JOAN of the GREAT HEART

Waikato Times, Volume 107, Issue 17995, 14 April 1930, Page 12

JOAN of the GREAT HEART

By May Wynne.

CHAPTER XXI. "Wo do not know for certain who wounded Mr Carraford," replied Joan; .“but Boris Flenton is suspected. If Sou like I will tell you the whole , story.” ; The elder woman nodded, resting : back amongst the cushions Joan had . placed for her. She looked old, Joan thought, and very tired. But it was kinder to tell her everything, for how did she know what treacherous lies Flenton might not have been whispering in her ears? And Erica had nothing to say when the tale was finished. She just sat there staring, staring into the fire. “To-morrow," said Joan, feeling she must break the silence, “the man will have gone—for ever.” The other started.

"Yes, yes,” she agreed, “he will have gone—for ever," With an effort she rose. "I shall go to bed,” she said; "my head aches. Good-night, Joan. Ido not know whether you will be staying here. Y'ou must please yourself. Of course, you know Anthony is home?" "Yes," said Joan, but did not add to the brief monosyllable. It was late when .Ann called her next morning, and the maid lingered to speak. "If you like I’ll bring up your breakfast tray, Miss,” she said. "It hardly seems worth while laying the table "in the dining-room, as the mistress is having her tea and toast taken up to her." Joan agreed, and after the morning meal went downstairs. It was one of those mornings which anticipate spring —a morning of sunshine and shadow, when it was good to go out and see all the green shoots thrusting their way from under the soil. Joan wandered around the garden, not knowing what t.o do with herself. It did seem as if life itself was too thoroughly out of gear ever to go straight again. Finally she decided to wait till later and then ring up Mrs Carral'ord or Aline at Guy’s Hospital. She hoped Erica would be down presently, but she did not put in an appearance. About twelve o’clock she rang up the hospital and Aline answered. “Jerome is better,” she said; "but he will be here for two or three weeks. I have quite decided to return to Raleigh with him and his mother. Mrs Carraford wants to see jpu as soon as possible. She —Jerome —I cannot tell you what our gratitude is. Jerome has told us what you did. It is amazing—in fact, we could hardly believe it. No one but you, Joan, would have taken the risk. Why, even his own mother would not have clone so. And yet you were a stranger. There can never be any talk of repayment. But one can't talk as one wants to talk on a telephone. What are you going to do? That is the question. When Jerome is out of danger I shall come home for a few days. There is very much I ought to say to you. There it is! For the present, au revoir. Stay with Erica if you can help her. I wonder if you will see Anthony Lesterlees. I hope so. Good-bye." Joan put down the receiver and sat there lost in thought. It was natural Aline’s thoughts should centre round the sick man. Joan’s smile deepened. "Has Love won?" she whispered, “that was what it was. Aline would have liked to marry Anthony, she may still be aiming at it, but just now a sick man’s suffering, his need, his love .have touched her heart. Oh, how I hope she will marry him and be happy! 'She has not been true to me. I feel that, but it Is over. Perhaps I imagined that she said things she never did. And —Love has won.” The coming of Erica broke her reverie. The latter looked pale still, hut her manner was one of nervous excitement. She talked continuously, and much that she said was mere nonsense. She gave Joan the impression of a woman who has been drinking and yet she did not think that was the case.

“Are you going back to Kent?" Mrs Bay dell 'asked, and seemed vexed when she heard of Aline’s decision. "She never knows her own mind for two minutes together,” was her comment, "but seriously, Joan, what are you going to do? You will not wish to stay here after what passed between you and Anthony. It would make it awkward for me. And I may —later —be leaving home myself. You could perhaps go and stay with some of your own friends at Hampstead.” “Yes,” said Joan, "I think I shall do that. But there is no great hurry, is there? I-will take care not to meet Mr Lesterlees, but Aline hoped I should be able to stay here for the present. She Is coming down and wants to see me. So does Mrs Carraford." “We had better talk it over tomorrow,” said Erica, “I am going to spend the afternoon in my room. I have a headache, and do not want to be disturbed. If I wish for tea I will ring." Joan had nothing to say. In fact there did not seem to have been such need for impressing a wish to be left alone. But as Joan sat writing to Marion Ferlie —one of the oldest of their Hampstead friends, Ann came in looking red and self-important- “ May I speak to you, Miss?" she asked with so naively a mysterious air that Joan nearly laughed. “Of course, Ann,” she replied. "What Is it?”

The girl linked her hand.s leaning forward.

“What’s the missus packing up for Miss?” she asked in a breathless whisper. “Mrs Pegg and me, we don’t like it. There’s been a lot going of late we haven’t liked. It was all right when Miss Sandell was here; she kept an eye on things; but even then there was meetings and whisperings, and a man making hassignations with the mistress, as is old enough to know who’s respectable* company for herself and who isn’t. Mrs Pegg’s had her suspicions, but we didn’t like to speak, the place being comfortable and all wc were looking for. But now it’s come to packings up—and the man conic, creeping round the house as he did last evenin’ wc don’t know what to do. We’ve got our characters lo consider and wc don’t want to bo mixed in no scandule. ' So I thought I’d speak in case you think it might he an elopement.” .loan was far 100 alarmed lo notice Ann’s peculiarities of pronunciation. “Are you sure," she asked, “Lhat Mrs Beydell is packing? She did not mention it, or allude to going away at once.” “When you was at lunch we made it our business to go and see,” said Ann. “The door was locked and the key taken, but the missus didn’t know the bathroom key ills her lock, so iu

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we went. You never see such confusion. There’s dresses an’ papers, boots an’ face powder, cverythink upside down, which is only to he expected, since the mistress never does her own packing. One bag was strapped and the other only half full. ‘Mark my words,’ says Mrs Pcgg, ‘there’s more in this,’ she says, ‘than meets the eye. Perhaps it’s another woman's husband,’ says Mrs Pegg, ‘or a criminal like that there Captain Flenton. There may be murder in this,’ she says, ‘and our bounden duty to let someone I know.’ So I nips in to unburden myself, Miss, which you knows best how to act." “Thank you, Ann,” said Joan; “you and Mrs Pegg are wonders, and it is so splefldid of you not to talk. Of .course, it is different telling me, but I know you won't mention it outside, and —and Mr Lesterlees will be glad.”

“That’s the very words Mrs Pegg used,” said Ann triumphantly. “Mr Lesterlees thinks the world of his sister, and he wouldn’t mind what he paid to save a scandule. So I leave it to you, Miss, to act.” There was shrewdness as well as common sense in the line those maids took up. Joan quite understood their attitude. They did not mean to be losers in this affair, of which they had seen more than most. But now the action lay with Joan. She must not sit down nor pass by on the other side. If Erica were contemplating a secret flight with Boris Flenton she must be stopped at all costs. And who was to stop her? Joan knew there was only one person to do it. Anthony Lesterlees. For fully half an hour the girl sat there trying to find some second road out of a crisis where she was called on to act promptly. It was no use. Erica Badyell was blinded by her own folly. Mo doubt Flenton had pitched a plausible tale last night, and the woman, sentimental and credulous in spite of her shrewd common sense in so much, had yielded to his representations. Crook though the fellow was, he had had the advantage of a specious tongue, the address of a gentleman, and a certain tawdry romance which in bygone days would have numbered him amongst the dainty rogues of the great highways. He could pose as a persecuted ragamuffin towards whom Fate had shown a vindictive face; he hinted that the influence of a true woman would redeem him. He glowed over a promise of conversion to better ways. And Erica was amongst the foolish women who had believed him.

“I shall have to let Anthony know,” whispehed Joan. “And he may come here to see her —or me. I can’t see him. I can’t bear it. What shall I do?”

She had answered her own question, and with a supreme effort again took down the receiver and gave the exchange a number. Then she waited—to hear«t.he voice she had believed she was never to hear again.

It was Mrs Alton who answered, however, and Joan’s heart sank. Had he gone? But no, he was only in the grounds; the housekeeper promised to send; then —a pause. “It can’t be Miss Hardale speaking?” aske dthe housekeeper doubtfully; and Joan’s cheeks burned.

“Yes,” she replied; “it is I. You' will guess how important my message is, Mrs Alton, and—l am ( So afraid of being interrupted.” “Well, well I" she heard the other sigh, and then —“Hold on, my dear, and I will go and tell the master himself: - It . is no use trusting other people with messages.” (To be continued.)