The Awakening of Theodore Wrenn,

Wairarapa Daily Times, 19 February 1935, Page 7

The Awakening of Theodore Wrenn,

(COPYRIGHT.) PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BY JAMES RONALD, (Author of “Tlio Secret of Hunter’s Keep,” "The White Card,” "The Monocled Man,” etc.) (

CHAPTER ll.—Continued. Sir Anthony laid hat, stick and gloves upon a chair, and advanced with his hand outstretched. They shook hands cordially, at the same time submitting each other to a searching scrutiny. "You’re looking well, Theodore,” said Sir Anthony jovially. "It must be quite three years since we last met. Lord, how time flies!” Mr Theodore Wrenn nodded quietly. Ilis eyes were frankly upon Sir Anthony, noting every detail in his appearance, every slight change since their last meeting. There were new lines under Sir Anthony’s eyes, his lips were looser than before, and his chin was inclining to flabbiness. Mr Wrenn drew a chair forward for his visitor, -who sat down and produced a fat cigar case. “No, thanks,” said Mr Wrenn, "I never smoke between meals.” Sir Anthony laughed as he selected a cigar and carefully lit it. "Still the same creature of habit, Thcdore!” lie exclaimed. "Wrapped up in rules and regulations. Do you ever do anything simply because you want to do it?”

Theodore Wrenn smiled whimsically. "I’ve grown out of the habit of wanting to do things,” ho replied. "It makes life less adventurous to be contented to remain in one’s rut, but it is much more peaceful.” Although they were entirely dissimilar in appearance and tastes, these two were first cousins. Theodore’s mother and Sir Anthony’s father were brother and sister. In appearance, Theodore took after his father, a mild scholarly man whoso wealth of learning was coupled with financial poverty. Sir Aiithony’s appearance was typical of the Ravenal strain.

Theodore had a high forehead, thoughtful* brown eyes, a straight, undistinguished nose, and a firm mouth and chin. His hair, which had been mouse-coloured in youth, was now sprinkled with grey, and one lock of pure white was brushed straight back above his left temple. He Avas three years younger than his cousin, but the repressed, quiet life which ho led had made him look at least three years older. Pcav casual observers Avould have estimated his age at under forty-tAvo or forty-three. He Avas five feet ten inches in height, but looked less; he Avas slightly and unmuscularly built. During his father’s life time, the Wrenn household had been a happy, but never an extravagant one, and after his death Theodore and his mother had had to struggle to pay their bills and live decently. SomehoAV they had managed it, and Theodore had studied law at London University. On his tAventy-first birthday he Avas taken in as a clerk to the firm of Gentry, Green and Gentry, Avhieli Avas at that time thriving and prosperous. Ilis mother had died nine years later, a martyr to the necessity for keeping up appearances, Avithout haA'ing realised her ambition to see her son a partner in the firm AA'hicli employed him. Theodore had sineo applied himself to hard work and modest living, and had become indispensable to the firm, Avhich could not have continued Avithout him, but Avhich had been sloav to recognise the fact.

„ "Still the same dusty mausoleum,” commented Sir Anthony dryly. "Have they made you a partner yet?”

The’odore shook his head,

"Not yet; I’m beginning to think they never will. Still, I ought to be content. I’ve a comfortable berth, and that’s a lot. I’m managing clerk.” "All responsibility, and little return,” said Sir Anthony quizzically. "What do they pay you?” "Four hundred and fifty pounds a year. ’ ’

Sir Anthony whistled. "Good lord! My yearly wine bill comes to more than that.” Theodore smiled.

"Must be bad for your liver,” he responded. "Don’t waste your pity on me. I haven’t had your training in expensiveness, you know. I live on about half my salary, and save the rest. I shouldn’t know what to do with more money.” "Spend it, damn it!” exploded Sir Anthony. "Spend it, and live while your arteries will let you. Good lord, man, you’re not living—you’re only existing. What on earth are you saving for?” Theodore shrugged his shoulders. "The present firm,” he replied serenely, "consists solely of Daniel Gentry, who must be eighty-five, if lie’s a day. The other partners have gone the way of all flesh. Daniel Gentry can’t live for ever, although I admit that it sometimes seems improbable that he will ever die. When he dies it may be useful for me to have a little capital.” "To buy a share in this musty old law firm?”

"This musty old law firm, as you regard it, 13 my life,” said Theodore quietly. "I’ve gir en my youth to it, and some day it’s going to bo mine.” Sir Anthony rose, grunting with exasperation. "Come out to lunch; I can’t bear this atmosphere any longer.” Theodore found his hat and umbrella, informed the office staff that he would be absent for an hour or two, and joined his cousin on the landing. They proceeded down the echoing wooden stairs in silence, and passed along Chancery Lane to the roaring chasm of Fleet-st. As they walked along together, they presented a strange contrast. Theodore, who wore a black jacket and waistcoat, striped trousers, a black bowler hat, and carried a rolled umbrella, walked briskly but mechanically, the picture of sober respectability. His cousin, attired in a suit made by the prince of Saville Row tailors, and carrying himself with an arrogant air, strode with militant aggressiveness like a man who knows bis world and is master of it.

In the Strand, Sir Anthony hailed a taxi, and they drove to his club in the Haymarket. Among the luxurious appointments of the club, Theodore looked peculiarly incongruous. Hewvas a gentleman, but there are varieties of gentlemen, and he presented a strong contrast to the sleek, overfed members, who emanated an air of expensive opulence. The club was by no means exclusive. Its criterion of membership was wealth. Sir Anthony, who belonged to half a dozen superior clubs, preferred the cuisine at this one, which catered for those who make gods of their stomachs.

(To be Continued).

During an epicurean meal, the cousins spoko very little to each other. They had feAv interests in common, and such remarks as they made concerned the most commonplace of topics. Over coffee, liqueurs and cigars, liOAvever, Sir Anthony explained the mission Avhich had taken him to Chancery Lane that morning. Hhe leant back in his chair Avith the contented sigh of a man avlio has lunched to repletion. "I’m going to be married, Theodore,” he said, Avatching his cousin’s face.

Theodore Avas faintly surprised. SomehoAV he had never pictured his cousin marrying.

"Congratulations. Who is she? Do I knoAV her?” Sir Anthonv shook his head.

"I fancy not. Name’s Wilding— Anne Wilding. Lives A r ery quietly. Paints miniatures. ’ ’

Theodore, avlio kneAV A'ery I’cav people outside of his oavu sphere, had ne\ r er even heard of Miss Wilding, whose miniatures of children had attained a certain mild celebrity. "AHoav me to congratulate you again,” ho said. "This is good mrws. You ought to marry, Tony. Marriage is a duty you oavc to your position.” Ilis cousin laughed heartily. "An heir to carry on the family?” he suggested jovially. "I suppose something of the sort is expected of me, but frankly, I never thought I’d marry. I had anticipated leaving the provision of an heir to you. Marriage has always frightened me. It. is so A'ery definite. But that’s life, Theodore. Six months ago, I Avould have a Avoman anything but marriage; a month or tAvo from uoaa', and I’ll be roped, tied and branded. A man can’t escape his fate. Some day a pair of bright eyes Avill lure you from your deed boxes.”

Theodore smiled. ’ "I tliijik not, he replied. "I haA r e so little to offer a Avoman.”

"How typical that remark is of you,” said Anthony. "A woman who loves you Avill find in you the qualities she Avants. I have been lov'ed by many Avomen, and I know. 5 ’

A froAvn furroAved his brow as he spoke. "That reminds me,” he continued irritably. "I’m in a devil of a mess, Theodore, and it’s all on account of the Avomen A\’ho Ve loved me, and Avliom I’ve loved. I Avant you to help me out, if you will.” "If I can, I will,” responded Theodore readily. "Good man! ”

Sir Anthony cleared his throat and commenced to explain the difficulty. As Theodore had guessed, a Avoman A\-as at the root of the matter —or rather, three Avomen, and the thing Avhich Ravenal Avanted his cousin to do Avas to see these three Avomen- —Esther White, Diana Marquis and Naomi Dean —and persuade them to give back, or sell, certain compromising letters ho had Avritten to them. Also, they must be given to understand that they must leave Sir Anthony Ravenal severely alone in future.

"It won’t be easy,” said Ravenal thoughtfully. "They’ll have seen the announcement of my engagement in the morning paper, and they’ll probably try to force up the price. Blackmail, you know. But I’ve got to have the letters, all of them, and I’ll have to pay whatever’s necessary. Confoundedly expensive business, getting married.” Theodore’s expression was grim and thoughtful. "It’s work that I don’t particularly care for,” he said slowly. Sir Anthony looked rather awkwardly at the ceiling, and from his expression Theodore realised that more was yet to come.

"There’s one thing I haven’t mentioned,” said Sir Anthony slowly, "one of the women—Diana Marquis, to be exact —has the Ravenal pearls.” Theodore sat up very straight with an expression of incredulous amazement in his eyes. "You gave her the Raveal Pearls!” He enunciated the words slowly and distinctly. Sir Anthony threw his half-smoked cigar in the fireplace. "Not exactly. I lent them to her, and she refused to return them.”

"But the Ravenal pearls are an heirloom!” Sir Anthony nodded his head wearily. "I know. It’s all a confounded mess. I’ve got to get them back. I’ll pay anything to get them back. Get them for me, old man!” Theodore stood up. "I’ll see what I can do,” he said brusquely. "'ln law, of course, if you can prove that you only lent them —”

"We daren’t call in the law!” his cousin protested. "You know the sort of unsavoury scandal it would create. They’ve got to be recovered some other way.”

Theodore sighed. This sort of thing was quite out of his line. "Very well,” he said with an air of finality. "I’ll do my best.” Sir Anthony wrung his hand warmly. "I knew I could rely on you, old chap,” he exclaimed. "You’re got carte blanche. Recover the pearls and the letters, and I’ll fo’ot the bill, whatever it is.”

He jotted down on paper the names and addresses of the three women, with a few other particulars, and handed it to Theodore.

"Call on me for whatever money is required,” ho said. The lawyer looked at his cousin oddly. His manner was peculiarly strained.

"Money!” he said in a particularly distasteful tone. "You think that all the problems of this world can be settled with money. If I were you, I should be careful; you may get into a scrape some day that money won’t get you out of.” He marched away in search of his hat and umbrella. Sir Anthony looked after him with a peculiar expression in his eyes. "What in thunder was he driving at?” he wondered, then added, half aloud: "Queen, dry stick. 110 might just as well be dead for all he gets out of life.”

A passing waited engaged his attention. He snapped his fingers, and the man stood respectively to attention. "A largo brandy-and-soda,” said Sir Anthony Ravenal.