Dearer than Life

Waikato Times, Volume 100, Issue 16817, 8 June 1926, Page 3

Dearer than Life

CIIAPTF.iI 11. (Continued.) He had Imped down before Norah eoud reply, and slie took hold of the dr.g's collar, lie made, no attempt to go ader his master, and Ids faithful eyes looked up into hers as she held him. She felt a little thrill of alarm, hul, only for a moment, awl Hector seemed a trusty safeguard. His owner would he hack in a few minutes, and she would hear the reason for the delay.

She turned the thick brass collar and read the name. "Lucius Staunton," and beneath it. "Clavcrley Hall." As she, did so the young man was climbing inlo the carriage.

"I'm glad you're not, frightened," he, said, and there came that kind, humorous twinkle in his eyes that Norah noticed with a feeling quite strange to her. "We ran into a goods truck, and the windows of an empty carriage were smashed. They're clearing away what's left of a cargo of furniture."

"Shall we be kept long?" asked Norah anxiously.

"Half an hour possibly. I offered to help, but knowing you would want lo hear what had happened I've come back. Nobody's been killed or hurt. I sec you and Hector are good friends. That was only to be expected though." "Perhaps your help will be useful," said Norah. Haneing at his stalwart figure. His nrown hands were well shaped, and denoled strength, whilst the short, curly hair that had the tinge of gold as the sun rested on his bare brail gave him the semblance of a Grecian athlete in her quick imagination.

"You think so'?" and he gave a laugh. "Then I had heller lend a hand," but he remained at the open door. "I offered, of course, hut no one appeared overwhelmed with gratitude." Still he hesitated, and Norah felt a sense or protection by Ins presence. The accident had given them a sort'of right, lo talk. "I'm gelling oul al Hie nexl station," he went on. "Perhaps I should save lime by walking there. You're going further, 1 presume." "Yes; I'm rather vexed by the delay." "It's a case for patience."

Norah could not resist a smile, and he sat down, apparently forgetting his promise lo help. "You said you were going to lend a hand." said Norah. "You're sure you don't mind being alone'.'" "Why should I mind?" "Anyway, Hector will see you don't come lo harm." ami with Ibis he got down from tin 1 carriage. Half an hour lab r, and the train resumed its interrupted .journey. Norah seeing the heap of debris as it went by the broken goods truck. She had refrained from speaking lo her companion beyond replying In something he had said about Hie accident, and her silence? kept him from al tempting any further conversation until his destination was reached.

"I'm glad you and Hector arc friends," he said. "He's a fine judge of character —never makes a mistake." Hector had placed a big paw on her knee and was looking up into her face, whereupon she stroked bis head, bending down to evade Ins master's glance. Then they had arrived at the station, and Lucius Staunton had gone. Norah was conscious of experiencing a curious loneliness she had not noticed before.

Dusk was settling over Hie landscape by the lime her journey ended, and as the, station cab carried her to .Mr Trevelyan's house a host of thoughts occupied her. It was impossible to forget the meeting with LueiusgSlaunloii, and she found herself repealing the name as though it were quite familiar. Hector was another pleasant recollection, and then eamo the memory of his master's voice, which, for ail its roughness, had touched a chord in her heart that was vibrating still.

Then all these thoughts were swept aside as the cab stopped at the hall door, where stood a nurse whose emotionless face confronted her as she went forward. There was an unusual silence, the hush presaging something, and the nurse was speaking. "Why was I not sent for?" wailed Norah; and she would have hurried into the house, but the sight of Mrs Trevelyan coming across the hall caused her to draw back. CHAPTER 111. —A Rude Awakening.

Lost in a pleasant reverie, Denis Montford lay back in his deep armchair by an open window overlooking the Green Park, and if any human being had reason for being satisfied with life it was himself. He was heir to an estate of many thousand pounds a year, and Fortune had showered her g.i'fts on him lavishly, lie was a goodlooking man of six-and-twenty, although his thick eyebrows and swarthy skin, together with ins heavy lips, imparted a certain coarseness to his face. Ho was thinking of Norah Trevelyan, as he had done a hundred times since they had first met, and with all the ardour of his passionate nature he was looking forward to tho time when they should see cacli other again. His meditations were, disturbed by the entrance of his valet, and he roused himself, impatiently taking the, card which his man had brought. He read it with a frowning look. "Did Mr Derrick state his business, Charles?" he as'ic.d. "The car will be around in a quarter of an hour, and I've no time for visitors."

"The gentleman said his business was important, sir. He wished particularly to sec you."

Montford considered for a moment. He was due al Hawkswood Manor that, morniug, and Mr Derrick might hinder him, but be remembered the name. Possibly be was some acquaintance of Sir Guy Montford, so he decided lo see him.

"You can show Mr Derrick up. Charles. Mention that I am pressed for time."

Speaking thus, he moved to the, fireplace, rested his arm on the, mantelpiece, and awaited his visitor, who, coming into the room, returned Montford's cold greeting with an air of easy assurance.

Arthur llerrlck was a man about thirty years of age, faultlessly dressed, ■anil groomed to perfection. Uninvited, he drew n chair to the table, seating himself wild a composure that Montford inwardly resented. There was something in his visitor's clean-shaven face that put him instinctively on his guard. "Your man told me'you arc going out of town this morning, Mr Montford, so I'll not detain you for long." and Mr Merrick leaned forward, speaking as if every word were calculated. "You are going to llawkswood Manor, i believe. A wonderfully line old house. I'm riven to understand, and a remarkably fine income goes with it. You're 1.0 be congratulated." Montford was regarding him Willi growins annoyance.

Copyright. (Published by Arrangement with tho General Press, Ltd.)

By EDGAR PICKERING. Author of "Love, the Conqueror,” "The Secret Foe,” "Murder Will Out," &c., &e.

"I'm not aware that my affairs need interest, you." lie answered, "and if

Ilerrick raised his haud, and Montford slopped abruptly. "Ilawkswood and something like twenty thousand a year will ho yours when Sir <~.uy Mont ford dies. .Why shouldn't I congratulate, you?"—and a change carne into Merrick's lone. "K you tell me you would rather not, hear what. I have lo say there are. others who would he very pleased to know what it, is. It's a slnry about a man who died in India some years ago. You were at Kton at Ihe time." "I've a fair amount of patience," replied Montford, restraining his rising anger, "hut stories don't interest inc. Mr Merrick. You'll pardon my speaking so plainly." "My dear sir," and Ilcrrick gave a dry little laugh. "I am prepared for your speaking a great deal plainer. There is no occasion for warmth —we shall get on much bettor without that. You'll understand in a few moments what I mean."

."Well, I'm hanged if I do now!" answered Montford, and he walked to the window, gazing out in an attitude of utter indifference lo Mr ilcrrick and his story. A little silence ensued, broken shortly by the latter. "1 fancy you'll lhank rue presently," he said, "because 1 might be telling this story ot' mine to somebody else. You would not thank me. if 1 did that." Something in the words —a halfveiled warning perhaps, or threat —■ caused Montford lo swing round and face him again. There was nslonishment written in his eyes, whilst llerriek's wore a look of gratification. "Co on" exclaimed Montford angrily. "I'll hear what you have to say."

He was experiencing a disagreeable sense of helplessness against this man, whose sinister eyes were watching him narrowly. Nothing would be easier than lo ask Mr Ilcrrick lo go, yet for some unaccountable reason lie dare not do so. The proper thing was lo get rid of him civilly. II was what anyone else would have done. A sudden lack of mural courage prevented him from speaking, and Merrick wenl on.

■"inure lo he envied, Mr Montford." lie said, glancing round at tip' sumptuously appointed room. "You've the prospcrl of coming! iu for Iwenly thousand a year and a position or influence, and all Ihe resl of it. A present and future no man would resign without a great ileal of regret, I should imagine." ••I've had enough of this," ejaculated Montford. "and unless you've any——" "lleason fur .saying if.'" and-Ilcrrick interrupted him again. "I'm taking tip your time uselessly. You were about io say thai, 1 Ihink. Well, I have a reason. It's i-onin-ctcil will', the man who died in India."

There was another awkward little pause, as if In 1 were wailing for an answer, hut none came. "A ecrlain otllcrr who was in command of an up-country station," continued Ilcrrick. "lie was found dead in his bed one morning about Ill'leen years ago ,and a long-kept secret died with him. At least so one might have believed. But secrets have an unfortunate weakness for being found out, and so was his recently. He had adopted an orphan child, who became like his own son lo him, and passed as such. In due time this hoy was sent to England to be educated, being received" by Uie officer's brother as a nephew." Monlford was listening rigidly, and Ilcrrick stopped for a moment as though gauging the effect of his story. "You are following me?" he asked. "Yes." replied Montford. "Is there, any more of il?" "Not much. I've omitted details — the reasons for which the man 1 am speaking of chose to keep his own counsel regarding his adopted son. He may have, intended to speak out;, who can ever know? Anyway he never did. The truth of Hie matter would never have been discovered unless chance —an accident, you may say—had revealed it. I needn't describe that, however."

Montford had resumed his position at the fireplace, regarding llerrick i'rowningly. "And having told me all this," he said between his set teeth —"a story which may be true, or invented for some purpose of your own, but which certainly is not of the slightest interest to me, there is nothing more to be said."

"Except this," —and llerrick spoke very quietly—"that the man who died in India fifteen years ago was Sir Guy MontforcTs only brother—a Colonel Gerald Montford," and as he said this lie saw an ashen pallor spread over Montford's face. (To be continued to-morrow.)