Footprints Of Fate

Waikato Times, Volume 102, Issue 17277, 13 December 1927, Page 3

Footprints Of Fate

BY ANNIE HAYNES.

Author of “Lady Carew’s Secret,” “A Pawn of Chance,” ©tc., etc.

(Copyright.)

CHAPTER lI.—LURKING IN THE DARKNESS. • They drove as fast as possible to Fairview. The doctor did not speak much, his favourite car needed all his attention. Anthony for his part could not help recalling Deighton Cope’s words: “The fellow would shoot himself for an advertisement, only that would rid us of him for good and.all.” Had Malcolm Thoresby arranged a mysterious accident? One that would bring his name even more prominently before the public?' Derrick’s lips curled scornfully as he asked himself the question. Both Thoresby and his cousin had been schoolfellows of his, and Deighton Cope, and Anthony Derrick had from the first conceived a contemptuous dislike of Thoresby in strong contrast with his friendship for Stephen Malloson. As Anthony had remarked to Deighton Cope, Thoresby had ever been a “poseur,” even in his boyish days, but apart from that there had been something essentially false in his nature which had repelled plain-spo-ken young Derrick. That Malcolm Thoresby should choose to become an actor had surprised none of liis former schoolfellows —neither, perhaps, was it to be wondered at that he had achieved a certain amount of success in his profession. No. means likely to ensure his popularity was overlooked by Malcolm Thoresby. He had inherited a small fortune from his father, and this had sufficed to keep him until his name was made. Only this last year he had become lessee of the Imperial Theatre, and blossomed out into an actor-manager. Night after night the Imperial was crowded. “House full” was the common legend there when other theatres could hardly get an audience at all; and yet there was a class of playgoers, as there was a class of plays, that Malcolm Thoresby never touched at all. The serious lovers of the drama, as well as most of the great critics, were conspicuous by their absense in the long rows of stalls at the Imperial. It is doubtful if Thoresby ever discovered this. Ills enterprise was a huge success. His bank balance was going up by leaps and bounds, socially he was feted on all sides, every post brought him invitations galore, letters from silly women fascinated by his handsome face,.his beautiful voice; it seemed to him that he had attained the summit of his desires.

Fairview was on old Elizabethan house; at one time it had been surrounded by a moat now filled up. As Thoresby had first seen it in the mellow light of the setting sun, the quaint old mansion’s wonderful colouring, its unexpected nooks and corners, had delighted him. It was for sale, and he had purchased it without delay. For a lime the putting it in order and furnishing it had served as an occupation for his week-ends; but soon he began to look out for fresh amusements, and then had begun the erection of the building which he called a pavilion after the fashion of those built for the unfortunate Marie Antoinette at Le Petit Trianon, and which his neighbours had dubbed the Folly. It had only been finished a few weeks, and it and the extravagant nature of its plenishing were still favourite themes of gossip among the inhabitants of Woodford. It was obvious as Dr Derrick and his son came in sight of it, that there was something • wrong at T’ajrview, lights were flitting about in the darkness between the house and the Folly, the front door stood wide open, a group of maidservants was gathered together in the hall, some of them were crying- . The doctor stopped in the drive. “I won’t go right up to the house. Wc will leave the motor here, Anthony, it will be all right.” His quick eye had caught sight of a couple of men standing near in the shadow of the ivy-covered porch he went quickly across to them; one was Carson, Malcolm Torcsby’s valet, the other was the village policeman. Even in the uncertain light cast from the windows behind it was easy to see that they looked white and frightened. Carson’s expression changed when he saw the doctor. “ Thank God you are come, sir.” “That is all very well,” the doctor rejoined sternly. “But whats wrong? Where is your master? Why have you left him!?” “Because there is nothing more any of us can do for him, sir," the man said respectfully. “He was gone when we found him. He lies over at the Folly. Nobody can do him any good sir; though, of course, wc sent for you directly, as in duly bound." “Let me see him at once, IT. Derrick said shortly. He turned off quickly across the grass towards the Folly. lie lifted bis hat from his’ brow one as he hurried on. “Dead, he said, half aloud. “Dead, impossible !” ... Anthony followed, carrying his father’s bag. Carson kept pace with him. “There is no manner of doubt about it, .sir,” ho went on, anxious after the manner of his class lo impart the, details to someone. Tic islying right on his back on the hearthrug, shot through the heart, I should say, though, of course, that, is for the doctor to decide. The pistol is lying right beneath his hand." A conviction that the man must be speaking the truth stole o\cr Anthony’s mind. Thoresby had meant to inflict a slight wound, just enough to cause a pleasant sensation and a mystery? And had his aim been uncertain, and his shot put an end to that luxurious pleasure-loving life? Little as he loved Thoresby, be could not contemplate such a possibility without emotion. “It was one of a pair he picked up in Venice last year," the valet went on. “He was very proud of them, the poor master. And this past fortnight he has been practising with them ever since they stole the jewellery. ‘ Tf they come after any more of by belongings I shall be able to deal with them,’ he said to me only this morning.” “Did you find him?” Anthony queslioncd, his voice lowered, as though be were in the presence of the dead. The man nodded. “ Vcs, sir! I went in lo lake the letters that came by the last post, lie was always particular about that. It seemed only a few minutes, though I suppose as a matter of fact, it was getting on for an hour since I let Mi’ Malieson out and the master was laughing and joking with him.” Anthony felt surprised. “Mr Malleson is here, then? I didn't know. “Yes, sir. The master wired for him this afternoon, .something about the robbery, I think it was. Mr Maileson came down by the six tram, he

was to spend the night at Fairview — but he went out after dinner, meaning, as I understood, to walk down as far as Dr. Derrick’s” —with a discreet glance at Anthony. “But as he passed the police station he stopped to have a word with Constable Morris, they come from the same village, if you remember, sir, and he was still there when we sent down witlfi the news of the master’s death. He came back at once with the constable, and having seen the master so lately he is terribly upset, is Mr Malieson.” His voice dropped into silence as they rounded the bend in the shrabbery that gave Immediately on to the Folly/ The door stood wide, open, they oould see into the hail, Moorish in design, tiled with wonderful blue bricks, lighted by some electric device of unseen lamps form beneath the cornice, in the centre a fountain splashing down threw back in a hundred prismatic tints the colour of the tiles. Close to it Stephen Malieson was waiting, his white face telling of no ordinary shock. Thorsby’s old housekeeper stood by weeping. Dr. Derrick went straight in. “Where is he?” he questioned briefly. Malieson pointed to an open door. “In his own study. There is nothing to be done, Doctor.” Dr. Derrick did not answer as he went straight across. Anthony waited behind. As his hand met Malleson’s the younger man had a moment’s vision before the door was closed a vision that remained in his mind wiille life lasted. Thornsby’s study was absolutely unlike what might have been expected from the extravagant, furnishing of the rest of the house. Malcolm Thoresby knew the force of strong contrasts; his stud} resembled a monk’s celt rather than the favourite sitting-room of the Sybarite master of Fairview. It was painted a oold pale grey, over . the mantelpiece hung a copy of the Sis tine Madonna; there were no other pictures or ornaments; the furniture was of the scantiest and of the simplest description; the boards were plainly polished, and the only carpet was a beautiful Persian prayer rug before the fire place. It was to this rug that Anthony’s eyes were drawn by a sort of horrible fascination, across one end of it, just as it had fallen lay a silent figure. .. Dr. Derrick knelt down beside it. Anthony and Malieson, with the valet peering behind them, stood still on the threshold. The light fell full upon Malcolm Thoresby’s face, handsome as ever now that Death’s awful seal was set on the statuesque features. A smile still seemed to linger round the beautifully curved lips, his right arm was stretched a little away from his side, and beyond it, just as it might have dropped from his hand, lay a tiny toy pistol, a dainty jewelled trifle that hardly looked capable of dealing out the death that had overtaken Malcolm Thoresby. _ t J , Anthony drew back with a shudder. There seemed something so terribly incongruous looking from that stark silent form to the many signs of the dead man’s recent occupations—a paper-covered copy of a new part lay open on the table, a writing-pad with a half-finished letter upon it, looked as if it had been pushed hastily aside, a couple of dumb bells had been thrown down on the floor as though their owner had been practising and had been interrupted. Dr. Derrick rose from that first scrutiny, and closed the door, his face looking curiously grave and stern. Anthony and Malieson went back to the Moorish Hall, and waited by the splashing fountain. “How do you imagine it happened?” the former questioned. “It must have been an accident — of course, it was, a accident,” Mslleson said hoarsely. “My cousin loved his life, why should he wish to end it ”

Anthony shrugged his shoulders “One never knows.”

(To be continued to-morrow.)