“The Lifting of the Shadow.”

Wairarapa Daily Times, 14 July 1925, Page 7

“The Lifting of the Shadow.”

(PUBLISHED BY SPEC lAL ARRANGEMENT.) POWERFUL STORY OF LOVE AND ACTION,

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

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CIIA PT ER VIII.—Con tinned

“Thank you,” said the engineer, turning to the door. “It is just possible that I may want to consult you again, indeed, that I may want you to identify Waddilove. But for the present 1 will leave the matter where it is. Good afternoon.”

He took his way to his club, and there thought over what he had learned. “It’s a moral certainty that Waddilove and my cousin are one and the same,” he told himself, “but I must have convincing proof before I can do anything. I don’t care much about dragging the man Uorrocks into the affair. He has too much sympathy with Waddilove, and if he learned the truth he might give my game away.” As events* befell, he had no need to consult the enquiry agent further, for less than a week later chance favoured him bv giving a likelier instrument into hishands. He was out with a shooting party, with his cousin, and was stood with him, talking, when he observed a man —one of the beaters — staring at his companion very keenly. The baronet moved away, and after watching him go, the beater approached Rufus Warlow.” “Excuse me, sir,” lie said, “but can you tell me who that gentleman is?” For a moment the engineer was inclined to resent the questing as an impertinence, but something in the man’s manner stayed the words that ro*e to his lips, and moved him to reply civilly: “Do you mean to say you don’t: know the gentleman, my man?” “Well, that’s where I am in a bit of a fix,” was the reply. “I’ll take my oath I’ve seen him before, and in very different circumstances than this. That’s what makes me want to know who he is, sir.” Rufus Warlow’s interest quickened. “Indeed,” he said. “In what circumstances? ’ ’ The man laughed in some confusion. “Well,” he replied, “I don’t know as I care to say, because if I’m making a mistake it won’t be very pleasant for me, whilst if I’m not, an’ I’ll bet a year’s pension I’m not, then that gentleman ought to be somewhere else than here.”

“You’ll bet a year’s pension?’ Rufus Warlow guessed what was coming, and could scarcely restrain himself. “Then you’re an old soldier, and you have seen that gentleman ” “No, sir, I’m a retired assistantwarder from Princetown, and unless I am mortally mistaken that gentleman used to be in my gang at the prison.” “Arc you quite sure, my man? That is a. very serious statement to make, remember. ’ ’

“I’m as sure as sure can be,” answered the ex-warder. “lie’s grown a beard, and, of course, lie’s spick and span now, but I’d have known him by his eyes and his voice, anywhere. If that isn’t John Waddilove, the convict who escaped last year, I’ll eat my hat. What does he call himself now, sir, if I may make so bold as to ask?” Rufus Warlow did not immediately reply. He stood thinking for a little while, then taking out his pocket book he fished out a card and handed it to the ex-warder. “Look here, I want to talk over this business with you. You come to my house to-night at eightthirty, and we’ll go fnto it thoroughly. In the meantime keep your suspicions to yourself —and perhaps I shall be able to make it worth your while. You understand?” The man saluted and went off to join the line of beaters, whilst Rufus Warlow took up the stand appointed to him, and, being preoccupied, for a time shot remarkably badly, missing two birds out of every three. CHAPTER IX.

At eight-thirty that evening Rufus Warlow was sitting smoking in his

study, and thinking over his forthcoming interview with the retired warder, when a servant maid announced, “Mr Jarman to see you, sir, by appointment.”

“Show him in,” answered her master, and the next moment the ex-war-der entered the room.

Rufus Warlow waved him to a chair, and pointed to the table whereon was a whisky decanter and a syphon". ‘'Help yourself, Jarman.” “Thank you, sir,” answered Jarman. accepting the invitation. Before drinking lie lifted his glass. “My respects, sir.” W.arlow nodded carelessly, and when the ex-warder set down the’glass looked at him keenly. Theer was a nervous excitement about the man's manner, which he attributed to the nature of his errand, and he flattered himself that he would find the other an easy tool. “Well, Jarman,” he said carelessly, “about this business-? Are you -still y>>

“I’ve found out,” broke in the man excitedly. “I’ve found out who Wadililove really is. He’s Sir William, vour own cousin!”

“Of course, I know that,” answered his host with an assumption of indifference. “If you had asked me I could have -told you that this afternoon.”

“But I did tell you, sir,” protested Jarman, “alid you never told me. You evaded my question.” ‘ ‘ Indeed ?’ ’ replied Warlow. ‘‘ I have no recollection of it; but from whom have you learned the fact now?”

“At the end of the shooting I asked the head keeper wlio the gentleman was, and he laughed at me. ‘Bo you mean to say you don’t know Sir William, Jarman?’ he said. ‘Well, you are a duffer’.”

Rufus Warlow knitted his brows. “I thought that it was understood that you were not to talk about this business, and that it would be worth your while to keep your suspicions to yourself ?” I ‘So I have done, sir. I’m not such a fool as to go blabbing all over the countryside. When you’ve got a cow that'll give cream you don’t make a present of if to other folk. I’m not that sort of idiot —not by a long chalk. All .that I asked was the gentleman’s name, and I got it, and it’s an eyeopener. By Jove! Just think of it! John Waddilove —escaped convict —is Sir William Warlow, Bart! ” Rufus Warlow laughed sceptically. | “Maybe,” he said, “but you have yet to prove that Sir William Warlow is John Waddilove, and you’ll find -that people will regard that as a rather tall story. You’re not the only man whose testimony would be taken into account. For instance, there is (Major Gaunt. 'He would know .something about Waddilove, and lie was one of the shooting partv to-day, and he’s dining with Sir William to-night. It doesn’t ■look as if he had been struck with the resemblance.”

The ex-warder flicked his finger and thumb. “I wouldn’t give that for the

(To be Continued.)

Major's opinion. What does the governor of u prison know about the ordinary well-belraved convict? He never sees him unless he’s a complaint to make, or if he does lie’s just one of a o-ang, and to him one convict is no more than another. But warders see ’em every day an’ they get to know ’em. and Waddilove was in my gang for weeks at a time. It would be a queer thing if I didn’t know better than the governor, wouldn’t it? And I tell vou, sir, I do know. The Bart, is John Waddilove as sure as my name is Ain os Jarman!” “You are quite sure?” asked Warlow, not troubling to question the comparative values of testimony as set forth bv his visitor. “I’d'risk my salvation on it, sir,” reptile(l Jarman fervently. “After I left you this afternoon I happened to get p'rettv close to Sir William, and as vou can "guess I took a good straight look at him. There’s a little mole on the lobe of his left ear. It doesn’t show so plain as it used to do, owing to the whiskers he’s grown, but John Waddilove had a mole like that, an’ I’m not the only one as knows it, for there’s a man up at Princetown now what knows it because we talked it over one day when we were out on the moor together in charge of a gang, neither of us ever having seen a mole in such a place before. sir, that mole was mentioned in the police description of Waddilove, so there’s no question about it, an-' if you’ll look at Sir William you’ll be able to see it for yourself.’’ Rufus Warlow remembered the mole referred to, but made no admission. “Urn!” he said. ‘Maybe. But the question is—what are you going to do about the business? Supposing the situation is as you say, and I think you’ll have hard work to convince the majority of people, I can 't see how it is going to benefit you very much. The reward for the capture of an escaped convict is little enough, particularly when, as in this case, it would mean a good deal of public odium, for, as you know, Sir William is very popular on the countryside.” Jarman knitted his brows. “I was not thinking of claiming the reward, sir. 1 was thinking that as you wanted to see me perhaps you had ‘Something to propose.” Warlow laughed. “Well, perhaps I have,” he admitted. “Naturally one doesn’t want his family disgraced by having the head of it returned to Dartmoor as an escaped convict. But, first 1 want vou to be sure that you are quite right in the identification of my cousin with John Waddilove, and so far as I can see there is only one way of doing that.” “What is that, sir?”