"SHADOWS"

Waikato Times, Volume 103, Issue 17409, 23 May 1928, Page 3

"SHADOWS"

SYNOPSIS. SHELAGH HURSTBORNE, the daugh« ter of a City financier who dies a ruined man, sets out to earn her own living. She breaks off her engagement to HUGH MOYSTON, a selfish young man-about-town. Thm. to her surprise, she receives a visit from MARCUS DRAKE, the man who, she believes, ruined her father. He offers assistance which she declines. After vainly searching for work, Shelagh is engaged as advertisement canvasser to "European Art," the editor of which, MR. STANTON, turns out to be something of a waster. One night he tries to make love to Shelagh. She struggles with him. Marcus Drake arrives and orders Stanton out. In revenge Stanton puts an announcement in the paper from which Shelagh learns that Drake is the proprietor of "European Art" and had especially arranged for her to take the post of canvasser. Drake asks her to keep on with the work, in spite of her dislike of him. CHAPTER XIX. Suddenly she found herself jerked away. With a broken exclamation she stared in alarm at Drake. He was pointing to a long white cloud, racing towards them on the ground Jike an army of whirling phantoms. "We arc caught in a mist!" he declared. "But surely—" She wheeled sharply and stared below into the valley. Her first hope was cut short. The mist had descended with the abruptness peculiar to Dartmoor. It was forming a complete circle around them. As if in mockery, the sea gleamed in the red sun, between the flying veils of cloud. "Can't we run for it?" she gasped.

I But Drake shook his head. ! "It's too late. I ought to have ; realised what was happening before. J It would he dangerous to do down the steep side of the tor." "But how long will it last?" "I'm afraid," he said slowly, _ "it may last all night. But there's a ruined farmhouse which might shelter us ... . You aren't afraid?" Meehaically she shook her head, But she had gone very pale. The panorama, which had been so magnificent a few minutes ago, was now entirely blotted out. They were enveloped in a white, gossamer fog, which rapidly darkened. And it would last all night. She would have to spend the night alone with this man on the moor. A shiver broke over her, and then she felt His , arm tighten around her protectively. | Darkness came with the mist. There ' was no twilight. The world was shapeless, formless, dissolving into primitive chaos. Chaos reigned in Shelagh's heartThere was something bizarre, halfincredible in the situation. They were trapped on the lonely moor, in a strange new world, without sound or dimension. One thing only broke the silence, the weird scream of a pony caught in the treacherous mire : that surrounded them. I Shelagh. ' followed him, at snail's pace, as he picked out a path between the boulders and the dangerous furze-covered 1 pits. The chief risk was that 'they might move in a circle, but Dra^e ' knew the moor very thoroughly. He I could recognise certain rocks by fcelI ing them with his hands. Unce a sheep bounded across their ' path. In the darkness that was even ! 'terrifying. But, trusting to his instinctive sense of location, Drake slowly made his way towards the ruined farm. ft lay below the lor, a tragic story of mail's struggle against pitiless nature, and man's ultimate defeat. Shelagh's Jirst knowledge that they had found the refuge was conveyed by feeling; her hands "went out and struck something hard and flat. Drake tried a match, and by the feeble, spluttering rays they entered the ruin. Apart from a gaping window and a few rotten boards the room they entered was sound enough. At least they had a roof overhead. "We can stay here," said Drake, glancing around and then Hinging the j match from his lingers. "I'll tight I a fire." He was eminently practical in the emergency. Tearing up some wood, he soon had a blaze in the wrecked hearth. The room was filled in the warm, orange glow and leaping shadows; the fog travelled down parallel bars of yellow light, Jike pale smoke. After overcoming her reluctance Shelagh sat down on the musty hoor. j in the next room she could hear the patter of mice and rats. Opposite her ! a gigantic spider swung on the end of i its thread. | Ugh! She shuddered and held out | her hands to the llames. Quietly j Drake removed his coat and slipped 1 it across her shoulders. "Perhaps you'll get some sleep," he ; suggested.

A Strange Predicament. "Then you think," she said, looking up a!, him, ".we shall be here all nigh I.'.'*' •Tm ccrl-ain of it. Bui if you like I'll go into the other room." ".No." she replied, .emphatically, "slay with me." Drake was completely in command Of the situation* When they were together in London it was Shelagh who dominated, with few exceptions. Hut now the role was reversed. She was recovering from her first fear. She felt a sort of anger that she should he placed once more under an obligation 'to Drake, that shfl should feel the least pleasure, and relief at being near him. Her heart was divided into warring camps; she hated herself and she tried still to hate Drake. . , How would it end now? She had j?one further than she had intended. She had played the part of lover so well that she had almost believed in il Yet soon she must hell him the truth . .'. . and she must decide about her future. "You are plucky." he told her. ■ Tm n . o t_rY C been in a lernble funk." ~ ~ "Then vou havcii'-t shown it. -\i one time there was real danger but now—it's quite an adventure, don i you think?" ~ He threw some more wood on u» fire sending "P a cloLld ot ' ", pa ,, s ' The blaze revealed his profile, the hatchet face, and the sharp, intellectual eves. As he placed his arm around her Shelagh moved slightly agamst him, purely out of fatigue. He stared for a moment at her lac, her downcast, eyes and drooping lips. The desire came to him to kiss her. but with an errort ho controlled himself. He did not speak again. Gently, a* though she were a child, he caressed

(BY PATRICIA LEIGH.) Author of "A Modern Girl," Etc

(Copyright.)

her hair, and they both stared into the glowing embers, dreaming. It was past midnight when Shelagh fell into an uneasy sleep. She was overcome by the heat of the fire and the strong moorland air. Their positions had scarcely changed; her head rested on his chest and she breathed deeply and regularly. Unconscious of what had been passing in her mind, Drake continued to stare at her, with a tender light in his eyes. She loved him—what other happiness could he want? Gently, as though afraid of waking her, he touched her hair with his lips.

The mist cleared at daybreak. None the worst for their experience Shelagh and Drake arrived at the manor in time for breakfast. Old Mrs Drake had not been informed of the incident, but there was considerable excitement below the stairs. A search party had even bepn contemplated. That afternoon Lady Crittal and her daughter were rather unwelcome callers. The specified reason, to obtain a donation from Drake. Everyone was on the lawn. Mrs Drake had been wheeled out in her hath chair, and with shrewd yet kind'.v eyes she looked on, crocheting whenever bored. Naturally Lady Crittal did most of the talking, and Drake was a polite but unsympathetic listener. Leaning on a parasol, Esme glanced from time to lime rather sullenly at Shelagh. "It's such a wonderful idea," Lady Crittal was saying. "But we need more money. I want to organise a garden fete for these poor people. The mainstay of our party, Mr Drake, is the working woman. If you influence her you influence the England of tomorrow. And it's surprising what a grasp many of these women have of really intricate political problems. Last week, for example, I was explaining to the char why food ought to bo dearer; why, strange though it may seem, low wages and high prices can alone save our Empire. . . ." Ignoring her mother—who, however watched her from the corner of her eye—Esme astonished Shelagh by revealing a full knowledge of her night on the moor. "It must have been a terrible experience," drawled Esme. "But how did you know?" demanded Shelagh in surprise. "Everything is known in the counr try. One should never come here with any secrets." Esme smiled as she spoke, but her remark was obviously not directed at random. "I wasn't really afraid," continued Shelagh. "In fact, most of the nigh!; I was asleep." "But you weren't alone!" "Had I been alone it would havo been different. Mr Drake knows the moor thoroughly—though he admitted afterwards we were once in real danger." Esme nodded slowly. Scandal. "I'm afraid," she said. lowering her voice, "Ihere .will be a lot of talk about this. You've no idea how scandal spreads in the country." "Scandal?'' "it's a positive shame," pursued Esme. "We had neighbours at West Leigh who were driven out of the county. And they were perfectly innocent." Shelagh frowned. This girl unfailingly aroused an instinctive hostility. "I don't see what that has to do with me." "Nothing whatever," said Esme hastily. "Don't misunderstand me; but I'm afraid you won't be able to keep your secret much longer." "W r hat secret?" Shelagh demanded. Esme scrutinised her for a moment, and bit her lip as though deliberate 1 !' checking a reply. "I have no right to mention it." she said at last, "but I couldn't help noticing—l've guessed all along." Shelagh flushed. "You are making some mistake. I haven't the faintest idea what you mean." f "But you can't deny"—;Esme's curiosity overmastered her—"you can't deny that you are engaged to Drake." (To be continue* ---morrow..