The Ironmaster's Daughter.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8310, 13 December 1906, Page 2

The Ironmaster's Daughter.

Bv OWEN MASTERS. Aviltr of "Clyda's Love Dream," "Nina's Repentance," "Her Soldier Lover," "The Mystery of Woodcroft," "For Love of'Marjorie," etc.

f"TnE Ironmaster's Daughter" was commenced on October 17th.]

CHAPTER XXXlll.—Continued

"A big job, Bill, for two of us. The iron's got to be brought up here from the wharf." "I counted on the watchman helping, and we mustn't arouse suspicion, or the Smethwick gang will be down on us like a thousand of bricks. I can load the pig on the trolly, and have a couple of horses out." "Good. Let's be moving, I can't do very much, but 111 do my best, Bill." "And there's something else, sir," Bill said, as they walked from the office down the yard to the works, "Part of 'em may try to get in across the canal. If they get hold of a boat they can cross the water." Mr Benson looked blank. "So they can, Bill." Bill slapped his knee fiercely. "I'll be ready for 'em, sir, We'll get up steam in the electric powerhouse, fit the fire hose to the ex haust pipe, and play on 'em, if they try it." They went into the engine-room first, and Bill actually stood on some grease rags which hid one of Duke Deverell's infernal machines.

From the engine-room to the boiler-house. Up went the damper and Bill raged, the fire into a huge tongue of flame. "The chimney smokes a bit. Hope they won't notice it. Steam'll be up in an hour. Now for the barricading " . He and Benson walked in the direction of the wharf, and both suddenly stood transfixed. Within a foot of the canal. a woman \lay prone on the ground, her. face upturned to the pitiless rays of the sun. •'Good Lord!" said Bill.."lt's Miss Craven!" Benson leaped forward, a cry of fright, of agony, escaping him, and dropping to his knees began chafing the girl's hands. , "Hilda, my darling!" he whispered. "She's dead, Bill —she's dead." "Not she," Hebden answered sourly. "Chuck some water over her, and move her into the shade. What the deuce is she doing here? Some more devilment afoot!" He dipped a capful of water from the canal and dashed it into Hilda's face. Then he set fire to some tow lying on the wharf, and waved it under her nostrils. Mr Benson watched these proceedings almost indignantly, but when the girl opened her eyes he uttered a shout of joy. "Hilda! Hilda! my dear one! You are betterI—you 1 —you are " She gazed at him, terrified for several moments. "Charles! I must be dreaming!

Thank God it was only a dream." "This is a funny place to have -dreams," growled Bill. "Arid of a Sunday morning, too, when you oughter he at church." Hilda heard his voice, and knew it. She recognized her surroundings and shivered ■ Mr Benson waved Bill aside, and Bill retired, scowling. "That's were tne mischief lies. But she ain't, going to hoodwink me." He won't to the stables and har'nessed one. of the horses. Time - was on wing, and that woman He was curious, and continued to glance in the direction of Mr Benson and Hilda Craven. She was leaning on Mr Benson's arm, and Benson was signalling to him to iollow them to the office. Bill obeyed, glowering and surly. This was only that woman's ruse to gain time. The daughter of Chris Stanley.

He waited at • the. door until the chief clerk called him inside ; then he saw that Benson looked more like a maniac than a sane man. His , face was pinched and pallid; his lips were blue: his eyes glittered, ' and his limbs moved spasmodically. "It's horrible, Bill—awful beyond words. And shk has saved us—saved everything. Hush ! She's in there—in the lavatory, washing the canal-water out of her eyes and brushing her hair. She will tell us —she will tell us what to do. 11 only know that the entire works were mined last night, or befdre it was light this morning, and that you and I might have gone up with them." "No humbug?" queried Bill. ."You'd best sit down, sir. You look queer." But Benson had turned to meet Hilda Craven, and,was using* caress- • ing terms, even in the hearing of Bill Hebden. He drew one of her arms within his own and clasped her hand. *

"Bill," he said, "this is my future wife—daughter of Chris Stanley though she be, and I am the enemy of any man who doubts or flouts her. She has just saved the works —perhaps many lives, at the risk of her own, and she's going to tell us just how it was done —and one or two other things," he added. He led her to the best and easiest chair in the office, and' Hilda resolutely dashed the tears from her eyes. She couldn't help being slightly hysterical, though she felt ashamed of it, with Bill Hebden's doubting locks bent on her. "Chris Stanley's daughter!" he was thinking. "She won't hoodwink me. I ain't in love with her. She may be trying to gain time." Then he dismissed this suspicion,

for Hilda Craven was speaking, rapidly and concisely. In a few minutes the whole of the terrible facts were laid bare. The horror of the schemo was almost insupportable. "I am Chris Stanley's daughter, butl was adopted by a lady when a little child. My mother was dead and my father married again. When too young to understand the responsibility of married life, I wedded a man of sixty named Craven. He died soon afterward, and his nephew, Duke Deverell, pretended to be in love with me. I always hated and feared the man; he reminded me of a beautiful snake. Then my father proposed that I should apply for the post of typewriter here. He told me things that made me believe it to be my duty to report to him certain secrets of the office. By chicanery he had been robbed, by chicanery he must recover some of his lost ground." [to be continued.]