CHAPTER XXXIV.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 8705, 20 August 1906, Page 4

CHAPTER XXXIV.

AX AUTOBIOGRAPHY. " I suppose," Roaohley said with a quiet chuckle as he took a seat opposite Rod; "I suppose you wish you had never eeen. me." "I am not co sure about that," Rod returned, smiling as he remembered that if he had never met RoacWey, he probably also had never 6een Eleanor. "Why did you think I invited you toafaaxeour schemes P" Roaohley asked, leaning forward, a hand on each kfiee, and peering into R-cd's face. " Those men who "attacked you, you know — I supposed — that is. I imagined — that you wished to display your-— er ] your gratitude, you know." I " You were quite wrong, absolutely | wrong. Gratitude would never have I caused me to. deviate from my fixed path, or to risk a cherished plan. No, no, try again." , ■ "A deeirable ally!" Roachley cried with a harsh laugh. "In point of brains, do you mean? Oh, no, I harboured no illusions under that head.^ I suspected the existence of brains as % little as I imagined th© presenc© of conscientious scruple©." Rod reddened, and then laughed again. "I give fit up," he said. "•It was because your name was Bevington. ' "Ehj!— gad!— ■ you knew thajt." " Yee, not at the moment, but aftearwards. You called yourself Roderick Kenwood— your father's Christian name, and your mother's maiden " You knew my father and mother I" " Well. And it gave me little trouble to add the Bevington to your alias. A telegram or two accomplished that. And it was euch. a delicious joke — it added an extra spice, a full relish to jhy plans. They meant something more than the mere money now. Let me tell you. Your father was a Q-C. Your unole died first, and left your father £60,000. Your father died six years later, and left you " "A few thousands less than nothing, 3 ' Rod interposed. " All I had was my mother's money, about; two thousand." ■_'■■■■■ " Precisely — in other words no more than a thirtieth pact of the sum you expected. Now, who had the balance? . Who got your father's cash?*' ... Rod was silent. It had been said, and in bis hearing, too, tnat his father ,had gamed it away and drank it away. la hw heart Rod believed the story, though, he had soundly kicked the teller. "Who had itP" Roachley went on. "Why, none other than your friend, Christopher Rattray." "Ehl" "None other, I assure you. Ratttoy in his time played maney parts: he did not make all his money in Craneboro'. He was, in ' fact, the most jngahtio money-lender in Christendom." "Good God!" " That is so. He was Elijah Hoskins, he was the City and Suburban Bank, he was the> Advance Scciety^ox C^r^at Britain and Ireland, he was the Consolidated Loan and Mutual Investment Society, he was — well, half a dbfien others. His- grip was like that of a narrow bag sewn round with fishhooks—and the grip fastened on yojir lather. Bevington, Q-C, was very muck of a fool, though he was a great lawyer, and Rattr&y cajoled him, squeezed him, swindled hia^ robbed him. I had long marked out this exemplary citizen of Cranebcro' as fair game, but the\delight of robbing him for the 6ake of the money wae very poor •entiment compared with th© chance oi playing my favourite rol« of accuser, Judge, and executioner. I determined that to the son of Bevington, ■ Q.C., •hould return, some of the gold of which Rattray had robbed the father: This, mind you, out of no personal love lor you. It also* occurred' to me that it would specialise the jest, and deepen its flavour, if I married you to Rattray's daughter. My plans for milk!ing Rattray had been laid long before I saw you, and I took you in, not because I wanted you, but because you were the son, of Bevington, Q.C." " You are a great scoundrel," Rod cried. "My dear fellow, what rubbish ! To make a usurer disgorge is merely an act of piety, ju«t as to render you harmless is nothing but a manifestation of the instinct of self-preservation, the first law of Nature." . . " "Did you know my father? Were you his friend?" Rod asked. ' "I did know him, but I was not his friend. He defended me once in Cdurt when I nearly oarae a cropper. And he did it very cleverly. But I paid him well, so that your account was square. No, it was not for love of him I «took you in, but simply to gratify my own vanity." He looked at his watch. "I am expecting visitors," he went on, " but I nave half an hour to 6pare. Ido not mmd — as you are personally interested—telling you the whole story — especially as I know it will go no further." He paused with a little chuckle, but gave Rod no opportunity of interrupting. " You know," he continued, " I call j myself Roachley, but really I have no right to the name. Yet I possess no other. N I am a nameless entity. My father was Lord Renishane, my mother was Mademoiselle Margot Revillars, one-time famous in Paris as a dancer, b.ut, so far as I can learn, never at any time celebrated for the strictness of her mode of life or code* of morals. I ought to be Lord Renishane, for I am the eldest son of thatlate lamented nobleman . But helae! Kenwood, my parente were united according to rites of their own, in which Bxave men have tried times over again To reach the ice-bound poles in vain; There needs yet more acute device To storm those battlements of ioe; Perchance, by flying ships to be, They'll gain triumphant victory, Provided they, for colds, secure A store of Woods' Great. Peppermint Cure. 20