“Tangle of Deceit,”

Wairarapa Daily Times, 20 October 1932, Page 7

“Tangle of Deceit,”

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT.

('HARTER X. •■'or weeks now Beth <‘iiul tier husband had been living- in a whirl of pleasure. Doncaster had passed like a gay, delightful dream, ■ a dream in which the husband had revelled in the beauty and popularity of his charming young wife, being not. only proud when his friends had declared her the loveliest woman that, had graced the race-meeting, but thankful to feel that he was the one man who possessed her heart, her love. ‘‘lt’s no good, Webster," he had said the night after the St. Leger, "I can’t tell her till I'm absolutely forced it. Good heavens, man, can't you see what it would mean.’’*

"A row perhaps, and some un.happi ness, but slic'd forgive you.”

‘‘Never! Her faith in me would be broken. If only you could have seen her eyes, once or twice, when I've been guilty of a prevarication, or a slip of the tongue which lias caused her to wonder! Xo, no! Guthrie is settlingon the Continent; so I’ll risk it a bit longer. 1 can’t, I daren’t, own up vet! ”

And so it had gonci on. And Guth had hugged his secret all tJirough the golden days of Sept mber, -when he and Beth, like two enob: nted children, had gone hand in hand. a.s it “were, every day growing fondei; and all through early October, wlui they had enitertaincd the Pullers, and 'right on till about the 20th of the month, when business called' Guth unexpectedly to London, and Beth, for the first time since her marriage, was left to her own resources and inclined to ibe very low-spirited.

“One-, two, three, four! Pour days I have been quite alone! ’ 7 she said, addressing herself one morning to Mars, who appeared to be always either within sight or call, and might easily have been suspected, she tokl herself, of keeping a strict watch on her. “Mars, I have had a letter from your master,” she stated, “he is coming home, all being well, this evening. That means,” glancing at the hall clock, “in seven hours from now. I shan’t stay in the house, it is so dull. I shall go for a long walk.” “Or a drive,” suggested Mars, whose manner and face, Both fancied, had suddenly become uneasy. “Won't you try the new car that master’s sent you down from town, ma’am?” “Xo; I mean that he shall take me out in it first. lam going for a walk. The weather is perfect; and the dogs will be delighted. I may get as far as Harp Hall, perhaps, if 1 take the short cut I’ve ‘been told about. And if 1 tip the woman at the lodge—l hear there is a lodgekeeper and his wife —she may take me over the house. I shall enjoy that, 1 believe the lodgefolks keep the keys.” “Xot now,” corrected Mars. Thin, moistening his lips with his tongue, he explained: “I'm told the house is open again. There are people there in residence.”

“But there were not some weeks since. ’ ’

1 • Xo,’' said Mars, 1 ‘ these 'nave come lately. Folks from- —well, truni France.’ ’ “Wli-cn did they arrive?” “Only yesterday, ma'am?” “And their name?” “That 1 cannot tell you, ma’am." Beth’s eyes were watching the man closely at this moment; she knew nut why, hut she had an idea, that he knew and would not tell her. “Very well,” she said, “if the |.iace is tenanted 1 shall, of course, not go there. ’ ’ “You mean you will not go for a walk,, ma’am?” ‘ Mars!” Beth cried hotly, “why do you question me so? I think yon ace f-rgehting yourself, exceeding } our duty to your employer!” “I intended no offence, ma'am,” was the abashed reply, “but the master said I was to see. that you came to no harm. And —and the fact is—l was loath to- make you uneasy ma’am —a crazy tramp, is said to be roaming .in this'district, and I didn’t want you to be frightened by him.” “Thank you, Mars. I understand now. I ’ll keep to the gardens and park this morning, and perhaps after lunch some visitors may call. Anyway, the time will pass somehow.” Mars drew a breath as if of rebei. Humming softly, Beth went into the garden. Ten minutes later, to her intense surprise, she saw Mars lean ing the -premises on his bicycle. As he passed out of sight she returned hastily to the house, going lirst to her husband’s snuggery, which Mars had been'tidying and upon the writingtable of which she saw a pad of telegraph forms. Mars, though sharp in his way, lacked that care of detail which is the most valuable asset of a schemer. Quick as I 'nought, Both leaned forward and read the words indented on the pad by the valet’s pencil. The message was: to her husband at his (Pirb in town. It. was hurriedly written, and run as follows: Keturn earlier than intended G possible. Harp. Hall occupied. I'neasv. Fear discovery is unavoidable.

Tr.at. was all. With white lips, Beth went back to the garden, greatly angered and amazed. Wlmt. was this discovery which Mars feared that she would make? And 'how dared he romance to her about a crazy tramp? Mow dared he shadow bar, watch, her movements like a detective, and doubtless keep his master apprised as to her every act? She knew lie had written to his master last night. It was evident that he, a,s well as Mr Webster, was cognisant of tho secret which she was not to know. “Dunn,” she said to the undergardener, “what are the tenants at Jlarp Hall calK*d ?” 11 They ain’t tenants, they To tin ovvneas’ ma’am,” said Dunn. “Newly

BY P. M. STOOKE. (Author of “Love’s Golden Key,” “One Alan, One Maid,” “The People’s Warden,” etc).

man ied, so I'm iold, I haven't hoard their name. Alars has been talking to their chauffeur already. I don't know wlmt lie’s hoard, but it's properly upset lrim. ’ ’ Beth asked no more, Imt moved away. She a-tC' but little at luncheon, the servants noticed, and wont to her room immediately after, where she asked heir maid, Rosalie, for her tweed coat and skirt, and the small hat that matched it.

‘ • I am going for a walk,” she explained. “I have a very bad headache which I want to get rid of before your master's return this evening. I don’t quite know how far I shall go, or wlmt time I shall be back. ”

‘‘Very well, ana’am,” said the girl. “Then if" .Mars asks —” “.Mars!” broke in Belli angrily. “Alans would not dare to be so inquisitive as to’pry into my movements. " Rosalie looked anything but convinced. Beth, with heightened colour, went haughtily from the room. In the hall below she encountered Alars, who looked dismayed at seeing slid was going out. “I fancy the master may be home by an earlier train than lie intended, ma’am,” lie ventured, obviously hoping to keep her indoors. Beth deigned no reply. Her glance at the man was annihilating. A few mimites later she was walking with rapid footsteps 'towards the entrance gates of Unity Towers. She had forgotten the dogs. Her heart beat suffocatingly. ,She felt angry, excited, affronted. Once in the 'highroad, she turned her footsteps in the direction of Harp Hall, her carriage graceful and dignified, her lovely eyes troubled', her cheeks Hushed.

Something was going to happen, she felt sure of it. Something was going to occur, and very soon, between .herself and her husband. And oh, how she loved 'him, tender and devoted as lie was! How the days and hours had dragged since he had gone! How her heart cried out for him to come bn'ck! Her eyes, dim with moisture, were fixed on the ground. Suddenly she named them and looked ahead. In the road approaching her was the figure of a tall man, clad in a suit of dark blue, such rs years ago her lover had generally worn, and in which he hud looked his best. “It is G.!” she cried. “He's come home early, in consequence of Mars's wire. But why is he here —in this load, ot all places? ’L ie other road is the way from the railway station. I cannot make it out.” Tiion she reflected that her husband had not left home in a blue suit, and that all his clothes were browns, greens, and greys. “But it is—it must be he!” site decided. And, certain .-be was right, she wared her hand. She, however, got no response. “Oli!” she breathed. “What have I done? It is a stranger! Xo!—yes!— no! All, lam right! It is G.!” She stopped. “G.!” she called. “’Why don't you speak? Oh, G., you frighten me! Is there —I beg your pardon, l mistook you for my husband! ” The man had come close and drawn up in front .of her. He was like Guth, but thinner and haggard-looking. Large puffy rings were beneath his eyes, whilst his countenance showed signs of dissipation and bloating in the near future. Then he spoke. “Airs Gillman! ” lie panted. ‘ ‘ Beth! ’ ’ “What? What, do you mean?" Beth demanded hoarsely. Then she uttered a shriek and drew back.

“Beth, don’t!” cried the man. “Oh, Beth, don’t you know me?” “Know you?” echoed Beth. “\ ou are like —you remind me of —. But no, that is impossible!” “I am Guthrie Hillman —your lirst lover, Beth! Don’t look at me like that with such horror in your eves. You must recognise me —the Guthrie you loved of old!” “You are not he! Oh, God help me!” for she knew now he spoke the truth. “Then if you are,” she gasped, “whom have I married?” Before she could prevent him Guthrie snatched her to his breast. “You have married,” lie said, “my cousin Guth. ’ ’ GELYPTim XI. Exerting her whole strength, Beth wrenched herself free from Guthrie’s embrace, and stood back a pace or two looking at him with fury, reproach, and shame. At least she knew her husband’s secret. She could scarcely credit that this was the lover of bygone days —this man whose- very touch was now iepellent to her, the expression of whose, countenance was a danger-signal to anv observant woman, and whose breath, which had fanned her face in a hot wave of passion, was laden with the smell of intoxicants. “Don’t come near me! Don’t dare to touch mo!” she commanded. “You! The contemptible deserter that, you are! You! The man who must have deliberately passed me over to this other man You, now the husband of another woman!” “Hear me, Beth! T swear to you I have been wronged!” “Wronged? Wronged? By whom, indeed? Your cousin—the man you have let me marry in mistake tor you? Oh, tho shame! 4-lie degradation of it all!” (To be Continued).