“THE TURN OF THE TIDE."

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17169, 12 October 1923, Page 10

“THE TURN OF THE TIDE."

“ STAR ” NEW SERIAL.

By

FRED M. WHITE.

CHAPTER lI.—CONTINUED. Once alone, Gilmour sat there, not heeding the cold and damp, and conscious only of the struggle for freedom. Then, when his patieneo was getting exhausted, he heard the purr of an engine outside, and made his way into the street, where the taxi was awaiting him. He paused for a moment as he entered. “ That’s all right, George,” he said. “ You know where to go. And don’t worry about the speed limit. Get me to Cray as soon as you can, and drop me at the corner of the lane not far from the Moat House. I can change inside the cab, and you can do what you like with my wet clothes. Js th 3 stuff inside?” ‘‘That’s all right, sir,” the driver muttered. In just under the hour the taxi reached Cray, and in his impromptu wardrobe Gilmour got out and inada his way through the lodge gates to the front of the house, where he could sea the lights blazing in the dining room windows. A clock somewhere was striking ten. As he stood there, he conhl hear the sounds of gaiety and laughter inside, then he crept forward, and very gently' commenced to tap with his knuckles on one of the window panes, not quickly, hut two or three taps with intervals between. Then it seemed to him that the conversation inside ceased, and he smiled to himself grimly. CHAPTER 111. A Broken Life. Not more than twenty years ago the village of Cray had been a sporting estate owned by the Langley family, ol which Major Owen Langley had been the head at the beginning of the twentieth century. He had distinguished himself in the Boer War, from which he returned with every prospect of a successful career. But the unfortunate death of bis wife in the hunting field had left him a comparatively young man with one little girl, and he had sent in his papers and devoted himself to the managing of his estae and the bringing up of liiS child. Patricia. In those, days, the brick and mortal octopus ever stretching out from the Metropolis in search of fresh land to devour had been checked in a south easterly direction by the barrier of the Moat Estate, and for some years this had been a sort of oasis in the dreary waste of jerry building orgies. But eventually Major Owen Langley had found himself drawn into the vortex. His revenues were falling, and he was compelled to find fresh avenues for the upkeep of the family dignity. So he began mildly to speculate in building land, under the guidance of the last ol the Veritys, . who lived then in an old Manor House on the edge of the estate, and when Jasper Verity was no more Mortimer Croot took his place and. under his guidance, Major Langley plunged still deeper. And then, when Patricia was about seventeen, the crash came. It had come quite unexpectedly, like a bolt from the blue, and that particular summer evening when Croot had walked over from the Manor House and had told Langley i n plain words exactly where he stood. Patricia still remembered that evening, how she had sat in the drawing room listening to voices in th-; library raised more and more in anger until a door had banged somewhere, and then there was silence. She had beard her father pacing up and down the library, and then the sound of a heavy Jail which struck a sort of chill to her heart-. She seemed to feel the trouble in the air.

She found her father lying on the hearthrug a mere fragment of huinanity, the shell of a man. with the soul and sense dead within it. 'And so. from that day to this, Langley had remained. He had lost all power over ns limbs and most of the control over his speech. There were days when he could say certain things cohcrent.lv, and when ho could manage to drag liimselt from one chair to another. But these intervals were few and far be tween and for the most part he passed Ins days in a sort of moody dream, though he seemed to recognise Patri cia s devotion and loving kindness. But that was all. and then Patricia began to gather what had happened I hey were absolutely ruined ; there was nothing left of the property, and even Croot.’s exertions had resulted only m saving a pittance of a hundred a year out of the wreck. And so it came about that the girl and her father found themselves eventually in a littlj cottage, just by the lodge gates and front and his adopted daughter became owner and tenant of the Moat House. Patricia realised that it was nbsn lately imperative for her to do something, and she very bravely learnt typewriting and shorthand, and accept °. Croot\s offer of employment, in tin* clingy old offices in Great Bower Street. And there she had been diligently work ing for the last two years.

Meanwhile, the Crav estae was altercd beyond recognition. Where field* and covers had been, large houses, sur rounded by their own grounds, stood. V here the big orchard had been was now the prosperous and sinfullv-expen-•uve centre for the Cray shops and banks. Only the Moat House itself remained, with its charming grounds, and there Croot had been established He still took more than a. passing interest in the unfortunate man who occupied one of his cottages more as n matter of charity than anything else On Major Langley’s good days Croot frequently looked in and did his best to cheer up the unhappy late owner of the Moat Estae. But all to no purpose. for. strange to say. Langley seem od to have conceived a bitter ‘ dislike for the man whom most neople regarded as his best friend. Not that Croot took this in bad part : he recognised the mental affliction that lav at the hack of it all. and behaved according lv. To Patricia herself he was e.lwoys the counsellor and guide. He paid her handsomely, far more handsomely than her °ervice.« warranted, and she was not. blind to the fact. Whatever he • father might think in that dark mind of his, she was grateful enough. <To be continued.)