“THE HONOUR OF HIS HOUSE.”

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16495, 4 August 1921, Page 2

“THE HONOUR OF HIS HOUSE.”

►Li OUR SERIAL, **■

B

FRED. M. WHITE.

CHAPTER IV. THE SILVER CANDLESTICKS. The brilliant primrose of the summer twilight bad not yet faded in the west as Sherringborne stepped out on to the terrace , and ma de his way across the park. He looked a little older and less jaunty now, bis head was bowed, and a mass of little wrinkles were netted round his eyes. He passed along under those ancestral elms and beeches, -be saw the deer creeping through th© bracken in shadowy procession.

So far as he could see, he. was suzerain of all the broad acres around him There were farms arid homesteads and cottages where every man called him overlord, and made him homage. And what reigning house in Europe could Kay more than that? And yet Sherringborno looked as little like a happy man as needs be as lie walked on his own soil that evening. Ho came prcscntlv to a little path, running between wide belts of shrubs, then he opened a. wicket gate which gave upon a very beautiful and charming old-world garden. It lay there secluded by the big forest trees; everywhere were well kept grass paths between wide beds of roses. There, were roses everywhere, in the full panoply of their summer beauty. Un the slope stood a tiny creeper-clad cottage with latticed windows.

The place itself was a perfect embodiment of peace and One could imagine an artist or a poet living flier© secluded from the world and bv th© world forgotten. The door of the cottage stood invitingly open and. bending over a few choice specimens of potted roses, two men appeared to he engaged ir> a heated argument. One of them stood up as Sherringborne approached and extended his hand. Now we will leave his lordship to arbitrate.” he said- “Francois says this is nothing less than a Dijon rose. I contend that it is exceedingly impertinent on his part to contradiction expert so distinguished as myself. 1 “ Francois is an impertinent scoundrel. ” Sherringborne smiled. “Incidentally, he is the only man I know who is not really afraid of Baron de la Croisa.”

“Ah,” the other said. “The hero and his valet over again! Time now as ever it was.” With that the Baron threw back Ins head and la u died with the heartiness of a boy. He mad<| a distinguished figure as ho stood there in his plain evening dress, a little knot of ribbon striking a crimson note against the lapel of bis coat. He was not a tall man, but he made the most ot his inches, his thin ascetic face might have belonged to a distinguished statesman or scholar. His shrewd brown eyes twinkled with humour, a thick thatch of white hair on his head resembled nothing so much as a doormat. Inins left eve lie wore a glass with a tortoiseshell rim. He retained it with the manner of a man who is thoroughlv accustomed to the use of the monocle A little old man with n ridiculously fierce grey moustache stood by—the tvpe of man who has old soldier written on him in the plainest possible words. And Francois was a character in his way. He was cook and housekeeper and eke laundress, too. to Baron dc la Oroisa ; he worshipped his master with an almost clog-like devotion, though his criticisms of that distinguished individual never lacked anything on the score of frankness. . ~ . M Francois, you roar retire. the Baron said. “The debate JS Adjourned for the present. \Do you know. Sherringborne. that there arc times when T am almost sorry Francois saved my life. He seems to thinx T belong to him ever since. To this day, I am sure it is a lasting wonder to Francois that rav beloved Tortma once entrusted her destinies _to mv hands. But come in. my dear old friend, come •in You look worried and anxious. T am sure vou have come here to consult m So\°a U vinTt^ n K^-^ info the cotta*.. It a tiny affair with but one hvm E room, and a ki chen on tbci other side of . the {| ooi which wns Francois’ a own private pr perty. There were hut two bedrooms and a bathroom overhead. and tia sitting-room itself was furnished *h almost Spartan simplicity. Rut there was a Persian carpet, on the sloi e. floor, the ingle-nook was priceless a its wav, and on tho ha.ro deal table, scrubbed to a snowy whiteness were a of carved branch candlesticks unmistakably tho work of Cellini himAlong the over the fireplace were china ornaments in black and gold, rare bits of tho Ming Dynasty. There were pictures, too, on the whitewashed walls, a Corot, a Masonnier, •md over the hr©nine© an exquisite Rembrandt. The Union formed part of the picture, too, despite the correct severity of his evening dress. Anyone else would have been- grotesquely out of place there, but dc la Croisa struck the right note. “ bit down,” the Baron said hospitably. “Sit down and tell me all about it. Positively I have not seen a. civilised being for over a, week. Oh, Pro not grumbling, honestly. I am much more happy than I should bo if I were back in the arena, again. Providence never intended mo for politics, f am too sensitive—what you call too thin-skinned. Ah, my friend, you did a great kindness to me when you placed this cottage at the disposal of ;i, disappointed man. Perhaps T was fortunate to have escaped from Tortina with an income just sufficient for my modest wants, and a few things like these to satisfy mv artistic instincts.”

He waved his whit© hand airily towards the pictures on the wall, his glance at the candlesticks was almost affectionate. “ You ought to liar© stayed on,” Sherringborne said. “ If you had remained in Tortina. Santa Anna and th© present man, Altheos, would never have dared to do what they liar© just done. You would have beaten them, my friend, you would hare beaten them, and had you don© so, you would have saved me a vast amount ot trouble and anxiety. Because, if you were at the head -of affairs there now, wo f.heuid never have had all this bother with Japan over those concessions.” The Baron looked up swiftly. Ah,' ho cried. “'l hero is trouble, then ’ “More than enough, my dear fellow. It’s a, thing I never anticipated. The whole crisis cam© on the Foreign Office like a bombshell. There w o.s m.t a single e’oud on the horizon. Those concessions of min© that 1 paid so much for looked like proving a gold mine. You see, though I am.'Foreign Minister, I thought I could handle them, for apparently Tortina was quite beyond our sphero of influence. And I am afraid 1 plunged rather heavily, and that I did more or loos acting on William Saltburn’s advice.” b© continued )