“The Mystery of Helmsley Grange”

Thames Star, Volume LIX, Issue 16625, 22 October 1925, Page 3

“The Mystery of Helmsley Grange”

By ALICE & CLAUDE ASKEW. (Authors of “The Shulamite,” “The Pearl of Great Price,” etc.)

OUR SERIAL STORY

CHAPTER X. Mrs. Morley’s glib tongue was running away with her. Roger interrupted the story with a light laugh which had yet something forced about it. “What an unpleasant tale to tell us, Aunt Anne,” he cried. “It really isn’t kind of you—not that we have any reason to be afraid.” He turned liis eyes lovingly upon Iris, who, in her turn tried "to smile as though Mrs. Morley’s story had but littlo weight with her.

Yet the words had sunk deep into tho secret depths of her soul. Certainly, Mrs. Morley’s tongue was apt to carry her away. Calm and placid in her own life, she had a way of imagining romance in the lives of others, and the words of counsel which she thought fit to speak Iris were vot altogether comforting to the girl whose knowledge of the world was so strict!v limited.

“You must never be jealous of Roger, you know, dear,” the good lady would say; “he adores you, and that is the main thing in married life. Men are not to be judged by the same standard as women. I am sure you are the only woman he has ever really loved, but he is young and good-look-ing. and, no doubt, he has had his flirtations.”

All of which, kindly meant as it was, had the contrary effect to that intended, iris became vaguely jealous —a. feeling which otherwise would never have entered her mind. If there were other women in Roger’s life, would he not realise later on that he had given himself to one who was the least worthy? How would she compare with these women when she met them—for meet them she must—as Roger’s wife ?

The feeling that Roger might take interest in other women beside herself met with a curious confirmation one day, though the incident in itself was trivial enough. On .the border of Helmsiey Wood, where a public road intersected it, marking the confines of her father’s property on one side and that of Sir Julian Danvers on the other, was a small house inhabited by a certain Mr. Stanwav and his daughter. Iris knew little of tli<sir history beyond the fact that Air. Stanway was a gentleman who had lost his fortune, and had been obliged through lack of means to settle in this unpretentious cottage. Roger had been acquainted with Air. Stanway in London—he had once casually said so.

One afternoon Iris, on her way to the rectory, saw Roger at the door of Air. Stan way’s cottage. She hurried on, but found that he had been admitted to the house; he had evidently not seen her. Iris waited in the road; she was somewhat in a hurry, but she had a few words she wished to say to her lover—they were of no great importance, yet the opportunity was favourable.

The minutes passed and Roger failed to appear. Then it occurred to Iris that she might as well ring and deliver her message. She knew Air. Stanway well enough to take this small liberty. After a few moments’ delay the door was opened to her by Aliss Stanway herself, a girl whose beauty Iris could not fail to recognise. Theresa Stanway was tall and stately, four or five years older than Iris perhaps, and she

had the appearance of a woman who had suffered and who knew the world. The pride of her lost position was expressed in every feature of her face, which was white and of classic cut, framed by hair of deepest black. Smiles came rarely to her lips. Iris had heard that Theresa Stanway seldom left her father’s cottage. The two girls knew each other by* sight, but that was all. Iris stammered out the object of her call. Could she see Air. Alorley for a moment? He was probably with Air. Stanway. The answer took Iris utterly by surprise. “But I think there is some mistake. Aly father is out—he went up to London this morning. And Mr. Alorley is not here.” Theresa Stanway met the astonished glance of the younger girl placidly and without confusion. “I am sorry,” she added.

What could she sav ? It only remained for her to falter out an apology and take her departure. Was it possible that she had been mistaken ? Certainly, she .had seen a man admitted to Air. Stanway’s house, and she was sure —sure —that she had recognised Roger. Was that girl with the pure high forehead lying to her? Alost terrible thought of all, was Roger deceiving her? She tried to put the Suspicion from her mind as soon as it presented itself. No—no—she must have been mistaken. It was not Roger whom she had seen. She hurried on to the rectory, half expecting certainly hoping—that she would find Roger there. But in this hope she deceived herself. She was met in the garden by her smiling, placid aunt, who greeted her affectionately and told her that Roger had been out for the last hour, but that she expected him back very shortly.

“I thought,” faltered Iris, “that I saw him just now at the door of Air. Stanway’s house, but I must have been mistaken.”

“Oh, it may very well have been he,” returned Airs. Alorley, carelessly. “He has always been on very friendly terms with the Stanways.” She laughed easily. “In fact, I always used to tease him about the Stanway girl, whom I am quite sure that he admired; but you musn’t be jealous of his old flames, Iris.” Airs. Alorley put her arms lovingly round the girl’s waist,, and led her towards the house. “You are everything to him, now, you know,” she added. But Iris did not feel so sure of this. Her heart sank within her, though she did not confide her suspicions to her aunt. A new mystery liad arisen, and Iris, as was her wont, magnified it inordinately. “No,” repeated Airs. Alorley, as they neared the house. “It would never do to be jealous of old flames. Why, there is one of yours waiting here to see you, Iris. He has only just heard of your engagement, and is anxious to congratulate you.” Iris drew back. - “Who is it, aunt? Whom do you mean?” she faltered. “Win*, Sir Julian Danvers, of course,” smiled Mrs. Alorley. “I know .you don’t care for the man, Iris, but 3*oll must show him a little pitv. He is 011I3* here for a day or two; you know what a bird of passage he is. But he took the opportunity* of calling to inquire after you. He has

brought a friend with him, too, who is anxious to make your acquaintance, because ” she lowered her voice, “because he knew your dear mother. I left them with your uncle, but 1 know lie will be glad to be relieved of the duty of entertaining, so we must hurry in.” Iris followed her aunt reluctantly. “I am sorry they have come,” she whispered. “I don’t know why, AuntAnne, but I hate Sir Julian Danvers— I hate him, and 1 am afraid of him.” . CHAPTER XI. AnneMorlov had never been inclined to accept -as gospel all the stories that were told in Ilelmsley and its neighbourhood of Sir Julian Danvers. It was.in her nature—gossip though she herself was—to give no weight to gossip. She formed her own conclusions about people, and, to do her justice, be it said, her conclusions were usually just. Perhaps it was easy to be deceived in the case of Sir Julian Danvers, for appearances were distinctly in his favour. A man of some fifty years, he was tall and bore himself well. One might have put him down as a soldier, 3'et he had never been in the army. He had travelled much and had many tales to tell of his adventures in foreign parts—tales'* which might or might not.,be true, but to which he, certainly, imparted the air of truth. He spoke well and fluently, and he had an amiable smile which endeared him to ladies, and which won the confidence of men. His hair was thick •and iron grey, his carefully trimmed moustache was grey also. He was always well dressed, and was never known to hurry himself, however pressing a reason there might be.' Iris, as she glanced up furtively at. her aunt’s visitor, was constrained to admit that his appearance inspired confidence, yet, little as she knew of the evil reputation he bore, she repeated to herself that she hated and feared Sir Julian Danvers.

He greeted her with respectful courtesy, and spoke some words of congratulation upon her engagement, ox which he had known nothing until t-haL day. As lie spoke she had the :n pleasant feeling that liis eyes were searching her—that his thoughts were not with his words. There had never been any suggestion that Iris was likely to accept Sir Julian Danvers as a suitor, en had thrown out hints to her and he had spoken more openly to her aunt. But Mrs. Morley had refused to take any responsibility in the matter, and Iris had done her best to let. him understand at once that his attentions were undesired. But he was very persistent and Iris had found -it hard to throw him off. Perhaps it was for this reason that she had an instinctive fear of the man.

Sir Julian introduced his friend. “Mr. Flail,” he said, “is a very old friend of mine, though we have not met for some years. I persuaded him to spend a day or two with me at Danvers Court,'after which it is possible that we may go abroad together.” Mr. Flail extended liis hand to Iris, but she bowed somewhat coldly, as it not noticing the action. Mr. Flail did not impress her very favourably. He was a man who might have been of the same age as Sir Julian Danvers, though lie looked older by some six or eight years. In his youth he must have been good-looking, but now his face bore lines which one could not fail to attribute to dissipation. Ho was slight of figure, and his hands ami face were painfully thin, the cheek bones unduly prominent. His complexion was sallow and unhealthy, but liis eyes were still keen and astute. He aped a somewhat foreign style of dress, and his moustache and pointed beard gave him the appearance of a Fienchman. Sometimes, too, he would

make use of French words in conversation, and then excuse himself with a sweep of his thin white hand by explaining that he had lived so much abroad.

lea was served, and Sir Julian made himself very agreeable to his hostess. "With Iris he adopted a tone of resignation to the inevitable. It was evident, however,. that he was looking for an opportunity to speak to the girl alone. His, noticing this, did her utmost to keep the conversation general. , All the while Iris was watching the door, anxiously expecting the arrival ol Roger. But a disappointment awaited her, a disappointment all the more galling as 'it was utterly unexpected. Mrs. Morley’s trim parlourmaid appeared, bearing a note, which had been brought to the house by a village urchin, evidently commissioned as a messenger, in a moment of emergency. Roger had been obliged to run up to town, for twenty-four hours—would Ills aunt kindly forgive him and make all his excuses to dear Iris, who, ho knew, would be with her when she received the note ? He would, of course, write to Iris the moment he reached town.

Tears came into the girl’s eyes though she made a brave show of cheerfulness. To Mrs. Morle3 r there was nothing strange in the event; it was very natural that Roger should have business to attend to, all the more as the day of his wedding was drawing so near. Thus she thought, and thus she spoke, doing her best to alleviate Iris’s evident trouble. But she did not know—how could she? all that was in the girl’s mind. Iris cast a furtive glance at Sir Julian. She thought he looked sympathetic over her disappointment, and for the moment her heart softened to him.

She rose to go. “I shall hear from Roger in the morning,’’ she said, “and no doubt lie will come and see me as soon as he gets back. .1 must walk home alone this evening.” She drew a light sigh; Roger was accustomed to . walk back with her after she had spent an afternoon at the rectory. Sir Julian was not slow to avail himselt of the opportunity. “Wo go your way. Miss Carew, part •of it at least,” he said, “and we were just about to, bid Mrs. Morley goodbye. Will you permit us to escort .you?” , I rix could not very well say no, though above all things she wished to be alone. She smiled and consented, and a few minutes later she found herself walking down the avenue of the rectory grounds between two men, one of whom she most heartily disliked. Sir Julian was talking, hut she paid little hoed to him. Mr. Flail now and thou interjected a few remarks, and there was something in his voice which impelled attention. Iris realised now that he possessed a masterful personality; that if Sir Julian influenced people by suavity of manner and a sympathetic voice, this man did so by sheer strength of will. (To be continued).