"Fetters of Silence."

Waikato Times, Volume 90, Issue 14052, 3 May 1919, Page 8

"Fetters of Silence."

(All Rights Rbserved.)

BY HAROLD AVERY,

Author of "An Armchair Adventure," " Captain Swing." "Out, of Hie Running," "Fire. Lock and Steel," "In Days of Danger," <fec Pnbli"hed by Special Arr&nfremnnt. CHAPTER X. — (Continued.)

Colinwl Elbrdgc's face clouded with an expression of disgust, 'lo his mind the repetition of this scandal, by onp who had been a ucst at the house, constituted a 'ericus breach of honour. As far as ie was able to do so he turned his jack on Mr. Hornpole, and addressed a remark to Gordon Cord"l suppose ycur father w.ll lend us his car for the polling? I want to bespeak as many as 1 can beforehand. Let's see, who else is there I ought to ask in this district," "There's Fane has a motor," was the reply. "He's the right colour, isn't he? The mater invited him to come here to-night, but he had an engagement," "Ah, yes, I'd forgotten Hubert. He'll be sure to lend his car, though he's not particularly keen on politics."

"I hear he talks of leaving Riffle Grange-" "You mean that he's going to travel for a time—going away for the winter."

"No, I fancy he thinks of going away for,good." "For good " echoed the Colonel. "Nonsense! He certainly never gave me to understand that he intended leaving the neighbourhood." "Is that Fane you're speaking about " interposed Mr. Appleby. ."I think you had it from me, Cording, that there was a possibility of his leaving. I was talking to him yesterday about the local cricket club, in which you know I take considerable interest. I asked him if he would play for us next season, and he said very probably he would not be here, as he thought of giving up the Grange, and living .-abroad. I understood him to say. that he intended doing so before ,Christmas." "All I can say is I'm very 'surprised to hear it," ejaculated the Colonel. "Fane gave me to understand that he meant to settle down sor good. I hope he isn't going '.to turn out a polling stone." "It's the men with roving dispositions who, I suppose, have made ;:he Empire for. us," remarked Gordon Cording, as if inclined to take the part of the person under discussion. "I often feel ashamed of myself for being such a stay-at-home iwhile other men are knocking about the world."

"Ah, my boy, but there are luties to be performed at home as veil as abroad," said the Colonel. 'For anyone who has a due sense 3)f its responsibilities there 'is no iner career on earth than to be an English country gentleman. They are and always have been', the oack-bone of the nation." The speaker proceeded to deliver a little homily on what was, with lim, rather a favourite subject. Gordon Cording listened with becoming deference and attention, iow and again fanning the fire of ohe speaker's eloquence with ■ some judicious comment or question of his own; by the time the' men rose :o rejoin the ladies he had risen considerably in Colonel Elbridge's estimation.

The latter had no opportunity for private conversation with his wife until they were driving home in their carriage. "Did Hubert say anything to you the other night about leaving Riffle ,Grange for good, Gertrude?" he asked. ••

; "No, not a word. Why, has he told you ho is going?" "No, but it appears that Ihe's given Appleby to understand that he means to give up the Grange, and live abroad. 'Pon my word, I ; can't make out what's coming to !the fellow. I was never more astonished in my life.

I Gertrude Elbridge sank back on the cushions, and said nothing. As there was no light in the carriage it was impossible to see the expression of her face, but if her thoughts just then had been inhered aloud her "husband's amazement would have been still more profound. Two days passed. Sibyl was expected home on the morrow; and, .n the meantime, nothing' more .had been seen or heard of Hubert ,Fane. The more he pondered over the young fellow's conduct the more perplexed did the Colonel become. A'fc one time he was inclined to attribute it to a love affair with Sibyl, and at another to some private trouble, the secret of which Hubert refused to divulge. It might, indeed, be a combination of the two, as his wife had suggested- The Colonel had announced his intention not to question Fane again, at the same time he felt a genuine concern in Hubert's welfare. He had known and liked him since boyhood, and lately that liking- had developed into something stronger- If he were really in difficulties, then it was possible- that an older head might at all events suggest some rational way of dealing with them. For

Fane to give up the Grange, and go to live abroad so soon after he had made up his mind to settle down in England, seemed very like taking some rash and hasty step which ho might subsequently have cause to regret. "I should like to get to the bottom of this if I could," said the Colonel to himself. "I should like to give him any assistance in my power if he chose to take it. I must be careful, however, not to let it appear that I've come to pry into his concerns, or that would choke him off at once." After a few moments' thought a sufficient excuse was hit upon for visiting the Grange. The Colonel had undertaken the work of arranging with the owners of motor-cars to lend them for the conveyance of voters to the poll on the day of the election. He could very we'll go and see Fane ostensibly on this errand. He decided to say nothing to his wife, but to walk over to the Grange the following day after lunch. Judith Weir answered his ring, and ushered him into the hall. Mr. Fane had gone out; she could not say when he would be back. "Have you any idea where he's gone?" "No, sir, he didn't say anything to me. He may be away some time, or he may be back any minute." "In that case I think I'll wait a bit." answered the Colonel. "I wanted to see him rather particularly, and it'll save me writing, or coming again." Judith Weir seemed to hesitate a moment; it was almost as if she allowed her mind to stray, and had not, quite caught what the visitor said, but before he had tme to speak again, she rcco\ered herself." "Perhaps you'll walk in, sir, and take a seat." A moment later the Colonel found himself standing alone in the old, long, low-ceilinged dining-room of the Grange; a fire had been lit, yc"o the place felt chilly- The dark, heavy furniture looked severe and comfortless; the silence, broken only .by the ticking of the cluck, soon became oppressive. "A young fellow living here alone would naturally find the place depressing," thought the Colonel. "Still, I should have thought he might have settled down. Theie must be some reason if he means to go away for good." He walked over to the window, and stood looking out. Whether it was due to something in the atmosphere of the place, or to his thoughts of Hubert Fane, he could not have told, but he found creeping over him a vague feeling of up- ! easiness; it was almost as if there had risen in his mind some dim presentiment of approaching disaster. He turned, and, seeing the daily paper lying on the table, sat down by the fire to read. In a mechanical manner he ran his eye over the leader; but lound, on reaching the end of the column, that he had no idea what it was about. Abandoning the attempt to while away the time in this manner, he leant back in his chair, wondering, for the hundredth time, what could be the matter with Hubert, and whether he would prove more communicative this afternoon than he had been on a previous oc«cas|on. Half an hour passed; there was no sign of Fane return- j ing, and at length the Colonel de- ; cided to wait no longer. * , ; "I'd better leave word with old ' Judith why I called," he said to! himself. "Or stay, she might for- 1 get. I don't want there to be any | mistake, so perhaps I'd better put it' in a note." ; Every detail what followed was j calculated to remain for ever print- ' ed on his memory. Glancing round the room he saw that the old bureau was open, and that pens, ink and paper all lay ready to hand inside. He sat down and wrote a brief note explaining that the ob- j ject of his visit was to secure the ' loan of the motor-car at the time of the election. The letter finished, he placed it in an envelope; then, hardly thinking what he did, he raised the flap on which he had been writing, and so closed the bureau. He was in the act of rising from his chair when he became aware of the fact that the envelope was not properly sealed; and as he stood up he laid it against the front of the bureau, and struck it a couple of rather heavy blows with his fist. As he did so, there was a mul'fied snap and clatter as if something had given way inside the desk. "Hullo! I've broken something," muttered the Colonel. He lowered the flap, and saw straight in front of him something which, at the first glance, looked like a small, shallow box. It had not been there before, and for a moment he did not realise what had happened. The bureau was old and cut of repair; the shock of the blowstruck on the sloping lid had been sufficient to release the imperfectly secured spring of a secret drawer which had been shot forward from its place of concealment at the back of the desk. Even now the Colonel imagined that something was broken; anxious to ascertain the nature of the damage he had done he picked up the drawer, and the next moment stood s'taring at its contents as if unable to believe his own eyes. | "Good Heavens!" he muttered.) "Whv -v-tiv ~-li-.t'= ft.; c s"

With a trembling hand he took? from the drawer the object in question. It was a leather case with some initials embossed in silver lettering on the top. He opened it, and on the velvet lining lay revealed to view a magnificent emerald and diamond necklace. It was a family heirloom which he had presented to his wife at the time of their wedding, and which had disappeared at the time of the jewel robbery at Greyfield Manor. There was a sound of footsteps; the dcor opened, and the Colonel, turning with the case still in his hand found himself face to face with Hubert Fane. CHAPTER XI. The two men stood staring at each other for so long a time that it j seemed as if neither of them was lever going to speak. The Colonel ■ was the first to break the silence, and he did so with a dazed look on .his face like that of someone awakening from a dream. "Hubert—this is Gertrude's necklace!" 'the sound of the speaker's voice seemed to break some spell which had hitherto deprived Hubert Fane of the power of action. He sprang forward with a muttered oath ; for a moment it seemed as if he would 1 so far forget the respect due to grey hairs as to strike his visitor witn his clenched fist. "How came you to open the secret drawer?" ho demanded- " You've no right to meddle with that bureau." "No right!" retorted the Colonel, in a voice which rose almost to a , shout. "No right to go to a drawer which contains my wife's stolen jewellery!" The flush of anger died out of irs face as it had suddenly appeared there, and his manner became aij moso apologetic. I "It was an accident," he began. "I was writing you a note, and happened to give this thing a blow ! with my fist when I wa.s sealing the envelope—" He seemed to lore uhe tin-cad of what he was saying, then burst out with: "Good Heav- ! ens, Hubert, where did this come from ? What does this mean?" j The young man's face looked po:;~ j i timely ghastly—twice he tried ,o speak, but words seemed to f..ii him. "It means—" he began, then/ broke off, adding in a helpless sor: of way: "I'm sorry, but I can't veil I you." j The Colonel stood as if still stupetied with the effects of his discovery. Gradually he began to recover from the first shock of amazement; and, as he did so, his mind seemed to be endeavouring to recall something which he had once beard, but which had since passed from his memory. It was something which a man had told him at the time of the robbery at Greyfield Manor—no, it was not then, it was some other time; he could hear the man's voice, yet was unable to locate him—ah! he had i'o now—Hornpole ! In a moment there flashed through his mind the story which he had heard related by the bald-headed man at the Cording 's dinner-table—the scandal connected with the robbery at Sir Bryan Sterling's, when a young fellow had taken advantage of the confusion to pocket a snuffbox of great value. Could it be possible that a | similar 'uhing had been done at i Greyfield Manor? I, "This necklace had disappeared on the night of the burglary at Greyfield," said the Colonel, in a strained, harsh tone. ! He paused as if to give the younger man a chance to speak, but there was no response. i "I find it here in your desk. 1 ask you what it means, and you say you won't tell me. Hubert, what on earth are you thinking of. Ton my soul, I can hardly bring myself to say the words, but—but ci'you wish me to believe you stole it?" Still Fane stood silent, yet in some strange way his attitude was not that of a convicted thief, but more "that of a man overtaken by some terrible disaster who stands to accept the inevitable with sullen defiance. "Why don't you speak, man? J.'ro you intend to stand there—" The Colonel's voice broke, then died away into silence as some vague and dreadful doubt rose suddenly in his mind. It took no definite shape, but for the moment it blotted out all recollection of the robbery. "Did Gertrude give it to you? Why—when did—for Heaven's sake tell me how it came here." The question seemed to goad Fane into a sudden burst of speech"No," he answered, "Gertrude never gave it me! I'll swear that! Think what you like of me, but for your sake, and for hers, I entreat of you to believe this one thing-j----that my relations with your wile have always been strictly honorable. Will you at least credit me with that? Do you believe what I say?" (To be Continued.) - ■ ■-'..