The Mischief Maker

Waikato Times, Volume 113, Issue 18875, 20 February 1933, Page 4

The Mischief Maker

(An enthralling story, full of thrilling incidents.)

BYNOPSiaSir Timothy Standlsh made his leisurely up the drive to the known locally as “The Madhouse or Asylum.” Eighteen years ago the gate, or this place had opened anil c . p |n. Edmund Raike, Sir Timothy’s brother-in laV “I will see the patient,” demanded Sir Timothy or Dr. Brooks, the resident tneai cal superintendent. „ For some time the two men who were meeting Tor the llrst time In 18 Jears stood eyeing each other in s ll ®"®®- ,J_ o Tvp come at last, Timothy. God knows Ive spent every minute or the eighteen years in hating you. But I can rorgtve, now you've come at last.” ”1 came to tell you of your son, Jll ”Yoii damnahlo devil! are you planning now 7 . . . Ll ® te .P’ rt ‘TU othy Standlsh. By the aid or God, Hi get out or this living tomb. When* call on the Devil you serve to help you you'll need him.” „ , . Michael Binding Is the adopted son or Parson Quallo. lie Is In love with Margaret Standlsh, but Sir Timothy is opposed to the match. Basil Quaile Is the Parson s own sort, whose wastrel ways Michael shields out ot love Tor the Parson. Sir Timothy tells Margaret that im cousin, Jimmy R&lke, is returning to them from abroad. . Titus, Sir Timothy’s servant, is misshapen and weak-minded, and Is the putt or his master’s cruel Jests, lie hugs to himself a hatred that thrives the n o e for want of expression. But the thought of what lies inside his coal pocket calms him. A letter, addressed in a womans fine handwriting to Sir Timothy Stanuisn. A letter twenty years old. Titus pan never opened It, but he invested it with a great and secret importance. It hail Become a talisman, the symbol o r the great triumph that would one day bo his. Ellice Brown, a girl whom Michael nas helped to flnd work as an artist’s model, had previously been a nurse at rne Haven,” but sympathy for Edmund Raike, whom she believed to be no more matt than she was, lost her her Job. She confides her story to Michael, who promises to help. They plan to get Edmund Raike out or “The Haven.” Jimmy Raike arrives In town prior to continuing his Journey to Arden Hall. He wonders what motive Sir Timothy can have had Tor recalling him. Michael, to his astonishment, receives an Invitation from Sir Timothy to spend a week or two at Arden Hall with Jimmy. Jimmy believes his father Is dead.

CHAPTER XI (Continued.) And from a horticultural point of view they were fight. Apart from the irremediable ugliness of the building, everything 'had been done to make the surroundings suggestive of peace and repose. The approach might have been the drive of any country residence. There was no need here for prison-like precautions, for it was a narrow strip, quite open, in full view of the house, and the patients themselves were not allowed to trespass there.

In the grounds at the rear they oould wander at will—with itwo exceptions, and Edmund Raike was one of them. There was always an attendant with him. Here were pleasant lawns and shady paths and restful nooks where one might sit and dream the hours away. Even the high wall that shut off this peaceful garden from the outside world, contrived to conceal Its grim neiss behind a fairy lattice of creeper and rambler roses. It was late evening, the hour Edmund Raike liked best for his exercise, for he was less likely to meet with his fellow inmates. Jenks, the morose walked beside him to the furtherst corner of the gerden. It was seldom this clumsy, darkbrowned man spoke on these walks unless he was addressed. But this evening he startled his charge by a sudden staccato question. ‘‘What If there was a chance?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. Edmund Raike stopped and stared at him in a frightened way. “There’s them as Is workln’ for it," said Jenks, darkly. “For what? You don’t mean. . .?” “Working for it —You know what.” “Don’t torture me, Jenks. Working for what?”

But Jenks had his own way of giving information. “Suppose,” he said, “one evening when you and me was out walkin’, you was to cut and run.” Edmund Raike laughed lightly to conceal his great disappointment. “I wouldn’t get far,” lie remarked.

“Like this, we’ll say,” went on Jenks. “Suppose you was to have an 'eart attack and while I goes for assistance you was <to slip it quick to the gate.” “I wouldn’t get far,” repeated Raike, but the attendant’s earnest manner stirred a faint hope in him. “Ah I” with deep meaning, “p’raps you wouldn’t. Not on youv own, that is. But suppose the gate was ready open and all you’d to do was to step into a car. And suppose them as is workln’ it was to 'hide you 'till you’d had a spesh’list see you.” auh do sceet’l 's li onxgl pa.’ Edmund Raike wanted to cry out, but he was unable to utter a word. It was too wildly impossible. But suppose—his mind flew 'to Arden liall and Jimmy. Suppose it were true. . . suppose. ... If Jenks was jesting It would be the death of him. "Go on,” his voice was a mere crack. “Tell me everything." “You wants to be ready, that's all. No more attacks, mind. Don't you get over-excited. Save your strength. You may have to wait a bit.’” “But why—why are you doing this for me? You would get into trouble, perhaps be dismissed. You know that.” Jenks gave a jarring laugh.

“Whal if I do? There’s someone else as'll lose his job too—the dirty sneaking little blackguard.- Anyway, I’m done with this place for good an’ all. Handed me-notice in an hour since." Edmund Ralkc had gone out into -the grounds with the last grain -of hope crushed out of him; he came hack more vitally alive than -lie had been for twenty years. Dr. Arnold Brooks, too, was a little happier, lie sprawled limply in a -chair with a half-empty ' whisky decanter within reach. -Before him on .(In' lalde 1-ay a small parcel. It was securely lied and sealed with wax. With an effort ho reached out and picked it up.

"Wish il was cyanide." he mumbled and laughed foolishly. ‘Musi a lit tic mistake and no means of I racing il. line of these days, eh?" The prospect kept him pleasantly amused for a time. "No good though, (louldn’t do il. Couldn’t hurt a lly." Another pause tilled with reflections upon his own shortcomings, and then: "Wonder what he wauls it for? Can’t sleep, perhaps. No wonder, the old devil.’’ Ills -brows contracted painfully in a frown. He might have been idly wondering before, but now lie was really perplexed. "Bui the other stuff. What’s lie up to? Some game. I’ll be bound."

BY ALAN GREY. Author of “Conscience Money,” “Patricia’s Chauffeur, Etc,

He flung the package back on to the tabic, reached for his tumbler and failed to find it. Ills head dropped on to his chest. "Wish it was cyanide,” he mumbled, and fell into a drunken sleep.

CHAPTER XII, Jimmy Raike' had stormed Arden Hall two days ago and, since the moment of his arrival, the sun of Michael’s happiness had grown dim. His sky was becoming more and more overcast. He couldn’t go on like this; he must have it out with Margaret. There was no real comfort in that thought either. For how could he make her understand? She would think him absurdly unreasonable; might even suspect him of childish jealousy. 'lt wasn’t that, of course, tut still he would be laying himself open to the doubt.

After all, Jimmy was her old playmate. He belonged to a part of her life that Michael could never share. Only natural that she should want to make up for the seven years of lost comradeship; only natural that site should want his company wherever they went. Even if she had wanted, could she leave him to his own devices without being guilty of inhospitality? He could not Imagine Margaret failing by a hair’s breadth in courtesy.

Nevertheless, such considerations did not help Michael much. The aohe to have Margaret all to himself for an hour or two was growing unbearable. Why must he always share with Jimmy? Jimmy would be here Indefinitely—that was\ a disturbing thought—and his own stay might be out short any day by a summons from Withers, ft was no use cursing that folly now. lie had given his word ■and, must stand 'by it with a good grace. ~ ' How. could Margaret bear this tantalising state of affairs?. Did she long as he did for an hour'alone together? Or was she content'with this farcical game of “Three’s company”? She must surely see that Jimmy was more than half in love with'her already; ■she must a‘ least suspect the earnest homage behind all his comradely chaff. Was that the attraction? No, he didn’t doubt Margaret’s love, but he was beginning -to .realise why Woman from the time of Eve had defied all ■man’s attempts to understand her. 2-Ie must do something about it. The situation was becoming more and more difficult. He had done his utmost to appear as light-hearted as usual, but the. strain was beginning to tell on him. Jimmy had begun to rally him for his glumness. Margaret had'looked solloitous and asked “Was he feeling unwell?” 1-Ie made up his mind to get Margaret alone, if only for a moment just to tell her how much he longed for one of those wonderful hours they used to have. Surely they could arrange something between them? For one day at least Jimmy could amuse himself. His opportunity came shortly after breakfast that morning. Jimmy was deep in the theatrical news of • an illustrated weekly when Margaret oame into the lounge. “Well, you lazy people, what are you going to do with yourselves this morning?" , , Michael >vas quick to manufacture the opportunity he wanted. “What about the maze,” he suggested “I’d love to see it. 1 “Do you hear Jimmy?—the maze. There was evidently a hidden joke here, for Margaret began to laugh. “Do you remember it?" “I should say I do," exclaimed Jimmy, and slapped his paper down, now all eager for another exhilarating draught of reminiscence. “Remember when you hid in it?” “And couldn’t get out.” “And I found you on the point of tears —” “And got lost yourself—’ “And we were just on the point of doing the Babes in the Wood act when Titus came to the rescue. Good lad, Titus. What rum kids we were.” “Certainly you were," retorted Margaret. “You were never out of mischief.” “And who led me into it?” They were off again. Michael felt his smile growing stiff and set. “I’d like to see it,” he said again, and tried to catch Margaret’s eye, but she was all unconscious of it. “Why not now?" sho exclaimed eagerly. “Oh, Jimmy, let’s. We’ll ■all go and see if we can get lost again.” “Righto,” agreed Jimmy, far too willingly, for Michael’s liking “Half a minute though. i’ll Just slip up and stick a film in the camera." “Then we’ll walk on,” said Michael, quickly. Jimmy raced away up the wide staircase. “Catch you up in a minute,” he called out after them. Y'ou won’t, thought Michael, not if I can help It. Now Michael had not been strictly truthful. He knew perfectly well where the maze was situated, and he had no particular desire to inspect it. Let Jimmy try and lose himself by all means; he sincerely hoped he would. The path they were taking ran alongside the rose garden, separated from it by a tall yew hedge. Halfway along it there was an arch cut in the hedge. 'Michael caught Margaret’s hand quickly and drew her through into the rose garden. He slipped an arm about her, and for all her whispered protest, “Oil. Michael, someone will see us” she was* a willing enough conspirator.

It was a very wonderful kiss. Margaret drew hack, radiant and a little breathless.. ■ “Dli. Michael:’ “We’ll ,ito this way, shall we?” urged Michael. “Through I lie rose-garden ? Well wo could” —douhl fully—'“hut ils a long way round." “ \ll Ihe holler." "Hid .1 immy—-he will miss us.” Tliei'o was one obvious answer !o dial, and Michael gave It with rnnsldwahle feeling. “Oh. hang' .Ii111111v." Then In Margaret's look of aslonislinieiil, “since ,| iiiiiuy came I've hardly had two words wilh you. Margaret." "I’oor Michael." she teased. "I(’s always Jimmy here, Jimmy |here. I've not had you alone to myself for Iwo conseculive seconds." •Wes. 1 know. Hul, Michael, it’s so dil'licull.” “Surely Jimmy can amuse himself for once. ■ Steal a day. darling." he urged eagerly.- “Why no I llils afternoon ? We'll walk down to Ihe river and lake a punt up to the orchard, have lea and drift down in the cool of the evening.”

Margaret was very much tempted to forget everything and whisper, "Oh, do let's, Michael,” but in her heart she knew it was impossible. It would be horribly mean to leave Jimmy out of it. The dream, nevertheless, was too alluring to let clip at once. - “It would be scrumptious,” she sighed, and Michael's spirits soared intoxicatingly. “Then it’s settled. Leave it to ! me. You just see, I’ll dispose of the übiquitous Jimmy." “But Michael,” —quickly— “We can’t, of course. Jimmy has arranged to take us both to the races this afternoon.” Michael swore inwardly. Jimmy again! Why must Jimmy always stand in the way? Instead of relieving his exasperation in forcible words which Margaret would have understood. to which she might in a milder way have subscribed sympathetically, Michael repressed Ills feeling and asked very quietly: “You are keen on going, Margaret?” “I’ve promised." “Of course,” said Michael) “I’d forgotten. It’s your first race meeting." How cruelly unfair I Mlohael believed she would rather go to a wretched race meeting with Jimmy than, than —oh how could Michael be so cruel! She was too hurt to say a word, and Michael dared not trust himself to speak for fear his tongue would run away with him. So they walked on in strained silence. “Hello, you folks.” Jimmy hailed them as. they came in sight. “Where on earth have you been? I’ve been waiting here five minutes. Hurried like the dickens to catch you up." 'Michael’s wry sense of humour got the better of him. He smiled whimsically at Margaret before answering. “I stopped to admire a rose—and got pricked for my pains.” “Like other men’s wives,” —Jimmy’s sympathy usually ran to facetious comment —A ‘it’s safer to admire at a distance.” (To be continued.)