THERE WAS NO OTHER WAY.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 10683, 1 February 1913, Page 2

THERE WAS NO OTHER WAY.

(By LOUIS TRACY.)

Author of "Tho House of Storm," "Tho Pillar of Light," Etc. [All Rights Reserved.] CHAPTER I. THE OPEN DOOK. "Apply for an adjournment! Draw back now, after all the horror and ignominy of tho past year I Why should The woman's pale features flushed with indignation, and the brown tint in her eyes kindled into flamo. Mr Mowlcm, of Mowlcm, Bon and Wrench, bent his grey head again over a newspaper lying open on tho blotting pad 'ln tho circumstances, it seems rather hard," he murmured, half in plea, half in apology. Indeed, at that moment he was thinking: "Why couldn't tho idiot have been content—at any rate, discreet? i\r. man in London to-day has a profile' "Hard!" Lady Waverton faster.-d on tho word almost fiercely. You r ig as sho was, and dainty in figure and uotume as a bio of rare Dresden, she had suffered so much at the hands of her scapegrace husband that her endurance was at an end. "You say it is hard that I should secure my freedom because this cruel man has met with an accident! If you and I were living in an earlier age we should admit rather that he had been punished by Providence for some of the wrong and injustice he has inflicted on others. What ol my long-drawn-out torture, the sneers, the shrugs, tho malicious whisperings of Society? Do you know what people are saying? ' Oh, Curly Waverton isn't halt a bad sort—shouldn't wonder if that little Puritan of a wife of his didn't make his life miserable.' I imagine you keep aloof from the shallow people in our set, Mr Mowlcm, but they form some part of my world and that is how they talk. ' Poor Curly, a decent chap if you take him the right way.' Never a word for the weeping, outraged wife! Never a thought for the sweet little girl who will wring my heart some day in years to come by asking me why she has never seen her father. Oh, the bitterness and wickedness _of it all! And now, ■ because his ovil life is checked by a mishap, probably the direct outcome of his evil ways, the pity goes only to the man and is withheld from the woman."

Tears glistened in the brown eyes, and her incensed voice choked. Mr Mowlem adjusted his _ spectacles, sat back in his chair, and lifted both han.ds in mild protest against the storm he had so unwittingly raised. " My dear Lady Waverton " he began. "I am not your dear Lady Waverton, or you would never even hint at u withdrawal of my suit. It is only common fairness that I should want to be justified in the eyes of the world. " Believe me, I meant nothing of the sort. I—er—only suggested a postponement. The Courts are always open to reasonable laxity in procedure AVhen one of the parties to a suit can be shown to be prevented by illness or serious injury from putting in an appearance." " But I have been given to understand that this case would be undefended ?" " True—quite true, my lady. There is, there can be, no defence. Unhappily—and I use the word solely in its application, to you—Sir, Claude seems to have welcomed rather than, evaded the petition. His solicitors have accepted service of the writ, and there the matter rests. I assure you I am thinking wholly of your interests, and of your position in that 'very world of gossip and slander which cares so little for the rights and wrongs of these domestic upheavals. Come, now, take a calm view of the facts. Sir Claude is lying in Nice,, with a sprained wrist and a severe scalp wound, the outcome of a motor accident. His condition will certainly ,]be mentioned in Court, and, in any event, it will be referred to by the newspapers. It is an unfortunate occurrence at this crisis in your affairs, but i .vould fail in my duty if I did not point out that you risk the loss of public sympathy, whatever its value may be, by appearing in Court this week." Her ladyship sighed. Such outbursts of emotion as that with which she had momentarily overwhelmed the solicitor were not habitual. Usually she was self-contained and reserved—there was an element of truth in the description, " a pretty Puritan," given her by some of her acquaintances—but to-day, when the ordeal for which she had nerved herself threatened to be deferred, the hidden springs of her being had risen to revolt. "What is the alternative?" she asked, after a pause. " An application to a Judge in Chambers to hold over the proceedings until after the Long Vacation—say, October. And—there is one other argument. To a man of Sir Claude Waverton's habits, an accident of this kind is apt to be more serious than if hcs liveu a regular and temperate •life. , In additiou to his other injuries, he is suffering from a shock to the system. He may die." "Such men do not die. They live to plague others." " We lawyers train ourselves to disregard sentiment in these matters. On general principles, Sir Claude is not a good subject to be pitched headlong into a ravine." Lady Waverton rose and went to the window. She looked out over Lincoln's Inn Fields, where trees and shrubs were expanding their spring buds in the beams of a bright sun. A young man and young woman, with three older people, were crowding into an automobile drawn up by the kerb. The merry party had " marriage settlements" writ large on their faces. Mowlem, Son and Wrench were solicitors Avith a large and important practice, and it would be in keeping with the irony of fate if the matrimonial knot should be in the making in one room, and in the undoing in another, of the same office at the same moment. "I have not heard the exact details," said the woman at last, and her voico was weary and broken. '•'What do the newspapers say?" Mr Mowlem coughed, and readjusted his spectacles. " Generally speaking-——" he began. " Forgive me, but I wish to hear the exact text." She spoke over her shoulder, and did not notice that the man's deeply-lined legal face showed some hint of perplexity. Evidently he did not wish to read the item just as it stood, but he seemed to obey his client's demand instantly. " The journal's Nice correspondent telegraphs under date of yesterday/' he began: "'Sir Claude Waverton, Baronet, well-known in sporting circles in England and on the Riviera, mot Avith a serious accident last night while motoring from Monte Carlo to Nice. It seems that Sir Claude had supper with some friends at the Palace Hotel after the Casino closed. His chauffeur happened to be ill, so Sir Claude was alone in the car when ho began the return journey at midnight, and,_ as ho is known to be a somewhat daring driver, lie was urged to take the Upper Corniche Road, which is safer and tortuous, though somewhat longer, than the new lower road. Ho appears, however, to have disregarded this advice, because his overturned car was found by the roadside between Kze and Beaulieu at daybreak this morning. Near the cm- was lying the dead body of a man. apparently some wayfarer who had been run over, while Sir Claude himself was stretched unconscious in

the ravine, some thirty feet below the retaining wall. Were it not for a small; shrub breaking his fall and becoming entangled with his clothing, he would have slipped into the sea, as the descent at this point is almost precipitous. Sir Claiido had won a large divm of money u t play during the evening, and it was rumoured at first that he had been attacked and robbed. The police, however, discovered notes to the value of £SOOO in his pocket-book, Mnd this, it is estimated, Would be approximately the amount of his winnings. By a singular coincidence, yesterday was Sir Claude's birthday. He then became thirty-three years of age; he backed that number heavily, and "rned up nine times in thirty-three coups, once three times in succession. There was a good. deal of excitement in the rooms during this singular run of luck, which took place between 10 p.m. and 10.15 p.m. at the table known as -the Suicides' Table.'" After another plight cpvgh," : a pause, the solicitor went on : V " 'Later: The man whose dead body was found near Sir Claude Waverton's car has been identified as Mr* Charles Scott ; English tutor in the family_ of Monsieur Max Mangin,. of Mauritius. By a sad fatality it appears that, Monsieur and Madame Mangin,',,with their household, had arranged to leave Beaulieu for Paris to-day, and the deceased would have accompanied them. It was his habit to take long walks late at night. The police theory of the accident is that Sir Claude tried to avoid injuring the pedestrian, whom he would come on suddenly in the worst section of an awkward curve, but that the car either swerved or skidded on the tramlines; the dead man had' evidently been driven with fearful force against a telegraph pole, as medical examination shows that his skull was fractured and his neck broken.' " The lawyer's quiet, voice dropped, with the cadence of one who had come to the end of a paragraph, and Lady Waverton turned from the window. "Is that allP" she asked. " Practically all." " But nothing definite is said there concerning my—concerning Claude's injuries?" " Oh, it gievs a few details—those which I have already told you of." Mr .Mowlem was a precise man; he disliked subterfuge, and was noted for his avoidance of those lawyer-like inexactitudes known as legal fictions.' Something in his air caught Lady Waverton's troubled glance, and she was really a bright and intelligent woman, little more than a girl in years, but a woman in sad experience. "I think I ought to know all the facts, Mr Mowlem, before making a decision which may have a far-reaching effect in the future," she said quietly. There was no escape for the solicitor. He might still have juggled with words, but he realised that her ladyship would surely learn the truth before many hours had elapsed, and he could not run the risk of actually misleading her. He picked up the newspaper again, and rend : " ' Sir Claude was taken to the Villa Asphodel, Cimiea, where he was attended to by Doctors Beaujon and Mercier. He was badly shaken and bruised, and had lost a good deal of blood from scalp wounds in addition to sustaining a nasty sprain of the right wrist, but he has recovered consciousness and will probably soon regain his buoyant good health. It is stated, however, that he is still somewhat confused and suffering from shock, so he can give no clear account of the accident.' " "The Villa Asphodel!" said Lady Waverton, and the lawyer knew at once that the wife who was about to yield had become hard as flint. " Yes." " That woman, Mrs Delamar, lives there, does she not?" " Yes." " Sir Claude will be nursed carefully, I am sure. The petition must proceed, Mr Mowlem. There cannot be any adjournment." j " As your ladyship pleases." j The whole thrilling sequel of tragedy and passion rested on that slight foundation. If a zealous newspaper co r - j respondent at' Nice had omitted to state ' the name of the house to which the wounded man had been conveyed, Sir Claude's wife would have given way to j the solicitor's representations, the : divorce suit of " Waverton v. Waver- . ton " would have dropped out of the law list—for a time, at an;y rate. As j

it was,'.the law took its course. There could be only one result. _ "Curly' Waverton had conducted himself like a scoundrel.. A y&ar after his marriage lie had already so ill-treated his charming bride = that she _ was compelled to take refuge in her sister's house. Time and again had she gone back, until.her misery could find no sure outlet save by the public, way of a decree, nisi. ~...r Lady Waverton announced that in. future she would revert to her maiden name. : Although a rich woman in her own right, she insisted that her daughter's interests should be safeguarded, and, with that object, Messrs Mowlem, Son and Wrench exacted th > last penny in the shape of marriage settlements and alimony. - ,

Meanwhile, Sir Claude Waverton had been removed, from the Villa Asphodel to a secluded hotel atJßeaulieu. Thence, when able ,to travel, ho came to England, and the day after his arrival found him in the office of the family solicitors at Gray's Inn, where certain trust deeds and other documents awaited his signature. .. The head of the Jinn, Mr Curtis, of Curtis and Lamb, received ( him' with the gracely paternal air which elderly legal advisers are wont to assume in the presence of wealthy prodigals. " He saw at a glance that Waverton had gone through a good deal more than, the newspapers had stated. lie looked older.-and thinner. The scars across his forehead, though healed had obviously-been wounds of size and depth, and he still carried'fiis right arm in a sling. The brown curly hair which gave him his familiar nickname* had been,sheared off closely, aild there were traces of other cuts on the top and back of his head. _ . But, more noticeable than any or these minor things, which time would almost efface, was the new expression ill Waverton's eyes - and mouth. In the old days, he was seldom or never absolutely sober, and his air of vacuous good-humour and thorough enjoyment of life had deceived many people;into crediting him with qualities he either did not possess or cOuM Conceal most effectually where his wife Was concerned. Now, it was a cold, self-con-tained man who met _ the solicitor s polite inquiries as to liis convalescence in a straightforward manner _ that* Mr Onrtis found positively surprising. The baronet seemed to become aware of a scrutnising glance, > "I am a somewhat changed person since mv accident, Mr Curtis," he said. "It has left its mark on me. as you have seen for yourself, no doubt., I mean to look into my affairs, put everything in order, and go away for a long rest. Will it, mn++er if I sign papers with mv left hand?" . "Not in the least. Sir Claude, provided that your, signature is attested. But, may I ask—" "Yes. my right wrist was sprained and dislocated, and that is far worse than a break, you know. Can yon come with me to my bankers? When they examined my first recent attempt to si?m a cheque they 'actually sent a man to Bennlieu to mak« sure I was living. I called at the bank this morning, and the manager explained that h<> hnd seen so little of me in the past that my illiterate scrawl nepded some explanation. Of course.. I don't blame hun. but this matter should be put right. "Certainly. I had no idea you were so knocked about. Tam sorry now. Sir Claude, that we did not apneal to Lady Waverton's sense of fair piny " (i Pl'eat Scott, man, what forP" " The proceedings mieht have been df'lrn-ed. There is no knowing what mi edit have happened in the new conditions." . "Tint T wished no obstacles whatever to he interred. I telegraphed my explicit instructions." (t pnurs?. Sir Clntide. T acted on thotv. v,.; + Wlt vpcnrw " " Has not everything been for the f nT vi fi-nn. nnd T,«dy Wnver(.on i s f r9n mid T rrnfher from vonr last elm „nnrlv thousand a year from the estate. - _ She It"s nothing to crumble at now. swralv?" Mr Curtis was still more puzzled,luit ho '''id not want to quarrel /with -a (rood "l , f> v> t " Her ladvship is a very charming immnn. p->->d H mi Tilt ''have hi-'iv r>o&> w'ble for both nf von to hove wdo -a fresh start in life," was all he ventured to sny. " Not a hit of it. in<r for me! t-Tie next It Pl vp • Thi" matr ters a bit, doesn't it?" " TWn'P b'>' v >r' no ontnil; estate is yours absolutely—to do.', with it as yon,will, tn—er—"''ovision mode bv tl"> Court for Lad" Wavprtori and the child. Your cousin, were, ho a lire, would have inherited the title, but, since he is denrl. it lapses on your rlomiso. Yet, Sir Claude, a VOUllg man'' .like you en mint consider that eventuality seriously for niauy years to coir.e. Y- Uavq had a sufficiently

narrow ©scape on this occasion to warrant immunity from further mishap for ft long time." "But how about my wi 1 !?" VAs you aro aware, tho disposition 2nade on your marriage created a trust for Lady Waverton and her children, if any. "Does that hold good now?" " Assuredly, Sir Claude, until you niter it. Shall I take fresh instructions?" " No." The solicitor dropped tho pen he had taken in his hand by force of habit. " You mean that the old will is to ptand?" he said, obviously bewildered. " Yes, of course. I may be a rotter, fiut I don't intend to rob that infant. She succeeds to everything, I take it, with a life interest for Lady Waverion. "Exactly. You will not bo angry with me if I say that you have a closer grasp of' affairs now than—er—before your accident, Sir Claude." " The actual fact is that my head fs in a whirl. I forget things. I don't know my own belongings sometimes. I told you I was conscious of a change, and for the most pairt it takes that shape, forgetfulness. At any rate, I am not bemused with drink, and that' counts foi' something. Now, |iow soon can I escape from London? Ji week? A fortnight?" "I shall use all expedition. By the way, may I acquaint Lady Wavertou's solicitors with your extraordinarily generous decision?" "Why?" "Candidly, I think her ladyship ought to know." " Again, why?" "Because—well, I must out with it i—the decree does not become absolute for nearly five months yet." A shadow crossed Waverton's worn! face, in' which the bronze of an openair life was now merged in the pallor of several weeks of close confinement jund inaction-

"If that is the only reason, I wish ler ladyship to remain in ignorance of my intention until she is flee to marry again." " Suppose she does marry again?" pressed the solicitor, who was beginning to think that two lives were being wrecked needlessly. "Wo shall deal with that development when it arises." And there was nothing more to be said, but a good deal remained to be done, and it was the middle of June before Sir Claude Waverton left his house in Clarges Street, and, accompanied only, by his valet, travelled to Cromer. He picked out an hotel naphazard from the advertisements in a guide-book purchased at St Pancras, md reached the bureau at half-past three, an hour when visitors to Cromer ire seldom within doors if the weather Is fine. He glanced casually through recent entries in the register before signing his own name. The hotel did not appear to be crowded, and he found that he could have his choice of several suites of apartments. He selected a sitting-room and bedroom on the first floor at the south-east corner, and thereby marked himself as one who could -not only discriminate but pay, yet the mWager seemed to hesitato somewhat when he . learnt his guest's name. Nothing was said, howevei, and Waverton went out into the sunshine, leaving his man to make tho looms habitable. Filled with a sudden longing to relew an old love for the clean, cold, yteel-grey North Sea, which differs as greatly from the Mediterranean of the Cote d'Azur as the prairie differs from a well-kept lawn, he made straight tor the pier. The tide was high, and a heavy swell was breaking against the promenade; but there were boats out in plenty, and a few adventurous persons ■were bathing.

The pier was comparatively empty. ■A band was playing in the octagonal concert hall at the seaward end, and people had gathered there, or in the sheltered alcoves of the narrow promenade which runs round the outer walls of the building. Leaning against the rails, and looking out to sea, were two ladies and a Normandy nurse, the latter holding in her arms a delightful little maid who was much interested in the manoeuvres of a sailing-coble, close-hauled to clear the pier by about a hundred yards. Something caused one of the ladies to turn her head at the very instant 'Waverton was passing. Her face, already high-coloured owing to the .splendid breeze, grew crimson,, and she nttered a gasp of amazement that brought her companions eyes quickly known which—moved involuntarily, and caught the nurse's arm with , her ■ elbow, but all that Waverton saw was ihe outward leap of the child, which fell into the sea. * - . Now, Claude Waverton might be a wicked man and a libertine, but he had the quick eye and sure judgment of a soldier. Even while the first wild pcreams of all three women were ringing in his ears he > had seized a lifebuoy from its slings, had mounted the railing, and with one moment of poise .while ne found the whereabouts of the white frock in the depths of churning water, had leaped twenty feet down into the sea. He was so prompt and fearless in acting that, once in the water, he had no " further difficulty. Although practically one-armed owing to being hampered by bandages, he seized the child's frock in his teeth, thrust his left arm through the buoy, and simply kicked out with his feet to keep away from the pier until the men in the coble had lowered ihe sail and were pulling to the rescue. Meanwhile, the concert had come io b sudden end, and when W 7 averton, still carrying a frightened and screaming, but unharmed, child in his arms, stepped ashore along a landing gangway on wheels, he was cheered by a crowd " numbering many hundreds. Most of tho women were crying, and so mauy hands were stretched out to help him that he demanded, with rather a scowl: "Where is the child's mother, or nurse?" A buxom bonne, wearing the coif and cloak of her calling, struggled through the throng on the beach, and ihe child recognised her with a loud sry of "Nana! "Oh, Monsieur Claude, what is it that'l should say. me?" sobbed the woman in French, as she received her dripping charge with a reassuring hug. Waverton was so taken aback by her recognition that he could not answer, but he became aware that the nurse joined the two ladies he had seen on the pier, and the trio -hurried off, though one of them walked so unsteadily thai she had to be assisted by her friend. " Well, did you ever see the like of that?" said an indignant girl in the crowd. " With never a word of thanks to the gentleman!" cried another. " Not fit to be trusted with a baby, ihey aren't," declared a third. At last, hindered by an enthusiastic escort, Waverton reached the hotel, and was glad to gain its sheltering porch. The ipanager met him in the hall. "What a wonderful thing, Sir Claude!" he said, with eyes kindling with enthusiasm. " There was nothing whatever wonderful about the incident," said Waverton, tartly. " Would you mind sending someone to show me my rooms?" I*ll come myself. Sir Claude, with pleasure. This way. ■ Now, boy. with that lift! As they walked aiong the upper corridor, Waverton realised that the hotel manager had become unaccountably silent. "Do you know whose child "it was fhat fell in the sea?" he asked. "Of course I do, Sir Claude," was Ihe surprised answer. "Is the mother staving in this JiotelP" , "Yes." I "Oh, the deuce take it! Who is ihe?" i " Her name is given as Mrs Elstead." i Waverton put his left hand lo his head as though iu an effort to touch | some chord of memory stirred by the. ,name.

" Lady Waverton chose to be known by that name. Sir Claude." went on the man, with the sympathetic voice of one forced by circumstances to be un- ; pleasantly explicit, " Lady Waverton!" gasped the other, genuinely amazed. "Yes, Sir Claude. Haven't, you realised that you have saved the lite of your own little girl? That is why 1 said it was wonderfull 1 have never before known such a thing—never! You might have been brought hoiV ; by Providence! Here is your room, sir. Shall T send you anything? A little brandy ?" CHAPTER IT. SHOWT.VO HOW THK 8008 WAS CLOSI.D. .. "No. No brandy, thank yon." Waverton paused in front of the door of his suite with the air of a man who was collecting his scattered thoughts. " I suppose the other lady who accompanied Lady Waverton was her sister, Airs Daunt?" he said. Then, noticing that the manager was genuinely perplexed, he added: "You don't know, of course, that I did not chance to see either of the ladies. I had a vague notion that there wore two of them, with a nurse and a baby, when suddenly the youngster popped over tho rail into the sea. After that there was no time for gating at anybody. The real danger was that the child might bo swept among the pillars, and possibly held under water by some lat-tice-work." " It was marvellous, Sir Claude, marvellous. A gentleman sitting on the balcony was looking directly at you through his field-glasses, ana saw the whole thing. It was he who called me out, and told me of. it. Yes, the other lady is Mrs Daunt. They have been here a fortnight, and, I think I ought to.mention it, their rooms are on this floor." Waverton laughed, rather pleasantly. His somewhat hard and severe features changed their expression most markedly when ho Biniled. It was then difficult to believe that Tie could possibly be the man depicted in lurid language by that ominent counsel, Mr Hector Hicks, K.C., in his "opening" on behalf of the petitioner in " Waverton v. Waverton. '

,J I shall not trouble tlwm long," lie said. "If the opportunity serves, you might give them a hint that I shall bo off on Monday to some less popular resort than Cromer. Meanwhile, I want all meals served in my room. Will yon kindly have some tea sent up?" H© turned the handle and entered the sitting-room. The place was in a litter of clothes, linen and boots, for the valet was' unpacking his master's belongings, and thought lie had a clear hour at his disposal. He Avas beginning to apologise for the disorder of chairs and tables when his trained eye travelled over the baronet's costume, and his horrified glance spoke volumes. ''lt's all right, Eice. I have only been in the sea. No damage done, though I lost my hat—the same one I wore that night at Monte, eh? I hope I have seen the last of it. , I seem to find trouble when I don that particular chapeau." . There was a knock at the door, and a page entered, bearing a green Homburg hat. He began explaining that a fisherman had brought it, and was flustered when Waverton laughed and Rice grinned discreetly. " Tell liira take it, with my compliments, and here's half-a-crown for him," said Sir Claude. "Now, Eice, help me off with theso wet clothes, and get me a fresh rig." ''Shall I give you a good rub down, sir." Waverton did not appe-ir to have heard, so the valet repeated the question. ".Yes, please do. But go easy. I am still sore at the base of my neck and about the lumbar region." . Eice was not sure where the lumbar region was, but he had been surprised that his skill as a rubber was not in demand of late, because Sir Claude, in pre-accident days, kept his limbs supple by frequent massage. "My word, sir," lie said, when his deft hands were busy with sponge and towel, " ycur illness did take it out of you, an' no mistake." "Why? Don't you think I am as fit as I was?" "You must have lost pounds and pounds, sir. Your muscles show up a bit better, for all that. I shouldn't be surprised, sir, if you ain't, a better man when your arm gets right. Effect of proper diet—an' nursing, sir." " Now, Eice, be candid. It's the effect of less drink, isn't it?" " Well, Sir Claude, if you put it like that "' "Steady, here! My ribs won't bear pressing. Thanks, I'll rub my breast myself. Look here, Rice, you fellows generally hear all the news in the servants' hall. Why didn't you tell me Lady W'averton had gone to Cromer?" "You don't mean to*aj', sir!" "So you didn't know? Moreover, she is in this very hotel, with Mrs Daunt—and the baby." " Miss Kathleen, sir?" "Yes. I have just fished Miss Kathleen out of the North Sea. She fell in, from the end of the pier." The valet did, then, forget himself, and emitted a short, sharp whistle between his teeth. "I thought that would make you blow off steam," laughed Waverton. "If Mrs Delamar were to show up now I would run out of the hotel, call the first cab, and tell the man to drive me somewhere in a straight line for the next five days." " I wish you'd never seen that lady. Sir Claude," said Eice, with unusual earnestness. "I'll tell you honestly, I don't like her. When you were brought in for dead to the Villa Asphodel she wouldn't let me go near the room, no, not for days. I don't want to speak uncharitable of anybody, but I couldn't help thinkin' of all that money you had won at the Casino, sir. It was in the papers next day. A maid who spoke a bit of English read it to me out of that Nice paper, the ' Eclaireur,' I think it is. Never was Iso glad of anything as when yout sent for me, an' said we was off to Beaulieu."

"Do you find a great change in me, Rice?" - "Change, Sir Claude! Why, it's a miracle, that's wot it is." The man was instantly conscious that he had said a little ■ too much, but Waverton passed the slip without comment, or rather, he appeared to misunderstand its underlying cause. " I came rather near eternity that night. Rice," he said quietly. "And the few days I was forced to remain in bed and live on slops gave, me time for thought. Mrs Delamar was not exactly my good angel, but she was kind enough while .1 was ill. Anyhow, we don't want her in Cromer. No. I shall ' not dress for dinner. A blue serge, please, a bowler, and a light overcoat. .1 am going out again, and I do not wish to be mobbed as'a hero as I stroll along the front. This time •I shall keep away from the pier. You need not sort out air those things now. We leave early on Monday." Eice was taking the wet clothes to be dried when he met Celestine. the nurse, whom he had not set eyes on for nearly twelve months. She hailed him excitedly, and had sufficient English to tell him what had occurred that afternoon. A little later ,sho sent a page to bring him out into the corridor, and then informed him that Lady Waverton wished to see him. Now, Rice admired her ladyship greatly, and had always regarded his master as the biggest fool in Christendom in respect to his treatment of a very attractive wife. Indeed. Rice himself was on the look-out for another situation at the time of the motor smash on the Riviera, and it puzzled him to account for the undoubted fact that he got on very much better with Sir Clmde since the lntter's illness.

Three months earlier, it' put in the wit-ness-stand, lu> would lunc tos-iflod mihesitatingly on Lady Wa vorton's bohalf; but., for souvo occult reason. ho ivas now half inclined to believe that, bad as Sir Claude had tnu'iuesuonablr been, her ladyship might have used more tact with hint, and not. have nod him during the past year as it lie wore a leper. These things wero running through his head hr ho passed along Iho corridor with Celestuie, arid was admitted to a sitting-room in which he i'onnd Lady "Waverton and her sister. Kneeling in the depths of a big Chestpriield, and wholly engrossed in the pink eyes of a Trdclv bear, was the goldenhaired child who had been snatched from death littlo more than an hour before. Rice bowed. He was seldom at a loss for words, and ho now congratulated Lady Waverton on Miss Kathleen's escape. T nnder.stand thai Sir Claude only arrived here this.; afternoon," said her ladyship, rather nervously. "Sir Claude didn't even wait to sro his own suite, milady. lie just stood in the hall for a minnte, fold mo to put bis things tidy, an' walked out. From what T have hoard since, milady, he must have gone straight to the pier—ho was brought, there by Providence, I do believe." So Rico and the hotel manager evidently thought that special attention was beincr civen to Cromer just then. Lady Waverton. or Mrs Elstead. as film figured in ■ the visitors' list, was pale enough now, and her eyes were downcast. She did not. check the valet's enthusiasm, but her utterance was still halting when .she explained why she had sent for hint. " You arc the only person in the hotel, Rice, whom T can tuko iiilo inv confidence,' she &aid. " I shall be quite outspoken. Do you think Sir Claude would come and see me—if 1— sent him a note? .Mrs Daunt and I have been discussing matters, and f I feel that 1 ought to thank him for saving .Kathleen's life." Mrs Daunt, some throe years older than her sister, and so happily married to a fox-hunting squire that she was already crystallising into sedate matronhood, shook her head.

"Of course, wo arc profoundly grateful for Sir Claude's action, and we cannot help admiring _ his gallantry, but my own view is that it would be best*to say these things in a letter," she declared. The valet, a veritable Solomon in settling disputes below stairs, was conscious of a problem that called for careful handling. Like most men of his class, he was intensely loyal, even to a bad master, and Waverton, though vicious and dissolute, had never been •ungenerous. Then, he was sorry for Lady Waverton, and would be proud and glad ir the unhappy couple were reunited. Finally, tnere was Mrs Daunt, who represented all that he thought most fitting and seemly in British family life _He touched his clean-shaven upper lip with the tips of the fingers of his right hand, and the left hand went to the small of his back. The staiff at Clarges Street or The Dene, would have known instantly that a judicial pronouncement was imminent. It came: He rejected Mrs Daunt's counsel summarily. " It 'ud be a fine thing,, milady; if you and Sir Claude _ could meet an' have a friendly talk," ( he said. Mrs Daunt smiled, not unkindly, for she . liked and respected Rice, but the ■younger woman raised her beautiful eyes and looked at him fixedly. " Are vou saying this because of my baby's rescue, or for other reasons?" she asked wistfully. Up went Rice's right hand again; the left had not moved. " The master is greatly changed since his accident, milady," he said. "In what respect. You may speak plainly, 'without fear of giving offence, or of your words being repeated." "It's hard to explain, but he's a different man. milady." "Do you think he—regrets?" Now, Rico was at a loss how to phrase his thoughts, but he essayed the task valiantly. "It's not so much that, milady, as in other ways. He hardly touches a drop of liquor—just a glass of wine for dinner, an- it's always claret, never champagne. He—talks differently. And—l happen to know that he is sorry for some things, such as—well, such ns recent matters in France. If you'll excuse my way ofputtin' it. milady, he seems to have wiped the slate with a wet sponge." :• " Women's lives are not slates, Eice," broke in Phyllis Daunt, who had a most pronounced unbelief in her ex-brother-in-law's conversion. " No, ma'am, an' Sir Claude might be very angry if he heard that I called him a wet sponge," said Eice seriously. Mrs Daunt laughed outright, ' and even Lady Waverton smiled. We are discussing methods, not personalities," said the latter, correcting her sister rather than the valet. " Thank you, Eice. You have confirmed an opinion I formed, even after one hastj- glance. Sir Claude must have been very ill at Nice?" "He was indeed, milady." Eice nearly added something of the recent talk between Waverton and himself, but he checked the impulse. "Least said soonest mended," was one of his axioms. "Very well. I shall send that note. Please oblige me by seeing that Sir Claude receives it as soon as he comes in. 1 understand that he is out at the moment; otherwise I should not have brought you here." About seven o'clock Waverton returned to the hotel. He had walked along the cliffs by way of the golf links to the ruined church made famous by Clement Scott's song, " The Garden of Sleep," and the keen air had brought renewed vitality to his cheeks and lent buoyancy to his step. He looked live years a younger man than when he entered the train in London that day. Still, anyone watching him as he emerged from the well "of the stairshe had avoided the lift—might have discovered a certain furtiveness, or anxiety, in his eyes as he glanced into the corridor in which his rooms were situated. To. his evident relief, it wa§ empty. W hen he reached the sittingroom Rice handed him a note. Maid left tins half an hour ago, Sir Claude," he said. Waverton looked at the well-formed, characteristic handwriting 011 the envelope, and glanced sharply at the valet, who, however, was raising the blind to admit more'light. But Eice possessed excellent hearing, and lie certainly caught something like a muttered objurgation from his master when the letter had been perused. " Go to the office, and ascertain what trains leave here to-night," came the imperative command, and, bv the time Eice was back with the information, his master had a letter written and sealed. ••The mail leaves at 8.10, Sir Claude," said the valet. " Very well. We leave by it. Get my bill. If you are pressed for time, ring for one of the hotel people. Ring, anyhow. I want someone." Hica, above all else a well-trained servant, obeyed in silence. A chambermaid came. " Do you know Mrs Eistead's room?" asked Sir Claude, and the girl confided to her particular friend afterwards that his eyes went through her like gimlets. " Very well, take this note to the lady. There is no answer." " What address shall I put on the labek, Sir Claude?" inquired Rice, ten minutes later. He said nothing in reply to somewhat inaccessible place mentioned iu a monosyllable. Waverton laughed with the vexed nir of a man who was being unnessai'ily worried. " Didn't u'i> pasc through ipswich in coming here?" he demanded, in the next hreath. " Yes. ,-.ii\' "Ipswich be it. 1 -sMDiiay:

there is a decent hotel there. We can find tho sea somewhere else on Slondav." And so, the door oi reconciliation was closed, closed with a lung! Perhaps this man's hard and unrelenting heart might have softened had lie seen the white, tear-stained face peering through a eiirtuiiiei! window on the first floor, as the hotel omnibus took (vice and himself away at half-past seven. " ! told you it was useless, Doris," said Sirs Daunt, as her arm stole around the weeping woman's shoulders. " He is a thorough bad lot, and you aro well rid of him." •> [—l was beginning to hope—for Kathleen's sake," was the sobbing answer, "'You silly, impulsive child, you could never have taken him back again. Surely you see now how mistaken you were in holding out the olive branch. He is the meanest, most despicable man on earth to-day." And about that moment Sir Claude Waverton, lighting a cigarette, for he was alone in the .interior of the omnibus, was glancing at the shining sea as the vehicle was climbing the long hill to Cromer station, and discussing himself in almost- identical terms. "Women are never satisfied." he murmured. "'Now. one would have thought that Lady Waverton was well rid of a scamp!'' But the Cromer incident did not end with a woman'. l ; simple request for a meetinsr, " owing to the extraordinary event" which had taken place that day, and a man's curt, refusal to see her, or. indeed, to acknowledge anything remarkable in a.ji action which lie would have performed " for any child under like circumstances." The excuse for a scrawl "owing to an acoideai " was in itself an insult. It seemed to put her completely out of his life. Next morning the Sunday newspapers glowed with tho !romance of if all. "Cromer Sensation:" "Divorced baronet's gallantry;" "Sir Claude Waverton rescues his own ■ child front drowning " the headlines blazed like comets over the lan(.l. In the same journals, often on the same page, appeared a paragraph which, deal with another story of the sea—a story with a very different ending. It read

Tho fishing smack, Three Brothers, P.Z.3Q2, put in to Penzance to-day with a small cutter iii tow, and on board the latter vessel was the dead body of a- man The skipper of the Three Brothers reports that the cutter was sighted in the Atlantic some sixty miles south-west of the Scillies, and, as she appeared to be not under control, and the presence of such a craft in that locality was in itself an unusual occurrence, he bore up for her and ran alongside. To the liorror of himself and crew, the derelict's sole occupant was a man who had evidently been dead some days. The main-sail was set, and the helm was lashed loosely, so those on board the Three Brothers were given, the impression that the unfortunate yachtsman had died suddenly while sailing his boat in the neighbourhood of some south-country port. This view, in all probability a correct one, was strengthened by the fact that a packet of cigarettes lay scattered in tho cutter's well. With the prevalent westerly and north-westerly winds, the yacht would be carried in the direction of that point on the surface of the sea where she, was eventually found. No small difficulty was experienced in conveying the body to the mortuary; once arrived there, however, tho dead man's identity was soon established by means of letters and a pocket-book.' He seems to be a Mr Herbert- W. Kyrle, of the Rosery, Dartmouth, and the cutter is the Sphinx, of Dartmouth. The police are investigating .the matter, and an inquest will be held, but there is little doubt that the aifair is the regrettable, and highly dramatic, but quite natural outcome of complete paralysis, or heart failure. • Two people, among the millions who read that piece of news, were deeply interested in it. One of the two was Rice. In a spare hour between breakfast and lunch he strolled out into Ipswich and bought a newspaper. First, he shook his head regretfully over the Cromer item, but his thin, shrewd face grew bewildered when lie reached the suggested solution of the Penzance mystery. "Queer thing!" he muttered. " It's enough to give one the creeps. Now, am I to show this to Sir Claude or ain I not? He's in a better temper this mornin', but, like as not, he'll get mad again if I go rakin' up matters he wants to forget." Still, being a faithful soul, he was willing' to risk his master's displeasure in that same master's behalf, so he laid the newspaper before Waverton when the latter was lighting an afterluncheon cigar. , " Have you read that?" ho asked. Waverton took the paper, glanced through the paragraph indicated, and looked up. "It's a curious sort of event," lie said, " but how does it specially concern rac?" Then Rice was more surprised than ever. " The address. Sir Claude-/' he almost whispered. " The Rosery, Dartmouth —where Mrs Dslamar lives." Waverton threw the newspaper on a table with a gesture of disdain. " Now, if you had told me that Mrs Delamar was found in that cutter you would have done me a really good turn," lie said, and Rice could make neither head nor tail of the remark, unless what he half suspected was true — that Sir Claude Waverton was heartily tired of Mrs Delamar, and bitterly regretted the sorrow and scandal she had brought into his life. But, in that case, why were Lady Waverton's timid overtures for a reconciliation rejected? Rice gave it up. There were points about the Waverton divorce which were quite incomprehensible, and the more he pondered them the less lie understood them. Tho other person who scanned the day's news with relish was Mr James Leander Winter, Chief Inspector at Scotland Yard, who appeared to his devoted spouse to be unduly thoughtful as he asked for a second helping of kidneys and bacon that Sunday morning. Whosoeever suggested "Leander'' a,s a euphonious name to be interposed between "James" and " Winter " had gone rather by sound than sense, for no one more unlike the lovelorn youth who swam the Hellespont once too often could possibly be imagined than tho burly chief inspector. He was a big. round mail, bullet-headed, closecropped. with round eyes, round