THE SECRET FOE

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXVII, Issue 16547, 23 September 1919, Page 8

THE SECRET FOE

SENSATIONAL AND DRAMATIC STORY.

By EDGAR DICKERING, Author of “Tho Falconhurst Mystery,” “Love, the Conqueror,” “Murder Will Out,” etc., etc.

CHAPTER XIV,

MR. HUNCOTE HAS AN UNPLEASANT EXPERIENCE.

Upon leaving the court Mr. Huucoto made his way to Joe Palmer’s farm, finding him in tho kitchen and in a more aggressive mood than usual. “I had your letter, Palmer,” he said, “and I have also seen the girl Amy. She has grown up remarkably good looking.” “Ah!” growled Palmer. “Her husband would like to know presently what I can tell him.” “I am of opinion,” continued Mr. Huneoto blandly, “that tho wedding will not take place. At least 1 shouldn’t like to marry a woman who had done her best to got mo hanged. Mr. Strange is of nry way o! thinking I fancy, judging from his manner in the dock.” “There’s others that might bo told,” replied tho farmer. “Which would be killing the golden goose, my friend, and you won’t) be so foolish as to do that. I.am prepared to make you an offer. A very generous offer, too, which you can consider. You have certain documents in your possession, and how you ever got them passes my understanding—well, I will give you* two hundred pounds if you hand them over to me.” “Yon know what I want.” “You asked for five hundred, which is altogether too absurd, Palmer. You can have two hundred as X said just now—it’s far more than the papers arc worth, and I don’t know that I’ve anything further to say. But please not to write me any more blackmailing letters or wo shall fall out. I don’t like them.” He was pensive when walking hack to Monkstown, thinking of another visit ho had to pay. Mr. Mortimer had to be seen, and on coining to the road leading to Nethorcliffo ha Stepped aside to allow a motor-car to pass. It had drawn up suddenly, and ho waved a black gloved hand at the driver. “You have saved me a walk, Mr. Mortimer,” ho cried. “I was coming to have a word with you.” “Then you Jiad better get into tho car,” replied Mortimer almost angrily. “What in the fiend's name brought you here? I saw you in tho court this morning.” “Well, to toll the truth, I was curious to see how the case went. Orrac’s murder interests me. Nothing could have happened more fortunately. You agree with mo as to that. It is a danger out of the way—a groat danger.” “I’m sick of hearing about Ormo,” replied Mortimer, savagely. “Is that all you wanted to say?” “Not quite,” answered Mr. Huneoto placidly, “I’ve a little matter of business to talk over with you. I had a visit from Ormo a short time since. True lie was drunk, but it showed a grasping nature, I thought.” Mortimer’s face was dark as a thunder cloud, but lie made no reply. “There is no telling what the fellow might have done,” continued Mr. Huneoto, .and then ho gave a terrified start. “Pardon mo, Mortimer, but you are driving at a dangerous speed,” lie osclaimed. Mortimer laughed grimly as the car dashed down hill, leaping and lurching. They were approaching a sharp turn in thff'road, hut tho speed was not reduced. and Mr. Huneoto clutched the side of the scat spasmodically. “For heaven’s sake, go slower,” lie shouted, the wind seeming to snatch tho words out of his lips. He could see the top of a laden wagon and hoar tho rattle of harness, coming round the corner, and at that point tho road narrowed. Mortimer paid no heed to his frantic warning, and tho next moment the oar had spun round tho bend, making straight for the heavily laden wain. Tho vision of a dreadful death which would happen in an instant—of being a mangled corpse, flashed through Mr. Huncofe’s brain, but all else was a blurred picture of struggling horses as tho wagoner thrust them against the hedge—of a demon beside him crouched over tho driving wheel, togofher with distracting sounds and thoughts as tangible as sight, until everything vanished amid tho crash of splintering woodwork, and he was lying half stunned upon tho damp earth trying to regain his senses. Mortimer was standing over him looking down at tiro lawyer’s prostrate form with a frown. “You were lucky in coming down in a ploughed field, Huneoto,” ho said with a harsh laugh. “Can you got up?” “I don’t know,” replied Mr. Huncote faintly, but ho managed to get to his knees. “What has happened?” “You’ve had a narrow escape of being killed,” answered Mortimer. “Wo caught the wheel of tho "wagon.” Mr!’ Huneoto had succeeded in rising to his foot, and accepted Mortimer’s assistance to a gate in the hedge. Tho demoniacal look on tho latter’s face was there still, and tho memory of that awful drive gave Mr. Huneoto a shudder. ;, Tf you had wanted to kill mo, Mortimer,” ho said, reproachfully, “you couldn’t have tried better.” “Well, dead men tell no talcs,” and Mortimer laughed mirthlessly. “Anyway, you’re alive. The car is smashed, and I advise you to go hack to Monkstown.” ~ He had escaped unhurt himself, hut Mr. Huneoto was bruised to such an

extent that his walk into tlio town, fo,r nothing would have induced him to continue his journey to tho Hall, was slow and painful to a degree. After a prolonged rest on tho gate from whence ho' had a view of tho wrecked car, feeling o-reatly relieved by Mortimer's walking away, ho began his toilsome return to Monkstown. “Tho scoundrel meant to kill me! I’m convinced that was his intention,” he muttered. “Orme’s gone, and ‘dead men tell no tales,’ he said that, tho villain; but there will come a time of reckoning, Mr. Mortimer.”

(Continued daily.)