"THE BURNINGHAM CASE."

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume LXIX, Issue 14466, 28 December 1915, Page 7

"THE BURNINGHAM CASE."

(By ESTHER MILLER.) Author of 'The Beautiful Claimant," "Living Lies, ,, "The Quicksands of Life," etc., etc. (COPYBIGHT.)

CHAPTER V.—Continued,

"I cannot sell them," repeated Nora. "He would never forgive me. I—oh, I dare not. ,.

"Of course, I shall not try to persuade you, 5, said Burningham. "It is your own affair."

She rose. She was afraid of him again—and afraid of herself.

Ho offered her ten thousand pounds , . Ten thousand pounds! The mines of Golcoudu had not represented such fabulous wealth as this sum of money seemed to her to-day. It could purchase the best advice aud every luxury lor her husband; it might save his' life.

But her spirit, revived by indignation, revolted at the sacrifice entailed. She .knew what ambitions Maurice cherished, how absorbed ho was in the sii'jcess of his claim. Would he ever forgive her if she yielded to the temptation offered her? Had she any right to ruin his prospects, oven under such circumstances, without his leave?

She could not —would not do it. This response to her appeal struck her as incredibly cruel. •

"1 think if you had the least little bit of heart you would not make ths proposition to me,'' she said trembling.

"You are oue-sided, as women always arc," ho replied. "I assure you no man in his senses would assist your husband uuder any other conditions."

"1 prefer to think better of the world and regard you as an exception,'' said Nora. '' Oh, why—why did I drink your wine and eat your bread*" "Never mind," he snid; "we will forget it. Allow me to send for a cab for you?" "jMo, thank you." "Well, don't walk homo; you will drop.'' "1 am sorry 1 came," she said; "1 might have known it would be useless." tthe turned away. He touched the bell, opened the door for her, bowed with his polished ease. "If you should want to sec. me again during the next few days," ho said, "you will always find mo in between six and seven o'clock." "1 trust I shall never see you again as long as I live," said Nora with a sob. "You have been cruel to me." "You are unjust," he said, "but I know it is useless to argue with a lady.'' She could scarcely see her way to the door. He knew she was half dead with misery and fatigue, and that the bright colour newly risen to her chocks would fade before she reached the corner of tho square. She was like a bird iv the net of the fowler, struggling to get out. But Deltry was dangerous—dangerous; ho could admit that to his own soul, and ho had more to lose than the prayer in :i girl's eyes could induce him to forgot She would have to give in. "I need not feel sorry for her," ho assured himself cynically. "In a day or two she will come back." CHAPTER V. THE BIRD IN THE NET. Indignation kept Nora up till sho reached home. Of course, she had been mad to expect Burningham to help her; a renewal of his offer was all that sho might have expected. She was no longer willing to believe ho had no faith in Maurice's claim; ho had attempted to take the meanest ad' vantage possible of her desperate posi' tion, and her heart heaved over it still. Did he think her so weak as" to sell her husband's birthright even now? He little knew her! Rather would she endure anything—work with her hands, ask for charity from door to door.

But it was not so easy to find work to do; how was , she to look for it? She know in her heart of hearts that nothing she could do would support Maurico and herself even in the cheapest lodg* ings, and without the extra expenses his illness entailed And how could sho leave him? She had been almost afraid to go out even for a couple of hours to-day lest the crisis might come whilo she was gone. She had been boasting like a child when sho was powerless, and of course Burningham knew it.

A burst of hysterical tears relieved her pent-up excitement a little, but when it was over she felt weak enough to die. The week's rent was , due that day, and in the morning she'had-to say something to the landlady.

"I hope you won't mind waiting a few days for your money, Mrs Mitchel? We are expecting a large remittance from Australia which has not arrived yet,"

"When —when do you think it will come, ma'am?" hesitated the woman, looking troubled. "I'm not wishing to hurry you, I'm sure, with poor Mr Deltry ill, and so much trouble on your hands, but I've got to make a payment at the end of tho week, and I don't mind telling you, ma'am, it's precious difficult to make both ends meet. If you could let mo have it on Saturday I'd be really thankful." "I am almost sure to be able to let you havo it before Saturday," said Nora. She was lying, of course, but what else could she do? It was the only way of making time. She told the same story to the tradesmen when they sent in their weekly accounts, and to the nurso when her fee was , due: a large remittance was coming from Australia, two or three thousand pounds.

But relentless Saturday arrived, and she was still unable to produce a substantial corroboration of her story. So she enlarged upon it, driven onward frantically by the desperate terror of her soul. For the first time she confided to the landlady and nurse that her husband had come to England on most important business, nothing less than the establishment of his claim to tho Earldom of Buruingham. He could not fail to win, and he would be very, very rich —if only ho pulled through this dreadful illness; then everybody who had been kind to him would be remembered.

It had some effect, but the landlady, poor woman, really wanted her money at once; she belonged to the great, pitiful, hand-to-mouth brigade, and live pounds to-day meant more to her than fifty in the vague future.

"If you could only give me something on account I'd be mortal obliged," she said, and the grocer, whose bill was rather high, began to be rude. The Deltrys weren't householders, and a week's credit was as much as any lodger at Primrose Villas had the right to expect.

Nora, driven before the gathering storm like a straw, had nothing to grasp, no refuge in sight. She took the doctor into her confidence at last; sho had seen him caress a dirty little child at the gate, with a kind look on his plain, creased face.

"I am in such trouble, Dr. Tidy," she said, "such trouble that I must tell somebody. I don't know what to do.

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I've got no money to go on with." Ho misunderstood her at first, thinking that a young wife who knew nothing about business was probably exaggerating her difficulty.

'' You mean you have no more ready money, and your husband is too ill to sign a chequed I see —very awkward," he said sympathetically. "But I am sure if you were to explain your predicament his lawyer would assist you."

"It isn't a question of cheques. We haven't any money in the bank —anywhere. My husband 's partner has absconded with everything; we are ruined."

"Do you mean you have no resources whatever!" cried the doctor, sufficiently startled now.

'' Nothing,'' said Nora faintly, '' and no friends in England, nobody I can rely on anywhere. And Maurice would bo Earl of Burningham if he had his rights. Oh, it's cruel —cruel to know what great wealth should be his, and that I cannot get it for him now that lie wants it so badly. I thought perhaps you might advise me, Dr. Tidy. Aren't there people—business men— who would advance me some money if I promised them a larger sum in return when he won his suit? Do you know of anybody likely to do it?"

"Money-lenders, do you mean" he asked doubtfully. "1 have never had anything to do with the breed personally, thank God, but I suppose there are some respectable ones. Why not ask your husband's lawyer. lie might know more about it." "I don't like him,' 'said Nora shrinking. "1 asked him to help me, and he refused, and I wouldn't go near him again.' '' Well, I '11 make enquiries for you if you like," he said. "But I am not sure anybody would give you an advance on mere expectations of that kind—l don't know, they might. You can try." "I must," said Nora; "what else can 1 do! " 'Of course," he said, "I shan't let it make any difference to me in any case. But—no, I really don't know what you'll do. It's " he halted and added with difficulty; "it's one of the many times when a poor doctor wishes he were a rich man. You understand? I am really very sorry "' Ho iled, leaving Nora tearfully grateful for a word of sympathy, and encouraged to believe there was some humanity in this great, strange city which might come to her assistance yet. A few hours later he sent her a note with the information she sought—a couple of addresses which might be .useful to her.

"I cannot guarantee the honesty of these gentlemen," he wrote, "but at least they will take no more advantage of you than the majority." She wont to the first —Mr Lewis Montgomery, of Conduit street —immediately, and found offices like a bank on the first floor. An air of staid respectability pervaded the place to inspire confidence in clients, and Nora was received in a spacious apartment furnished in mahogany and green leather, by a middle-aged gentleman bearing no trace ot ! his Semitic origin. He heard Nora to the end and shook his head.

"My dear youg lady, tho security you offer me is no security at all. Your name to any bond would be of no value, and your husband, I understand, is in no condition to sign anything. Furthermore, he might die and never become Earl of Burningham at all, and how do you know ho has the least foundation for his claim?"

(To be Continued.)