"WILTON'S SILENCE"

Star (Christchurch), Issue 19999, 15 July 1920, Page 5

"W ILTON'S SILENCE"

(By PAUL TRENT [Author of "The View.” “The Filco (>! b Boul,” oto.)

—i,—* A ROMANCE OP WEST AFRICA,

CHAPTER XVll.—Continued. iMasaii fool good,’’ IS a [joieon cried joyously. Ills master's depression al'lOiys communicated itself 'to him, and .io was naturally'of a very happy disposition. “ Mossa Cnrruthers’s boy, i.o come say him massa want see you at the fcjccretarint.” “All right, tell liim I'll com© round in a few minutes.” Wilton had not expected this communication, for ho believed that Car.v.tlicrs ’.vunld avoid him. Ho had no doubt that the Colonial Secretary was hand in hand with Gillord. Somehow ho might v.ry to lix tnc guilt on Sir John, therefore it beaoved him, Wilton, to be very careful what he said. Lpou arriving at the Secretariat ho w:u; kept waiting for a quarter of an hour. As a matter oi tact, soon after had sent the message Giflord had arrived. “ I’m going heme by Saturday’s jtoamsr.P the.latter announced. “ I'orhaps ,\t»i are wise. You’ve made a hash oi things. Anyhow,- you thought that Wilton's story was a trine thin, and it might be possible to upset it.” “ I’m no longer interested. Whatever happens Tvo lost the girl.” j “Hut 1 am still interested, and you May be able to help me.” Gilford shook his ncad with decision “ Ao. I’ve had enough of it. i’vo done for myself in the Colonial Service, and shall have to go back to my regiment.. -My sister has quarrelled with me—J owe her money, and alto■getner I’m in the devil of a moss.” “You can hardly expect any one to sympathise with yon. ft’s your own fault. It you'd told me everything, and allowed me to see the confession, you could have won.” Xot a bit of it If you had known, and seen the confession, you wouldn't have allowed mo to make terms with Lurgan. Our interests weren’t identical.”

" if you’ve nothing more- io nay, yon oau go. I’m rather busy this morning,” Carruthers said coldly. Gifford resumed this curt, dismissal, and he was scowling as he left the room. Wilton looked up as ho passed through,- and the scowl deepened. A clerk came in to say lUr Carruthers was disengaged. The Colonial Secretary was unusually nervous, for ho did not like the job before him. “ Sit down. Wilton," he said quietly. ‘‘ iou got it'.*' letter of resignation?’■ “ Acs, that’s what 1 want to see you about. I’m going to be very frank with you. I’ergot for the moment that we aro officials. Assume that wo arc friends." " Impossible, but get on with it.” “ I lear you acted on the impels} of tile moment yesterday afternoon. Ol course one must admire your loyalty to your 1 riend, Sir John, "lint 1 happen to know it was not you who tooiC the money." 11 How do yem know that?" Wilton, demanded peremptorily. “ i m not at liberty to say." ‘‘Simply because you know nothing ol the sort. Is my resignation accepted?”

“ I haven't the power to accept. You have pleaded guilty to a criminal • offence. 'J'ho question arises as to whether you shall be tried for that offence. In my opinion the Colonial Office at home must be consulted. As you are aware the Governor must deal with the people at, home. I must wait until H.E. is better. I myself can do nothing. . . , But. 'Wilton, have you carefully considered the consequences of this mad act of yours f No woman is wortlj such a sacrifice. Naturally I guessed the reason.” ‘‘ 1 came to see you about my resignation. , I merely wish to learn if tt jis accepted. I rctuso to discuss anything else with yon ” "~ ” I ve stated my opinion as to your icsignation,” Carruthers answered sti..iv. fyhch I will wind up by expressing my opinion of you. To satisfy your jealousy of H.E. you have deliberately plotted with Gilford to effect his ruin’ fortunately you have not succeeded, but none the loss you’ve plaved the part of a scoundrel, that’s' ail I havto say,” .“ You’ve said sufficient,” Carruthers Bhnll y> aml white with passion I Alien you camp Imre, my sympathy ! nas with you, and ] was anxious to I help to smooth out thim/s „ | iouve repaid me by inw.mm- ',t j i now you can look upon me enemy.” 'I v I ., pr ?fey° ur cnn % to your frioud- : - 4 ?> '\uton answered contemptu- ■ :, usly, and strode from the room. • fonmJ tll . e ' bungalow, am] ound Sinclair lying m a deck-chair on the verandah, and told him what Oar- ; ‘‘"f! 1 ?" lia ; s ;’ id resignation. ■ m +1 ri , about consulting the Colonial Office. I should '“iny on as though yoitr resignation luu been accepted. Toll me same more about your rubber proposition.” i V ! ' ton , only to glad to do so ; mid Sinclair was deeply interested ;, , f?™ 11 a Partner, old chap?” : o’'. as -ly “ ,u v time is nearly : 1 > «n.cd a p.„* , As you know I m n bachelor, and I’ve I ’ "f 5 -. 1 if'l mtoudotl to stick I t out hue tor ci few joars more. [ .wjWrti'fe ter”’wpf n ° thinS 1 shonl<l «ke botu ,J' jlton - nnswerc-d heartily to 'p' ie " ff Umc is np I could cm S, /. or :i of wk f&isa&w** “j l ™"!' 1 »«S> 'if ciCbc.'” i “““’ tint do you remember what sort of partner you will have? Aiv ? u “ l 1 ;| s nimo will very quickly M known right through West Ahffia' wdl be labelled V a . 1 shall be content with mv narlnwr ivimiovor label is stuck on him. lastcii to.me, Wiilon. If .. ro reiiuun trimids you musn't talk to mo in tluu- way again. Out of respect 01 tour wishes 1 am keeping my jaw fnrhily sunt. ]’vo looked up the date of the cheque you sen* me You have too right to play your own game withput any interference from me. l>] !; y ii. to the bitter end. but don’t talk infernal rut. To me, you will always be a: white man . . . What an infernally long speech. We’ll hare a small bottle to cement our ixn-tiwr-ship. Boy, xome here one time ”he called. Y'ln ii Ta.yuton come in to lunch. tbey wero still discussing their venture, and bis eyes worn alight with excitement as be listened. “I. «Ny, you chap;, take mo with von I” ho cried impetuously. “It can’t, ho done, sonny. Where wo are going is 110 place for an infant m arms; Besides, you are bound to tho Service for another eleven months,” Sinclair said with a, grin. V I could ask Sir John ” “No.” Wilton intervened decidedly. “ I’ll aok tho Governor to appoint. you an Assistant Commissioner to my old district. You won’t be very tar away from us. An easy hammock iide. .Wo can often, meet!, Sinclair and I are going to indulge in a mild gamble. You’ve got to think of your futur,'. Almost your lirst words of greeting were that you war* a budding Uovaiucu-.”

'* I would rather . go with you.” pumblod Tayntmi, and then suddenly f begau_ to laugh. “WhaJt’s tho , matter?” Sinclair risked gruilly. , 41^ ia £ 1 c | la P-Gifford. He’s drinking Jsd” lub ‘ 1 Cailotl in aS 1 P a - C-E«l------‘‘A bad habit m the morning,” Sinclair interrupted severely. - v ‘‘ And G T iff ? rd . w«s talking about AAilton. I took him by tho scruff ot the neck, and threw him o ff ties mandah. fiio boys enjoyed it hugc- (• *)?,?» •u? lln S foo V’ Sinclair slanged him, bn. there was a 1 smile on his face. h "™ - And Taynton Jaugbed again. CHAPTER XVHX. John w!" :1. Up!u f dayy Sir f. ' va ” *\ O,J enough to Stup in bed *> »I»> <k»V S hi. v.itjvaj,hhiiJic„To/fil" r . n " ,,ratira sir ■ Tolm “ As your doctor 1 must forbid von o see any one. It is essential that .\ou imam quite quiet. Uj oonV e^ !™lv. 1S tor tsle doctor said *' 1 ,m . lst - 0 P him,” iha Oovercf)i;rS- e ian. IUI lhC yUCrU,OUEnC3s I' Absolutely impossible, sir.” say that I must, sie him.” 1 f'V tX t UW yourself - You are very! ueak and your tompertimj will rise.”! Ay daughter, can I see her?” ■bio, Kir.” Mvedi. lh °" °' r “” rak ”" 1 ' E "“ lin S! " I think, dector. if you will give me hvo minutes with Sir John, 1 can satisry him. ( promise not in excite him In lad, I can premise to banish- lik present, excitement. Give m ? hvo minutes.- 1 ( The doctor hesitated, but came t» i •he conclusion it woufii ho wise io give nay. and so ho retired gracefully. j “Po as quick as you can—and seal v Oll keep jour jiruinu.-t’,” he said warn-1 uigly. > I 1 ivsfc of all. Sir John, I know! \ everything. No. Air Wilton didn’t I 101 l me. 1 gathered something from I i »i.v brother and guessed the- rest. You j «ro anxious to ku or wliat has iiap- ! period. Mr Wilton ’has taken your guilt on to his shoulders ” ‘‘ But lie must not. I refuse to allow—-

‘‘ Please keep quite calm. or I mus-t ran away. Ho hn-; done it for Sylvia's sake, not for yours. I. think ho lias been very Foolish, but it's splendid lolly. i quite understand your position. but we’ve got to 'think out what is best lor every one. Both vou and Mr Wilton arc anxious to protect Sylvia. Isn’t that so?” “ Yes, but protection for her can be bought at too big a price.” “ I agree with you, and therefore we must consider what price is being; paid, Mr Wilton lias already Void me bo doesn't think the inice 100 great, and lie's the one who is paying it.” “ But I feci such a scoundrel!.” “ A perfectly natural feeding.” she remarked quietly, and he stared at her in amazement. “ Yon were a scoundrel once. There’s no getting over ■that. But it was years ago, and y.cu'vo * made good.’ ” “There’s a buzzing in my head, and I can’t think.'’ “ Boor dear. . . . Sir John, do you trust me?” ‘‘Yes,” ho answered- promptly. ‘‘Then you must have roundenco in my judgment. . Until you are well enough to act for yourself, you must leave everything in my hands.” “ I feel so helpless. Boor Wilton 1 1 It’s simply damnable.” “ I’ve opily one real anxiety, and it's about Sylvia. If only she sticks to Mi Wilton, nmtters will straighten themselves. But lam doubtful.” “ What has she said?’’ lie asked eagerly. “ Very little. She is not well. . . The great thing is for you to get ■ strong as soon as possible. To do that you-must not worry.’’ ' “ What can I say to Sylvia? How ; can I let her think that Gerald is ■ guilty? I feel so utterly mean oven to allow her to believe that for a ' moment.” 1 “ Again the feeling is epiito natural, but it’s part of your punishment. : Whatever happens you are not going to escape punishment.” ’ “In that way you arc quite right,’’ lie answered with a groan. “ Try to rest and get well,” she said i with very unusual gentleness, i “ Grace—l bog your pardon, Miss Gifford—what do yon„ really think of * mo?” he asked, and was surprised at the anxiety with which lie awaited her answer. > “It is difficult to say—truthfully.” “ I only want the truth from yon.” i “ That, yon shall always have—howi over unpalatable it may lie. . . . . You’ve b;vn forced into an awful position agrh'G your will. When you - were ;u Garruthers’s bungalow you wore prepared to face the, consequences of I what you had done.- You were willv lug to bo ruined rather than Sylvia - should make a forced and unhappy . marriage. You played the game. - John . . . you may call me Grace 1 if you wish,” she added, with a bright i smile.

“Thank yon . . . yes, I did try to play the game.''’ “So far yon can’t blame yourself. After all it’s Wilton’s palaver. Until yon have talked it over with him, yon must do nothing to render useless Ina sacrifice. Ho has the right to that consideration.” “ In the meantime I must continue to feel a worm,” be said miserably. " That is so. .Inst as soon as possible I will bring Wilton to you. 1# the meantime, yon must refuse to havo any sort of a serious talk with Sylvia. I will attend to her. and I can lot you know what she is Uiinking.” "Grace, she won’t stick to Wilton if she believes he is a thief. 1 know her so well. I’vo so often felt ashamed as I’ve listened to her talking. She really knows nothing of life as it really is. She worships purity and ‘ straightness.’ I can’t remember her tolling a lie about anything that really mattered.” “ And yet she is not a female prig. I’vo lied hundreds of times,” Grace said thoughtfully. “It was because I know her as I do_that 1 welcomed her engagement to Wilton. Curiously enough there’s nothing of (he png about him. Yot I belie re he would abhor even a white lie. Tie's never had anything to do with women.” I m amazed that 1 could once have believed myself in love with him. I must confess 1 do like- a spice of the devil in a man. but the devil must ho a nice sort of devil,” sb w said musingly. “There was nothing nice about my devil.” ho answered morosely, “ Why did you do it? I’ve often been curious sine? I '('now.” “I.'must have been mad As a, small boy I never‘pilfered. The man who us bitten with the fever of gambling is raver quite normal A crowd ol men—several of them wealthy visitors from home—came to the district. There was a. roulette board, and the stakes were high. I lost n little and then took the money behoving that I should recover my losses. But it. was the old story. I continued to lose until they left. As you know, Wilton eainq, to my rescue.” “I didn’t know that,” she said gravely. “So you were in his debt before?” “Not a money debt. 1 paid that baik very soon. But I havo always boon grateful to him. Now you c_.,a see how I-hato this business.” “ Yes, I ■ minors ut mi. Now T’-n going to leave you. Try to sleep, :.ud above all don’t worry.”

“ Grace, I don’t know what I shoul i do without yen.” 41 My bi oilier is going back to Eng la ml by Sat unlay Y sunnier. I. ought to go will) him.” “ No.” lie said sharply. “ 1 haven't been invited to slay.” “ You will stay?” lie said appealindy. “Yes, it you ask mo very nicely. 1 believe 1 can help you and Sylvia.” You’ve already helped us. 1 shall always be your debtor.” The doctor came hi, and looked severely at. Grace. ”1 said ‘ live minutes,’” ho said sternly. 11 Have we been as long as that? 1. believe you will liiid your patient calmer. Ho is going to sleep now.” She laughed merrily as she Jet t them, and went to Sylvia's room. The latter was in bod, ami looked up listlessly when Grace came in. “ How is dad?/ “ Butter. There is nothing to »’ orfy about.” “ Only Gerald. I 'm so unhappy. 1 must talk to you about him.” ” Not 1/>day,” , (Bate answered firmly. He admitted that ho had tauon money which tlitl not belong to him. Do tell me it isn't true.” 11 I’m going to tall you nothing at all. I. gave Mr"Wilton your message. I tlimit it made liim very .happy. It you rest to-day you ought to he able to see him in the morning.' ’ ■‘ But 1 must talk to father first.'’ “ VtTiai about?” " 1 wish io know the truth—what really happened.- ’ “Mr 'Wilton will tell you that.” Grace sat on the bed and held her baud. “ But even if Mr Wilton did take the money you will still remember that he loves you . . • and you love him. After all, it happened years and years ago. Ho was very young then; and if true, it could not be deemed a very serious thing. He was not poor, and id the worst, it was only borrowing until ho received the. money from homo.” ‘‘Then he has admitted to you that he took the money?” “ I can hardly say that. I was merely supposing, so that you should look at things hum the very worst point of view, dust suppose yourself that he took the money-will you give him tip?” “Could one marry a thief?” “I. could—if 1 loved him,” Grace answered quietly. “ I’m not, sure that I could. The man 1 fell in love with never could have been a thief.” sire cried passionately. “Yon know the. alternative. It’s either Mr Wilton or your father.” ♦“That’s the horrible part of it. Of course, it’s out of the question that it coni) be father,” Sylvia said proudly. Grace made,no answer. She was playing her game, and was content that Sylvia should have such implicit trust in her father. For the fir«t time she began to understand why Wißon, had been so ready lo make the sacrifice. Much as she loved him, she would feel i his guilt mueii less than she would have felt that of Sir John. Altogether it was a very puas.ling situation, and each move ami every word 'must he carefully thought out. About four o'clock she telephoned to Wilton, and told him she was going to the Club to watch the pule, and suggested ho should come and give her tea. Most of the white people were present on the verandah. There was a crowd of natives on the ground, who watched the play closely. Many of them had a knowledge, of the game, and heartily cheered a winning hit. “Bin glad you've come,” Grace said when Wilton joined her. ■ “Have you anything to tell me?” “I had a,long tail; lo Sir John—a very hank talk—he is aware that 1 know, and is content to leave matters in my hands until, he is strong enough to grapple with them himself. I have arranged you shall be the first to seo him. You will be glad to know he's inclined to kick over tho traces. ,ue loathes his position—that yoh should be in the position you are. He is inclined to publish the truth. But ho will do notidng until lie lots talked to you.” “ I’m glad to hear that.” “ I've also talked with Sylvia. In furtherance of our plan, I am leading her to believe you aro guilty. There will be danger if she closely questions her father. 1 intend tu keep them apart as long as possible. You were right to come , this afternoon. I feared you might shirk facing the rest of them.” “I’m not a coward.” “No. You’re no coward. I was Wise when l fell in love yith you on the ship. I thought you might he a bit of a prig, but you’re not. even that.” ‘‘/Hiank you.'’ he answered drily. “ Now Tin going to he mdc. Havovou fallen.in love with Sir John?” M hat an imagination she cried, and laughed nervously. “ You haven't answered mv question." “And I shan't.'’ “Then I may think ” You may think anything you like. MI ’phono, you in the morning. Be prepared 'to come to I ha Castle at a

moment s notice. The i>olo bores me. I’m going to the Castle.” "Back to Sir John,” be said With a si.- he, which changed to a- laugh when she Hushed. • ", <.l'o he contiiu’rt-U'':