“A Heart to Keep,”

Wairarapa Daily Times, 19 June 1925, Page 7

“A Heart to Keep,”

(PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.) A BRILLIANT LOVE STORY OP DOMESTIC INTEREST,

(By Eileen and Ellice ( Crane.) Authors of “Pierrette,” “A Woman’s Love—a Woman’s Hate,’’ “Under Her Husband’s Thumb,’’“Arna of the Red Gold Hair,’’ “Woman’s Weapons,’’ etc., etc.

(COPY EIQHT.) ,

CHAPTER XlX.—Continued,

him, Mr Bede.” “Do you think he might be prejudiced against your husband?” he enquired. “He might be, perhaps,” she admitted.

“But Marbury Woods are very extensive,’’ Isobel pointed out hastily. “Don’t you see that he might have been in the woods at the time and yet have been nowhere near the scene of the murder?’’

“Anyway, as I have just said, he is the man I should engage if the matter rested entirely with me, and I think that if you were to go to him unofficially and ask him as a great favour to take this matter up—well, I don’t see how he could really refuse you.” “Very well, I will try,” Isobel returned doubtfully, “and, if be does refuse, then you must suggest someone else, Mr Bede.” “I could suggest no one better,” was the grave reply. CHAPTER XX.

The inspector shrugged his shoulders. “Then that is so much the worse for your husband, Mrs Stafford, if 1 may say so, because there is no one else who had a grudge against Mr Whitmore —no one else who had any reason to quarrel with him.’’ He took up his hat. “And now,’’ he added, “I must be going. I’m afraid I’ve rather overstepped the bounds in discussing the case like this, but I am not likely to forget old Mr London’s kindness to me in the past, and I just wanted to impress upon you that this is no light matter. You’re very hopeful, of course, and quite right and proper to be so, but all the same you have got to make a very serious fight if you want to save your husband. Engage the best lawyers and spend money like water in his defence. 1 Why, I have known of men who have actually committed the crime of which they were accused, getting off simplv by the cleverness of their counsel.’’”

Isobel thanked him for his advice, though she came very near to hating him for his unspoken refusal to believe in her husband’9 innocence.

“If I were to telephone to the governor of—of the prison, do you think he would let me see Mr Stafford?’’ she questioned. “I really must see him to arrange for —for his defence, mustn't I?’’

He took pity on her misery and offered to telephone through to Oldford himself for her. She indicated the instrument standing on the writingtable, and after a few minutes’ conversation over the wires he informed her that she would be allowed to see Kildenc for a short time that afternoon.

With the lawyer’s words ringing in her eai'9, Isobel drove at once to Philip Hamvlton’s chambers in dermyn street. Yes, lie had just come in, she was informed, and with a curious tremour of nervousness she followed the man-ser-vant into a room furnished in a severely ascetic style with a couple of skins upon the polished floor, and with canebottomed chairs of Moris design. The centre of the room was entirely taken up by a large writing desk, at which Ilamvltou was seated, writing busily. “I thought I told you I was not at home to anyone,” he said sharply, when the man mumbled Isobel’s name. Then he caught sight of his visitor and a slight flush mounted his usually pale cheeks. “You may go, Spate,” be said, and when the door had closed he walked over to Isobel’ sside and demanded: “ Why in the name of all the saints have you conic here —to my rooms alone!' 'Have you no regard for your own reputation?” She shook her head sadly. “I can think of nothing but the fact that my husband is in danger,” she told him. He turned away from her sulkily. “I might have known that you would not come here merely to see me. Even now that you have - been made to realise what an infernal scoundrel that man really is, you still remain as infatuated as you were before he was found out. That is exactly like? you women. _ A decent man who tries to lead a straight honest life, you pass over as though be were not worthy to black your boots. But you give your heart away to man who has not an ounce of morals in him. Oh, you’re all alike, the whole lot of you! And now,” he questioned, “may I venture to ask why you have paid me the honour of this visit?” “I have‘come to ask you to save my husband, Phil,” she returned, very quietly.

Even the thought of the terrible ditions under which they would meet, did not succeed in marring the intensity of Isobel’s joy at the thought of seeing her husband again after their unhappy separation. At her urgent request Kildene told her everything that had happened since he first mot Whitmore—how the latter had encouraged him to fall in love with his ward, and his own determination' not to ask her to marry him until he had proved that he was not a failure after all. He told her, too, how he had finally been led to fall in with her guardian’s mercenary stipulation, and the reason for the quarrel which Mrs Sinclair had overheard on the day she had left Marbury.

“I ought never to have dared to love you,” he ended up in a tone of deep dejection. “I have only brought trouble upon you from the very, beginning. ” She hastily placed her hand over his lips. “And why did you fall in love with me?” she demanded, with a pitiful attempt at playfulness. “Simply because you could not help it. Didn’t I just throw myself at your head, Jim?”

“No,” he declared, taking her hand and kissing it. "I loved you first, I Joved you from the very night that I, a beggar, opened the door of your car in Piccadilly.” It was the first time he had told her of this, and when she got over her surprise she answered him: “Why, I remember that I admired you even then. I thought it was so wonderful of you to open the door just —just for love!” He kissed her passionately, praying silently as he did so that he might yet live to make her happy —to show that he had consecrated himself to her sarvice. for love’s sake.

From Oldford Isobel caught an express to town, and, taking a taxi, went straight lo the offices of her solicitor. At first she found that worthy gentleman openly hostile towards the man she had married, and he did not scruple to reprove her for the hasty manner in which she had permitted her wedding to take place. “ You were simply rushed into this —this union,” he declared, giving full rein to the anger which he had been feeling against Kildene for some time. “It is most evident that it was all part of some deeply laid scheme planned by that man Whitmore, whom I never trusted from the first.” Isobel saw that she would have more than a. little difficulty in trying to convince the shrewd Mr Bede of Jim’s disinterestedness when he married her. She began, however, by telling him of the letter Inspector Brail had permitted her to read, and when she had finally brought him to realise that her husband had had no connection with her guardian’s evil plotting, she went on to tell him the whole story of Kildene ’h life just as she had received the facts from him. His remark when she had finished was somewhat akin to that made by the inspector, only it was prompted by a very different feeling.

“II’m! It certainly is a most strange history, and I should hardly think it was all a bundle of lies. All the same, it will take something more than that to convince a British jury of your husband's nobility of character.” Then Isobel went on to speak of the discrepancies she had noticed in the story Mrs Sinclair had told at the inquest. “Yes,” was the answer, “that might perhaps prove important if handled by a clever counsel, and that is the first point we have got to think of —the engaging of a well-known man to undertake the defence. Anyway, I will see to that if you will leave the matter in my hands.” “By all means,” returned Isobel eagerly. “1 want the very best that, monev can secure.”

Mr' Bede thought carefully for a few moments, then he said: “I think, too, that you ought to secure the services of a private detective, because I am afraid that, as the ease now stands, there is very little evidence for the defence. Now, the smartest man in that line is, in my opinion, Philip Hamylton. He’s voung, it is true, but he is possessed of some of the sharpest wits that it is possible to come across in a long day’s journey. ’ ’ Isobel scarcely gave him time to finish his praise. “But don't you know that Phil Hamylton is Mrs Sinclair’s half-brother? ’ ’

(To be Continued.)

The solicitor smiled. “Certainly I do. Bat I have reason to believe that there is very little sympathy between them, while I did hear from a reliable source that Mr Hamylton had once been more than a trille interested in a certain young client of mine.” The girl’s face was suffused with crimson. “I don’t think I could ask