SOLITUDE LTD.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18936, 5 December 1929, Page 16

SOLITUDE LTD.

” STAR’S ” NEW SERIAL.

BY

JOHN HASLETTE VAHEY

CHAPTER Xlll.—(Continued). i l > He had assumed that Donovan must X be staying at the railway hotel, the Northern Counties Hotel as it was still called locally, and asked the guard if he was likely to find accommodation there at this time of year. The guard thought he might, so, when he changed ( at Portstewart, Tony telephoned to the t hotel, and took a room for the night. t “Now I am launched on my campaign,” he said, as he started once £ more. "I’ll have a look at Mr Dono- t van before I go through with him. It r will be a ticklish job .quarrelling with a stranger.” Arriving in Portrush he found the . hotel much better and finer than he * had expected. He signed the hotel register under his own name, giving * The Ness as his address, was shown ‘ his room, and went dawn again to the J lounge. After smoking a cigarette, he went back to the register, saw that Donovan was still staying in the hotel, and waited. * There were a good many guests, I some English, some few Americans, and a handful of Scots, who talked of 1 golf and Gleneagles. An hour had passed before a tall, 1 handsome fellow, wearing plus fours, and carrying a bag of golf-clubs, came in. He looked for a moment at Tony, and Tony locked at him. Was this by any chance Terry Donovan? 1 CHAPTER XIV. THE SECRET. When this last comer had disappear- 1 ed upstairs, Tony left the lounge and i established himself in the smokingroom to wait. He had hardly been : there five minutes' when the tall fellow 1 came down again, exchanged a few words with the reception clerk, and ’ began idly to turn over the pages of the register. “I like to keep tab on the new arrivals,” he said to the clerk, using 1 an American term in an unmistakably Irish voice. “Who’s this one, now?” “An Englishman,” said the clerk, ■ glancing at the book. “He’s just come in by the last train in from Derry, ; Mr Donovan.” “From Donegal, you mean,” said i Donovan, staring. “Sure he’s at The Ness, and that isn't ten miles from my own old place. Isn’t that odd, now ? ” “It does happen,” said th clerk indifferently. “What’s he like?” “He was sitting in the lounge, sir, when you came in.” “Egad! Was he then? I saw him. Do you know where he is now ? I’ll have a talk with him about the old place. He must be one of old O’Grady’s tenants.” The clerk He knew nothing of Mr O’Grady or his tenants, and cared less. “Perhaps he is, sir,” he remarked, and turned to sort some letters in pigeon-holes behind. Donovan w-as one of those hasty people who at once carry resolutions into effect. He made a bee-line for the smoke-room, saw Tony sitting looking at the door, and went straight across. “It’s great weather, isn’t it?” he said, sitting on a chair facing Tony. “It isn’t often we have it so dry in this part of the world.” Tony found himself in an awkward position. To be addressed very pleasantly by the very man you have come to quarrel with makes a situation calling for nice diplomacy. “Splendid,” he said, and wondered what to say next. “Staying here long?” asked Donovan. “I’m not sure how long,” said Tony. “That’s the best way,” said Terry. “The practice of knowing exactly where you’re going next, and when, ought to be put down. It leads to tidiness of mind, if not worse.” Tony smiled involuntarily, then stiffened again. “Possibly it does,” he said, annoyed to find himself at a loss for once. “Do you know Donegal?” asked the other at once. “I wonder if you are the gentleman the clerk said had come from there to-day?” Tony opened his eyes. Was the fellow going to’carry the war into his camp instead of waiting to be attacked? It looked like it, certainly.” “Yes,” he remarked, “I have taken a house in Donegal for two months.’* Donovan slapped his knee. “Have you then! Why, I know it as well as my own pocket. I was brought up

Author of Fiddlestrings," “ Down River," “ The Storm Lady," " Up North, “ Payment Down,” etc.

near there as a boy. though I have been to America since. But perhaps you know my name—Terry Dono“I have heard of you—from Dr Stuart,” said Tony, dryly. “Ould Stuart! Bravo. Then you may know Miss Farrar and Mary.” “I know them both.” Donovan offered an open cigarettecase. “Try one of these. I declare this is a great meeting! Ilow were thev when vou .saw them last?” Tony felt inclined to believe that his enemy had no courage, and was trying the emollient values of soft soap. He refused the cigarette. “Very well.” he said briefly. Donovan smiled. “I was over staying in Bundoran before I came here,” he observed. “I really ought to have gone over to see them, but I had something up my sleeve I didn t want known yet. If you see them when you go back, you might tell them that I will likely 'be over one day next week.” Tony inwardly cursed his impudence, and thought it was time he began to get to closer grips. “You have known them a good man}'- years, I expect?” he asked. “Donkeys’ years. I may tell you. without blushing for it, that I was very sweet on Mary’ Farrar once.” “Perhaps you have got over it,” said Tony sarcastically. But sarcasm was lost on the excitable Terry. “I was keeping it all back for the secret,” he assured his companion. “My idea was not to go there without her, and then just come in and surprise the aunt.” Tony started. Was this some weird plan to marry Mary Farrar secretly, and bring her home to Misg Farrar? Could Mary’s visit to Londonderry have any connection with that? “I am afraid I don’t follow you,” he said. “Surprise Miss Farrar . with what?” “The girl, of course,” said Terry. “She’ll be here in a day or two, and then we’ll get married, and go to Mulcree.” Tony’s face felt stiff, and his gorge rose. The fellow had the impudence to lay his atrocious plans bare to a perfect stranger. But it was inconceivable to him still that Mary Farrar should have consented to such a thing and kept it from her kind aunt. Presximably the opposition came from that quarter, or there would have been no necessity for secrecy. But if this were true, his guns were spiked in advance. He could not quarrel with Mary’s future husband, and the thought of communicating his suspicions to Miss Farrar was impossible. “She never mentioned it to me—Miss Farrar, I mean,” he said, in a voice that he hardly recognised as his own. The enthusiastic Terry laughed. “Of course not.” “I hardly see that. An approaching marriage “Hold on!” interrupted Donovan. “We’re at cross-paws somehow. Who do you think I’m marrying, anyway?” Tony checked the name that rose to his lips. “It seems rather obscure,” he remarked. “You see, you have referred to some mysterious lady, and to the Farrars. It may be quite clear to you, but I admit that it is not very illuminating to me.” Donovan laughed. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this at all, Mr Chant, unless it is that I am so full of it myself. I quite forgot for the moment that you were a stranger. When we got to talking of The Ness and Mulcree, it made me feel as if I had known you a long time.” Tony was now forced to a greater show of cordiality. “Having told me so much, Mr Donovan, you might tell me the rest.” Donovan laughed again. “It’s this way: I made some money in the United States. It was a rare old cod for me; who could never make money or spend it before. But I got on a good proposition by accident, and I had an offer from a rich man to come in with me to exploit it. Now perhaps you begin to see light?” “Not a gleam,” said Tony, who was beginning to wonder if this was not an elaborate lead away from the subject. “You need a father to find a daughter,” said Donovan. “Mr Emery had one, and, well (barrin’ accidents that I don’t expect), I have her. Now you see! Emery and his daughter ought to be here in two days’ time, and when they come I’ll have a special license, and we’ll get married right away. Then I’ll take her down to Mulcree to show to my old friends the Farrars.” (To be continued.)