A GIRL TO LOVE.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9096, 23 May 1908, Page 2

A GIRL TO LOVE.

By BERTHA M. CLAY. Author of " Thrown on the World," " Her Mother's Sin," Beyond 3 Pardon," " The Lo3t Ludy of Haddon," " Dora Thorne," " An Ideal Love," etc.

CHAPTER XXVll.—Continued. Hi 9 way home lay across the humpy coalfields, through the same squalid streets which Victor' had so recently traversed, and then to the south of the town of Dudley, where a paradise of red brick villas had suddenly sprung into existence. When midway between his home and the colliery, a policeman, observing his eccentric gait, followed him. He knew Mr Ireland, the ground-bailiff, and he decided the gentleman required protection. . Mr Ireland heard the policeman's heavy step, and reeled about. "Well, officer, what's wripng?" he demanded thickly. "Nothing, I hope, sir. My beat lies this way. Shall I see you home!" "See me home? What for? Yes, certainly, and you shall have a drop of the best whisky in the world. Nobody in England can buy it except me. It's really made for an Indian prince—worth a guinea a bottle, but I know the distiller —see?" "Yes, sir." "Lend me your arm—thanks. I don't feel exactly the thing to-night. Business is very'depressing just now —no money to go on with —a dreadful mess. Had a. midnight meeting at the office —the governor, the manager and me—veiy exciting. We had a drink or two—quite private, and I wept to sleep. When 1 woke up they were gone. I think it mean of them; always stick to,a pal, I say. But" —he put one finger to his nosß—"there's no money for wages on Saturday. Don't say a word!" The policeman was interested. He went in doors, and accepted the ground-bailiff's hospitality. He was a very, efficient policeman, too. He saw that Mr Ireland's linen was blakened with dirt, and Mr Ireland, gravely told him not to say a word! The ground-bailiff went to bed, and slant until nine o'clock. He awoke with a splitting headache, and a feeling of nausea. He slid out of bed, aid his knoes were shaking. The terrible incidents of the night came j back to liirr., and he searched for Harry Owen's last written injunctions. The paper was safe, and he I breathed again. He dressed slowly and painfully, and was gaizng at _ his woebegone reflection in a lookingglass, when his wife pushed open the door, and announced that a policeman was in the sitting-room, and wished t) speak to him. "A policeman! Oh, rr.y dear Heaven!" he gasped. "Don't be silly, John! He helped you homa last night—or early tiiis morning. It's only the r.ight sergeant." Pie went down-stairs, and shook hands with the policeman, who regarded him with covert amusement. "I went back to the colliery to see that things were all right, sir," he expifcined., "and picked up thie." He held a silver watch, attached to a gold chain, in his hand. "I believe it belongs to you?" "Yes; my name is inside." He smiled weakly. "Did you see anybody there—Mr the owner, or Mr Owen, the manager? I think they had a bit of fun with me. I'm not used to having \ brandy, and it knocked me clean over. I dropped asleep, and when I awoke I was lying outside, and nearly perished with cold."

"No, there was nobody there, air," the sergeant said. "Not even the watchman." "The manager sent him home. You see, it was a private meeting. Oh, dear!" He made a gesture of despair. "And it is my opinion that my firm is bankrupt. Don't breathe a word of what I say to you, sergeant." "Certainly not, sir." "And for your kindness in restoring my watch, you must drink my heath—a bumper." The sergeant was pleased, ai d when he left John Ireland's house ho held a bright half-sovereign between th 9 thumb and forefinger ot his right hand. "When the drink's in the wit's out," he reflected sagely. "And a thoroughly drunken man always tells the absolute truth. But it's bad news, for Pelham's ,colliery is one of the oldest hereabouts." Eaxctly an hour later the groundbailiff arrived at the colliery, and, letting himself into the office, watched the hive of busy men through one of the windows. He was a prey to the keenest anxiety, but no feeling of sorrow or remorse found a place in his selfish heart. Several times Mr Owen was asked for by the foreman, ancl by cailere, but the words which Ireland had nerved himself to say froze from his lip 3. The work in Pit No. 2 had beei.i suspended for a week,' as the mines liac! yielded nothing but shale for a rriomh past, and when the forman suggested fetching up a quantity of tools which had been left in the workings, John Ireland knew that his face whitened, and that his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. "Mr Owen said the cage mustn't b3 pent down number two again,'' ho a; last managed to say, but the foreman was gone, and ho saw the cage swinging over the shaft. For half an hour he watched the proceedings, dazed, fascinated, appalled. The cage eame 'up again, and th? foreman was scoffing at the two (ipn whom he sent down. ",-jjine of the tools been shifted? A likely story, that. I was the last man down the shaft, and I'll have a look round after dinner. You're short of two lamps. While there's not much doing we'd better bring everything up of any value." The whistles boomed, and the men troo;j.J of! to dinner, while John Ire-

land lay huddled up in an office chair —reprieved for an hour. And it was the swiftest hour of his life. The big hand seemed to race round the clock. He heard the men coming back, and he saw the engineer busy in tne en-gine-house. The chimney-stacks were vomiting smoke. He met the confidential clerk in the do&rway of the oflice, and his haggard faca startled the man. "Come here, Barrows," the ground-bailiff said. "I can't keep it any longer." He panted, and clutched at the door for support. "Great goodness, Mr Ireland, what's the matter?" the clerk cried. "This —this! Barrows, we must act. The firm's broke, and. I believe that the ownei and the manager have run away." "Never, sir! What about the new mines—the splendid prospects of the " "Hush! There's no coal! It's the mistake of my life! I had to tell them last night. We met here at midnight, and I believe that Owen would have killed ma but for Mr PelJiam. Then they went away together, and I heard Pelham say they owed nine or ten thousand pounds, and evertliying is gone! The bankaccount is overdrawn, as you know." The clerk dropped into an armchair, limp as a rag. "Yes—yes, but Oh, I see how it is. Goad heavens, where shall I get another job!" "I'll use my influence, Barrows, if you'll break the trouble to the men. It's of no we anybody working another hour, because there'll be no money on Saturday. We'd better have the foremen in the office first - , and then let them deal with the men. Promise them anything to get rid of them. The creditors will swoop down like a pack of wolves as soon as they know the truth." "It must be done, ' Barrows said resignedly, "or there'll be a riot on pay-day." i And it was done, so expeditionusly | and so thoroughly that the newspapers got wind of it, and the same I evening nvery news agency for miles : around displayed a placard which read thus:

"Suspension of Pelham's Colliery. "Hugo defalcations alleged. "Supposed flight of the proprietor and the manager."