CHAPTER LI.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LIII, Issue 12970, 25 September 1905, Page 6

CHAPTER LI.

TO* A DYING BED.

Claude started at the loud ringing of the door-bell. She had been for a long time 1 so l deeply buried in thought that she had . no idea how the time passed, and, glancing, at the clock, was astonished to find it was near eleven. Who in the world, then, could it be coming to the house so late ? Shi rose up, and waited, listening. IJ no servant was up, she would go to the door herself. But in a minute or two she heard the hall door open, and almost immediately a footman came to the drawing room. "Miss Verner, a person named Benson is in the hall. She want? to see you at once. She says you'll know her." # "Benson !" exclaimed Clatide. and she ran down quickly to the hall. Benson came forward, eageriy. "Miss Claude," she said, "it's '"Mr Fancourt wants to see you ! I'm afraid he's dying, miss ! 1 wouldn't come at' first, but he took on dreadful, miss, and said it was life and death, and wouldn't rest till I came !" "Yes — yevS ; T wish you had come at once, Benson. I'll be with you in a minute." She ran tip to her dressing room for her hat, and a wrap, j and 'jastily scribbled a line to 'Maida : "Dear Maida : Fancourt is dvinp —sent for me : it's all riq-ht — Benson came. She's l trustworthy • and no harm could happen, anyhow. CLATJDK."

This she put in an envelope, and laid, ! addressed »to t Maida, in a conspicuous place on " the hall frabJe, and. without more ado. went out with Benson.

"We'll have a cab," she said. 'Here's one." She hailed it ; they got in, and Jrove off. On the way, Claude a.sked for some particulars. "I don't know what Mr Fanoourt wants, miss," said Benson ; 'but he kept on saying he must see you — it was life and death ; ne seems quite sensible like now — lie's been that way all day. You won't know him, miss, he looks so ninny. He made me cut off all his beard, and whiskers, and moustache — you wouldn't believe the diange it makes in him. I don't jinow why he did that ; he wasn't -i bit delirious ; but he's awfully weak, and he won't have a doctor. I think he misses the drink ; ha don't get near as much as he ii.sed to, and they say, drunkards can't live without drink." Claude shuddered. j "And Mrs Davenant ?" she asked. "She hasn't been near ihim allj day, miss. She didn't know v I was toming for you; but she wouldn't have minded. She . was in her room when I left. I don't know if she's gone to bed." "And no one with- Fancourt ?" "No, miss ; there was nobody ;.p but me." . The cab stopped opposite the. house. Benson opened the dooi with a latchkey, and they went on together to Fancourt's room.

"I had best go •in alone," said Claude ; "but you'll wai£ up, Ben son ; you may be wanted."

"For certain, miss, I shan't gc to bed ; I, shall be in ' this room., close by." j r Claude opened the door of the sick room, closing it after her, as she entered. The air was close, and heavy with the smell oJ brandy. On the bed at the further end lay a ghastly, emaciated form, whose face ,the girll would certainly not have recognized at once, for all the hair was gone ; the man looked quite different, and, despite the inroads of dissipation and sickness, younger. Pie eagerly raised himself on his elbow as Claude, all repugnance overcome in profound pity, went up to the bedside.

L "Ah, you've come !" 'he said:i "you've come! I knew you would.'' He spoke with difficulty, but he was more thoroughly in j his senses than Claude had) ever . seen him. "You don't know me," he added, as she bent down- and took his hand. "I'd: a reason for having my hair cut' off. '-! I'm not drunk ot mad now." His' eyes, burning with inward fever,- searched / the. girl's face anxiously. "I know you are quite yourself/ she said, gently. "What can I dc for you ? Let me send for a doctor." . / He shook his head. "No, no ! Look here child — you must be a saint, to be kind to mt after what I did ; but I'll make it up to you — I'll do^one good thin before I die." He laughed, an# that made hiir cough. Claude turned the heated pillow • , "Try and rest," she said, "anc don't talk." "I must,, child— l must. Give ue a little brandy— just a little— -.o keep me going — it won't make •ne drunk now — I'm too weak."

Claude poured out some brand} and water, and gave it Ito him. supporting him while Ihe drank. He look up to her gratefully.

"I'll atone for what I did," Iv said. He let her lay him back oi the pillow, but clutched her hanf tightly. "Look here," he said "I want to see Capt. Stewart to night— you must fetch him !" "I fetch him !" She started, and changed colour. *'lt's life and death, I tell you . Dying men don't play the fool, child ! I must see him; you kno\* where; to find him— the servant 't no good ; besides, she won't have money for cabs, and I haven't, Gc at once, chtld— don't waste a mill ate — bring him here quick 1" There was no mistaking his in tense earnestness, and Claude Jicsi tated no longer, cruel though th<. ordeal was for her to call ) at l man's chambers at midnight ; pos dibly, worse still, at his club, to ietch him away. "I will go for him," she said . 'he shall come without fail." "Thanks, thanks 1" He looked, even in that mimvte more* relieved. Claude went out to Benson, am I told her to go in to keep watch by Fancourt. "I am going," she said, "tc | fetch some one he wants to see. It's all right ; I must go myself. Give me the latchkey. Thanks." She ran noiselessly and j*.pidly down the stairs, out of the lv i se. closing the door softly, nd j siiied the road beyond. It flashed across her win.tv.infStewart would say to hv.r be:m; out alone, in these lovuV flaces at midnight. But, ihsre was vc help for it. Even if Fancourt'? wish were only a sick man's whinhe was a dying man, and must be humoured. But his. manner gaveher the strong impression, that he really wished to see. Capt. Stewart for some reason .j which, t<him, at any rate, appeared im mrt ant.

(To be continued.)