"Held in Ransom,"

Wairarapa Daily Times, 3 December 1926, Page 7

"Held in Ransom,"

—BYGERALD CUMBERLAND. Author of “The Cypress Chest,” ;< Set Down in Malice,” “The Prisoner,” etc., etc.

(COPYRIGHT.)

CHAPTER Vl—Continued. “ Will you follow me, Mr Mi-chelle ■'' she asked. She led the way behind the mantlepiece to ;i narrow aperture in the wall: it was just: wide enough to admit them in single file, but it was -o low that both had to bend down uncomfoitabl} It was the entrance to a iongish, dark passage. “You had better take my hand so that I may guide you,” she said. “Thank you, but I much prefer to do nothing of the kind,' - ' he replied. They crept along in the dark until they emerged into a comfortably furnished sitting-room, which the Princess instantly illuminated.

“This is where you will live for a few days,” she announced. “Through that door is your bedroom. In that cupboard you will fimd anything you may need —-cigars, cigarettes, drinks. There arc plenty of books both in French and English. This desk contains writing materials. You read French? ’ ’ “I do.”

“Good. Should you want anything, you will ring the bell; there is always someone on duty day and night. But you will have to communicate your orders in writing, for the men who will wait on you are both deaf and dumb.” He made no reply, but stood waiting for her to go. She. lingered a few moments as though unwilling to leave him. But lie wore so forbidding and hostile a look that she turned away with a sigh.

“1 hope you sleep well,” she whispered rather than spoke. He inclined his head slightly, bat uttered no word.

Left alone, he sought his bedroom, for lie was too tired to make any e.\* animation of his surroundings. Not. that he expected to sleep, for the pain of his arm was too intense for that. But his-body ached with weariness, and now that the ordeal was over, he telt dizzy and faint. Jt had required a terrible and continuous effort to conduct himself calmly and with dignity in the.presence of the Princess, he felt a. sudden reaction —a reaction of weakness that seemed to be sapping away all his will power. He undressed with difficulty, turned off the light, and got into bed. He closed his-eyes, but his busy, feverish brain kept sleep away. His thoughts raced through his mind like leaves before the mud. What a terrbile night it had been! Y'et he bad every reason to be satisfied with tlie course of events; everything had happened as he had wished. True, lie had been tortured vilely —-but that was for Audrey’s sake. .Dear, sweet child! Where was she now? Was she asleep or. was she, like himself, lying awake, bruised and anxious?

His thoughts fastened on Audrey with self-acting pain. As he lay there, trying to be calm, he grew angry and more angry in thinking of what she had suffered. He felt murderous towards his persecutors —towards Princess Warenski. Jlis brain Seethed with thoughts of revenge—seethed so violently that he began to fear he was 'becoming delirious. Then, for a few moments he slept, only to wake again with pain. For a long time, as it seemed to him, he lay waking and sleeping alternatively', terribly restless, driven to desperation 'both by Ibo agony caused by his burnt arm and by desperate thoughts of Audrey. It was not: long, indeed, before lie did lose consciousness in a mild delirium. His dreams were wild and tortured, and he began to call out Audrey' in a voice both hoarse and eager. Hu did not know —how: should he?—that the Princess,' anxious on his account, had crept into his room, and was now standing at the foot of his bed, full of a fierce and. hitherto unknown tenderness.

For the first time in his life, indeed, she was beginning to taste the sweet poison of Jos e. Her feeling for Frank was already arousing her better nature, and when she had told him that she loathed herself for what she had done —for the betrayal of him, for her iufliction of torture upon him, for her lies and deceptions—she had spoken nothing save the truth. Dearly' she would have liked to set him free, but she had a deadly fear of those who had power over her; men who would not hesitate to kill her if they' even suspected her of treachery'.

She had not stopped to conjecture how it was that this feeling had been aroused in her. She only' knew that something good and fine in him had called out to something that was perhaps good and fine in her. Deep down in her heart something had stirred, awakening tier to a realisation of the sordid .wickedness of her own life.

“Audrey! Audrey!” he called. “My poor darling. But lam coming to you, my little one. Soon we shall be together again and in time you will forget these terrible days.”

He moaned as he tossed on the bed, and then ensued a minute or two of silence during which, apparently ho slept. Then suddenly he awoke with a desperate cry. “They r shan’t touch you, Audrey*— they' shan’t, they shan’t! Get away' — get away, I say! Oli you fiends—y'ou fiends—you fiends of hell! Run, Audrey, run! That’s it !> Oh, but they' will get you! Damn —how vile, how unspeakablv vile!”

The Princess could bear it no longer. At whatever penalty' to herself, -she must ease his mind.

Feeling her way, she crept along the bed and sat down on its side. Stretching out her arms in the dark, her hands touched his face. Gently ,she placed

her arms about him and drew him towards her, pillowing Ms bead upon her breast. She felt as a, mother feels towards her child, as a, nurse feels towards a patient, whom -she loves. She longed to bring him peace, forgetfulness. “Hush! Hush!” she breathed softly. “ Your Audrey is safe. She has conic to no harm! Soon —soon she will be restored to vou!”

But he heard no word she spoke, ’but continued to cry out under the oppression of his delirious dreams. She placed her hand upon his forehead in her efforts to soothe him, and murmured broken phrases of comfort.

And presently lie slept. His spirit was calmed, and lie lay quietly, his breath coming deeply and regularly. For some minutes the Princess tasted almost complete happiness. It was delicious to feci .that she had 'brought peace to the man she loved, that she was now protecting him whom she had so cruelly treated. Oh, if only he had come into her life sooner, when she was yet a girl and untouched by evil! How different the course of her life would have been! ' Peace stole over her also and fearing that she might fall asleep and confident that Frank would now pass the rest of the night in strength-bringing sleep, she 'began slowly and gently to remove her arms from about liis body. Her arms were now released; but just as she'was lifting his head from her breast, he awoke —and awoke to full consciousness.

“Who is that?” he failed out, imperiously. “It is only I,” she answered. “You were crying out, and 1 came—-”

“llow dare you?” lie asked, ii a tempest of anger. “How dare you touch me? It i? infamous!” She started back, wounded through and through, as a mother might start whose son had struck her a blow in the face. “I ’m sorry —1. came to nurse you—l. “Gfl!” he cried. “Am I never to be free from you? Do you want to drive insane? ’’ Without another word she left him, biterness hating herself, her dream destroyed. She sought her own room and undressed. And, as slxe crept into bed, tears came into h er eyes. It was too late —too late to alter her life. JU hated and despised her. Never for an Instant had she had any hope or thought of gaining his affections and taking him away from Audrey, but she longed achingly for the respect, his liking. The night passed. Frank’s young, healthy constitution reasserted itself, and for six hours lie slept undisturbed. He awoke with fresh hope. Already, no doubt, the messenger was on his way to London with the letter, and the certain rescue of Audrey and the arrest of the gang of criminals was only a matter of time. All that was necessary' for him was patience. In fortyeight hours—perhaps less—lie would be free. One of the deaf and dumb servants brought him his breakfast, put ointment on his arm, which lie bandaged carefully, and helped him to dress. Then Frank applied himself to reading. Though ho found it difficult to concen trate, he contrived to give his full attention to “David Copperfield,” and the hours by till lunch-time. In the afternoon lie heard the Princess’s voice at the end of the passage: “May' I come in?” she asked. His first impulse was to forbid her, but in less than a second lie reflected that it was a shortsighted 2'olicy to refuse her access to him. He knew .that, for some reason or other, she had begun to love him in her strange way, and it was more than possible that in an unguarded moment she might betray some useful secret—might even be willing to help. Not. that, the letter once delivered to bis bank manager, lie could have need of help. Still—- “ Yes —if you must,” he answered, .ungraciously'. She entered in a manner that suggested ■nothing but humility. It was evident she had had a sleepless night, for there were dark, heavy rings round ]ie\* eyes. “I don't wish to intrude,” she began, rather helplessly. “No?” “No, Mr Mi-chellc. But I want — I want, to make sure that you have everything you would like.” (To be Continued.)