A TIGHT CORNER

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 16038, 24 January 1918, Page 8

A TIGHT CORNER

[COPYRIGHT.]

By ARTHUR W. MARCHMONT,

Author of “By Right of Sword,” “The Man Who Was Dead,” Etc. CHAPTER XVII. ENID REBELS. All the possible reasons for Mrs. Gendall’s urgent summons which occurred to Bob on Ins way to answer it, were far away truth. The fact was that Enid had raised the standard of rebellion as the result of their interview in Kensington Gardens, and a letter which Mrs. Gendall had written her. That very shrewd person had pointed out to her one very pertinent fact.

j “It is all nonsense about your being I frightened into marrying Blount because Stephen may get into trouble. Of I course, the two are in it together; and | if one’s in a mess the other must be also. ' Don’t forget this.” The consequence was that Enid startled Mr. Cracroft with a very decided declaration of independence. “Dncie, I have resolved not to marry Mr. Blount,” she said firmly. | It was just, before dinner, and lie ; was reading and nearly let the book fall. “I—l don’t understand you, j child.” I “I have made up rr.y mind not to j marry Mr. Blount,” she repeated very deliberately.

I “But you—you promised. You—you j must. You’re—you’re engaged to him.” j “Promise or no promise, I won’t marry him. He’ll be here directly, and I I shall tell him; but I thought you’d I better know first. That’s his knock.” “You—you’ll ruin me,” said the old man feebly. He was so agitated that Enid was sorry she had not waited until Blount came. Ho had always been as kind and affectionate to her as if she had been his own child, and in this matter of the marriage had not uttered a single word to urge her. Blount had done all that, painting in vivid coloui-.s the ruinous consequences to her uncle if she refused, and using tho affection between them as the most powerful lover.| His present distress went straight to her heart therefore. But the instant Blount came into the room all thought of that vanished.

He went up to her with - his usual smile. “Good evening, Enid. I was half afraid I should be a bit late,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Good evening, Mr. Blount,” with a frigid bow. “Hullo! Something in the wind?” and he turned to Mr. Cracroft for the explanation. The old man avoided his look, fidgetting uneasily in his seat. The dinner-gong sounded. “Come, dear,” she .said, helping her uncle up and putting her hand on his arm. Blount followed, biting his nails almost fiercely. “What’s the matter, Enid?” he asked when the maid was out of the room. “I’ll tel! you after dinner, Mr. Blount,” she answered curtly, and, turning to her nude, plunged at once into a, description of a story she: had been reading, taking care to appear m the best of spirits. The men scarcely spoke a word. Each was busy with his own thoughts, one wondering uneasily what was '■miss, the other distressed and alarmed by the possible consequences. When she rose Blount omened the door for her, but instead of going out Enid bent over her uncle. “I’ll tell Mr. Blount, dear; but I want you to bo with ns.” He rose slowly, with a sigh and a sad shake of the head, and they all went, back to the drawing-room and she sat beside him on the chesterfield. “I think I’ve been kept on tenterhooks long enough, if you ask me, Enid.” -mid Blount, trying not fo show his anger. “I told my uncle, just before you came, that I will not marry you.” “Oh, that’s the game, is it? Very well. Only don’t blame me for what ’appons,” “Nothing will happen. Yon know that. And if I hadn’t boon stunid I should have seen that from the first.” “Ah, someone’s been talking to yon, eh? I .s’pose I can guess the name in cnee. But he’s no friend of yours, Air. Cracroft. So you’ve seen him again, then?” And he turhed to Enid with a flush of anger. “If yon mean Sir Robert Marlowe, I have only seen him once since I came hack from Bournemouth. I made no secret of that.” “There’s such a thing as letters, you know.” “I hare never had a letter from him in my life.” “Then who’s been interfering in our affairs?” Enid made no reply. “Oh, so they’ve persuaded you into ruining your uncle, oh ? Nice- sort of friends to have, and no mistake,” he continued snecringlr. “And what do you say to it, Mr. Cracroft?” , “My uncle has only reminded me that I promised to many you. Don’t blame him for this. It’s my own doing. Nothing on earth shall induce me to keep that promise.” Ho frowned at her for a moment, and then shrugged -his shoulders. “All right. But I’m sorry for you, Mr. Cutcroft, very sorry, d’ye done my best for you, as you know.” Enid felt her uncle wince at this, and her anger and indignation passed all control. She sprang to her feet. “1 think you are the most contemptible coward that ever lived!” she cried, magnificent in her rage. “Enid, dear. Enid!” protested her uncle timidly. “You’ve no call to say that, said Blount, white with rage, and looking inexpressibly mean and venomous. “1 do say it, and 1 mean it. What are you but a coward to lie as you have in order to make my uncle bo a party to your inf anions conduct to,mo? To drag out a promise to bo your wife by throats, which all the time you know were as empty of meaning as you'yourself are eleven the dregs of .manliness and honour.” “Those are hard words, Enid.” “And what are the actions which they only feebly describe?” “1 Ion’t want to talk about things you wouldn’t understand,” ho replied sullenly. • , , “I understand one thing—that any of the consequences so often threatened to my uncle will have to bo shaved by you; and I know you well enough to be certain that you think too much of your own safety to risk that,” she cried, splendid in her scorn of him. “Oh, that’s what they’re telling you, is it? Well, you’ll see. Mr. Cracroft. you heard that? You can tell her whether there’s any truth in that. You'd better get this thing put right nr ” and no shook his head meaningly. “If there were nothing else than that in you which is detestable; if you were not the mean, contemptible, sordidminded, vulgar, bullying sneak that I know yon to be 1 should despise and loathe you for the meanness with which yon have cheated a feeble old man, driving him to the verge of distraction with your ceaseless threats of ruin and disgrace, preying on his fears, twisting and exaggerating danger, and doingugh, what such a creature as you would do. Look at him now! If you had a, spark of honour and manhood in you'you’d go on your knees and own the trutn aiid cease such shameless persecution. But you? No. Yon are less man than viper; and your instinct is to turn and sting"the man who raised you' from the-gutter.” “Raised me from the gutter. I raised myself.” Enid laughed contemptuously. “At any rate the gutter must have been as glad to be free of you as I am,” and she raised her head with a great sigh of relief.

Ho shook with anger as he stood an instant in frowning thought. “I’ll see you about this at the office in the morning; Mr. Craoroft,” he said as he turned to the door. “Mind you, this ain’t my doing. And don't you blame imy for what happens” ; and with this parting shot at Enid h© went away. The old man had been a silent and half-dazed witness of the scene, and sat for a long time with fear and distress in his vacant gaze. “I’m afraid you—you’ve ruined me, Enid,” he muttered presently., “Why, uncle? What is really the meaning of it till? I have never been told the actual facts; only vague things and hints. It is true, it must bo true, that if there is any danger for you he must be in it as well.” “You—you wouldn’t understand it, child.” “That is just what he has always said. At all events I can try if you’ll only tell me.” “But there are things I can’t tell yon and others I myself don’t understand,” ho continued, 1 in his hopeless hesitation. “What he said was that you could be prosecuted by someone, I don’t know whom, if the truth came out, and that the only way of preventing it was by my besoming his wife. Of course he frightened me, but—it was Mrs. Gendall who wrote to me—you are partners and therefore he must be just as much concerned as you yourself are. Ho isn’t the man to get himself into any trouble. Who is tli ore that would prosecute you both ?” He.shook'lils head and sighed. “Don’t ask me, child. If it’s got to come, it must. I won’t sacrifica. you. I’ve been against it all through; but he’s so—so strenuous, so masterful at times that I—oh dear!” ho broke off with another heavy sigh. “Of course I don’t knov about these

things, but I suppose it’s only a question of money ax xhe bottom ot it. There’s mine, of course tot him have it.and welcome. Uncle dear, toll me,” she said silting down by him and taking his trembling hand and pressing it lovingly. “Tell me, dear. Do tell me.” But ho only shook his head and drew his hand from hers .and motioned to her petulantly to leave him alone. “Are you really afraid <f him ” she asked after a pause. “Don’t worry me, child,’’ he said with increasing impatience. “You’ve got your way, you’ve got your way. Let that bo enough for you.” “You don’t understand me, undo. Hateful as this thing would be, if you tell me it is necessary, prove it to mo, I moan. I’ll try to do it. But I’m nota child any longer, and X must know everything—everything.” He sighed heavily. “I don't think I know everything myself, and you were too angry to let him explain.” “I shouldn’t believe anything he said.” /

“Them yon go again. T can’t stand any more to-night. Oh. I wish I was dead,” he exclaimed despairingly, as he rose. “Don’t come with me. Let me he hv mrself for a while. Oh, Lord!” and with another groaning sigh he went ont of the room. The tears sprang to her eyes at tho sight of his trouble. She recalled his thousand nets of kindness, and wondered uneasily if she had really done the right thing in refusing to pay the price of'his safety. The impulse gripped her to go to him and take tho refusal hack : but at the thought of Blount she shuddered with a, swift intake of the breath. She could not pay the price demanded. She would, have had no such impulse had she known the thoughts in Blount’s mind ax he left the flat, and tho wholeheartedness with which he swore at tho man who “had shown her how to cheekmate him. Ido nut it all down to Bob : and much ns he loved money, he would have given all he possessed in the world to have, been able to square tho account between them. He had hated him_ from the moment he had seen him with Enid; and all night he twisted and turned, racking his wits to think of some means of revenge,, gnashing his teeth in impotent anger at his failure. Tiro following day he fnumL a. vent for his rage in torturing Mr. Cracroft. That the latter was ill in both body and mind did not interfere with Blount’s enjoyment, and he railed at him for his weakness in regard to Enid, and frightened him almost ont of his senses by picturing the horrors of . the impending arrest, conviction, and imprisonment. His victim had been too long under his swav. and was too distracted to answer him. He writhed under the gibes and threats in unendurable anguish until a chance’came, when Blount was closeted with a, client, to escape. He went home broken and so ill that Enid was desperately alarmed by this result of hor rebellion and all but ready to yield. Left to himself, Blount had to oontent''himself by bullying the clerks. He was an adept at this, keeping them late to do unnecessary work and inventing all sorts of excuses for cursing them for a pack of fools. When he left the office to go home—he lived at Clapham —he had a- couple of drinks, and as he was ‘usually an abstemious man the whisky had got into his head, and he turned into the Palgrave, a music-hall on the other side of tho rivor, which he often visited.

But the performance had little interest for him in his present mood, and he sat through part of it in'sullen indifference. Thor the turn “La Lunette” was announced, and Blount was staring with all his eyes. For “ha Lunette” was no other than the girl Estelle la Roche 1 He watched her performance, but all the time his mind was working vigorously. Hero ho was saying to himself, was the witness who could give him the evidence he was seeking. The curtain had no sooner rung down than he was round at the stage door inquiring for the girl. In response to his urgent request, which seemed to cover some secret design, she consented to go with him to supper at a- restaurant near by, wondering what business this eager little man could have with her. (■Continued daily.)