THE BEAUTIFUL PROXY

Taranaki Herald, Volume LX, Issue 143788, 11 May 1912, Page 5

THE BEAUTIFUL PROXY

By R. MURRAY GILCHRIST,

Author of “The Gentle Thespians,” “Lords and Ladies,” P'JTie Wonderful Adventures!” “Beggar’s Manor,” “The Secret Tontine, etc., etc.

[COPYRIGHT.]

CHAPTER XXXlX.—Continued. Anne’s wild eyes met Bretby’s. Her tongue moved, but moved in silence. He drew out a silk handkerchief and passed it the chauffeur. "To avoid any disturbance,” he said, “it would be best to gag her ladyship. Be careful, my friend; for the world I wouldn’t have that lovely face marred. Be quick; n;e n>ust leave hero immediately.” L'Angelher folded the handkerchief and tied it over Anne’s face; she seemed for a moment as though almost deprived of life itself. Bretby drew her to a couch and sat at her side, “Go downstairs and engage the porter in talk while I carry her ladyship downstairs,” he 'said to L’Angelher. “In another moment we must leave the house. 1 will carry her—l shall not need your help.” • As soon as the man had retired, he put his arm around Anne’s waist and drew her closer. “Why are you so coy, my dear?” he said. “Believe me, you are growing rather tedious. There was a spice of romance about it before; but now—well, I’m almost inclined to attribute to you the vice of shrewishness. Let us liuish this game of cross purposes. lam anything but contented. You forget. Sylvia, that I am your husband, that you belong to me, body and soul. And now we must waste no more time; once more I shall have the delight of carrying you in my arms,” As Anne did not stir in any way, he divined rightly that she had fainted. He rose, picked her up, and moved carefully to the corridor, treading very softly, so that none might overhear. In another minute he had placed her inside the car. L’Angelher came from the inn, and they began to move quickly through the deserted little town. CHAPTER XL. Now and then Bretby turned to look through the glass at his captive. Not long after they had left the inn, she stirred, thrust hack the dishevelled hair from a face stricken with horror, then huddled herself in a corner, pressing her hands to her eyes. At sunrise the car stopped before the gate of Somercale Park, and L’Angoilier alighted to arouse the lodge-keeper. So much time was wasted that Bretby grow impatient, and descending picked up a great stone and hurled it through a window on an upper floor. After the crash the broken casement swung open, and the head of an angry woman Was out-thrust. The beldame was toothless, and almost bald; a shawl that she had thrown over her skull fell back, and lay like a cowl on her humped shoulders. , Bretby checked her invective with peremptory speech. As soon as she recognised him, sho withdrew her head in some confusion, and hastily donned some clothes. When she appeared she was wearing a scarlet woollen petticoat with a frayed hem, and a patchwork quilt whose ends she held together with a gnarled hand. “I’m sure I beg your honours pardon,” she grohned. “I’d no notion as ’twas you, or I wouldn’t have let my tongue wag so free. , But being disturbed so sudden in my sleep took away my senses as it were.” “The key, quick!” cried Bretby. “Unlock the gate!” She obeyed; the car passed on to the moss-grown drive. The two men returned to their place, and she closed and locked the gate, then stood, hand on hip, watching them out of sight. “He’s brought his lady back again, she mumbled, “By jowks, I'd not be in her shoos for all the money ,in the world. There’s evil in his face—plain written evil, such as any man might road. Howso’er, ’tis no business of mine; whate’er ho docs ’tisn’t mo as ’ll have to pay.” Then she returned to the cottage, and being as sho said “upset,” she opened a corner cupboard and took out a large flat bottle of colourless spirit. “A sup o'gin T 1 put mo right,” she said. “There’s no better friend for poor old folk as lives alone. Eh, deary me, how my hands do shake for sure. I must be careful, ’tis too precious to spill. I wonder—l wonder what mischief the master’s up to now? ’Tisn’t a place fit to shelter an3’one, and there’s ne’er a scrap o’ victuals from roof to cellar 1” _ She poured the spirit into a cracked tea-cup, and drank greedily, afterwards smacking her puckered lips with unction. “Ay, a good friend and no mistake,” she said. “It sets the blood running quick—it warms the heart, it gives fresh sight to the eyes. Well, this is an occasion when I need a stimulant, and to be sure there’s no reason why I should forego it. I’ll have another sup.” Thereupon sho tilted the bottle again, and not being a regular toper, she was soon under the influence of the potent spirit. She sat back in her rocking-chair, wept for a time sentimentally, over the virtues and vices—the latter predominating—of all the Brethys she had known during her long life; and finally fell comfortably asleep. Meanwhile the car had reached the front of tho great half-ruined house. Bretby opened the door, and ivith mock humility hegjjed Anno to alight. “I do not intend, after all, my dearest girl, to imprison you here,” he said. “You would not be as comfortable as at Beerton, and, moreover you might have too many temptations in the way of escape. Still it may please you to see again the scene of our very happy honeymoon.”

Anne did not move; he bent forward and caught her wrist. “Come,” he said sharply. “It is ray wish—have you not yet learned the folly of opposing me? I promise you that after you have seen what we are about to do, you will have a better opinion of my' cleverness. Why don’t you speak, Sylvia ? Your tongue can trip easily enough of you wish.” His grasp tightened until it seemed as though her hones would crack. He drew her to the weedy gravel of the terrace. “Y’ou look charming, my dear,” he said. “I think I have never seen you so.much to my liking. What lovely hair you have—how the sun enriches its colour!”

L’Angellier had forced open the great door. Bretby summoned him to his side, then whispered a few words in his ear. The chauffeur opened the tool box of the car, and after a brief search brought to light a length of closelywoven rope.

“Our good friend is about to offer you a slight indignity,’’ said Bretby to Anne. “You would be wise to endure

it without objection—a struggle would he inconsistent with your very pretty dignity. It is only in your own interests, my Sylvia. Your loving husband must know that lie is your surest guardian, and must also be averse from letting you run any risks. There is a slight element of danger in what 'we are about to do; for the life of me I wouldn’t have your beauty spoiled.” As Anno gave no sign of having heard, Bretby nodded to the chauffeur, who came to Anne’s side, and almost before she was aware had tied the end of the rope round her waist. Tho other end he gave to his master who twisted it round his left arm. “A thousand apologies,” Bretby said with feigned tenderness. “A thousand apologies for this necessary precaution. But it’s compulsory that I should assist—should direct what is to be done, and, loving you as I do, Sylvia, I cannot bear to lot you out of my sight. Assure yourself that there" is nothing ludicrous in your aspect—you are not at all like a dancing bear! Indeed, you resemble some virgin martyr of ancient days.” (To be continued.)