkward for all i concerned — wouldn't it ?" _ j Davenant sprang up,i livid and trembling. • * "How did you learn all' this ?'*' he' cried, hoarsely. '"What proof have you ?" "Ah! 'I thought myj\ story; would interest you," 1 .said Fanourt, \ perfectly unmoved by the other's 1 \ agitation. "How did I earn it all ? Well, that is a longer and more prosaic story than what I have just told you. Isn't it enough that I do know it ?' As for oroofs — well, since we ha^e dropoed parables, and come to facts, I may mention that the Rev. Rober r <yrle is now in South Africa, in harge of a church at Natal, and an be produced if required, that the Spaniard, Jose Mieruelas, is at Iyos \ngeles, and can also De produced. I we 'stop the case' at this noint, or do you want any more?" "No," said Davenant, dropping tHo the chair again. There was a moment's pause, davenant sat with his head bent. Fancourti regarded him '.with a sinister smile. AtJ length: Chris looked up, and said slowly : (

"Of course, I have no choice ; Cbut I might as well throw up t: very thing, as ( have you fin the family circle. My ward wouldn' stand it at any price." Fancourt 1 did not at all resent the cruel bluntness of this speech. He replied, composedly : "I told you I shouldn't obtrude myself, and I'll keep my word. I don't want to see any of your swell friends. ' Just/ give me a room to myself, and you won't of ten see me ; I'll take all my meals by myself,' and you can give out that I'm a ne'er-do-well relation or friend, on \ whom you > have take pity. That will look charitable and do you credit. Even when I'm drunk " I'm not noisy ; I just li down and go to sleep, and, probahf ly, I shan't trouble you long. I'm a mere weak wreck now." Davenant scanned ■ the degraded speaker • with an eye to his own future release. Yes, Fancourt did not look as if he would last long,. His " sometime boon companion rose. "fVery well," he said ; "your terms, so long as you hold your tongue." "Of course ; if I blab, the game's up, and you may as well kick me out at once. That being settled,' said Fancourt, rising, "I won't keep you any longeT at present. Expect me to-morrow morning ; meanwhile, you can explain matters any way you choose to your ward and your wife. Au revoir !" Davenant made no response, and Fancourt walked to the door, bowed politely, and went out. To his wife, Chris told the truth; to his ward, story of a ne'er-do-well old friend and distant relative ''down in his luck." Claude asked no questions, but didn't even pretend to believe the story/ Chris wasn't the person to do a kindness, even to a man who had saved his life. Of course, this Fancourt had been able to put the screws on in some ' way ; but it could , not i matter much to her whether Fancourt were in the house or out of it.

Would it not ? How 1 , little we can forcast the future.

(To be continueid).