Hearts in Bondage

Waikato Times, Volume 100, Issue 16751, 18 March 1926, Page 3

Hearts in Bondage

Croyrlff&t. (Published by arrangement wim ine Genorsi Press, Ltd.)

, (By CHRISTOPHER WILSON) Author ot “Sundered Lives,” “Blind-fold Love,” “The Heart of Delilah.” etc.

chapter vnr.— Flight. The door of the library stood ajar, and Sylvia Gangdon entered very quietly so as not to disturb the occupant of the big armchair near the windows that looked out into Berkeley Square. His hack was turned to her, he was apparently absorbed in his newspaper, and lie did not look UP m turn,round, even when she went noisi iy over to Lite writing table iu 1 corner and begun to search througii one of the drawers. For a moment she hesitated, with a sealed 1 ter in her hand; then going over to him she said: "Oh, could you let me have a postage stamp, Uncle? I can’t And one anywhere.” At tlic sound of her voice the rccumbant figure in the armchair straightened itself with a jerk, and as the man rose to his feet Syl'ia saw that it was not her uncle. “I am so sorry,” she murmured with a slight, blush. "I thought you were Lord Garron.’ Then the colour deepened in her checks. For instead of making any reply, the str/inger gazed at her sile.nlly with /m intent scrutiny that was embarrassing. Also stie was confused by a curious feeling that his features secined vaguely familiar, as if she had mpt him somewhere before.

“I am wafting for Lord Garron,” lie said slowly. “I have an appointment with him, and the butler told me lie would be here directly and that I was to wait l'or him.”

As he spoke he took a letter-ease f'om his pokot and handed her a stamp. Jn a flash she remembered where she had seen him. He was the man who had been closeted with her uncle in the study down at Bclmouth, on the night that she had interrupted them. "Thanks, awfully,” she stammered nervously, “but, I shall send Porson out with the letter. It is very kind of >ou all the same.” “I wish you would take the stamp from me," he said, with strange insistence in his tone, his eyes still fixed steadily on her with intense concentration. "Lord Carron and 1 are—old 1 acquaintances—my name is Ingram, and —please lake it —Miss —Sylvia!’’

“Very good, Miss Sylvia," said Porson, as ho went slowly towards the door of the library. But at the door he paused for a moment, with a glance at Sylvia, who was going up the staircase to her own apartments, and slowly shook his grey head. A tew minutes later Sylvia came downstairs and entered the library, where Lord Garron was pacing impatiently to and fro in front of the big fireplace. As he caught sight of her ho checked in his stride, and said gruffly: “Sit down. I have some questions to ask you." “Well?" Sylvia did not sit down, and there was a note of challenge in the monosyllable, which ought to have been a warning to Lord Carron. But it only infuriated him. “I have stood more than enough of your wilfulness, and I am not in the mood to be trifled with, I assure you.” “Well? You said you had questions to ask me?” “What were you and Ingram talking about this afternoon?” “Oh, about several things. About you, for instance." “What did he say about me?” Sylvia was startled by the fierceness wilh which the question was hurled at her, hut her tone was tantalisingly calm as she answered slowly: “That you and he are old acquaintances. I think that was all he said about you, as far as I remember.” For a moment, Lord Carron stared at her from underneath his hanging brows, as if trying to pierce into the recesses of her droughts. Then he said abruptly: “Do you know what he is?” "No. I know nothing about his except that lie is one of your Belmoulh friends.” “He is a madman,” said Lord Garron. “Suffering from insane delusions. And you ought not to have talked to him at all.” “What has Mr Ingram got to do with what you call my wilfulness? I have no desire to converse with people who suffer from delusions. It was purely by accident that I met him here." (To be continued <o-morrow.)

There was a peculiar note of strain in his voice., and Sylvia was puzzled and almost startled by the emphasis, with which he uttered her Christian nr me. She took the stamp, thanked him again, and bowed gracefully. But Ingram’s eyes seem'd to hold her like a spell. And while she hesitated for a moment, as if unable to go, he spoke again, abruptly and in a vibrant undertone.

“Arc you happy here? Really happy?" It was an ndd question from a complete stranger, hut possibly if it had not probed so deeply into her life at Carron House, Sylvia might have made allowance for the harmless eccentricity of her uncle’s friend. As things were ihe question angered her, and there was indignant protest in her reply. "Heady, .Mr. Ingram, I hardly understand. . . . Of course, 1 am happy.” His eyes seemed lo waver before the accusation in tier glance, and he murmured jerkily: “Please forgive me. I know that I had no right to h'sk you such a question. Hut I had my reasons for asking. If you knew my reasons you would make allowance for presumption on my part." Although he offered no explanation there was a vague appeal in his manner that overcame Sylvia’s feelings of resentment. Suddenly it Hashed upon her that perhaps he was a friend of Hale’s, •

“Have we not met before, Mr. Ingram? I fancy I have seen you at Bclmouth ?"

“Possibly. I know Belmoulh pretty well. I used to live tliere,” he replied evasively, in a conventional tone that contrasted strikingly with his previous utterances. Sylvia did not press the question. “I ain sorry you have had to wait so long. I hope my uncle will be in soon,” she said politely, as she turned away. "Oh, it docs not matter. I am not in a hurry. I can easily wait. Ilis words were commonplace enough, but there was a sinister note in his voice which did not escape the ear of the girl. Her brows were still knitted, in peiplexity as she went out to the t all and met Lord Carron who had just arrived. “Mr. Ingram is waiting- for you in the library, Uncle." “What?” The exclamation rang out with explosive violence, and Lord Garron's face was purple, as lie caught roughly at her arm, and asked in a hoarse undertone: “What do you know about him? lias lie been talking to you?” “Yes. Wc hud a few minutes of conversation while he was waiting for you." Lord Carron glanced swiftly at the girl's lut and costume and (here was a curious mixture of anxiety and anger in his voice, as lie asked abruptly : “Where arc you going?” "Only to the post office and then to do some shopping.” “Gome to me as soon as you get bark. Do you bear? I want to have a talk with you, and it is important.” Sylvia had of late become only too much accustomed to his rudeness and bad temper to wonder at the harshness of his lone, but the way in which the mention of Ingram’s name had affected him was bewildering, and while she was transacting her business in town she sought vainly for some explanation of llie sudden outbreak. But, if Lord Carron could have followed her movements that afternoon, lie would have been quite as much puzzled. K-or the “shopping" was peculiar, and in several of the “shops” that Sylvia visited, it was she who was the vendor and the shopkeeper who made the purchases. When she returned to Carron House Hie old butler opened 11 ic door, and sin: was aware of an expression of furtive uneasiness in his eyes, willi which sin: was familiar. When thunder was in the air, Person was always sensitive lo it. “Has Mr Inaram gone?” ‘■yes, .Miss Sylvia. About ball an hour ago.” "is Lady Carron in the drawingroom ?” “Lady Carron went out just before Mr Ingram left, and will not lie. back till six o'clock. Will you have tea hi the drawing-room or in your boudoir, Miss Sylvia?" There was a kindliness in the tone ; of tiie old servant, who bad known ! and petted Hie girl from her childhood. which touched her. “No. thanks. Person. I shall not. have any tea this afternoon. But will you tell Lord Carron that 1 have rnmc , in and shall he with him directly.”