Serial Story “WHO PAID Till DEBT?”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 75, Issue 281, 28 November 1932, Page 12

Serial Story “WHO PAID Till DEBT?”

[By

Mary Bradford Whiting]

CHAPTER XXVlll—(Continued.) “We shall find Enid is all right, I am sure of that,” was a sentence that came frequently from his lips during the journey to London next day, and Mrs North knew from that that there were all sorts of fears in his mind —■ fears that she could not help sharing. “Well, we are here at last, and that is the great thing,” she said cheerfully, when Hendon was reached and they turned down Ashton Road. But Daryl was not quite so optimiestic. “The maid is a regular dragon,” he said. “Ten to one she won’t let us in.” But when the door was opened he was argeeably disappointed, for though the maid looked grimmer than ever, she made no demur, but ushered them Into the little room where he had waited on his first visit, and said that she would ask if her mistress could see them. It was Enid whom Daryl wanted to see, not Mrs Weston, but he had arranged with Mrs North not to mention her name at first, and when the maid returned and asked them to come into the drawing-room, he controlled his impatience as well as he could. The drawing-room looked very much as it had done on the previous occasion; the April sunshine was stronger than it had been in January, and there were more‘flowers in the vases, but the same cat slept on the hearth, and the same placid old lady excused herself from shaking hands on the score of her rheumatic joints. M I am feeling very tired to-day,'' she said plaintively. “I daresay you know that I have had a journey. I had a message from my old friend the Professor, to say that Enid had been taken ill in an out of the way farmhouse, and would I go and sec after her, as he was 11l himself and in hospital. Of course, I went at once, and I saw that it would never do to leave her there, as the woman had a grievance of waiting on her. She was not very willing to come, but I told her that I knew you would wish it, and then she yielded at once.” “How simple it all wasl Dr. Evans had not thought that the Professor would recover consciousness so soon; but Enid had righted herself much more Quickly than he expected, and her father had evidently done the same. “I hope she Is well enough for me to see her?” he said anxiously. “I wish she could. I understand what you must be feeling, but she is quite knocked up, poor dear child, and bed is the only place for her.” “Then may I go up and see hef?” said Mrs North before Daryl had time to reply. Mrs Weston shook her head slowly “I am afraid she is not fit to see anyone,” she said. “Perfect quiet is the only chance for her, and that is why she is so well placed here; my health is so poor that I never have visitors,” she paused, for at that moment there was a ring at the bell, a bustle in the nail, a sound of voices, of footsteps. "Now who can that be?” murmured Mrs Weston with a glance at the door. She seemed worried, uneasy, but .here was no time to anwser her, for he voices grew louder —a shrill pro;est from the maid, a man’s gruff,oned rejoinder—the door swung open ind there stood the Inspector, Sergeant Hobson behind him, with a rrey-halred woman in his grasp, whose eyes had the desperate look of i captured animal at bay. CHAPTER XXVIIL “ What does this mean ? ” Mrs Weston did not rise from her chair, but she faced the intruders with such a majestic mien that even the Inspector looked slightly abashed. “ Yes, Madam, I know it is not the way to come into a lady’s drawingroom,” he said, “ but I’ve no choice, so I hope you won’t take it amiss. This person has been arrested on a charge of being concerned in the Harlow Gardens murder case, and as the only statement that we can get out of her is that you can prove her innocence we were forced to bring her along.”

The desperate eyes were fixed on Mrs Weston’s face, but she avoided meeting them and looked only at the Inspector. “ I don’t know why she should make such a statement,” she said calmly. “My only connection with the case is the fact that the house belongs to me—you must surely know that by this time ? ” Her tone implied—if a man in your responsible position does not know it, he is not worth much —but the Inspector chose to ignore that. “ I didn’t expect to see Mr Stanford here,” he remarked, “ perhaps he can throw some light on the matter.” Daryl’s desperation was scarcely less than that of Mrs Wilkins: how could he evade the searching questions that were certain to he put ? and what chance was there that the secret of Enid’s presence in the house could be kept from this inquisitor? But to show hesitation was the worst thing frhat he could do. “To the best of my knowledge, Wilkins and his wife were not in the house that night,” he said, “ that, is all the information I can give you, and as Mrs Weston has told me she knows nothing of them —” “ She told you that? ” Mrs Wilkin’s voice, tense with suppressed rage cut across his speech and he, turned to look at her in astonishment. “ Now you’d better hold your tongue,” advised Sergeant Hobson, “ you’ll do yourself no good by talking.” “Beller hold my tongue, had I!” retorted Mrs Wilkins, while Ilie muscles of her white face worked convulsively. “ I told you the gospel trulli when I said that she could clear me if she chose. She's a liar and a coward,” she made a dart forward and as the sergeant grabbed her back a chair \\ent over with a crash and a scream broke from her lips. “Don’t he frightened; I’ll see that, no harm comes to you I” exclaimed Daryl, going quickly to her side — intent as he was upon his own troubles, he could not see an aged woman in danger without having his chivalry stirred. “And what about me? Who cares whether I come to harm or not? ” Mrs Wilkins again—fierce, frenzied, almost foaming —no wonder poor old Mrs Weston cowered in her chair.

“ I win protect you,” said Daryl again, and then forgot all about Mrs Weston as completely as if she had never existed, for the door suddenly opened and there on the threshold stood Enid, her lips parted, her eyes wide with wonder at the scene before her. What ill fortune had brought her here? The commotion was certainly enough to alarm anyone, but if only he could have warned her to keep away! If only he could spirit her out of sight now that she had appeared'. Regrets were useless, however, he could only hope and trust that the Inspector was so fully convinced of Mrs Wilkins’ guilt that he had no further interest in the owner of the handkerchief.

And then a sudden remembrance relieved his fears—the Inspector had never seen Enid and there was no reason why he should recognise her if no one mentioned her name. He tried to signal her to go and Mrs North's heart swelled with pity as she looked from one to the other so sweet, so fairy-like was the lovely apparition in the doorway that it seemed too cruel for words that she could be mixed up in such dark doings as these. But with the arrival of Enid, Mrs Wilkins’ mood suddenly changed, her fury died away and tears welled up in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.

“ Oh I Miss Enid 1” she sobbed, “ you were always so good and kind to me —you know I never meant to harm anyone I ” “Ohol so this is Miss Deniston!” said the Inspector before Enid had time to speak. “We’re getting quite a little party of usl We only want the Professor and Wilkins to make it complete. I’d like to ask you a few questions, Miss, since you’ve been obliging to come in.” ]t was all that Daryl could do To keep his hands still, so sorely did he desire to clutch that long, lean throat, and choke it into silence. But the Inspector was not thinking of Daryl, he was far too absorbed in the unexpected opportunity that had been put into his grasp.

“ I should like to know where you've been hiding all this time,” he said, but even more than that I want to hear from you what exactly you meant when you said the debt was paid?” His cold eyes searched her face ruthlessly, but she did not shrink from them.

“ I don’t understand you,” she said. ’'What debt do you mean? ” “That’s what I’m asking you,” returned the Inspector drily. And now a fresh remorse gnawed at Daryl’s conscience'; he ought to have told her about the incriminating handkerchief, and then she would have been prepared for the question; but .there again it was too late, and when her eyes sought his face appealingly he could do no more than give her an encouraging look. “Now don’t go exchanging signals with Mr Stanford,” said the Inspector warningly. “He did his best to screen you, but it won’t do any good. We’ve got the handkerchief, though he would have made away with it if he could.”

The handkerchief? It was all Greek to Enid. The whole situation was a complete puzle to her, in fact. Why did Daryl look so supremely miserable? And who was this stranger whom he had brought with him ?

“There’ll have to be a lot more questions asked about this,” said the Insnector after a pause. “We must know where the Professor is, and we must put our hands on Wilkins. This young lady and Mrs Wilkins will have to come back to London with me and be changed; but I daresay bail will be forthcoming,”

“I will be responsible for Miss Denniston,” said Mrs Weston promptly. It was a natural enough proposal, but for some unexplained reason it seemed to rouse Mrs Wilkins to a feet madness of fury.

“And what about me?” she shrieked. "Gast me off like dirt, would you? But that’t a game that two can play at—l’ll show you them —” Her plunge forward was too quick this time for the sergeant. She was across the room like a flash, like a whirlwind. Daryl caught her—she wrenched her hands free, snatched at Mrs Weston’s cap. It came, away in her grasp, and with it the white curls, and there, above the soft folds of thelace fichu rose the smooth dark head A crowded Court next day; reporters and photographers round the doors, people tumbling over one another to get inside, society women with lorgonettes intent upon the three who stood before the Magistrate. And of the three, it was perahps Bennett who excited the most interest; his dapper figure, his smooth, dark head and his look of composure, were all matters of eager moment; he did not look like a murderer, hut that only made it the more intriguing. Nor did Enid look like a muderess; the colour was coming and going fitfully in her cheek and her fingers trembled a little as they rested on the rail, but she gave no other sign of emolion and there was a steadfast look in her beautiful eyes that made Daryl realise as he watched her that she was not only «a darling possession to be loved and cherished, but a spirit of noble quality, firm and courageous. Mrs Wilkins was the only one ol the three who had the look of a criminal; sullen and lowering with eyes that glanced furtively from under the over-hanging brows she seemed defiant and resentful—like a wild animal that pants to escape yet would gladly harm its captors before it bolts “Do you know this handkerchief? ’’ that was one of the first questions pul to Enid, and she answered it promptly. “ Yes, it is one of mine.” “ Did you write these words that you see on it? ” “ No.” “ Have you any idea who did write them? ” " None.” “ Was Stefan Wrangel known to you? ” “ Yes, I have know him for the last two or three years.” " Had you any grudge against him? ’’ “ Not any.” <,To be Continued.)