SOLITUDE LTD.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18946, 17 December 1929, Page 16

SOLITUDE LTD.

•• STAR'S " new SERIAL.

BY

JOHN HASLETTE VAHEY

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

CHAPTER XXI. ALONG THE CLIFFS. A very faint air was coming from the north as they hoisted the sail and left the shelter of the stone quay. The fisherman and Driscoll each took an oar to help her along, and Forge sat with Mary Farrar in the stern sheets. The sail filled a little, and they drew away towards the cliff. The oars splashed Driscoll putting his back into it as if his whole heart and soul were in the enterprise of rescuing Tony Chant, and his only fear one that they might not be successful in that errand of mercy. They were soon past the mouth of the Ahogue, where the tide was setting into the estuary, and came close to the frowning black ramparts of the cliff to the west. Here they got down the sail, and Mary Farrar took the electric torch and flashed it on. “ Save it a bit. miss/’ said Driscoll. “ He couldn’t have got down from above here, the edge is all crumbly.” Mary steered the boat in closer still. “ What about that grapnel?” she asked. The grapnel was really a small fourtined anchor, and Driscoll put down his oar and reached under the thwart. “ Here it is, miss.” Forge raised his voice for the first time since they had got into the boat. “ Excuse me,” he said in a low voice to his companion, “ wouldn’t it be better ■to try first opposite the place where I climbed down? If we fail there, we could drag all along; but I don’t think we ought to waste time here till we know.” “True for ye,” said Driscoll, who had sharp ears. “ We’d better tackle that first. Sure, if he had his crowbar in that hole you saw T , it would be there he “ All right. Give way,” said Mary r . Driscoll and the fisherman redoubled their efforts and made the boat seethe along. Forge, watching them, saw that Mary had been right when she spoke of Driscoll as a powerful man. Fifty as he was, his arms -were very muscular. “ I’d have to stab him off, and not let him get into a clinch,” Forge reflected wisely. “The middle part of him would be the most easy. He’s fat there.” Now the boat was just east of the steps down the cliff, and the butler was staring upwards. “ If you’ll steer us closer miss, we can let out the wee anchor,” he said, and Mary obeyed. The boat now lay under the shadow of the cliffs, and while the fisherman took both oars, Driscoll came aft with the rope attached to the improvised grapnel, and paid out carefully. The fisherman said something to him in Irish, and he nodded. “ What’s he muttering about?” Forge asked sharply. “ He says the bottom is foul here with rocks and weed,” said Driscoll. “ I’ll lay it is, too; but we must have a thry.” Keeping the anchor from touching the bottom, the boat was rowed slowly on. Three or four times it stuck, and Driscoll pulled up tough masses of seaweed it had torn from the rocks. Once it stuck in a crack and they nearly lost it, all hands having to join in before they got it clear. But at the first run they found nothing. “ Turn about and back agin,” said Driscoll. “ A wee bit farther in, miss.” The boat was turned round and headed east again, the grapnel still trailing. Again it was qaught in seaweed, and when they were farther on, it caught and held. ; “Bad cess to these rocks! growled Driscoll. He tugged warily. Forge gave a hand. The fisherman backed water. “ It’s coming,” said Forge suddenly. “ Gently does it—seaweed again, and be bio wed to it! ” Driscoll began to haul in slowly. The weight on the line now was not great, but there was something attached to the anchor flukes that gave a slight strain, and Driscoll pulled in more slowly than ever. Then he gave a cry: “ Tis the rope, miss! Sure it’s hooked on it. Bedad! I wondered what it was at all. Mary Farrar’s heart sank, and the tears came into her eyes. She forced them back, and taking the torch focussed its beam on the tiny anchor. Truly enough, a rope was entangled with the flukes. It threatened to slip off, but Mary dived her arm into the water up to the shoulder almost, and retrieved it. „ “ Let’s haul away and see, said Forge drily. “ There ought to be the crowbar on the end if it is.’ They hauled in the rope as quickly as it could be retrieved from the foul bottom. At first they thought the crowbar was weighting it, but presently. it came up intact, and there was nothing attached to it. Probably one or twocoil? about the rock had held it fast. “ It mightn’t be his,” said Forge heavily. “ But there’s knots on it near

the end. He might tie those for climbmg.” „ ~ " And there is a slipped noose, said Mary chokingly. “ Pull out into the moonlight, Driscoll, till we have a look at it.” Silently Driscoll took his place again upon the rowing thwart, and helped the fiiherman to haul out until they came into the moonlit area. As Mary and Forge examined the rope there was no longer any doubt in their minds that Tony Chant had used it for his climb. Probably the crowbar, with no one to steady it, had worked out with the strain below, and precipitated him into the sea. 'One hope remained, but that a faint one. Tony might have risen to the surface and swum to a ledge. Against that was the unlikelihood of his being alive on a ledge and not trying to attract their attention. If he was still unconscious, had lost his senses once he had climbed out of the water, that objection would not hold. But if a search proved blank, it would prove to them that he was dead. Mary's heart swelled to bursting as she thought of it. But this was not the time for mourning. She choked down her fears, and spoke to Driscoll. “We must scour the foot of the cliff. I’ll steer as close in as I can, and we must keep the flashlight searching the rocks.” “That’ll be best, miss,” Driscoll assented. For an hour they travelled slowly up and down the cliff-foot, then the big torch gave out, and already they had given up hope. For another hour they used the grapnel, but caught nothing except the übiquitous seaweed and rock projections. “Home! ” said Mary in a very low voice. “We must have a proper search made when it is light to-morrow. Tell the man, Driscoll, that we_ will want him and some others to-morrow early.” “Oi will, miss,” said Driscoll. The boat turned back to Rossard. Mary sat like a stone, staring unseeingly at the silver ocean undulating on all sides. Forge bit his lip. He was not an emotional man, but he had a rare affection for Tony, and he was blaming himself for leaving him. But he felt that Mary Farrar was his next care. He knew, in spite of her silence and rigidity, that she was terribly moved. He was sure that she had loved Tony Chant, and mourned him now as a brave woman mourns her lover. He was too wise to attempt to comfort her. She would wish to be alone when they returned to the house. Only as they left the boat and began the journey back to the cliff-top, he gave her his arm, and helped her blind progress up the rocky way. She had dismissed the fisherman with some silver, and Driscoll followed at some paces. Forge felt her tremble from time to time. But as they neared the house she had calmed herself and spoke to him quietly. “We will put you up in a spare bedroom. Thank you for all you have done.” “It’s nothing, miss,” he said hastily. “But if it’s the same to you, I’d sooner lie down on a couch below.” “Very well,” said Mary, and turned to wait for Driscoll. “I want you to go to bed and get some sleep, Driscoll,” she said kindly. “You have been very useful, and I don’t know what we would have done without you.” “Och! what less could I do, with the poor gintleman drowned and all?” said he. “But, by your lave, miss, Oi could do with a sleep. Oi’ll be up with the screech of dawn, and get down to Rossard to get the boys togither.” He went upstairs the moment they entered the house, and they heard the door of his room close. Forge looked at Mary. Her eyes were suspiciously red, and her mouth drooped. He looked away. “You would be better of a sleep, too, miss,” he said sympathetically. She nodded, holding her head up bravely. “I shall go up at once when I have shown you where you can sleep.” She led the way to a morning-room where there was a capacious couch, then left him to go upstairs for rugs and blankets. She bade him good-night in a stifled voice, and disappeared. Forge shook his head mournfully two or three times when she had gone. “He bought solitude dear! ” he reflected, as he thought of Tony Crant. But the making of an epitaph did not content him. He sat down and lighted a cigarette, making no attempt to undress or lie down. He was trying to reconstruct the scene that must have taken place on the cliff the night before, from the moment when Tony Chant drove the crowbar until that when the rope and bar slipped and precipitated him into the sea. The rope had had a slipped noose on it, but the crowbar had not been picked up. Of course it might have let the rope slide from it when Driscoll began to haul away. (To be continued.)