For Honour's Sake.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXVIII, Issue 8100, 21 March 1906, Page 2

For Honour's Sake.

By Bertha M. Clay. Author of " Wife in Name Only," « Wedded and I'ttrted," "Dora Thornr," " A Queen Among Women," l t( A True dliigdalene," etc., etc.,

CHAPTEK Ll.—Continued.

"I don't know what Mr Faucourt wants, miss," said Benson; "but be kept on snyiug ho must see you it was life and death; he seems quite sensible now—he's been that way all day. You won't know him, miss, he looks so t'nnv.y. He mario me cut off nil his beard, and whisk is and moustache—you wouldn't believe the change it makes in him. I dou'l kuow why ho did thpt; he wasn't delirious, but tie's awfully weak, and he won't have a doctor. 1 think he misses the dr*uk; he don't get Dear as much as ho used to, and they say drunkards can't live without drink." Claude shuddered. "And Mrs Darenaut," she asked. "She hasn't been near bim all day, miss. She didn't kuow I was coming for you: but she wouldn't have minded. She was in bet room when I left. I don't know if she's gone to bed." "And no one with Fanootirt?" "No miss; there was nobody up but me." The cab stopped opposite the house. Benson opeueii the door with a latchkey, and they wont on together to Faucourt's room. "1 had boat go in alone," said Claude; "but you'll wait up, Bonson, you may bo wanted." "For certain, Miss. I shan't go to bod, I shall be in*this room close by.'^ Claude ouenod the door of the sick room, closing it after her, as she entered. The air was close, and heavy with the smell of brandy. On the bod at the further end lay a ghastly, emaciated form, whose face the girl would certainly not have recognised at once for all the hair was gone; the man looked quite different, and, despite the inroads of dissipation, and sickness, younger. He eagerly raised himself on his elbow as Claude, all repugnance overcome iu profound pity, went up. to the bedside. "Ah! you've come!" he said; "you've come! I knew you would!" He spoke with difficulty, but he was more thoroughly in his senses than Claude had ever Been bim. "You don't know me," he added, as aha bent down and took his hand. "I'd a reason for having my hair out ott. I'm not drunk or mad now." His eyes, burning with inward fever, searched the girl's face anxiously. "1 know yon are quite yourself," ahesaid, gently. "What can Ido for yon? Let me send for a doctor." He shook his head. "No, no! Look here, ohild—you must be a saint, to be kind to me after what I did; but I'll make it up to you—l'll do cue good thing before 1 die." He laughed, and that made him cough. Claude4urned the heated pillow, "Try and rest," she said, "and don't talk." "I must, ohild—-1 must. Give me a little brandy—juat a little—to keep me going—it won't make me drunk uow—-I'm too weak." Claude poured out some brandy and water, and gave it to him, supporting him while be drank. He looked up to her gratefully. "I'll atone for what' 1 did," he said. He let her lay him back on the pillow, but olutohed her hand tightly. "Look here," he said, "I want to see Captain Stewart—tonight—you must fetch him!" - "1 fetch him!" She started, and ohanged colour.

"It's life and death, I tell you. Dying men don't play the fool, child. I must eee him; you kpuw where to find him—the servant's no good; besides, Bhe won't have the money for cabs, and I haven't, (jo at once, ohild—don't waste a minute—bring him here quick." x There was no mistaking bis intense earnestness, and Olaude hesitated no longer, cruel though the ordeal was for her to call at a man's chambers at midnight; possibly, worse still, at bis club, to fetch him away. "I will go for him," she said;' "he shall come without fail." "Thanks, thanks." He looked even in that minute, more relieved. Olaude went out to Benson, and told her to go in to keep watch by Fancourt. "1 am going,y she said, "to fetch someone he wants to see. It's all right; I must go myself. Give mo the latchkey. Thanks." She ran noiselessly, and rapidly, down the stairs, out of tbe house, closing the door softly, and gained tbe road beyond. It flashed across her what Captain Stewart would say to her being out alone in these lonely places, at midnight. "But there was no help for it. Even if Fancourt's wish were onl7 a sick man's whim he was a dying man and must bo humoured, But his manner gave her the strong impression that he really wished to see Captain Stewart for some reason which, to him, at any rate, appeared important. CHAPTER LII. A HASTY SUMMONS. ' Claude quickly gained tbe Brpmpton Road, where she was soon to find a cab. She saw a bausom approaching almost at once, and, as she raised her hand, she became suddenly hot and cold with the knowledge of what the man must thiuk when she gave him the address. a Oab, miss." "Yes. please," She mounted the step. "No—Pall Mall, and drive fast, I'll pay you well." "Rißht, miss" Tbe man's tone showed, or Olaude thought it did, that be understood; bat she did not seem to oare much now; her brain was too busy with other thoughts; and, after all, what aoa'btnan imagined-was of small con-" •equeniie 5 . *' '• \V'." \ '•' , '' B '-' .' She worried herself, as people al-

ways do when worrying is quite useless, with conjectures as to where Captain Stewart might he. She was pretty sure he was not going out to any ball or assembly; but ho would very likely bo at ouo of the clubs, and probably no one would know which; and she was wondering what Fauouurt could want Stewart for. Was it to tell him about Julia DavoHow absurd, if it was? Stewart did not want to hunt the wretched woman down. But she looked oat anxiously £.ir all the landmarks. The time seemed long; yet the horse wa.3 making capital running. He seemed quite fresh, and the small traffio at this time enabled him to run free. St. James's Street. Claude began to draw her breath hurriedly. J'he hansom rattled merrily past the still ligbted-up clubs into Pall Mall, and pulled up sharp, the girl's heart leaping into her throat. "Wait," she said, as she sprang out. There was a light in the window of the first story, but tha*: would mean nothing, ouo way or the other. She went f.up to the door, and rang the bell.' How it clanged and echoed through the house. (To be Continued).