"The Lifting of the Shadow.”

Wairarapa Daily Times, 2 July 1925, Page 7

"The Lifting of the Shadow.”

(PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.) POWERFUL STORY" OF LOVE AND ACTION,

(By Ben Bolt.) Author of “Love Binds the Clue,” “A Bride from the West,” “A Modern Delilah,” etc., etc.

(COPYRIGHT.)

CHAPTER I.—Continued. The convict shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said thoughtfully. “Waddilove is not my real name. It is only the one I assumed when I found myself arrested and charged with manslaughter, because my own name was not one that I could allow to be dragged -through the police courts. If 1 could obtain a suit of clothes and get away to London I should be all right. You see, I have a. banking account there, which must have grown considejably during the last year, for one does not spend much money in prison.” He laughed shortly as he made the explanation, and then added: “I could go away until John Waddilove and all his works were forgotten.”

The girl looked at him thoughtfully. “But how will you get away from the Moor? The warders are searching everywhere, and all the moor folk are oa the look-out for you.”* “I know,” laughed the convict, “I lay on a stack this morning and heard two men talking, and both of them went off to look for me in the hope of earning five pounds. I wonder what they will feel like if they ever learn how near I was to them when they decided to join the hunt.”

The girl smiled responsively, then her face grew thoughtful. “You are sure you are innocent?”

The convict rend her mind like an open book. The girl, as he saw, was in the mood to help him. “Before 'God I swear it,” he said earnestly, less because he hoped for help than from the desire to convince this beautiful girl that he was not guilty. “1 believe you,” said the girl quietly, “and I will help you if I can.” She stood silent and thoughtful for a moment, then she pointed to a distant orchard above which the chimneys of a house appeared. “You see that house there? Make for there as soon as it is dark, and wait until the lights go out. At the back you will find a little building, which I use as a studio. I will take some food and clothing there and leave the door unfastened. There arc shutters to the window which are closed at night, and you will be able to light the lamp without fear of observation. Do you understand?” The convict nodded, then lie said sharply: “I suppose you know that vou are committing a felony in helping me?”

“Oh, yes,laughed the girl. “The governor of the prison is a friend of my father’s, and as we often go up to Frineetown I have read the regulations. But to help an innocent man I will take the risk.” She broke off, and then added: “I must be going now, but I will do all that I have promised.” Without another word she slung the creel over her shoulder, picked up her rod, nodded to the convict, then, whistling to her dog, went off towards her home, whilst the convict followed her with eves in which something more than gratitude was shining. CHAPTER 11. The fugitive remained crouched among the gorse bushes until darkness fell, and then very cautiously began to make his way towards the house which the girl had indicated, scratching himself badly and tearing his rough clothes to rags as he forced a passage through the wilderness of gorse and bramble in which he had hidden himself. At last he struck a road, and at the same moment caught the sound of wheels. He flung himself down behind a clump of blackthorn, and lay there at full length, scarcely daring to breathe. The wheels drew nearer, and by the dim light of the lamps he was able to see that it was a farmer’s trap, containing two men. They were talking loudly, and some of their words reached him where he lay.

“Yes,” said one of them, “he have a-got away by this time vor mire.” “Or broken his neck in some old quarry. ’’

The two men were talking of himself, and just as the trap drew opposite to him one of them struck a match to light his pipe. The light gleamed on something shining immediately over the smoker’s eyes, and the convict, recognising it for the peak of a warder’s cap, hugged the ground more closely still. He waited there until the sound of the wheels died away in the distance, then, carefully reconnoitring, he crossed the road, climbed the hedge on the other side, and began to make his way across the wheat stubble in the direction of the girl’s home, guided by the lights which gleamed from several windows. Arriving in the neighbourhood of it, he made a. circuit to the back, and, at the end of a. long lawn, dimly descried the studio which the girl had referred to. He climbed the fence, and, pushing his way through a privet hedge, concealed himself in the shrubbery which bordered the lawn, and there, according to the girl’s instructions, he waited until the lights in the house were extinguished. He was faint with hunger, his clothes were wet through falling in a ditch in the darkness, and the rising wind nipped him to the bone, yet still he did not move. He had endured so much for liberty that now that it was so close he would not risk it by any overt action. At length the last lighted window became dark. He crej.it to the front of the house to make sure, theu, going once more to the back, irihde his way to the" studio. His hand trembled as he groped for the knob of the door. Suppose the girl had failed iu her promise, after all?

Even as the thought leapt in his mind he found the handle, and turned it very gently, his heart almost still with apprehension. The door yielded, and with relief surging through him, lie stepped inside and closed it softly behind him. Ilis hand encountered a key, which he promptly turned, and then looked round the fire-lit room. A lamp upon a table caught his eye, and a box of matches by the side of it. He promptly kindled the lamp and then looked round once more.

The room was sparsely furnished' with a. table, an easel and a couple of basket chairs. A few canvasses were lying about, and one or two completed ones hung from the wall. All that he saw in a glance, but other things absorbed his attention, namely, food upon the table, and a suit of Harris tweeds and an ulster lying on one of the chairs, with a pair of brown sporting boots by the side. His heart leaped with gratitude at the sight, and without waste of time he seated himself at the table and began-to stay his hunger. That done, he stepped towards the fire, and on the mantlepiece caught sight of a glass, a razor, a lather-brush, and a handful of cigarettes. "That girl forgets no-

thing,”V commented. “She’s an angel!” ,lle lit one of the cigarettes, inhaled the smoke luxuriously for a moment, then, still smoking, rapidly changed his prison clothes for the garments which the girl had provided. He shaved and washed himself, and then appeared a very different being from the hunted fugitive who had crouched in the gorse, his cropped hair and the roughness of his hands with their broken nails being the only remaining signs -of the man he had been. He took another of the cigarettes, put on a cloth hat that was lying on the chair, and looking at himself, laughed cheerfully. “I could walk through Prineetown without being recognised.” Scarcely had the words passed his lips when there came-a- tap on the door. He started violently, and, turning, stared at the door with eyes that gleamed with fear. Was he doomed to lose his liberty, after all? As the question shot through his mirnl the tapping .sounded again, and then the handle of the door was softly turned. Stark with fear, he watched, remaining perfectly still; then a voice enquired: “Are you there, Mr Waddilove?”

His heart gave a great bound of relief, and stepping quickly to the door, lie turned the key, and the girl slipped inside. For a moment she stood there with astonishment showing in her face. Then she gave a little laugh. “I should never have known you,” she said. “I would never have believed that a shave woubb ; have made so much difference in a man’s appearance.”

The man laughed. 1 ‘We do owe a lot to our tailors, in more senses than one, as a rule. ’ ’ “No one would know you,” answered the girl, “and I am very glad that is the ease. But I must not waste time. I have been thinking over matters, and I have come to tell you the arrangements that I have made for you. I think it will be best for you to remain here until just before daylight. That clock on the mantlepieee has an alarm, and you can set it for five o’clock. No one will be stirring here then, and you will easily get away. Go straight down the road in the direction of the village, and when you reach the milestone turn into the little wood, which you will find on the other side of the road. You will be perfectly safe there, for I heard in the house that a couple of the Civil Guards searched it this afternoon. About seven o ’clock I will come down in a small run-about motor and pick you up and nm you into Plymouth, where you can catch the London train. That will be less.risky than taking it at any of the local stations, and as I have made an excuse about some colours I am wanting, no one will be surprised at my early departure.” (To be Continued.)