“The Shadow Of The Verneside."

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 79, Issue 277, 23 November 1936, Page 12

“The Shadow Of The Verneside."

NEW SERIAL STORY . . .

Dy

FENTON YORKE.

“Yes? yes?” came the baronets voice in distraught accents. “ I have heard the most, terrible things this afternoon. I read. - ." i “ What?’’ shouted the baronet, but I there was whirring sound on the [ line and slie could not catch his words. Al that. Instant they were cut off. The two In the far room heard the girl leave the library and walk slowly up the wide staircase. They looked at each other In consternation. ‘‘What can she have heard?" whispered Lady Julia. “ and where on earth has she been all afternoon?” Sir Elfrlc, whose expression was at once baffled and vindictive, merely shrugged hi* shoulders helplessly. After a moment he burst forth: “ What Dale will do if things don’t pan out right for him the Lord only knows. He’ll clear off to the ContiI nent; we’ll lose a nice little commisI sion on the deal and. . . and. . ." His face was contorted with passion “ There'll be Maurice to deal with." His voice had risen to the pitch of freniy. Lady Julia tried to calm him, hut with difficulty. She hastened to close the doors of the room. “ I tell you," shouted Sir Elfrlc, “ If that girl is not married and got out of the country to-morrow. I'm a ruined man, I. . . I. . He sank weak and exhausted Into the nearest chair. "God! Julia, if Maurice turns up here you’ll have to lock me up. 1 couldn't be responsible for myself. L believe I'd shoot him, I'd. . .'He raised the brandy Lady Julia had brought him to his lips. His hand was cold and nerveless and he could scarcely hold the glass. Lady Julia watched him anxiously. “ If you please, sir," said a maid servant at the dor, ‘‘Miss Hartington asks to be excused from coming down Io dinner. She has a bad headache and is lying down.” The maid withdrew as the man and woman looked at each other blankly, their minds filled with the darkest forebodings, CHAPTER LX. Hopes and Fears. After the return of his memory, on reading Joy's letter, Verne's mind had been flooded with recollections of events long past. After all he had made her •suffer would Joy accept him now, was the question that harassed him. But whatever happened, he thought angrily, Joy must, be prevented from marrying Philip Dale. Verne had met the baronet In Paris some years before and he knew that his life there had been far from blameless. Yet, he realised that Sir Philip possessed qualities that would attract a girl of Joy’s simple nature. Ihe day passed quickly for Verne had many things to do, but all the time lus mind was filled with one thought —Did Joy still love him as she had when she wrote, many months ago. Hie letter he had read that, morning?. Jerry meantime had grave doubts about the undertaking they had planned lo carry out on the following 1 hursday Girls, were changeable, lerry reflected, and without being '•ynical he found It hard to believe that a young and beautiful girl like Joy Hartington would choose at the last moment to discard a wealthy baronet for the younger son of the \crne family, no matter how much she had supposed herself lo be In love with him twelve months ago. in the afternoon they returned to Hie flat. “ Do you think the lime for us to start will ever arrive?” asked Verne, taking tea which Jerry poured out for him. “By leaving here on the sixten train we should get to Middle Carleton soon after eight. What do you propose to do first, Jerry?" “ Well,” replied Jerry carefully, "I don! think it is wise In plan too far iliead, on these occasions. We must ■e prepared for any emergency.” '■ Jerry, J don’t see how she can •ver forgive, me for being such a >ally ass. When I think of Hie way i chucked her up without even a word <f farewell. . . I can never make it up o her, never.’’ don't worry about, that now, Verne. Just, leave it to me and keep i light hold of yourself when we gel here. We can'l afford lo bungle.'’ “My God. no! If I should lose Joy now!” "Oh, cheer up," said Jerry shortly. ' Either the girl loves you or she doesn't. Judging by the letter you i read this morning I should say the chances are with you. Bui if she doesn't rare for you any more there's mlv one thing lo do, and that is to fade off the map al. Middle Carletor a> gracefully as you can after finding it out." ‘‘ Oh, she does care. I feel it. . . she must. . •• Well then, you've got to be prepared to do a Hille high handed work. You must remember she will be in a pretty nervy state when she sees you. You’ll have lo act quickly and derisively. There'll be no lime for soft persuasions. You'll have to think lor two.” " By jove, Jerry, it begins In look like a nice piece of highway robbery.” A light foolstep sounded in Hie passage outside. CHAPTER I,XI. The Burnt Letter. There was a hurried rap al the dour. Jerry removed his feel from | the iiiantlcpieee and gol up. "IsMr \ erne here? May J see him I at once, please?” Maurice Verne recognised the tones | instantly. As lie turned he saw • Virginia Ware enter. She was all In while as lie had seen j her on that other day when she had filtered his Ila I so unceremoniously. There was a lurking resentment in Verne's mind as he greeted her. She, was flushed and agitated as she took his hand. ” Oil, I'm so glad 1 have found you in.” she said quickh. “ 1 have just lead the notice of your return in the papers and came on al once in lhe hope finding you at lhe fiat. . . ’

I «m. . . oh, Mr Verne. I. . . ” Tears came into Virginia’s eyes. “ Do sit down,” said Verne kindly. “ It’s most awfully kind of you to come and give me a welcome back. Let rne introduce my old pal to you— Jerry Murison.” Jerry shook hands cordially. " I’ll have some tea ready for you in a minute." He turned and busied himself with the electric kettle. Virginia thanked him absently and turned to Verne. “ There is something you ought tc know at once. . . ’’ '* Oh, you mean about Miss Hartinglon,’' said Verne eagerly. “ I've seen the notice of her marriage Ln the paper i only this morning." He stopped 1 amazed at Virginia’s perturbation. ( “ Oh, Mr Verne, she ought to know ; that you are back, she ought to I know." j " H's bopn in lhe papers,” suggested Jerry, “ she must have seen. .” " Yes, I know, but I nm afraid .Miss I Hartington may not find out. . . In i time." , "What do you mean?” asked j Verne leaning forward. “Do you ■ think she. . .’’ [ " Ob, I know she cares for you,” : cried Virginia. Verne's face flushed. "Are you sure?” he asked tensely. : ” How do you know?” " Oh, it is hard lo tell you. So much has happened since you went away. 1. . 1 was jealous of Joy last > year. 1 did terrible things. I want ! lo make up for It. . . ” I " Please, Miss Warp, what does il ' al) matter now? Never mind lhe past. What 1 want to know Is how i Joy is now. is she happy?” j " 1 don’t know.” said Virginia. “Oh, i you will never forgive me, Mr Verne. I was hateful to her—hateful. I was alone in the galleries when your | letter to her came and I took it. . | ” What?” Verne cried sharply. | Virginia saw the same look In his eyes that she had seen in Joy Hartington's in thp train months before, a look of horror and incredulity. " Don't look at me like that." said the girl piteously. “God knows I have suffered enough. I was mad when I did it. . . some devil of jealousy entered into me. Forgive me. . . surely you can forgive me if she can. . . ” “ Does Miss Hartington know then, about the letter?” [ “ Yes, I told her months ago. That Is how 1 know that she stilt cares for you. We were on a train journey together from Devon. Her father had just died and she was on her way back to Verneside. I told her about destroying the letter and I told her all 1 could remember of its contents, and her love for you is the same, . . I am sure of it. . .” All the doubts in Verne's mind were swept away by Virginia's words. “ Thank God you have (old me,” he said fervently. He seemed lo have forgotten Jerry's presence. ” Thank God I My poor little Joy. What a ghastly misunderstanding there has been.” You should go to her quickly. But first please say you forgive me?’ ” I do forgive you,” sold Verne, taking Virginia's hand as she rose to go. Late Dial night the two men sal discussing Itieir plans. Verne could think of nothing but Joy, and lhe fact that she sllll loved him. " By this time to-morrow you will have finished the first stage of your great adventure and beheld your Jad\ love face to face once more,” said Jerry laughing. “Then you will have four whole days before the wedding lo reinstate yourself in her affections.” CHAPTER LXIL The W c c'd l :■ g 171 0r.3• * g, Joy was up at, six on Wednesday. She had spent a restless night, her brain was tired out with Hie succession of dreadful thoughts that had filled her mind since the previous afternoon in the chapel. This was her wedding day, and should have been the happiest day ot her life. Uh, if she could only go away alone, leaving all these people who watched her so closely. What could it all mean? She dreaded facing the two downstairs, for she knew now how they had schemed to keep Maurice Verne and herself apart. To add to her wretchedness came memories of her father's last words, his reference to Mocato and his two sons, the one In ” another man's shoes." Thai of course was Sir Elfric. The terrible revelations in Lady Margarete's confessions showed only 100 plainly that Sir Elfric was the man who had ruined her father and who had started him taking the pernicious drug which had finally killed h'm. Her mother's death too had been indirectly caused by the man under whose roof she had been living for months. JI was all 100 terrible. The more Joy thought of the strange series of events that culminated in such tragedy for herself the less she fell she could face marriage with Sir Philip Dale. Yet in a few hours she would be his wife. Could he 100 be involved in the plot against her? She pul the thought from her. No, no. Her marriage, whatever il lacked of love on her side, was al, least a refuge from her present misery. What hlrange freak of fate she wondered, should have led her lo the chapel on lhe eve ol' her wedding. How useless now lhe knowledge she had gained there! A groan left her lips as she thought of Maurice Verne, a victim of his brother's haired. She rose and began to dress. Lucile began lo lay out lhe bridal clothes. The soil satin gown, embroidered with pearls and finished al lhe corsage with some exquisite old lace that had belonged lo her mollier, was lhe product of Paquin’s most skilled workers. And on a divan al Hie' other end of the room was the travel-| ling gown and motoring coat, for they were lo drive down lo Folkestone and; cal ch lhe night boat for France. Lady Julia enlered. I 4To be continued.), J