“Fetters of Silence.”

Waikato Times, Volume 90, Issue 14049, 30 April 1919, Page 8

“Fetters of Silence.”

(Aim Rights Reserved.)

BY lIA HOLD AVERY, Author of ‘' An Anrdnir Adventure,” Captain Swing," ‘‘Out of ilie Running, ’’ “Fire. Look. ;uul Stool,” “In Days of Danger,” &<\ Publl>=h»ci by Special .4 rranfe-emfiiit. CHAPTER IX.—(Continued ) “Ah, my dear,’’ she said. “Tliore’s some as can see further than others; and old Jane Hoggin’s one of 'em. No—l ain’t going to say any more. For one thing you’re Colonel Elbridge’s young lady, and I might get into trouble if ho knew what I-’d been doing.” Sibyl forced a laugh, striving in vain to hide her eagerness to have the woman’s last sentence completed. “What was it you were going to say after ‘unless’ ?. At least you can tell me that much.” “Unless you take the advice of an old woman who knows what she knows, and who means you well.” The speaker rose from her crouching position, and hobbled to the cottage door. “The rain is over now, nuss,’ she added. Restraining herself with an effort from pressing her former inquiry, Sibyl left the cottage after thanking the old woman for allowing her to shelter from the storm. She was still in a state of blank amazement as she passed out through the little gate, and turned her steps in the direction of home. Was it trickery of some kind, or did the hag really possess some occult power of divining other people’s secrets? Suddenly it flashed across the girl’s mind that ‘Hubert had said that two persons besides himself knew the secret. Was it possible that Jane Hoggin was one of them ? By a late post on Friday, Mrs. Elbridge received a note from her cousin accepting her invitation for Saturday evening. Fane was punctual in his arrival, having drived himself over in his car. He was dressed in his customary faultless manner; anyone who had not known him intimately would have noticed nothing unusual in his appearance. To his cousin and the Colonel, however, he seemed in some way not his natural self, but more like a person who has nerved himself up to play a part which force of circumstances has thrust upon him. To all appearances dinner passed pleasantly enough ; there were no awkward pauses in the conversation; and when the young man was left alone with his host, the latter made no attempt to refer to the occasion of their last meeting. They remained at the table only loijg enough- to smoke a cigarette, then proceeded to the drawing-room. “1 must get you to excuse me for a few minutes while I scud for Robson,” said the Colonel. “There’s something I must toll him to do the first thing in the morning. After that we’ll have our game of billiards, Hubert.” Gertrude Elbridge had been seated at the piano as the men entered the room ; now, as the door closed on tho retreating figure of her husband, she rose, .and came towards her cousin, “I’m glad you came to night,” she said, in a low, eager tone. "William was beginning to think it strange your staying away so long.” “Yes, perhaps jt was best 1 should," said Huberf, thoughtfully, "but I couldn’t come before,” “Why not <” “I can’t explain it to yon Gertrude: but, jirietly between ourselves, i’m in serious trouble. No, it’s not that,” he continued quickly, noticing the anxious, questioning look whish appeared iu his companion’s face. “That matter’s all finally settled.’ For some seconds Gertrude Elbridge stood looking at him without speaking., “What'is it, Hubert!” she asked, suddenly. “Are you angry, with mo ? Arc wo no longer to be friends?” “No, no,” he answered impatiently. “It’s in no way your doing.” "Then what is it?” “I can’t tell you.” Gertrude Elbridge cast a hasty glance round the room as if to make certain that they were alone; then advancing a pace, she laid her hand upon her cousih’s arm. “I’m going to speak plainly, Hubert,” she began. “Heaven knows there’s no reason why we two shouldn’t bo frank with each other. Is it anything to do with Sibyl?” “What makes you ask that?” he inquired. “I had a notion that you were fond of her; and remember what I am telling you now is in the strictest confidence —her father has an idea that you two may have fallen out about something, and that is tho reason Sibyl has been so much out of sorts lately.” The young man’s face was distorted for a moment as if with some ‘harp spasm of pain. "I do love her,” he answered bluntly. “As you yourself said, Gertrude, there’s no reason why 1 shouldn’t bo frank with you, and T can trust you not. to let it go any further.” He paused biting his lips as if forcing himsdi to he calm. “No man ever loved a girl more than I love Sibyl, but it’s all over aud done

with now ; that is as far as any question of marriage is concerned. It is utterly impossible for me to ask to be my wife.” « “D’you mean that it’s my fault, Hubert?—that it’s owing to ” “No, he interrupted. “I assure you that it’s nothing of the kind. All I can do is to beg you not to ask me any further questions, and to remember that what I have already told you is strictly between ourselves.” Gertrude Elbridge’s lips trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. “Ever since that dreadful night,” she began, in faltering tones, “I have been so mean and selfish, Hubert, as I to hope that you and Sibyl would not become engaged. I was afraid that, 1 after you were man and wile, she 1 would know what you know, and in that way it would conic round to her '■ father. Forgive mo. I’m very! unhappy. -As for Sibyl, I believe, |! nay, 1 am sure, that she loves you; 1 therefore, why not marry her? I will help you in every way I can.” “No, Gertrude,” answered Fane firmly. “I tell you that as long as I have a shred of honour left it is impossible.” Gertrude Elbridge’s face exhibited an ever increasing perplexity and surprise. It was evident that Fane’s attitude mystified her. Before she could speak again her husband returned; and, after a few moments’ casual conversation, invited his guest to accompany him to the billiard-room. “Tush!” he exclaimed, a few moments later, as if suddenly recollecting something ho had forgotten. “Choose a cue, Hubert; I’ll be back in a moment.” The Colonel returned to the draw-ing-room, where his wife stood evidently awaiting him. “It’s not Sibyl,” she said, hurriedly. “I believe he’s in trouble of some kind, though he won’t tell me what it is. I think if I were you I shouldn’t interfere with him, William. At any rate, dou : » say anything to him to-night.’ “If he’s not in love with Sibyl, then all I can say is I don’t think his conduct has been entirely fair to the girl,” was the somewhat brusque p‘y“l believe he is fond of her; but there’s something on his mind.” “Humph! Got himself into trouble of some kind, has he?” muttered the Colonel, frowning. “It must be something he’s ashamed to own to,or I think he’d have told me. Well, I certainly shan’t ask him to give me his confidence again.” He turned and walked out of the room, wljile his wife resumed her scat at the piano. She struck a few random chords, then allowed her hands to fall into her lap. Worry, doubt, and perplexity were all mingled in the expressions which lipr face gradually assumed. “What can it be?” she mused. “I . must find out what has happened.”

CHAPTER X. In mid-Victorian days countless acres of solid mahogany owed its mirror-like .surface to "Cording’s Cream,” and it was the wealth acquired by the manufacture of this famous furniture polish which had purchased the historic Elizabethan mansion, Elmscotc Hall and established the present owner there as a county gentleman. Not only so, but, if rumour were to be believed, for services of a pecuniary nature rendered to his party, there was every probability that plain David Cording would soon be transformed into Sir David Cording, Bart. Colonel Elbriidge was no tuft-hun-ter, nor, on the other hand, was he sufficiently snobbish to look down upon a man simply because his fortune had been acquired in commerce; his friendship, however, with Cording, senior, might be said to have begun and ended with politics. Just now, on Hie eve of a general election, they had seen more of one another than was usually the case; and, whatever differences there might have been between them in temperament and breeding, they were wholly in sympathy on one point —politics. The dinner for which Hubert Fane had received and declined an invitation was not a large affair. The guests were all known to one another, with the exception of a Mr. Hornpolo, a friend of the host’s, who appeared to hail from London. He had a bald head, wore a diamond ring, and a chance remark which he let fall implied that he was in some way connected with the Stock Exchange. Nothing of any consequence was said at table; Mr. Hornpole exhibited a tendency at times to monopolise the conversation, possessing, as he did, a somewhat strident voice, and a way of addressing his remarks to the company in general. After the ladies had retired Gordon i Cording left his seat, and came round to a vacant chair by the side of Colonel Elbridge. During the whole of dinner he had been ranch less selfassertive than usual, and something in his tone when he spoke seemed to emphasise this improvement in his manner. ‘‘l’m sorry Miss Elbridge wasn’t able to come,” he said; then, in a slightly lowered tone, he added: ‘‘Though I don’t suppose she cares much for this sort of thing.” He made a slight, but at the same time comprehensive, movement of his hand, which seemed to include the entire display of solid plate, costlyglass, and choice flowers with which the table was overburdened. The suggestion, if intentional, was decid-

odly cleverly put, attributing as it did to Sibyl a refinement of taste which anything bordering on vulgax ostentation was likely to offend; and, at the same time, inferring that to Gordon himself there was a discordant note in his present surroundings.

“Not at all," answered the Colonel, pleasantly. “Sibyl would have come, but she has gone away on a visit to a friend.”

“My mother was hoping to have heard her sing and play. I’m sorry I’m not musical myself; I suppose it’s one of those things which have to be born in one. Still, even so poor a judge as myself can appreciate Miss Elbridge’s singing, though whether she would take that as a compliment or otherwise I’m sure I don’t know.”

The speaker laughed lightly, and | then sat fingering a sprig of ever i green from the table decoration, 1 looking dissatisfied and depressed, i The Colonel had never seen him in the mood before, lie had never imagined that Gordon Cording couid bo conscious of any natural deficiendies; and this, combined with the mellowing influence of a rare old port, caused him all at once to feel rather drawn towards the young man. Ho was about to make some remark, when Mr. Hornpojc, raising his voice, took possession of the table, •making general conversation for the moment impossible. “Oh, }-es, I knew him intimately —intimately,” Mr. Hornpoie was saying. “Sir Bryan Sterling and I are very old friends; in fact, I was staying at his house that night, some years ago, when a footman of theirs played them such a game. You no doubt read the account of it in the papers.” “Let’s see, I can’t say that 1 exactly remember ” began the Reverend Wilfred Appleby. “The robbery, I mean,” interposed Mr. Hornpoie, who needed no further prompting. “Or, rather, I should perhaps say the bogus robbery, for it was all a put-up thing on the part of this fellow Jennings. He’d been in Sir Bryan’s service for two years, and up till that time had always given satisfaction. Well, what does this follow do but rouse up the whole house in the dead of night, making the deuce of a row, saying that burglars had broken in, and that he had had a fight with two of them, who had knocked him down, and then escaped. He looked a shocking sight, I can tell you. His shirt was torn half off his back, and there was blood running all down his face. It’s too long a story to tell now, but, in the end, it was discovered that the two burglars wore a myth. Jennings had collared a whole lot of the silver himself, and buried it in a corner of the shrubbery. Ho thought, of course, that he could make it appear that the thieves had carried it off; and that, after the hue and cry was over, he'd be able to dispose of it himself. I must say he played his part very well, and even went so far as to damage his own scalp with the meat chopper, in order to make his story of the fight more convincing.”

Mr. .Tior.upolo laughed; then, as if anxious to impress on his hearers the fact of his c.osc friendship with Sir Bryan Sterling, ho leant forward over the table, and, adopting a confidential tone and manner, began again.

‘‘ There was one tiling in connection 5 . with that scare which was never made public. A young kinsman of Sir Bryan’s being the chief person concerned it was hushed up at the time, and I doubt if more than half a dozen persons, of whom I myself was one, ever knew that such a tiling had happened. Of course, in the present company, it won’t matter my mentioning it, but it needn’t go any further. When this fellow Jennings raised the alarm, as you may imagine, it threw the whole house into a state of uproar. The belief being that one of the burglars hadn’t got away, but .was hiding somewhere on the premises, the men of the party went roving about, armed with all kinds of weapons, from a doublebarrelled gun to a croquet mallet. Well, in the confusion a certain young fellow, whose name I won’t mention, conceived the brilliant idea of pocketing a Louis XVI. snuffbox worth close on five hundred pounds.” ‘‘Do you mean to say that he stole it?” gasped Mr. Appleby. ‘‘That, in plain English, was his idea; but, unfortunately for him, his action was observed by one of the daughters. Of course, he counted on its being put down to the burglars. Sir James forgave him, however; and, as I said, it was agreed that the thing should be hushed up. He was quite a young fellow, and had got into debt; just then he badly wanted a hundred pounds or so to extricate himself from a tight corner. No doubt a sudden impulse took him to pocket the snuff-box and turn it into money, and the temptation proved too strong for him. I think they subsequently shipped him off to one of the colonies.” (To he Continued.) c -