THE BEAUTIFUL PROXY

Taranaki Herald, Volume LX, Issue 143763, 11 April 1912, Page 5

THE BEAUTIFUL PROXY

By R. MURRAY GILCHRIST,

Author of “The Gentle Thespians/’ “Lords and Ladies,” “The Wonderful Adventures!” “Beggar’s Manor,” “The Secret Tontine, etc., etc. [COPYRIGHT.] CHAPTER Xl—Continued. “I mean to carry on this folly no longer,” said the excited Lady Dclaval. “I shall tell everybody what we have done.” Lady Caroline shook her head. /If we have wronged her,” she said, “think how infinitely greater would be the wrong of people knew that the girl lie had abducted was not his wife. For the sake of her reputation we must both be silont. The deception—God knows it was intended innocently enough must he continued, at any rate until we have news. Here comes Sorly; sho will help you to dress.” “Ay, that’ll he the best, my lady,” said the maid. “By the time she’s fit to go downstairs we shall be like to hear some nows or other.” But the hours passed without any clue being found, and before mid-day it was decided that since every portion of the park had been carefully explored, the lady must have been convoyed beyond its confines. The news spread rapidly to the village. CHAPTER XII. When Anne recovered her senses in some measure, she found herself lying on a grassy bank that sloped down to a narrow glade. Near by gleamed the head-lights of a great motor car; she heard the starting of the engine. She rose tremblingly, and strove to reel into the shadows, but the .next moment Bretby had caught her by the arm, “No, my dear Sylvia,” he said, with a short laugh, “the plot is too pretty for you to mar. We start in another minute—you have still time to bid a kind farewell to Delaval.”

“Let me go,” she cried wildly. “You have made a hideous mistake.”

“A mistake, my girl? You must surely kuow that I have a right to do what 1 will with my own. Are you going to deny that you’re my wife?” “I tell you again that you are mistaken,” she said. "I warn you that it will be best for you to let mo return —at once.”

“Why, Sylvia, you might be said to have’ acquired some will power whilst we’ve been apart. It is rather piquant—a little of it. But, frankly, I’d rather have you as you were. I don’t mean to do you any harm, my darling; I only mean to bring you to a rational frame of mind. As my wife you have‘duties that must not be shirked.”

“J. shall not go!” she said. “You cannot force me to go.” His pale eyes glinted savagely in tho light of the lamps. “1 thought I’d convinced you that yon had no say in he matter,” ho said. “For, goodness sake, don’t use such a high voice—it would bo hateful to find that my wife was a shrew. You needn’t imagine that anyone will hear you; that’s quite out of the question.” A sturdy young man wearing a soiled canvas coat came from the further side of the car, and speaking in French, assured his master that the car was ready. Anne moved forward, passionately appealing to him. Erotby watched her with a smile of .amusement. The chauffeur understood nothing. Once more Anrie strove to escape ; once more Bretby seized her arm. “My dear I —my dear!” ho expostulated." “Can’t you see that it’s impossible. Don’t oblige me to ask for L’Angellior’s assistance; I hate the thought of unnecessary violence.” The chauffeur opened the door of the car. Bretby nut his arm around her waist, and before she had time to struggle she found herself bundled inside. The door closed with a click; the two men took their places in front, and the car passed slowly down the road. She sought for the handle, determined to throw herself out, but found that it had been removed, and that for -the present escape was impossible. “The roads will be perfectly clear, and there are no police traps until we reach tho Great North Road,” said Bretby to his companion. “There’s no reason why we shouldn’t do the hundred miles' in two hours.” The chauffeur nodded. “Day breaks in an hour or so,” he replied, still in his own language. “I shall be glad when .we come to the flatter country.” Now and then Bretby turned and looked through the glass barrier at Anne’s crouching figure. At first her face was ghastly pale, and her eyes wore large with horror. But after the first half-hour some self-command returned; she unfastened the clasps ot her fur coat, and loosely re-arranged her disordered hair. As dawn neared, the lightning ceased to play, and before they had left the precincts of the hill-country the rain began to fall in torrents.

On and on and on, through villages and small towns, until they reached Sherwood Forest. Tho car halted for a few minutes in front of a quaint red-tiled inn, and L’Angcllior wont indoors to return presently with some petrol. Some minutes later Bretby opened the door of the car, arid put inside a packet of sandwiches and a half bottle of light wine. “I regret that' I can offer you no more suitable food,” ho said with mock courtesy—(Anno moved her hand as though she would thrust his offering aside) —“but please yourself, my dear.” The car started again; in a brief while they wore passing through tho heart of the woodland. Anne was sick and wretched, but she forced herself to partake of some of the food and wine. Suddenly near the summit of a slight hill, she heard a sharp report like a rifle shot, and the car, after skidding from side to side of the road, came to a full stop against a grassy bank. Bretby and the chauffeur left their seats—a tyre had burst, and they began to replace it quickly. Anne’s heart gave a wild leap; the spring of the near-side door had given way with the stoppage, and it already hung partly open. The two men were on the off-side; although she could seo neither, she heard Brotby’s muttered imprecation. Her hand pressed the door open, and then she slipped out into the rain, and after one hurried glance, leaped into the underwood. The door fell to with a clang; both men sprang to their feet just in time to catch sight of her flying figuro. Without a word they started in pursuit. After a few yards Anne came upon a track that had been made by the charcoal burners, and in the vain hope that this must lead to some house, she ran forward, at every moment hearing her pursuers’ approach grow near- . er. At last she came to a sharp turn-

ing, where the, track was crossed by another, and without pausing for consideration, she chose to pass along this, Brctby’s instinct was at fault; he went straight forward, and very soon the noise of pursuit was inaudible. In about a hundred yards Anne came upon a grassy space that surrounded a monstrous oak with jet-black trunk and foliage green as emerald. An old man was moving round it, carefully examining the iron supports that kept the brandies attached to their parent stem.

“I’d not ha’ come out on such a foul day but for fear the ‘Mayor's Oak’ had boon stricken with lightning,” ho said, as sho approached. “Lord, bless me, miss, I thought’twas somebody from the village. ~ My eyes is that bad nowa-a-days I can scarce see more nor a few yards. Be you one of them as goes about in motor cars?” Anne, scarcely knowing what she did, caught his hand—a hand almost as gnarled as tho oak itself. “For God’s sake, help me to hide somewhere!” she said hoarsely. “They will be here—they are sure to come soon I’' He looked around wonderingly, then pointed to tho tree. “Go you there, miss,” he said. “ ’Tis hollow, and 1 warrant nobody'll look in it. There’;* room and to spare.” Anne ran to the trunk, and finding a narrow opening as tall as herselt, passed into the strange interior. The man followed to the portal. “Whato’er is wrong with yon, miss?” he asked. “You look fair scared to death—that you do.”

“Get me help of some kind!” she said excitedly. “If there’s a village nerfr, bring as many people as you can.”

“Edwinstowe’s a mile away,” he said dubiously, “and my limbs aren't what they used for to be. Still, I’ll do my best—l can’t ahear to see the female sox in trouble,” (To be continued,!