FALSE LOVE AND TRUE

Waikato Times, Volume 124, Issue 20784, 20 April 1939, Page 3

FALSE LOVE AND TRUE

SERIAL STORY

CHAPTER IX. (Continued) Rene began to wonder whether he was all that she had believed him. Her heart, wounded by that earlier episode, was easily hurt. But she forced herself to keep smiling, to treat him with the same friendliness as of yore. If Edna or John noticed any difference in Wingate, they said nothing. The October days passed “I can't leave it longer than this,” Martin Wingate told himself, in the last few days of thr month. He was standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom. He, saw the bitter lines at his mouth, dragging downwards. he saw the furrow in his forehead, a perpetual frown. “1 must go,” he murmured, and his hands were clenched until the palms were wet. and the veins in his neck an don his forehead were like whipcord. He broke from the grimness of that moment, lit a cigarette savagely, and thudded through the house towards the kitchen. Mason, portly, sober, black-dressed, looked up enquiringly. “We’re clearing out,” snapped Wingate. Mason bowed. There was no expression on his face. lie knew why they were going, but he said nothing, and felt only a great pity for his master. He would follow Wingate to the ends of the earth, if necessary. “Where shall we go, sir?” “London,” snapped Wingate. He knew he was behaving badly, but he took comfort from the fact that Mason knew. “Write to those agents today, and get something fTxed up for the end of the week.” “Very good, sir,” said Mason. He was always correct in every detail of behaviour when he saw that black scowl on Wingate's face, and saw the other’s fingers clenching. The end of the week

Rene, at Oaklands, was stretched on her bed, her face in the pillows, her heart crying as well as her eyes. A few days later Rene was looking along the lane leading from the road. The dusk was falling, but she could see the car coming, and it was not one belonging to anyone she knew. She had been thinking of Martin, wondering what his long silence meant. She had been helping Janey in the kitchen, and she tidied her hair quickly. “’Tis no fool body would want ye to go out wi' yon horses to-night, lass,” Janey said. “I shouldn't think so,” said Rene.

She waited until the car was almost at the five-barred gate before getting up from her chair and going outside. She saw. now. the driver was a woman, and even in the dusk she could see the red flash of her lips, the hennaed hair, the flashy expensive clothes that somehow looked cheap.. “Who can it be?” she wondered.

She was going to meet the visitor, but something stopped her. Instead, she opened the front door and waited. The woman climbed out of the car, revealing a long, silk-clad leg well above the knee. It was done almost with a gesture of defiance.

“Why?” ißene demanded of herself. 'Who can it Lie?”

The woman approached. She was handsome, Rene admitted, bold eyes, big featured but handsome. She swayed at the hips, unnecessarily and with deliberation. Her walk was more of a swngger than anything else. Rene waited. The newcomer must have seen her, but there was no expression on her face. But there was insolence in her eyes. And her lips broke into a twisted smile, as she drew within three yards of the girl waiting by the front door. Rene expected a question, and expected to find the woman had called at. the wrong place. It would not be the first'time. “But “So.” murmured the visitor, her voice thick and unpleasant, her eyes narrowed and her lips drawn back, “you’re the attraction, are you? 1 wondered why he was staying here so long.” i Bene stared. Her blood seemed to freeze. She | did not tremble, she did not move, j and she was quite incapable of speech. Across her mind had flashed a dreadful realisation. She knew it was true. She had nothing to prove it, no reason for believing it, but she knew it was true. This woman had come for—Martin. “•Lost your tongue?” The lonian drew nearer. lie!’ faro was no more than two feel from Rene’s, who could sec. as she could have seen a painted picture, the thick carmine, the rouge, the powder, the blackened eyes, starry with unnatural brilliance, the yellow, brilliant hair. Rene stood still. The woman stopped. There was anger and urn“Wlipre is lie?” she demanded, and her voice was harsh. Rene moistened her lips. “1 don’t think I she said, and her voice was very low. “Can I help you ? * “Don’t understand?” The woman’s voice grew harsher. Iter eyes glittered. “Listen, my little lady, don’t try to come those fancy tricks on Somethink snapped inside Rene Malleson. j She felt anger as she had never felt 'it before. She wanted to stretch her j hand and scratch the paint and powder j off this harridan's face, she wanted to hurt —hurt! She knew who this woman wanted to see. She needed no more telling of the reason for Martin’s silence, and • the shadows in his eyes. But she ( felt she could not bear, at that moment. to hear her mention his name. “Our name is Malleson.” she said, coldly. “There’s a house further along the lane —Hillview. Is that I what you want ?” | The painted lips closed. slowly, over white teeth. "flawd 1” the blasphemy was more I horrible, accompanied as it was by a short, harsh laugh. “I nearly put me foot in it. dearie. Hillview’s what ‘ 1 want—l'll find me way.” I She turned away and swaagered to- ! wards her ear. Rene stood staring 1 after her. and there was a cold dread iin the girl’s heart. For she had ; seen the ring on the woman’s left ' hand, a plain circlet of gold on the i third linger Rene started to turn hack into the | house. Her face was set rigidly.

By MARGARET GLENN

A Love Story of Outstanding Charm

her eyes were glazed. But as she moved, she heard heavy footsteps in the lane. She looked back, and a little cry escaped her lips. 'Martin Wingate was hurrying towards the farm. He did not see the woman until he was past the waiting car. Then he stopped quite still, and Bene read in his eyes, in the horror of his expression, all there was to know. CHAPTER X. Martin had seen the open door, and the slim figure of Rene before he had •recognised the woman. He knew' at once that Rene must have guessed. But he could think of nothing but the fact that she was here. He faced her. •1 thought,” he said, in a dead, level voice, “1 told you not to follow me.” Low as his voice was, the words reached Rene’s ears. -Aw —” the reply came quickly, and the woman laughed, unpleasantly, horridly—“can’t a woman call an’ see her own husband, Martin? There was a time when —” “Quiet,” said Martin, and his face was like iron. “Get into the car and come to the house.’* Rene watched them so, and Martin. although he saw nothing, could imagine the blanched whiteness of her face. For a moment, however, he must think of—this. Not for a moment had he dreamed she would search him out and visit him. He had known that while he was in London he was always in danger of a visit from her; but in Hampshire he had thought himself safe. And —he choked with mad f Ur v—she had come, had called at Oaklands. She had opened her mouth— And Rene —knew. Martin's eyes were blinded as he climbed into the car, and watched his wife take the steering wheel. _ She said nothing. She was a little frightened by the expression on his face, by the hardness of his voice. She pressed the self-starter and the car moved. After a moment: "Shall I turn right or left?” she asked, and her voice was thin and anxious. “Left," grunted Martin. The car pulled up outside Hillview. He climbed stiffly out, and waited for her to shut off the engine. The dusk was .near to darkness, now, but her light dress made her easily visible. She. still a little frightened by his grimness, walked by his side without speaking. She did not swagger. The life seemed to have dropped out of her. The door opened as they reached it, and Mason, his dark figure outlined against the bright light from the hall, bowed a little and stood aside for them to pass. lie did not see her for a moment. Martin, looking at his servant's face at that moment, saw the colour ebb from his cheeks, heard the involuntary gasp from his lips. It was that gasp that revived Clare Wingate's spirits. Ship could deal with Mason. He was a paid servant, and his feelings didn't matter. He was there to abuse, if necessary, and site seized on him to bolster up her drooping courage. She turned on him like a fury. "Why. you fat brute, you. what do you mean by that? Look down yer nose at yer own missus, would yer? I'll—” Mason's face was impassive. Martin’s flntgers closed round his wife's forearm. “That's enough." he said. Clare shook her arm free, viciously Her voire rose to a scream, echoing through the house, filling it with unthought of tilings. Her lips were turned hack, like a vixen's; her eyes blazed. "Enough, is it. enough ? I'll show you whether it's enough, you skulking whelp. leaving me stranded and not. knowing where to tfnd you, and —" "That's enough!" Martin's voice was like a whip. "If you raise your voice again I’ll throw you out.” She stopped. Her face blanched. Then, disgustingly, she sniffed and tears filled her eyes, she whined. "Sorry, Marly, only I've been looking for you so long—" Wingate pushed open the door of his sitting-room, and switched on the light. Clare followed him, still quietly. He took a glass from the sideboard, and a decanter from its cupboard. A lot of neat spirit fired his throat, lull he fell belter. darn eyed Ihr decanter, and there was hungor and thirst in her expression. He poured a finger into another glass, filled it with soda from a syphon, and handed it to her. "Si! down." he said, as though he was talking In a child. "And don't drink I lint rigid "IT." Shi obeyed him, suddenly lamblike. Her fare, as she sipped the drink.' was twisted in an ingratiating "You're nice and cosy here. Marty.” Wingate said nothing. He was looking through her. and his eyes were like glass. He looked al tier now and his glance seared her. livery muscle of his body was taut. lie took his case from his pocket, stiffly, proffered it to her, took a cigarette himself. He struck a match. Two streams of smoke met in the middle and went upwards, gloudy grey. "No." he said, harshly. “We've finished. We finished a long time ago." "Just you and me, old dear." Her voice was sweet and sickly, now. He remembered, years ago, how he had first been captiviated by her voice, which had seemed to him sweet and trilling. She had been slimmer, then, and her complexion had been natural, tier hair a dark brown. "Wouldn't it tie lovely. Marty? We could start (To be continued)