"PRISONERS OF THE COUNCIL,"

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume 44, Issue 134044, 11 January 1918, Page 7

"PRISONERS OF THE COUNCIL,"

By LEWIS EAMSDBN, Author of "The Word of a Somer loigh," "Ked Cavalier," "My Comrade Frank, ,, "Under a King Jy Mask, ,, etc.

(COPYRIGHT.)

tiIIAPTI-U-t V.—Continued. Although the time during which ir hoiid had boon enveloped in the clou had Hcenu'il like hours, to show ho short it roiilly \v:is, 1 may say that tl c;ir, moving :it. a fair speed though was, had not yet lei't the Downs. As I looked at the Countess Helen lovely face J! saw, even through In motor veil, (hat it was white, and si was looking frightened and bcwildere so the first attempt, to use my eompar, tivo freedom was to try and reassu: her. "Try not to lie alarmed. Countess,' , , coimneut'fd. "1 feel sm't> when flu Jind •'•' "Garde/, le silence, Monsieur Lat rner!" e-velaiined the big man beside m " V'ous yous trompez, monsieur," began. "(iardez le silence!" ho exclaim* again, this time with a menacing steri ness; and I kept silence, not so much l>> cause it seemed dangerous to disobc (which i could not doubt it was), as In causo of another difficulty which cam to mv mind, which was this: if 1 wei allowed to explain now, and my explain tion were accepted, 1 should be betrax ing my employer, the man whose nione, I had taken. Was it not my lirst tint to give him something like a fair star of iiis jHirsuersi , Hut T was spared the necessity o making my own decision. The man nex me addressed me again, and still ii l-Vcm-h. It seemed as though he ha< read part, of my thoughts. "We shall soon be passing throng! some part of Bristol, monsieur,' , he said "I , ray understand that any attempt tc caH'Tor assistance will not only be futilt but will be instantly fraught with mi pleasant consequences to yourself au< j to niadame.' The light from a gas lamp fell upon I the speaker's face as he uttered t-lm warning. It was not the face of an illnatured or an ill-tempered man, but it was decidedly that of a strong and resoj lute one. T could quite believe that the I consequences he mentioned might be exceedingly unpleasant. He also spoke across to the Countess Helen, but in ;i language I did not understand (..Russian 1. rightly guessed it to be), and the import of his words was, J afterwards found, a warning also, to which she made no other reply than by a little nod. "Wo sped through TJedland and Cotham, suburbs of Bristol, and through a network of poorer ways which belong to the East Kml of that city, avoiding the straighter road which would have taken us through the heart of the town. Jt was practically my first experience of mororing, and the way in which the car slid and glided amongst the thick traffic of those arteries of commerce through which "we had now and again to pass was to nic amazing. 1 felt. .1 could have thoroughly enjoyed it but for the irksomeness of my bonds and my anxiety respecting the Countess Helen. Almost before I was aware of it we were on the Bath road (the older and upper road'i, and had left Bristol behind us. Here the big man beside me (I afterwards heard him called Michael, so 1 ' may as well .-peak of him by that name) j again spoke. I "If you will give me your parole d 'imniieur. monsieur, on mada.me 's behalf and your own, not to make any attempt to escape, during the journey, it will give nic pleasure to free you from ' those cords which you must both Jind : very irksome. '•' j !. hesitated before answering this pro. posal, whereupon he continued very de- ■ •ididl-i". though at the same time with a, plea>;:nl manner which had a line lla- ! vo;:r v!" ci.urtcsy. '•j'rav und'TMand, monsieur, that, it does not really concern me whether you ari-epl t>i- refuse. It is my business to deliver you and madaiue to those who wii! judvie vim for the fault you have coiiiiiiiti'/d; but 1 would willingly a-- ,- -,-I>jii;.i'■..-.'•■■ iiiis i;i~k wiihout causing yon ;i!! v iiiiii'c i ;: |- oii v>: ii-iu'e 1 iiau I ca i> I:,-!;.; ili';; i ■■■ a!i. ''i o;; may men . 1 iiis matter to ma da :>.['■. bi.i you musi speak iv .French, whi'-h I understand jar )n:k- ---: t' , ! , ihan 1. do (he Knglish.' ; J I turned lo ILelm to repeat what, he ; had said, but she had heard, and said J hastily: "1 'don't think it would do the slightest good to refuse, really, I don't, and •—ami this horrid rope is beginning to I hurt me dreadfully." j After this I, of course, lost no time lin accepting Michael's offer, and with- ! out a word he pulled back the motor j coat from my shoulders, untied a knot in the cord which he then unwound, linally unfastening it at my feet. I gavea sigli of relief as I shook the cord from me, and the big wrap which had enveloped me, and the blood once more began to circulate freely in legs and arms. "Doubtless monsieur will prefer himself to unloose madame's bonds, but- , there must be no conversation. To allow that would be against my instructions," said Michael, and the delicate consideration which prompted him to give this permission confirmed my opinion about his innate good nature. 1 gave him. a word of thanks, and, as raiickly as my half-numbed lingers would allow me, unloosed the bonds of the Countess Helen. The man sitting beside the chauffeur evidently viewed these proceedings with no favour. He even addressed to Michael, in li'ussian, some words which J took to be a, protest, but our more kindly disposed captor soon silenced the fellow. As for his sour looks I returned them with interest, for it must have been he who had secured the Countess Helen, and he had wound the cord about her with a tightness which I considered unnecessary, so that her delicate arms and wrists were bruised, almost cut, and her ankles must have been the same. In spite of the prohibition against, speech she whispered her thanks, and the beautiful eyes looked at me with a gratitude which struck me to the heart •when I felt how little I had done to dcso7"»» any such expressions. They made me more angry with myself than any reproaches could have done, and as I chafed her numbed wrists and hands I silently, though none the loss heartily, cm-Bed myself for that careless folly of mine which had brought her to such a pass as this. By this time wo had left Bath behind us. Hitherto, although the speed of the car had seemed to me great, it had, I believe, only now and then exceeded the speed limit. But as we reached the more open and wild country, our lamps sending white shafts of light along the lonely deserted road, Michael passed

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ATTRACTIVE STOEY OF LOVE AND MYSTEEY—

some, word to the chauffeur, who, pulling down his very deliberately moved a small lever on the steering wheel. At lirst, I could not quite realise what was happeuiug. A great wind seemed to rise, to beat upon my face, to (ill my Jungs, to swirl about, my ears with continuous and deafening sound. In tho glare of white light which our lamps cast along the. road I could see hedges, gates, telegraph poles and other obects whirling by with confusing rapidity. Then it dawned upon, me that I. was travelling at a speed such as I had. never experienced on any high road before. Seldom, even on a railway, in an express train, did the ordinary traveller journey for any continuous time at such a rate as this. Theer was a sensation of exhilaration. .1. could almost have thrown aside any care, any anxiety, and have given myself up to the enjoyment of the swift motion. There arc rare circumstances which (like the art of the Indian juggler, producing, it is said, in the sight of the watchers, from the seed, plant and (lower ami fruit), can bring to full growth a, friendship which only mouths of ordiI nary intercourse could produce. Such ! ciivnmsf liners were those which now ivI voivod the Countess Helen and myself. J 1 will not attempt to describe my im- ! prossious of the night-shrouded scenes ih rough which the silent- chauffeur— ever alert, ever watchful —guided the car carefully, yet for the most part- at that speed which seemed to me so amazi nig, so reckless and so daring, i will j only say (hat, before I thought, it could jbe pos'ibie. we were moving through !'■ '■■'! t ski rts of London. j '' PciHombor your parole d'honneiir, i m< i.sier.'"' ! Again if. seemed as (hough I had. be- ! t rayed my thoughts in some look or ati lit.! !e which Michael was observant en- [ ough in read. Possibly lie was only warning ta.. oe.-a.us" our i i ly slower, speed, and oar meepng with an occa-ioiei i i oliceman, ga\ c me a bet! er oppori uniiy than 1 had yet. had of raising some alarm. .Put: 1 had not forgotten my word of honour, and had no intention of departing from it. My word, hewuvei, only bound me for so long as the present journey lasted; directly it was at an end I should feel myself at liberty to make a dash, to seize the slightest opportunity which might present itself. Vague ideas of what, with various opportunities, of imagined good luck, T might be able to accomplish, passed through my mind. But these j-roved to be no better than mere idle fancies, for the chance of putting anj r one of them into practice never came. We had turned into a gloomy street of ordinary old-fashioned houses, big, dull, sttaight and tall. I had an idea we were, in the neighbourhood of Soho. This was scarcely more than a mere guess, for not only was my knowledge of London small, but the hood of the car had been pulled up, so that I only had partial glimpses of tho way. On our entering this street, the motor horn sounded a note which T took to be a warning I'c. a solitary foot-passenger crossing the road, hat which T now suppose must ha "/e a signal. 'To Hp nnuriunrr?."!