“His Grace of Pinchbeck,”

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume 49, Issue 15019, 5 October 1923, Page 7

“His Grace of Pinchbeck,”

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. POWERFUL STORY OF LOVE AND MYSTERY—

By RALPH TODD. Author of “Whispering Tongues,'' “Little Lady Mystery," “The Prisoner at the Bar," etc., etc.

(COPYRIGHT.)

CHAPTER Xl.—Continued.

Valentine swung round on his heel. The speaker was no less a personage than the butler himself. It was not often Timmins condescended so far. He was evidently somewhat perturbed by the lady’s persistency. In that instant two words blazed before Valentine Duke's eyes —The Woman! It was absurd, of course, to jump to conclusions. There were lots of women who coveted cheques from kind-hearted Sir Jonas, there were richly-clad beggars who would be glad of any excuse for an interview with the latest Midas. Valentine had no thought for them, in his mind at that moment. There was but one woman, and he trembled. “Well, but you know Sir Jonas is away and not likely to be back for a couple of days," he expostulated. And even as he spoke he wondered whether his employer’s absence might not be connected with this very visitor. “Yes, sir. I told the lady so, but it didn’t do any good." Timmins’ tone was aggrieved. Valentine considered for a moment. He was glad that Queen Elizabeth and Theodora were both out. The former was spending the evening with an old crony in some remote, unfashionable suburb —Queen Elizabeth never dropped an old friend. Theodora was at a lecture. He rather meant to be out himself before Theodora returned, aglow with Fabian philosophy and eager to make a convert. Theodora had unbent since the burglar incident. “The Dook" was not a vain man, but he didn’t want her to unbend too far. It w T ould complicate matters to an embarrassing degree. Theodora was such a very determined young woman. “What does she want?" the harassed secretary asked. “She wants the master’s address, sir. I told her I had not got it, but I mentioned you being in the house. She said she’d better see you, or else she’d have to wait until her ladyship’s return." Valentine was frowning. The • woman from the past bent on seeing Lady Doddy! Queen Elizabeth and! the lady of her Jonas’s turned-down page! That was how it struck Valentine Duke.

said. “If know your* name, my father told m & it. What I don’t understand is what you are doing here. Tou are not really Sir Jonas Doddy’s secretary, are you?’ 1 ’ “Yes, I am. Why ever not?" She was grave now. “You gave me to understand that you were rich," she said. “ You know I wouldn’t have let you do what you did if I had guessed

“I was rich then —I was richer that night than I had ever been before," Valentine returned gravely, “and you were very good to me." “ What, in investing your money in a woman’s happiness? You see, I have not forgotten what you said." “Exactly. Were you able to invest it well? Will it pay interest? My money has never done that before." ‘She leaned towards him. “It enabled m e to send my father somewhere where he will be safe —you know from whom and what. My infant is so obedient when his pockets are empty." “And you?" the man asked. “Was it all for him?"

Sabina shook her head. “It has given me my freedom. I am all right—l mean I will be all right soon. I am goinn- away from London almost directly. ‘He’ doesn’t know where I am." Valentine was sure from th e way she spoke that the girl had as yet no knowledge of the further hold Norman Trevis had obtained over her father on the night when lie had watched while those two had played their fatal game of cards. If she could really keep out of Trevis’® way, if the Major’s hiding place could really remain a secret, then a very real danger might be averted. That it should be meant so much now to His Grace of Pinchbeck.

“Perhaps I’d better see her," lie said. He had come to a sudden resolution. He did not want to interfere with Sir Jonas Doddy’s private affairs, yet when he had been forced to do so Sir Jonas had been grateful; he believed that in the present instance his employer would rather he saw this woman than that she and Queen Elizabeth should meet.

Th e small clock on the writing table chimed nine times. At the sound Sabina’s expression changed. “Mr Duke," she exclaimed, “how could I waste all this time on my affairs when there’s a dying man wait- ( ing for just ia word with Sir Jonas Doddy. He wants to see him so badly, I don’t know why, but he won’t rest till h e has seen him. You’ll take a message to Sir Jonas for me, won’t you?" “Look here," Valentine said, “there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for you, but I can’t do this, because I haven’t the remotest idea of where Sir Jonas is. ’ ’

Her face fell. ‘And I promised," she murmured. “I promised a dying man."

“That is what I thought, sir," Timmins said in his precise way. “I should say that is what I thought you would think, sir.’,’ And then the man opened the door and stood aside for the secretary to leave the room.

Her very restraint impressed Valentine Duke more than any outburst could have done. He hated to disappoint her. Her lok of blank dismay meant so much to him.

‘‘The Book" put his hands in his pockets, and he tried ta stroll down the broad staircase 'nonchalantly. This woman who was waiting was nothing to him, his work was merely to get her out of the house before she could disturb the peace of mind of Sir Jonas Doddy’s Lizzie. It wasn’t a pleasant task. He didn’t like to deal peremptorily with a woman old enough to be his mother, and slie must be that if she had played an important part in Jonas Doddy’s life years ago Pleasant or not, the work must be done, should be done, so long as he filled the role of watch dog. He was not lounging now. His face rvas grave, and for “The Dook’’. quite stern as Timmins opened the library door. The visitor sat in one of the big chairs at the far end of the room, the massive piece of furnitur e made her appear very slight, there was about her unstudied pose that natural grace' which is arresting. “The Dook” shot one searching glance at th e enemy, then, all in an instant, his expression changed. The stern lines disappeared, a look of welcome sprang into the man’s eyes. “You!" lie cried, as h e hurried forward. “You here! Well, I’m blest!" i It wasn’t an elegant way of putting it. He was rather ashamed of his choice of words as soon as they were spoken, yet they were not far from the truth after all, for though he could not have said why, it did seem a blessed thing .that he and she should meet again. < The wonderful eyes were on his face, surprise great a.s his own was there. He almost iared to fancy that he saw welcome as well. The visitor had risen. She was coming towards him.. Her every movement was to Valentine Duke a poem. “It is exactly wliat I should say myself if I hadn’t been brought up properly," smiled the girl at whose feet a light-hearted pauper had flung his last hundred pounds. H e fell back a step, feasting his eyes on her with undisguised admiration. This was an amazing happening. He had thought of her so often, yet he had told himself that he must not think of her. Now he knew that all such wisdom was but folly; be couldn’t help himself. She was to him the only being in the whole world that really mattered. '

“It’,s a fact," h e said. “We none of us know where he is. Sir Jonas is like that. I’ll tell you what, though," he went on, as an idea came to him. “I am Sir J onas Is confidential man. I believe he trusts me mor e than anyone else. Why shouldn’t Igo with you and explain how matters stand? Then, if the poor fellow likes to entrust me- with a message for Sir Jonas, he can do so. It might put his mind at rest; sick men have such queer fancies." Merely a sick man’s “fancy." A man and a maid very much in love. And the fate of Jonas Doddy hanging in the balance!

“Beautifully- brought up,” she said —-he adored her lips when they smiled —“and one of the things that I was always taught was—oh, that it was so rude to stare.”

“Oh, but that's absurd,” the man objected. “I’m trying to make up my mind whether you’re real or just a vision.”

The dear smile deepened. “You should have asked me,” she said gently. “I’d have told you at once. I never mind telling a little thing like that.” “But there’s so much I want to know,” “The Dook” returned. “For instance, could you tell me are you more exquisite in sea green or in a big frieze coat with a funny little cap? For the life of me I can’t tell.”

She tried to shake her head reprovingly, but it was not altogether a success. She would not have allowed another man to talk like this, but he was different from all other men. How could she forget their first meeting? “You mustn’t talk lik e that,” she admonished. “It isn’t done, you know. ’ ’ “The Dook” looked obstinate.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “It is done, because I’ve done it. I’ll tell you a secret—-I’m a law unto myself. Isn’t that jolly?” “For you or for the other people?” she flashed back at him. Then, before he could answer, she went on: “Try to be just a wee bit conventional —it is so confusing else. Do you realise we haven’t been introduced? I am Sabina Lowie —did I tell you that before?” “Now, what’s in a name? Must we really bother about introductions? You make me feel as though I ought to go and find my card case or get old Timmins to come and announce me.”

“There isn’t any need,” Sabina

(To be Continued.!