A SCRAP OF PAPER.

Waipa Post, Volume VII, Issue 338, 7 August 1914, Page 6

A SCRAP OF PAPER.

By ELLENLEYS.

(Alt, Rights Reserved.')

A SHORT STORY.

In Three Parts.

Author of "Sunrise at Cedarlawn," 'His First Offence," "Miss Robinson's Will," "Phyllis Vere's Picnic," "A Race For a Fortune," &c.

PART 111,

A portrait—yes, that was the clue., Her uncle had few pictures in his big house; but there were two portraits in the library that always attracted her. One was that of a boy of eight or ten, the other that of a young man. She believed both to be portraits of himself; but he was always silent about his past life. Between the picture of that young man and her friend there was a certain likeness —not so much, perhaps,'in feature as in expression. It was unlikely that there could be any tie of blood between the two; yet that, no doubt, was the resemblance she had been trying to trace.

Strangely enough, though the timt was drearily long, Enid felt no reawakening of the suspicions she had cherished in the morning. Her canfidence had been won' by tone and look, and she was not tempted to .withdraw it. Her friend, she told herself, was doing his best for her. If he failed—well, she must face her uncle's wrath.

At last he came, rushing up to her with two tickets in his hands, "Train's just leaving for Danham," he cried. "I've got the paper. I'll come with you and tell you all about it." He caught her by the hand, and together they raced past the ticket-col-lector and reached the train. The guard opened the door of a carriage. In a moment the train was ..oft'. "That is what you want, isn't it?' - The man pulled a letter case from his pocket and drew from it the page, now crumpled and blackened, on which Mr. Rochester had written his"formula. "I was only just in time to save it from being burnt," he explained. "As soon as you told me your story I guessed who the thief was—that loud-look-ing man in the lift. I know the fellow by sight, although I never saw him playing that part before. He is, I suppose, a professional pickpocket, clever enough to evade the police generally, though they have him under observation, I believe." "It took me a long time to track him down. When at last I ran him to earth, I caught him in the act of twisting the paper into a pipe-light. He said he had never made a haul so little worth the trouble! He had expected to find your bag full of notes, X suppose." "I remember now, I foolishly said something about having a precious charge. He must have heard me." "Yes. And no doubt it is valuable. I don't understand anything about chemistry. If it is a discovery, it may t>e worth a fortune."

"And my uncle may never profit fron. t<. Isn't it a pity he has no son?"

"Are you sure he has not?" "A son? He is a bachelor! But, Mr. —its strange, I don't know your name."

"No, nor anything about me. It's no wonder you "

"Oh, please don't!" Enid's cheeks were crimsoned. "It was that woman. I suppose she was trying to throw me off the scent. Will you ever forgive me?"

He looked at her in silence, then smiled. "We'll talk of that some other time. After we've, seen the professor. As it happens, I know him quite well I had an interview with him once, and he has been a friend to me ever since." "Then you are a journalist? I have often wondered at your being abroad at all hours."

"Have you?" A light shone in the grave blue eyes, and again the telltale color flew to Enid's cheeks. Her heart beat fast. She hr-.d surprised her own secret. Shut away in that lonely house, her girlish fancy played around her half-acquaintance, until romance had intertwined itself in her thoughts about him. "Yes, I am a journalist, and, strangely enough, when the Professor saw me he recognised me as the son of a friend from my likeness to that friend when he was my age. He had never seen me until I went to him for my newspaper; but he was right."

"How curious." Then Enid added shyly, "But you have not told me your name after all."

"My friends call me Evan Myddleton. I cannot pretend not to know yours. It was on your umbrella." The run to Denham was a quick one, and the Professor's house was near the station. The learned man was at .home. He listened with sympathy to Enid's story, then took the crumpled paper and studied its contents by his reading lamp while the young people sat resting in his deep armchairs and smiling contentedly at each other. All at once the Professor exclaimed sharply, and turned round. "Come here!" he said to the young man. "This concerns you!" Myddleton went to his side, and bent his head over the paper. Suddenly Enid started up, her cheeks glowing. "Oh!" she cried. "I forgot part of the message! What shall 1 do? You were not to read that unless —unless—he died. It was in an envelope ! the thief took it out; and that made me forget."

"f fear it is too late," said the Professor. "I will forget the formula; but I must not forget the rest. Do you know who this young man is? You can't guess? And yet he is a near relation."

Enid gazed at him in utter bewilderment.

"At the end of the inscription," continued Mr. Vaughan, "there are the words, 'Find my son, and use this for him,; and this young gentleman, my dear, is your uncle's- only child —your cousin."

"But," stammere'd Enid, "how can that be? Uncle never married?" " Shall we tell her, Evan ?"

Tvlyddleton came to Enid's side and took her hand. "It is true," he said gently. "We are first cousins, Enid. My father did a great wrong many, years ago. He married a young wife, wearied of her, and deserted her." The Professor had slipped out of the room. Enid, wrapped in wonder, listened like one in a dream. "And you—you " she murmured.

"I am her son and his. I told you I had seen him. It was when, feeling her life ebbing away, my mother went with me to appeal to him. I was a lad of ten then. He answered her so harshly that she refused after that to receive any more help from him —the help that came through his solicitor, i have nevei seen him again. Vaughan challenged me with being the counterpart of my, father, and I owned up. Even since then he has been trying to persuade me to go and see him. Can you wonder that I did not?"

. "No, indeed!" "And yet, at last, something shook my resolution. Can you guess what it was?" He bent towards her. "Enid, it was you—you! I discovered that you lived with him—that you were my cousin."

"My cousin !" Enid's voice trembled upon the word. "Do you mind? I know you are alone in the world, as I am, and—and couldn't we make up our minds to be always together now, Enid?" \

The girl looked up. In the eyes that met hers was reflected the tender love that her cousin's accents betrayed. In hers he read her answer.

"Enid!" Again a caressing voice spoke the sweet name. The Professor, peeping in to know if all was well, saw the two folded in an embrace that was more than cousinly. He retreated, and left them to their bliss.

Before long a call came to him on the telephone. He listened and replied, then rushed to the young people. "He has been asking for you, my dear—fretting- over your delay. And now he is much worse—sinking fast, they say. Too late, Evan ! You should have gone when I bid you. Come quickly; I will go with you." But when the little, party reached the great house in Cromwell Gardens the blinds were drawn. Oswald Rochester's lonely life was over. He had been called away to make a discovery surpassing in wonder all that he had learnt in long years of patient study

upon earth. The Professor took Enid back to Denham to make her home ivith him until she should have one of ner own. After the funeral he told Enid that her uncle had done his duty by his son at last. During her absence, the lawyer, sent by the doctor, had drawn Mr. Rochester's will, and he had signed it. After making an adequate provision for Enid, he had left all that he possessed to his son.

"It doesn't seem to make much' difference how the loaves and fishes are divided since you two seem to have agreed to make one meal of 'em," said the great man. "Rochester has left a goodly fortune between you—far more than I expected. You can afford to do something for science now." "Is his discovery of great value', sir?"' asked Evan.

, "It is indeed—a value to mankind, which is what he cared about most in his strange, perverted way; and also, I believe, it will mean a great fortune to its possessor." "Then," answered Evan, "Enid and I wish to make you a present, sir, of the scrap of paper to which we owe, through you, the happiness that has come to us." ,

(The End.-