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diff --git a/42519-8.txt b/42519-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ffb0ce3..0000000 --- a/42519-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9540 +0,0 @@ - BLACKTHORN FARM - - - - -This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at -http://www.gutenberg.org/license. If you are not located in the United -States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are -located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Blackthorn Farm -Author: Arthur Applin -Release Date: April 12, 2013 [EBook #42519] -Reposted: May 30, 2015 [- text corrections] -Language: English -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLACKTHORN FARM *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: Cover] - - - - -[Illustration: "The next moment her eyes had seen the tell-tale -broad-arrow on the boot and trousers." (Chapter XIX.)] - - - - - BLACKTHORN - FARM - - - BY - - ARTHUR APPLIN - - _Author of "Her Sacrifice," "Love Conquers All Things," - "The Chorus Girl," "The Pearl Necklace," etc., etc._ - - - - WARD, LOCK& CO., LIMITED - LONDON. MELBOURNE AND TORONTO - - - - - First published in 1915. - - - - - CONTENTS. - -CHAPTER - -I.--RUINED! -II.--FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS -III.--SALVATION -IV.--RADIUM -V.--THE ACCUSATION -VI.--FORGERY -VII.--THE VISITORS -VIII.--ARRESTED -IX.--A PROPOSAL -X.--IN SUSPENSE -XI.--THE TRIAL -XII.--MARRIAGE IS IMPOSSIBLE -XIII.--THE IRONY OF FATE -XIV.--THE PARTING OF THE WAYS -XV.--ESCAPE -XVI.--"YOU'VE KILLED HIM" -XVII.--AT POST BRIDGE HALL -XVIII.--ALARMED -XIX.--"YOU MUST GO BACK" -XX.--PLANS FOR ESCAPE -XXI.--READY FOR FLIGHT -XXII.--JIM STARTS OFF -XXIII.--SUCCESS -XXIV.--RUBY'S DECLARATION -XXV.--AN EXCITING TIME -XXVI.--AN ARGUMENT -XXVII.--RUBY'S HEROISM -XXVIII.--FINIS - - - - - BLACKTHORN FARM. - - - - CHAPTER I. - - RUINED! - - -Rupert Dale sat at the writing-table before the open windows of his -sitting-room in Clanton Street, Westminster. It was a glorious summer -morning. The sun had torn aside the grey mantle from the face of -London. The roofs and spires of the city shone. The trees rustled their -leaves in the warm breeze. The roar of traffic echoed in his ears. - -Rupert stretched himself, sighed, and leant back in his chair. His -table was littered with papers. There were letters, bills, -advertisements--principally from tipsters and bookmakers--and the -examination papers which had been set him at his third attempt to pass -the final examination of the School of Mining Engineers. - -The result was due to-day, and Rupert had intended going down to the -hall to find out whether he had passed or not. - -But he was afraid. He had failed twice already. He could not afford to -fail a third time. If he failed ruin faced him, and disgrace. His -father had warned him that the money he had saved for his education had -come to an end. Ruin for his father and his little sister! - -He had no idea how deeply Rupert was in debt. Rupert himself had only -just realised it. And in desperation he had gambled to save himself. - -He had backed a horse on the big race to be run that day for more money -than he possessed. He had staked honour and love on a horse he had -never even seen. If it won he was saved. He could face his father, pay -his debts, and, supposing he had failed, go up yet once again for his -final examination. - -If it lost----? - -On the table a letter lay from his father in Devonshire enclosing a -cheque--the last he would be able to send him. - -There was also a letter from Ruby Strode, reminding him that he had -promised to take her to see the big race that day. - -Rupert picked up his father's letter and looked at the cheque. For five -pounds only. It was drawn by Reginald Crichton, of Post Bridge Hall, -made payable to John Allen Dale. His father had endorsed it. - -Rupert smiled and fingered the cheque thoughtfully. Five pounds! Quite -a lot of money--to his father; probably he did not spend as much in a -month. And Rupert's conscience pricked him. - -He set his teeth and swept aside the accumulation of unanswered letters -and bills. - -Ruin! An ugly word. He repeated it aloud--and laughed. It savoured of -the melodramatic. Yet here was ruin facing him. He looked up and saw it -blotting out the sunshine. - -It had come upon him stealthily, like a thief in the night. And at the -same time Love had come, too! - -Again Rupert laughed. - -He had only known Miss Strode seven months, but six weeks after their -meeting outside the stage-door of the Ingenue Theatre they had been -engaged to be married. As Miss Strode's income--including two -matinees--was exactly the same as Rupert's, marriage was out of the -question. Being young and lighthearted and having no idea of the value -of time, money or life, they had taken all the gods offered them, living -for the day, careless of the morrow. - -But the to-morrow and the day of reckoning had unexpectedly arrived. -For himself Rupert did not care. He could face poverty, failure, even -disgrace. But it was of his father he was thinking, and of his sister -Marjorie. His father, the old yeoman farmer who had pinched and scraped -for seven years now, denying himself and even his daughter the ordinary -necessities of life that he might give this only son a good education -and make a man and a gentleman of him. - -As he stood before the dressing-table in his bedroom and commenced to -shave it was not the reflection of his own face he saw in the mirror. A -vision rose before his eyes of Blackthorn Farm, his humble home in the -middle of the wild moorlands, of his father, aged and worn with toil and -poverty; of his sister, a girl on the eve of beautiful womanhood. - -For centuries the Dales had lived at Blackthorn Farm, and when with the -passage of time the homestead decayed and threatened to crumble to dust -and disappear, so, in the same way, the family of Dales dwindled and -decayed, too. - -For there was no money in Blackthorn Farm. It was difficult enough to -grow pasture to feed the few cattle. And so John Allen Dale had -determined to make a gentleman of his only son. He had been studying -now for over three years in London--ever since he had left Taunton -Grammar School. It was two years since John Dale had even seen his -first-born, and his heart thrilled with pride and expectation when he -thought of the homecoming. It would make up for all the years of -grinding and scraping. He had been even forced to mortgage a small part -of the unproductive land in which an old tin mine was situated, unworked -for many years now and valueless--though once it had promised to -retrieve the fortunes of the Dales. - -It had hurt his pride at the time, and he had not told Rupert. For the -mortgagee was Sir Reginald Crichton, of Post Bridge Hall, who had -gradually bought up all the land lying in the valley; a rich man and -influential, yet a stranger to Dartmoor and therefore unwelcome. - -But John Dale consoled himself with the thought that when his son was a -gentleman he would have no use for the old homestead of Blackthorn. It -would just sink into oblivion and disappear, and there would be nothing -left but memory--and the everlasting morass and moorlands. But the -grand old name of Dale would rise phoenix-like from the ashes and be -handed down to future generations by his son. - -Just as Rupert finished dressing there was a knock at the outer door and -Ruby Strode burst into the sitting-room bringing with her the sunshine -and the breath of summer. The vision that had been conjured before -Rupert's eyes disappeared: he was glad enough to dismiss the thoughts -and memories that it had brought. - -Ruin! He looked at Ruby, and advanced to meet her with open arms. - -"Be careful, you mustn't crush me," she laughed. "What do you think of -my new frock?--and isn't this a duck of a hat, straight from Paris?" - -Rupert stepped back and gazed at her. "By Jove, how beautiful you are," -he whispered. "You look simply----" He searched for an adjective in -vain. - -Ruby gave a satisfied smile. She was really in love with Rupert, and -she valued his opinion as much or more than she would have valued the -opinion of a woman friend--or enemy. - -Remarkably good-looking, of a type of beauty rather unusual, she had -found the stage an excellent matrimonial market. But life had taught -her that love was to be given, not sold. Unfortunately, she had given it -to a penniless young man whose heritage was as unstable as the bog on -which his house was built. But he was strong, he was clean, he was -young. And he had won her. - -"We shall have to hurry up or we shall miss the train," she cried. "I -wish we could motor down, but I suppose that's impossible." - -Rupert laughed light-heartedly and emptied the contents of his pockets -on to the table. - -"Every penny I possess in the world is on Paulus. I've backed it at -'sevens' already, you know. It'll cost a couple of pounds to get on to -the stand. We shall have to train it, my dear, and walk down the -course." - -Ruby glanced ruefully at her long narrow shoes and silk stockings. -"Right ho! I believe I'd walk through your Devonshire bogs if you asked -me. But I say, Rupert, suppose Paulus doesn't win? What on earth are -we going to do?" - -Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "Sufficient unto the day is the evil -thereof. If I pass my final--well, I suppose I shall get a job -somewhere and the old man will be so pleased that he'll forgive me.... -I'll manage somehow. Find tin in an old disused mine we've got on our -property, and float a company." - -He spoke lightly, but a shadow crossed his face. He looked at Ruby again -and found himself wondering how much her clothes had cost, how much -money they had managed to waste together during the happy months they -had known one another. And then, again, he saw the queer eerie little -farmhouse lying tucked between the granite tors: on one side of it the -Dart purred to the sea; stretching away to the left a few fields -surrounded by stone walls and the cattle standing in the green grass. -And beyond, the vast peat bogs with the rushes flinging their white seed -to the wind, and creeping up the hills the purple heather with patches -of wild gorse; and little Marjorie milking the cows, scalding the cream, -and making the butter. - -If he had failed in his final examination? His body grew suddenly cold, -he shuddered. He could not face his father then. - -"What's the matter?" Ruby stepped forward and took Rupert's hand. - -"I was wondering, if Paulus didn't win?" he stammered. "But, of course -it will. Come along, or we shall miss the train!" - -Rupert slung his race-glasses over his shoulder, put on his hat, and -together they ran downstairs. At the front door the landlady of the -lodgings met him. She drew Rupert aside and reminded him that his bill -was three weeks overdue. - -"You said you would let me have something to-day, sir. I'm sorry to -trouble you, but----" - -"Of course, I forgot. I'll pay you to-night without fail," he cried -cheerfully. - -Then, slamming the front door behind him, he slipped his arm through -Ruby's. Hailing a passing taxi-cab they drove to Waterloo Station. - - * * * * * - -Epsom Downs looked like a vast ant-hill. The very air seemed to shake -and quiver with the cries of the multitude. The great race of the day -was due to start. Paulus was a hot favourite. It was difficult to get -bookmakers to lay two to one against it. - -"By gad, it can't lose," Rupert kept on saying. "I shall win enough, -Ruby, to pay my debts, with a little to spare." - -Ruby slipped her hand into his. She looked into his face a trifle -uneasily: "You mean if it were to win? Would it be very serious for you -if Paulus were to lose?" - -Rupert forced a laugh. Again, at this moment of tense excitement, he -realised what it would mean if the horse lost. - -Ruin! Not just for himself, that was nothing. But disgrace! That was -something his father would never face. The blasting of the old man's -hopes. All that he had lived for and dreamed of. Unsteadily Rupert -counted out five sovereigns. - -"I'd better stick this on the brute as well, it's all or nothing," he -said, forcing a smile. And he began to fight his way to the rails where -the bookmakers shouted the odds. - -Ruby laid her hand on his arm. "Give it to me, I'll do it. You always -say I'm lucky to you--and I may get better odds." - -Rupert nodded and made a passage for her. "All right. If you smile at -the beggar like that he'll lay you fives, I should think." - -The crowd swallowed her up. She forced her way to the rails at -Tattersall's Ring. Rupert saw the long black plume of her French hat -nodding in the breeze. He saw her hand the money to a bookmaker and -receive a ticket in exchange. - -Then a cry like a great chorus rent the air. "They're off!" - -Rupert leapt to his position on the stand and putting up his glass -watched the race. - -A good start, though one horse was left. It was not Paulus, so he did -not care. One horse out of the way! - -He watched the horses climb the hill, the colours of the jockeys made -brilliant blots against the blue sky. The great human ant-hill was -still now, silent, too. The whole thing looked like a cinematograph -picture; the horses like clockwork animals. - -They neared Tattenham Corner. Rupert held his breath. The vast crowd -began to murmur now. A strange sound as if emanating from the lips of -one man. The sound rose and fell like distant thunder. - -Presently he heard the thunder of the horses' hoofs. They had rounded -the corner and were coming down the straight. He took a deep breath, -and for a moment the scene was blotted from his eyes. And again he saw -the black Devon moorlands, neither purple heather nor golden gorse now, -just granite tors and bogland; and an old man standing at the entrance -of a thatched-roofed little farmhouse staring out over the grey -hills--as if waiting for one who never came. - -"Nimbo wins! A monkey to a pea-nut on Nimbo!" - -The storm broke now. First the name of one horse was shouted, then -another. The field had strung out, but there were half a dozen horses -locked together. - -"Paulus wins! I'll back Paulus!" - -Rupert took a deep breath, and for the moment put down his glasses. -Then he heard his own voice shrieking hysterically, "Paulus! Paulus!" - -A sudden silence fell, more terrifying than the thunder of ten thousand -voices. The leading bunch of horses was within a hundred yards of the -winning post now. Paulus led, then fell back suddenly challenged by a -rank outsider, Ambuscade. Neck and neck they ran, first one, then the -other, getting the advantage. Rupert was conscious of Ruby clinging to -his arm. He was conscious of the great crowd on the hill, of the crowd -surrounding him, swaying to and fro; of the perfume of the girl's -hair--the girl he loved; the colours of the jockeys as they lay almost -flat on the horses' backs. - -The race was over now. The winning-post was reached. Thunder-clap -after thunder-clap of human voices. - -"Paulus wins! ... Paulus! Paulus! Paulus!" - -Rupert was shouting at the top of his voice as he was carried by the -crowd he knew not whither, Ruby clinging to his arm. He waved his hat -in the air and he laughed as he shouted. He was saved, and for a moment -he forgot all he had learned. He could not control himself, he just -shouted with the crowd, his crowd. - -Still the excitement was not over. There were a few moments more of -tension until the numbers went up and they saw on the telegraph board -that Paulus had won by a short head. - -Rupert found himself standing alone at the bottom of the enclosure. He -wiped the perspiration from his face. Ruby had disappeared--yet a -moment ago she had been hanging on his arm. He heard the "All right" -called and he realised she had gone to draw the money from the -bookmaker. After a while he saw her hemmed in by the crowd near the -rails. He fought his way to her and in answer to his queries she showed -him her purse. - -"Come along, let's go back," he whispered. "There's nothing else to wait -for now." - -Once clear of the crowd they walked up the hill to the railway station, -caught the first train returning to London, and drove straight to -Rupert's rooms. - -A telegram was waiting for him on the table. He picked it up and gave -it to Ruby. - -"Open it, you always bring me luck," he laughed. "It's the result of the -exam. I told one of my pals to wire me. Still, I don't care twopence -now----" - -He broke off as Ruby tore open the little buff envelope and looked at -the message. The next moment she had dropped it and taken him in her -arms, heedless now of the damage to her French toilet. Her black, -sweetly-scented hair brushed his face, her soft cheek was pressed -against his own. She mothered him as if he were her child instead of her -lover. - -He had failed. - -"What does it matter?" he cried with bravado. "I'm rich now. I can pay -my bills; we can have a jolly good time before I go home." - -"But your father, Rupert?" she whispered. "Don't you remember--all you -told me about him, his dreams, his ambitions for you? Oh! don't think -I'm a prig, but he'll be disappointed, so disappointed. I think I'd -rather you had passed your exam, and lost your money----" - -He broke away from her angrily. "You don't know what you're saying. If -Paulus hadn't won!" - -The raucous cries of a newsboy from the street interrupted him. They -both listened, then Rupert smiled. - -"Forgive me, it's ripping of you to think of father and all that. I -know it'll knock the old man sideways: he'll be awfully sick about it. -But I've got one more chance, and now I can afford to take it. If I -hadn't won this money I couldn't have. I should have had to go home and -stop there, shut up in that crumbling hole in the midst of those beastly -moors. But I'll try again and, by gad! I'll win. I swear I'll pass -next 'go.' It was the worry of thinking of the beastly money which -upset me this time." - -Another newsboy ran shrieking down the street. - -"Result of the great race. Sensational result! All the -winners--Sensation----" - -Rupert moved towards the door. "Let's get a paper and see the starting -price." - -Ruby followed him. "Wait a moment, Rupert. Tell me honestly, how much -you would have owed if Paulus hadn't won?" - -"Oh, I don't know. What does it matter now?" he cried carelessly. "A -hundred or two, I think. What does it matter now? I can go on working -until I pass. And I'll send the guv'nor that last fiver he posted me, -old Crichton's cheque. Those brutes at Post Bridge Hall are absolutely -rolling in money, but, by gad! they shall see we've got some, too. Come -on, let's get a paper." - -Smiling at his excitement Ruby followed him out of the room. From the -doorstep they beckoned to a passing newsboy, who thrust a paper into -Rupert's hands. Chucking him sixpence Rupert made his way upstairs -again. He opened the paper in the sitting-room, and Ruby bent over his -shoulder. - -"Well?" she said. - -Then she heard Rupert catch his breath, she saw his face change colour, -grow deadly white. The paper began to shiver and tremble between his -hands. She looked at the stop press news. She saw the result: - -Paulus first, Ambuscade second--then in huge black type underneath: -OBJECTION! - -"The stewards objected to the winner for bumping and not keeping a -straight course. An enquiry was held and Paulus was disqualified. The -outsider, Ambuscade, is therefore the winner. The starting price is a -hundred to one." - -Rupert crunched the paper in his hands, and staggering forward fell into -the chair in front of the writing-table. He stretched his arms out, -sweeping off the litter of papers, and his head fell forward between his -hands. - -Ruby bent over him and tried to raise him. "Rupert--perhaps it's not -true. Rupert!" - -She lifted him up, but he fell back into the chair half fainting. -Putting her arms around him she dragged him into the bedroom, and laying -him on the bed loosened his collar. She found some brandy and forced a -little between his lips. Then she sat beside him, holding his hand -tightly. Presently the colour returned to his cheeks, his eyes opened. -He lay quite still, staring at the ceiling. - -"It'll be all right," she whispered. "It'll all come right, Rupert. -I--I love you, dear, I'll help you. It'll all come right." - -The muscles of his face twitched convulsively. "Leave me," he whispered. -"For pity's sake leave me for a little while." - -Drawing down the blind, she crept out of the room and shut the door -behind her. She heard someone coming up the stairs--the landlady -bringing tea. Stooping down she commenced to pick up the papers -scattered on the floor. Among them she found the cheque Rupert had -received that morning from his father, the cheque drawn by Reginald -Crichton. She looked at it curiously, a sudden instinct telling her how -much that little sum meant to the old father who had sent it. - -Five pounds! Scarcely the value of the hat she wore. Folding it up she -slipped it into her gloved hand, then sat down at the writing-table -waiting until the landlady left the room. She had a few pounds in her -purse which she had drawn over Paulus before the objection was made. A -few pounds in the Post Office Savings-bank. Between them they might -collect twenty or thirty pounds: and Rupert confessed to owing a hundred -or two. That might mean five hundred--the price of his father's honour -and happiness, his little sister, the house, everything. - -And she loved Rupert Dale. Now that ruin faced him she knew how much -she loved him. She would give her life to save him. - -She poured herself out a cup of tea and drank it. The little -sitting-room felt hot and stuffy, her brain felt numb, she wanted air. -She crept downstairs and commenced to walk to and fro up and down the -pavement trying to think what she would do. Twelve pounds in her purse -and a cheque for five pounds in her gloved hand. How lightly Rupert had -thrown aside that cheque a few hours ago. Probably he did not know what -he had done with it; would think he had lost it. - -Scarcely thinking what she was doing she took it out and looked at it -closely. And she remembered Reginald Crichton's name. She had heard -men at the theatre speak of him in connection with mining investments. - -The clock struck the hour--six--and she made her way back to the -lodging-house, and very quietly opened the door of the sitting-room. -Then she stopped short, frozen with terror. Rupert was standing at the -writing-table. The blinds were drawn down. In his hand he held a -revolver. She saw him slowly turn it until the muzzle was pointing at -his breast. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - - FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS. - - -"Rupert!" Ruby's voice scarcely rose above a whisper. - -Slowly Rupert turned the revolver from his breast. Very slowly his arm -dropped until it hung limply by his side. His grip relaxed and the -revolver fell to the floor. Ruby crossed to his side, and, stooping -down, picked it up. - -Extricating the cartridges, she put the revolver away in a drawer of the -writing-table and locked it up. Then she drew a chair forward and sat -down, facing the man whose life she had just saved, the man she loved. - -It was a long time before either of them spoke. Rupert Dale had meant to -kill himself. Ruby had arrived at the critical moment. Thirty seconds -more and she would have been too late. The crisis had passed now, but -the shock had left the woman unnerved and weak. - -Rupert merely felt vaguely surprised that he was still alive. The idea -of suicide was horrible to him because normally he was a healthy, sane -young man, but the news of his failure for the third time in his final -examination, coming upon the victory and subsequent disqualification of -Paulus, had made him see the hopelessness of his position. It was a -lightning flash; illuminating the horizon of Hope. The instant's flash -had shown him himself, his career ruined before it had started, and his -father beggared--not merely of his home and his money, but of his -dreams: of all that was left him. - -Ruby watching him, holding his cold hand in hers, saw what was passing, -and what had passed, in his mind. Of a sudden she felt her -responsibility. - -She had never considered the word before in her life. She understood it -now because she loved. - -Rupert was the first to speak. "It's no use, old girl; it's the only -way out--the only way." - -She shook her head. "A coward's way." - -Rupert gave a dry laugh. "I'm not afraid to live, not afraid to face -the music; not afraid to take off my coat and work in the gutters, if -need be. But I've ruined and disgraced my father. The shame will fall -on him. I'm his only son, and he was going to turn me into a gentleman. -Well, when a gentleman has done a shameful thing, a thing that prevents -him from meeting his friends, his relatives, he just goes out ... as I'm -going.... They'll get on better without me, father and Marjorie." - -Ruby's hands tightened their grip. She had aged in an hour; changed. -The little, light actress had become merged, as it were, in the woman. -Mother instinct had taken the place of the lover instinct. - -She was fighting for the life of some other woman's son, and for the -moment he was her son. - -"You can't do it!" - -"My mind is made up." - -Ruby closed her eyes for a moment. He spoke quietly and calmly. She -knew it had not been a sudden resolve, but that his mind had been made -up. - -There was a long silence between them. Outside the newsboys still -shouted the sensational result. - -At last Ruby rose. She crossed the room and stood with her back to -Rupert for a little while. When she turned she was smiling, and she -looked more like her old self--as if she had not a care in the world. - -"Rupert," she whispered, and her voice, though a little unsteady, had a -glad ring in it. - -He picked up a letter lying on the table. The ink was scarcely dry on -it. It was lying on a sheet of clean white blotting-paper. It was to -his father--saying good-bye. - -"The old man sent me a cheque," he mumbled. "I can't find it anywhere. -Must have lost it this afternoon. I suppose some beggar will cash it. -Don't much matter now, but it would have been useful to the old man: -five pounds----" Again he laughed. - -"Rupert!" - -He turned then and looked at her. Perhaps something in her voice -attracted him. - -"You remember giving me five pounds to put on Paulus? Well, I didn't do -it." - -He shook his head to and fro. "It doesn't make any difference. I owe -hundreds." - -"I put it on Ambuscade." - -He turned right round now staring at her, frowning. He did not -understand. - -"Ambuscade started at a hundred to one." Ruby was laughing now. She -moved toward him unsteadily. - -"Don't play the fool," he said unsteadily. "It's no use trying -to--hoodwink me." - -"I put the five pounds on Ambuscade at a hundred to one. I didn't dare -tell you, dear--in fact, when the news of the objection came I couldn't -realise it. I've--I've got the ticket in my purse." - -The frown on Rupert's face deepened. "I saw you draw some money--you -had it in your purse." - -"I put a couple of my own sovereigns on Paulus. I backed Ambuscade with -Barrett. They have an office in Piccadilly, London. If I go down -to-morrow morning they'll pay me five hundred pounds." - -Rupert rose and tottered towards her. His legs gave way at the knees -like a drunken man. - -"Five hundred pounds!" - -He kept muttering to himself over and over again. "Five hundred -pounds!" He poured himself out a glass of water from the sideboard and -tossed it down his throat. Then he seized Ruby roughly by the -shoulders. - -"You're not fooling me. You swear it. If it was with Barrett they'll -pay up all right. They're a big firm, they'll pay up to-morrow." - -She managed to assure him she was speaking the truth. - -He began to laugh, then checked himself with an effort. "Why the devil -didn't you tell me before?" he cried savagely. "I might have----" - -He seized his hat and put it on. "I must get out of this. I must think -it over. I want air. I can't realise it.... My God, five hundred -pounds! I'm saved." He opened the door. "Wait until I come back. I -shan't be long. Wait there until I come back." - -She listened to his footsteps descending the staircase. She heard the -front door bang. She stood at the window and watched him walk down the -street. He held himself erect, his face turned to the sky now. - -Ruby closed the window and drew down the blind. Then she sat down at -the writing-table, and taking off her gloves picked up a pen. - -The cheque drawn by Reginald Crichton lay just inside one of the long -white gloves. Picking it up she unfolded it and laid it on the white -sheet of blotting paper. - -Five hundred pounds! - - - - - CHAPTER III. - - SALVATION. - - -There was a ring at the front door bell followed by a loud double knock. -But Ruby Strode did not hear. She was still seated at the writing-table -bending over the large pad of white blotting-paper, in the fingers of -one hand a pen. She sat very still, scarcely seeming to breathe. It -looked as though she were writing: not a sound disturbed the silence of -the little room. The blinds were still drawn down. - -Presently, outside, footsteps could be heard ascending the staircase. -Somebody knocked on the door, which was instantly opened, and the -landlady put her head into the room. - -"A gentleman to see you, sir." - -She stopped abruptly, as, gazing round the room, she saw only Ruby -Strode bending over the writing-table. - -"Beg pardon, I thought Mr. Dale was here. There's a gentleman to see -him." - -Ruby started and jumped to her feet. She laid her pen down. In her -hand she held a slip of paper which she had just blotted. She folded it -up with unsteady fingers. - -"Mr. Dale went out just now--for a few minutes--he won't be long." - -She spoke rapidly in jerks, and turning round faced the door, her hands -clasped behind her back. - -"Oh, it doesn't matter! I suppose I can wait." And the visitor entered -the room. "That sounds like Miss Strode's voice." - -Robert Despard crossed to Ruby's side and held out his hand. He was a -dark, well-set-up man, some years Ruby's senior. He was faultlessly -dressed in a brown lounge suit, a light-coloured bowler placed jauntily -on the back of his head, a pair of race glasses slung across his -shoulders, and he wore a pair of highly-polished tan boots. - -"I thought I might find you here," he continued, looking at Ruby with a -familiar smile and giving a nervous twirl to his black moustache when -she did not take his hand. "I saw you both at the races, but I couldn't -get near you for the crowd. Thought I would look in and see how Rupert -had done. I bet he came a nasty cropper over that disqualification. -Can't say you're looking exactly jolly." - -Ruby stepped back and forced a smile to her lips. - -"Oh, we're all right!" she said unsteadily, commencing to fold up the -slip of paper she had been holding in her hand behind her back. "We -won." - -Despard raised his eyebrows and gave a dry laugh. "I don't think! -Rupert told me he plunged, on Paulus. As a matter of fact, I came round -to condole with him. I knew he was pretty hard hit and all that sort of -thing." - -"Well, you are wrong! He doesn't want your sympathy, as it happens." - -Ruby spoke almost defiantly. The colour had returned to her cheeks now. -They were scarlet and her eyes were bright. There was defiance in them, -too. - -Despard watched her closely, and the expression on his face gradually -changed. A cynical smile still played about his lips. - -"You're a loyal little devil!" he said between his teeth. "By gad! I -admire you for it. But let me tell you that poor old Rupert Dale is -ruined. Broke to the world, and he's failed in his final, too. I'm -awfully sorry for him--and all that, but there you are." - -"Yes, you sound as if you were sorry," Ruby replied sarcastically. She -commenced to pull on one of her gloves, then slipped the strip of folded -paper underneath the glove into the palm of her hand. Despard was -watching her with his small, bright eyes. - -"Is that your winnings you're hiding away?" he sneered. - -He threw his hat on to the table and seated himself on the arm of a -chair close to Ruby. - -"I wanted to see you more than I did Rupert," he said, lowering his -voice. "Of course, it's all over between you two now? You wouldn't be -mad enough to marry a pauper, even if he were cad enough to want you to. -So don't forget that I'm just as keen on you as ever." He stretched out -his arm and pulled Ruby towards him. "I knew my turn would come if I -waited long enough." - -Quietly but firmly Ruby released her arm, and, moving away, stood with -her back to the window so that her face was in shadow. Though she -despised Robert Despard, she feared him. - -"You call yourself Rupert's friend, and yet you choose the very moment -when you believe he is ruined to make love to the woman to whom he was -engaged to be married, and under his own roof, too." - -"Dash it all, it's only a lodging house!" Despard replied brutally. -"But, go on, I love you when you get angry. You look as if you were a -leading lady earning a hundred pounds a week instead of a show girl -walking on at a couple of guineas." - -"A show girl has a heart and a conscience, which is more than you've -got, anyway," Ruby replied fiercely; "and Mr. Dale shall know the kind -of friend he's got in you." - -Despard shrugged his shoulders and suppressed a yawn. "So that's all -the thanks I get. Dash it all, isn't it proof that I love you, when, -directly I know your man has got the kick, I hurry down to tell you I'll -take his place--look after you, pay your bills--make you my wife, -anything you like in the world! I loved you long before he ever met -you. I told you I didn't mean to give you up. I told you no one else -should take you from me. Rupert is all right, of course; I am fond of -him, but he isn't the right man for you. Now that he's come a cropper -and failed in his exam., he'll have to go back to his Devonshire bog and -leave me to look after you." - -Ruby tried to speak, but she could not trust herself for some seconds. -Despard watched her with an amused smile. Suddenly she crossed the room -and opened the sitting-room door. - -"I'll go out and find Rupert. You had better say to his face what -you've just said to me," she cried. - -She hurried downstairs out into the street. She saw Rupert coming -slowly towards her and she ran to meet him. - -Meanwhile, Despard left alone in the sitting-room, lit a cigarette, and -rising from his chair glanced casually at the evening newspaper lying on -the writing-table. Ruby had left the letter Rupert had written to his -father lying on the white sheet of blotting-paper. Almost -unconsciously, Despard commenced to read it. Then he picked it up and -glanced hurriedly towards the door; he read it through from beginning to -end. He gave a long, low whistle of astonishment, and carefully -replaced the letter. - -He noticed the place where the first page had been blotted on the new -sheet of white blotting-paper. And just below it his quick eyes saw one -small word, underneath it a couple of naughts. There was nothing -particularly strange or remarkable about this. He would probably never -have noticed it if the blotting-paper had not been clean. But, -gradually, as he stared at the one undecipherable word with the two -naughts he began to feel as if there were significance about them. They -stood out on the white sheet of blotting-paper. - -There was a small mirror standing on the mantel-piece. He took it up and -held it over the blotting-pad. And he read reflected the single word -between the two naughts. It was "hundred." A little way beyond it he -noticed a single letter "s." - -Replacing the mirror he stood with his back to the fireplace, his hands -deep in his trousers pockets, thinking. - -"Hundred," "s," and two naughts. He had seen that the slip of paper -which Ruby tucked into her glove was a cheque. He was quite sure that -neither she nor Rupert Dale had a hundred pounds in the world. Indeed, -he knew the state of the latter's finances better than the girl did. -For only a few months ago, he had lent Rupert twenty-five pounds. He -stroked his black moustache thoughtfully. Before he could solve the -little problem Dale himself entered the room, followed a few minutes -later by Ruby. - -"I came to tell you how devilish sorry I was that you had backed a loser -and got plucked," Despard said; "but, hang it all, you look cheerful -enough!" - -"So would you," Rupert cried, slapping him on the back, "if you had had -a fiver on Ambuscade at a hundred to one." - -The frown deepened on Robert Despard's forehead. - -"Look here, is this a joke or what?" - -"It's no joke," Rupert laughed hysterically. "Ask Ruby, she did it for -me! I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll all go out and have a bit of -dinner together and break a bottle of wine on the strength of it." - -As Rupert spoke he caught sight of the letter to his father lying on the -writing-table. Picking it up quickly he tore it into a dozen fragments -and threw them into the waste-paper basket. - -Despard watched him, and his frown deepened. "You mean to say you backed -Ambuscade at a hundred to one and got paid!" - -"We didn't know the result until we left the course," Rupert replied -lightly. "Luckily, Ruby kept the ticket. We're going to draw the money -to-morrow. By gad, she's saved my life! I've had a narrow squeak." - -"Who did you do the bet with?" Despard asked. - -"I forgot the man's name. I've got the ticket safely in my pocket. We -shall get the money all right to-morrow." - -Ruby spoke quickly. She could not conceal her nervousness and anxiety. -She, who had been so calm a little while ago when Rupert, believing that -ruin had overtaken him, had been on the point of committing suicide. - -He noticed that she seemed flustered and ill at ease, but he put it down -to the sudden reaction. For himself he had forgotten all his troubles. -They no longer existed. Death had stood at his elbow less than an hour -ago. Now life was beckoning him to join in her revels. Curiously -enough, he did not seem to realise the debt he owed to Ruby Strode: yet -he would never have thought of backing Ambuscade himself. - -As a matter of fact, he was too excited to think of anything. He only -knew that he could pay his debts, go down to Devonshire for his holidays -and face his father with a light heart. In due time he would have -another fling at the examination, pass it, obtain an appointment -somewhere, and then he would be able to marry Ruby and they would live -happily ever after. - -But for the moment he just wanted to enjoy his good fortune; to dance, -to sing, to feast, to love. - -"Come on, if you're both ready to start!" he cried excitedly. "Where -shall we dine? Trocadero, Café Royal, Savoy? We'll make a night of -it." - -"The Savoy's good enough for me," Despard laughed over his shoulder. -"Do you mind if I wash my hands and make myself look a bit presentable -in your room, Rupert?" - -Ruby waited until the bedroom door had closed on Despard. Then she put -her arms around Rupert's neck. "Do you mind very much if I don't come -with you to-night?" she whispered. "I'm feeling so tired. I think the -excitement has been too much for me." - -Rupert looked at her with amazement. "Why, it will be no fun without -you. I don't want Despard! Rather wish he hadn't come down to see me. -You'll feel as fit as a fiddle when you've had a glass of wine." - -But she shook her head, and held him tightly. He felt her arms -trembling. He saw tears swimming in her eyes. - -"My dear, my dear, what a selfish brute I've been!" he cried with a -sudden revulsion of feeling. "Good heavens, you've saved my life--you've -done more than that--and I've not even thanked you." - -Ruby stepped back and put her fingers over his mouth. "Not another -word," she whispered. "I'm so happy, really. It's just nerves. I want -to be quite alone. I want to realise our good fortune." - -"Of course, if you would really not come," Rupert said; "or shall I tell -Despard we don't want him? I know you're not keen on him." - -Ruby longed to tell Rupert what had taken place between them a few -moments ago. But fear of the man she loved and wanted sealed her lips. -She knew that the two men were friends. She knew that Despard had it in -his power to injure her. He had some influence with the manager of the -Ingenue Theatre, and there were other reasons. So she said nothing. - -Despard rejoined them and they all went out together. - -"We'll drive you home first," Rupert said to Ruby. - -"I would rather you dropped me at the Tube," she replied. "I have -nearly two hours before I need go to the theatre. I'm not on until the -second act." - -Despard pretended to be bitterly disappointed that Miss Strode was -deserting them. Ruby surreptitiously handed Rupert the money she had in -her purse and whispered to him that she would get their winnings in the -morning and bring them round to his rooms. She had no reason for -secrecy, and so he asked her to give him the ticket she had received -from the bookmaker when she had backed Ambuscade. - -"I don't like the idea of your going round to the bookmaker's offices. -It's possible they'll dispute it, or make a fuss," he said. - -Despard agreed and suggested that they should meet at ten o'clock in the -morning and all go round in a body. But Ruby was obstinate and refused -to give up the ticket. - -"I backed the horse myself. I am going to get the money and bring it -round to Rupert!" - -She got quickly out of the cab as it stopped at the Piccadilly Tube -Station and, blowing a kiss to Rupert, she disappeared in the crowd. - -The two men drove to the grillroom of the Savoy. - -"You are a lucky devil," Despard said, "if there's no mistake, and Miss -Strode really backed Ambuscade." - -"Why should there be a mistake?" Rupert asked curtly. - -"Oh, I don't know!"--Despard shrugged his shoulders--"but she seemed -rather mysterious about it. Perhaps that's a woman's way. They are -queer cattle." - -"Ruby is one in a thousand," Rupert said quietly. "Look here, I'm off to -Devonshire to-morrow evening. I don't want the old man to hear I've -been plucked. I must tell him myself. I shall have to find some -reason, too, for my sudden wealth." - -"One of the old-fashioned sort, eh?--don't approve of betting or pretty -girls. Will you keep Miss Strode dark, too?" - -Rupert frowned. He did not reply at once. "I thought you knew we were -engaged to be married," he said at last. "I shan't tell the guv'nor -until I've passed my final, so if you come down you needn't mention -her." - -Rupert suddenly found himself regretting the invitation he had given to -Despard some time ago to spend his holidays at Blackthorn Farm. Too -late, instinct warned him that he was not quite the sort of man he would -like to introduce to his sister. - -"So you're really coming?" he said. - -"Rather! I want to throw a fly for those trout you've spoken about, and -pot the rabbits. I'm a bit fed-up with town. If it's quite convenient -I'll meet you at Paddington Station to-morrow afternoon." - -Rupert nodded. "The train leaves at eight-thirty. I must wire in the -morning and tell the guv'nor we're coming. I expect Marjorie will meet -us at Moreton with the trap." - -"How old is she?" Despard asked. - -Rupert did not reply, and the cab drew up outside the Savoy. - -Dawn was beginning to break over the City before he returned to his -rooms. He switched on the electric lights. Curiously enough, he felt -wide-awake and not in the least tired. Yet the day had been a long and -eventful one, every hour filled with excitement. - -Lighting a pipe, Rupert sat down at the writing-table, and went through -the bills and letters that lay in a heap beneath the paper-weight. -Including the money he had borrowed, he owed close on three hundred -pounds. He felt a shudder run through his body. In the morning when he -had gaily set out to the races he had not known it was as bad as that. - -But for the inspiration which had made Ruby back Ambuscade where would -he have been now? And again a shiver passed through his body. - -He saw himself sitting in that very chair holding a revolver to his -breast, his finger on the trigger. How near he had been to disgrace and -death! - -A photograph of his father stood in a little silver frame near a vase of -flowers. He picked it up and looked at it, a mist rising before his -eyes. - -"He trusted you, he believed in you," his conscience whispered. -"Trusted you to bear the old name bravely and proudly; trusted you to -retrieve the fallen fortunes of the family. How nearly you failed him!" - -A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. If Ruby had made a mistake? -Supposing she had only told him she had backed Ambuscade in order to -save him from taking his life? Or, if she had backed the horse, what -guarantee had they that the bookmaker would pay up? - -He rose to his feet, and walking to the windows opened them wide. A -cold breeze swept his face. A peculiar light grey outlined the trees and -houses. The street lamps glittered dimly before the coming dawn. London -was very still, and almost silent. Rupert raised his eyes to the sky. -It was grey and the stars had all disappeared; half unconsciously he -prayed as he had done when he was a boy. And he swore that if his -prayer were answered and he was able to discharge his debts, he would -remember his responsibilities in the future, and live his life according -to his father's wishes. - -Switching off the lights he went to bed. - -When he awoke the sun was high in the sky. It was past ten o'clock. -Hurriedly dressing and without waiting for breakfast, he drove to the -flat Ruby shared in Baker Street with another girl. But the housekeeper -told him that she had gone out nearly an hour previously. In spite of -the late night, Rupert felt strangely elated and excited. The sunshine -of the new day made him optimistic. He knew she had gone down to the -bookmakers to draw the money they had won. He waited a little while -thinking she might return. Then he remembered she had told him that she -would bring him the money to his rooms. He hurried back to Westminster. - -But she was not there, and he felt a thrill of apprehension. He rang -for a cup of tea; when his landlady brought it she again reminded him of -his bill. - -"I'm just waiting for some money to come from the bank," he said with -exaggerated carelessness. "I'm leaving town to-night for a week or two, -but I shall keep my rooms on. I'll pay for them in advance." - -He swallowed his tea and smoked a cigarette. He could not eat. Ruby had -had plenty of time to draw the money and reach his rooms! Perhaps the -bookmaker was away, or refused to settle until Monday. - -He heard Big Ben chime the hour--twelve o'clock. He lit another -cigarette and stood on the balcony outside the window waiting. - -At last he saw a taxi-cab draw up outside his front door and Ruby Strode -alight. He ran down the staircase to meet her. - -"Is it all right, have you got it?" he cried. His only thought was the -money now. The money that meant salvation. - -She did not reply, but brushed past him upstairs and he followed her. -He heard her breath coming in quick, hard gasps, and following her into -the sitting-room he locked the door. - -"Tell me, is it all right, have you got it?" - -Rupert stretched out his hands imploringly. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - - RADIUM. - - -Ruby Stroke threw aside the heavy veil she wore and placed her bag on -the table. Rupert heard the clink of coins. - -"Of course, I've got it," she stammered. "Look! Five hundred pounds. -I've brought fifty in gold. I thought, perhaps, it would be more useful -than--than notes." - -He staggered to her side and looked at the two little bags of gold she -had placed on the table. She showed him a roll of notes. He pushed them -aside, and pouring the gold out on the table he commenced to count it. -It fascinated him. He could not speak. - -Presently he began to laugh hysterically. "You are sure there's no -mistake?" - -"Count it again." - -Again he laughed. "I didn't mean that--I mean, it's all right--I can't -believe it--that this is ours--all ours." He dropped on to his knees -beside her and put his arms around her waist. "Oh, my dear!" he cried, -"my dear!" - -Ruby smiled. She sat staring at the money with hard, dry eyes. "It was -rather stupid to bring so much gold perhaps," she said in an unsteady -voice. "But I thought you could pay some of your bills with it. -And--you are so careless. You might lose notes just as you lost that -cheque yesterday." - -She picked up the crisp bundle of notes on the table. "I'm going to -take charge of these, and later on pay them into your bank. So that -when you return from Devonshire, you'll find quite a nice little -nest-egg.... Now, give me a cup of tea, and then I'll pack for you. -You've only got about three hours." - -It did not take Ruby long to pack. Rupert watched her and gave -instructions as to what he would take, but to which, woman like, she -paid no attention. - -"I've got lots of old clothes at the farm," Rupert said. "We shall -spend all our time fishing and shooting. Gad! I'll take old Despard -down our tin-mine. Probably, it's little better than a swimming-bath -now!" - -Rupert was in high spirits. Ruby encouraged him to talk, and smiled as -she listened. - -"Is Mr. Despard going down with you?" she asked. - -Rupert nodded. - -"Then you won't mind if I don't see you off at Paddington?" She glanced -at the watch on her wrist. "I've got an appointment at half-past one, -so it would be difficult anyway." - -"You don't like Despard, do you?" Rupert said; "yet he's very fond of -you." - -"Yes, I know he is. I wish he wasn't." - -But Rupert only pinched her cheek playfully. He did not understand. -Ruby wanted to tell him that Despard had made love to her, to put him on -his guard, but she was afraid to speak more clearly. She did not want to -make him jealous, and she was afraid lest the two men should quarrel. -So no more was said. They bade one another good-bye in the little -sitting-room where so many happy hours had been spent--and where such -great events had happened. - -"I shall not be away more than a week or two," Rupert said as he kissed -her. "I suppose you will be in town all the summer?" - -"Probably," she answered evasively. "Anyway, I shall be here when you -return. Enjoy yourself and don't worry." - -She kissed him again and again, clinging tightly to him, unable to tear -herself away now that the hour had come. - -"Why, there are tears on your cheek!" Rupert whispered, brushing them -away. "You mustn't be sad: our future never looked so rosy. Look here, -I shall tell my father I'm engaged to be married. I didn't mean to do so -until I'd passed my examination, but it's only fair to you. And we can -afford to get married now! You've got those notes safely?" - -She nodded, and smiled through her tears. "I can pay them into the bank -to-morrow." - -And then, giving him a final embrace, she hurried away. Rupert stood at -the front door and watched her out of sight. He wondered why she did -not turn round and wave him farewell again as she always had when they -parted. - -A few hours later as he was borne rapidly in the direction of Devonshire -with his friend, Robert Despard, he had temporarily forgotten Ruby -Strode. When the train on the branch line from Newton Abbott stopped at -Moreton he saw his sister waiting for him on the platform. A wave of -boyish pride swept over him as he introduced Marjorie to Robert Despard. -Two years had changed her considerably. She was a woman now, and -beautiful. At the same time he was conscious of the humble dress she -wore, the thick cotton stockings, and rather ungainly boots. Conscience -pricked him again, and he felt a touch of remorse. - -The money she should have spent in pretty clothes he had been wasting in -London! He felt he wanted to apologise, too, for the old-fashioned -dog-cart waiting outside and the sturdy, rough-haired Dartmoor pony -harnessed to the shafts. But Despard had no eyes for anything but -Marjorie Dale's beauty. He was unable to take his eyes off her, and -Rupert noticed the colour rushing to her cheeks as they drove along. - -Despard had a certain way with women. He treated them with a queer -mixture of deference and gallantry. He knew how to pay a compliment -with subtlety. For the first time Rupert realised there were two -distinct sides to his character. And before the long drive across the -moorland was over--still blazing with yellow gorse and bloom--he again -wished he had not asked Despard to stay with them. - -Old John Allen Dale was waiting at the door of the queer, tumble-down, -thatched-roofed building which had been the home of the Dales for -generations. He took Rupert in his arms and held him closely, then, with -an apology, turned to greet Robert Despard. His manner had all the -old-world courtesy of the yeoman farmer. - -"By Jove, you live off the map, and no mistake!" Despard cried looking -round him. - -He gazed at the strange, almost forbidding-looking farmhouse, at the -great tors surrounding it on all sides. He listened to the river Dart -as it sang its wild way to the sea, the only song among those rugged -hills. - -"Don't you feel jolly lonely sometimes?" he said to Marjorie. - -She shook her head. "I haven't time. And I've known nothing better." - -She took his kit-bag from the dog-cart, and before he could stop her she -had carried it upstairs to his room. - -"There is nothing better," John Dale said dreamily. And he linked his -arm affectionately through Rupert's. "Well, my boy, you needn't say -anything, I see by your face that you've passed your examination. The -world is at your feet now to conquer. You're going to do great things, -eh?" - -Rupert gave a quick glance at Despard. But the latter merely winked, -then, turning on his heel, entered the farm. Rupert heard him mount the -stairs in search of Marjorie. - -Rupert squared his shoulders and looked his father full in the face. -"I'm sorry, guv'nor, but you must have the truth. I've failed again." - -John Allen Dale winced as if some one had struck him a blow. The -strong, determined jaws met tightly, but he said nothing. - -"I'm going up again in November," Rupert continued. "And I know I shall -pass. It's not an idle boast, guv'nor. I can, and I will." - -The old man laid his hands on the young man's shoulders. He spoke -bravely and proudly, yet there was a tremor in his voice: - -"Rupert, lad, I know you've done your best, and I'm not blaming you. -It's a severe blow because--well, you'd better know now--the money's -come to an end! I've pinched and screwed, gladly; but the savings of -the last fifty years have all gone. They were little enough. The farm -doesn't raise enough to keep us in food and clothes. I've even had to -raise money and mortgage the old place. I couldn't pay your fees for the -examination again, much less your board and lodging in London." - -"I know," Rupert replied gently, though he had not dreamed it was as bad -as that. And once again remorse seized him. Once again he wondered -what he would have done if it had not been for Ruby Strode. - -He would have died a coward's death and left his father and sister to -suffer shame and dishonour. - -It was some little time before he could find his voice and tell his -father that he need not worry about the money. - -"I don't want you to question me, guv'nor, but I've had a bit of luck -and made enough to keep myself for another year or two in London. I can -let you have plenty to go on with, too." - -"Not borrowed money, not made by gambling?" John Dale asked. "But I -needn't ask you, Rupert. It was money honestly earned, I know." - -Rupert dared not confess how he had obtained it. "It came through a -friend," he said unsteadily. "I can't tell you more now, father, but I -will one day. I only want you to know that you needn't worry. I shan't -fail you. I promise." - -Dale took his son's hand in his great, horny fist and pressed it -tightly. "I know that, I know that, my boy." - -The first thing Rupert did with the money Ruby had given him was to -repay Despard the twenty-five pounds he owed him. The second was to -hand Marjorie fifteen pounds--ten for housekeeping expenses, and five -for herself. She was overwhelmed, and at first refused to take it. To -her it seemed like a fortune. - -"You needn't tell the guv'nor," Rupert said, "though he knows I've made -a bit. But if he's in want of anything just buy it for him--say it's a -present from me. Get yourself a nice frock and some pretty shoes." - -Rupert felt afraid that the rough fare and humble life at Blackthorn -Farm would bore or disgust his friend, but he soon found that he was -wrong. Despard settled down to the new mode of life as if he had been -thoroughly used to it. He was up soon after daybreak helping Marjorie -to milk the cows; watching her scald the cream and make the butter, and -he insisted on being taught how to do these things himself. He made -himself useful about the farm, too, and quite won John Dale's heart. He -proved himself nearly as good a shot at the rabbits as Rupert, though he -quite failed to catch the cunning Devonshire trout, and frankly admitted -that it bored him to throw a fly. - -"I want to look at this old tin-mine of yours," he announced one day; -and he asked Dale for particulars about it, as to how long it had been -worked, why it had failed, and the state it was now in. - -"It has failed because there wasn't enough tin to make it worth while -working," Dale told him. "We thought we were going to make a fortune out -of it, but it turned out the other way." - -Despard nodded and stroked his black moustache thoughtfully. "I know -something about the Cornish mines, and I've got a bit of money in one or -two of them. As you know, they restarted working a year or two ago, and -they're doing well now. There might still be money in yours, Mr. Dale." - -"You're welcome to all you can find," the old man laughed. - -Rupert and Robert Despard spent the whole of one afternoon exploring the -mine. The examination was not made without danger and difficulty. To -Rupert's surprise very little water had penetrated the main shaft, and -Despard pointed out that the river and the surrounding bog-land probably -acted as drainage. It was easy to find traces of tin in the tunnel -right up to where the working had ceased. - -"It ought to have paid to follow this up," Despard said thoughtfully. -"A case of too much capital or too little. Or else the engineer was a -duffer." - -"You don't think it would pay to erect a new plant and start operations -again, do you?" Rupert said eagerly. - -Despard shrugged his shoulders. "The risk would be too great. If it -were a gold mine, now, people would fall over one another to put money -into it. Or the magic word, radium!" - -Despard stopped suddenly, and raising the light he carried glanced into -Rupert's face. He had been scraping and poking about in the bed of the -tunnel while he talked, using a short, pick-like instrument he had -commandeered from the farm. - -He held out a small piece of black substance having something of the -colour and consistency of tar. He told Rupert to examine it closely. -The latter did so. - -"Well?" Despard cried sharply. There was a trace of nervous excitement -in his voice which Rupert had never heard before. - -"Well?" the latter said. - -"Good Lord! no wonder you've been plucked three times!" Despard cried. -"Don't you know what this stuff is?" - -Rupert examined it again. "Rather like pitch-blende." - -"Yes--something," Despard sneered. - -A sharp cry escaped Rupert's lips. He bent down and examined the black, -sticky substance more carefully. - -"It is pitch-blende!" - -"Extinguish the light," Despard said sharply. - -Rupert obeyed. A long time they stood in the darkness. Presently -Despard commenced to dig and scrape the surface and sides of the tunnel. -After a little while he struck a match and re-lit the lantern. - -"That was expecting rather too much," he whispered. - -They collected the pitch-blende they had found, and putting it into his -handkerchief Despard dropped it into his pocket. - -"I'll examine this and test it to-night. But don't say anything about -it, not even to your father. Just because we've found pitch-blende it -doesn't mean there's radium. But--they have found traces in some of the -Cornish mines, you know." - -Marjorie was waiting for them at the surface of the mine. She gave a -shriek as she saw them, for their clothes were torn and discoloured, and -they were wet through. - -"Well, how much tin did you find?" she asked jokingly. "Are you going -to make our fortunes?" - -Despard looked at her. "Supposing I were to make a fortune for you, -what reward should I get?" - -"Oh, fifty per cent. of the profits," she laughed, lowering her eyes. - -"I shouldn't ask that," he whispered. "I should want something money -couldn't buy." - -When they reached the farmhouse supper was waiting. It was growing -dark, and work was over for the day. John Dale had not returned home. - -"We had better wait," Marjorie suggested, "He's never late. Probably he -has gone up to Post Bridge Hall to see Sir Reginald Crichton on -business." - -The mention of Reginald Crichton's name reminded Rupert of what his -father had told him about having to mortgage the property. Supposing -there was anything in their discovery that afternoon the mortgage would -have to be paid off before anything else was done. He went up to -Despard's room and suggested that while they were waiting for supper -they should examine the sample of pitch-blende they had taken from the -mine. - -Despard locked the door and laid the mass of putty-like substance on the -table. "To get a proper test we ought to take or send it up to town," -he said. "But there's one simple method----" - -He was interrupted by Marjorie calling to Rupert. "You're wanted at Post -Bridge Hall at once," she told him. "Father is there, and they've sent -a servant over to ask you to go up." - -Rupert swore under his breath. "What on earth can the matter be? You -don't think anything has happened to--the old man?" - -Marjorie shook her head. "I don't think so. The message is simply that -you're wanted." - -Rupert put on his hat and hurried down the path which led to the main -road. Crossing Post Bridge he turned to the right and soon found -himself in the avenue that led to the Hall. It was situated fairly high -up under the shadow of the tors and surrounded by trees. Lights shone -cheerfully from all the windows. Before he could ring the front-door -bell Sir Reginald Crichton stepped out and met him. - -"Sorry to trouble you," he said curtly; "but the matter is rather -important. Do you mind coming up to my study?" - -Rupert followed, wondering what had happened. To his relief he saw his -father standing with his back to the fireplace. - -Sir Reginald shut the door, then sitting down an old oak bureau motioned -Rupert to a seat. But the latter remained standing. - -"Perhaps you will explain," said Sir Reginald, looking at John Dale. - -Rupert looked from one man to the other, and he noticed that his -father's face was pale, the features drawn. Before speaking Dale -cleared his throat nervously. - -"It's about that cheque I sent you eight days ago. Just before you left -London. A cheque for five pounds which Sir Reginald drew and made -payable to me. It wasn't crossed, so I endorsed it and sent it to you." - -Rupert nodded. "Yes, I received it." - -"And cashed it?" Sir Reginald spoke. - -Rupert started. "No, I----" Again he looked from one man to the other. -He felt suddenly guilty. "As a matter of fact, I'm sorry to say I lost -it." - -"Lost it? You never told me." Dale spoke. "Of course you wrote to the -bank?" - -Rupert bit his lip. "I forgot all about it--in the excitement of -packing up and coming home." - -John Dale was about to speak, but Crichton held up his hand. "Did the -loss of five pounds mean so little to you, then?" he asked Rupert. - -The latter moistened his lips. His sense of guilt increased, though he -had only been guilty of gross carelessness. Yet, how could he explain -the situation? - -"I was fearfully rushed and worried at the time," he said, fumbling for -words. "As a matter of fact, the morning I received it I went to the -races, and I only discovered the loss when I got back. I must have -pulled it out of my bag with some letters and papers. I hope--nothing -is wrong?" - -Sir Reginald leant forward and stretched out his hand. "Look at this, -sir." - -Rupert took the slip of paper he held out. It was a cheque. He saw -written across the back of it his father's name. He looked at the face -of the cheque. - -"_Pay John Allen Dale or bearer the sum of five hundred pounds._" Then -underneath in figures "_£500 0s. 0d._" - -"Exactly," Crichton said. Rising to his feet he stood in front of -Rupert and looked at him searchingly. "Your father sent you a cheque -for five pounds. Since it left your possession the pounds have been -changed to five hundred. That sum was paid out by my bankers. -Naturally, I want an explanation. Your father sent it to you. You -admit having received it, and say you lost it. I'm afraid that -explanation doesn't satisfy me." - -"You don't mean to say you think----" - -Rupert flared up, then stopped. - -Five hundred pounds! The significance of the amount suddenly struck -him. The amount Ruby Strode had won for him over Ambuscade. Once again -he saw himself sitting in his rooms in Westminster facing ruin; he saw -himself take his revolver from the drawer and hold it to his breast. -Then he felt the arms of the woman he loved round him; he heard her -voice telling him it was a coward's way. And when he told her it was -the only way, she confessed that she had secretly backed the outsider -and won him five hundred pounds. - -He began to tremble. His body became wet with perspiration. He heard -his father's voice raised apprehensively. - -"Rupert, my boy. Speak, for God's sake, speak! Say you know nothing -about it." - -Rupert raised his face and tried to look at his father. He did not see -him; he only saw the face of the woman he loved. She had confessed she -loved him better than life itself. - -"Speak!" John Dale cried, his voice rising. "Speak!" - -"Speak!" Sir Reginald Crichton echoed. "Confess that you are either -guilty--or not guilty." - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - THE ACCUSATION. - - -Rupert pulled himself together and looked at Sir Reginald. "I have -nothing to say, sir." - -"Nothing to say!" Clenching his fists Dale strode towards his son as if -intending to strike him. - -With a gesture Sir Reginald stopped the old man and waved him back. -"Gently, gently! You must keep calm, Mr. Dale. I am sure, on -consideration, your son will see the advisability of making a clean -breast of this affair." - -Old John Dale controlled himself and stood quite still, folding his arms -across his chest. Until now he had scarcely taken his eyes off his -son's face. He was afraid to look any longer lest instead of the boy he -had loved and for whom he had worked and made so many sacrifices--he saw -a thief, a criminal. - -There followed a silence. To each man present it seemed interminably -long, but neither father nor son dared break it. They were standing -almost opposite one another. The younger man held himself very erect, -his head thrown back; he was looking straight at Sir Reginald Crichton, -resentment in his eyes. Sir Reginald, seated at his bureau, was -obviously embarrassed and ill at ease. Judging from appearances their -positions should have been reversed. - -"Come, won't you speak?" the latter said in a more kindly voice. "For -your father's sake, Mr. Rupert, and your sister's--as well as for your -own." - -"I have told you I have nothing more to say. I know nothing about it." - -Sir Reginald raised his eyebrows, and picking up a pencil commenced to -tap it thoughtfully on the edge of the bureau. - -There was another long silence. Twice Dale tried to speak and failed. -His great frame was shaken. He took a couple of steps towards his son -and laid a hand on his shoulder. - -"I know you didn't do it, my boy," he said in a voice that was no longer -under control. "Maybe, you're ashamed of yourself for having lost it; -or, more like, you had it stolen, and perhaps you have a feeling you -might be able to point out the thief, only you don't like to speak for -fear of making a mistake.... Unjust accusation...." His voice -faltered. "I know you're innocent, Rupert, thank God, I know that." - -Rupert turned his head and looked at his father for one moment. For the -first time in his life he saw tears in the old man's eyes. He turned -his back on him as the blood rushed to his face. It was almost more -than he could bear. - -Of course, he was innocent, and it was impossible to conceive anyone, -least of all his father, believing him guilty of such a mean and -dastardly trick. A crime worse than theft or robbery. - -He experienced a revulsion of feeling. He knew if he had spoken out at -once and confessed exactly what had happened the morning he had received -the cheque, both Sir Reginald and his father would have believed him. -But, in spite of the brave words old Dale had just spoken, and in spite -of Sir Reginald's patience, Rupert knew that already they mistrusted -him. At the back of the heart of one was suspicion amounting perhaps to -certainty. At the back of the heart of the other was fear. - -"Do you believe I altered the amount on the cheque?" he asked Sir -Reginald. - -"I have asked you what you know about it. Until you give me a direct -reply I must naturally suspend judgment. I should certainly find it -very hard to believe you guilty of such a crime." - -"It was I who sent for you," Dale whispered, "directly Sir Reginald told -me what had happened and showed me the cheque." - -Rupert looked from one man to the other. There was fear in his heart, -too. A nameless fear. He had only to say outright what he knew about -the matter, tell them exactly what had occurred the day he received his -father's letter containing the cheque, and they would believe him. - -They would believe him, but their suspicions would naturally be shifted -to another quarter. He would have to confess that he had been in debt, -that he had gone to the races, that he had won a large sum of money, -exactly five hundred pounds--exactly the amount to which the cheque he -had just seen had been altered. - -Sir Reginald was still drumming with the end of his pencil on the edge -of the bureau. "I'm sure you'll answer me a few questions, Mr. Rupert. -They'll be brief and to the point, and I hope your answers will be the -same." - -Rupert nodded. "I've already told you I've nothing to say. If you -believe me to be innocent why do you want to question me?" - -Sir Reginald shrugged his shoulders. Drawing forward a sheet of paper -he picked up a pen and dipped it in the ink. - -"On what date did you receive this cheque?" - -Rupert told him. He answered sharply in a high-pitched tone of voice. -He felt he was on the defensive, and he resented the feeling. - -"I presume you looked at it?" Rupert nodded. "You saw the amount for -which it was drawn? What was the amount?" - -"Five pounds." - -"What did you do with it?" - -"I can't remember. I think I left it on the table with my father's -letter." - -"What were your movements that morning?" - -"I don't see what these questions have got to do with----" - -Again he felt his father's hand on his shoulder gripping it tightly. -"Answer Sir Reginald, my boy, no matter what he asks you. You can have -nothing to hide from him. Tell him frankly everything you did that day, -no matter what it was.... We are men, we were young once; we shall -understand." - -Rupert stared across the dimly-lit room. The curtains had not been -drawn across the windows, and outside he could see a cluster of -fir-trees silhouetted against the sky, a glimpse of the white road -bounded on either side by stone walls, and, beyond, the line of -moorlands. The twilight had almost gone, and the stars were shining in -the sky. He was conscious of a great silence surrounding the house, the -silence which always brooded over the hills. - -Not so many hours ago the roar of London had echoed in his ears, and he -had sat in the windows of the lodging-house in Westminster and watched -the river of life rushing torrent-like at his feet. Like a swimmer -eager to test his strength, he had flung himself into it and been swept -away. - -"We are waiting," Sir Reginald Crichton said. - -"I don't know that I did anything in particular," Rupert replied. "I -was awaiting the result of my examination. I was out most of the day: -it was when I came back that I missed the cheque." - -"I suppose you had plenty of money to pay the bill at your lodgings and -fare down here, or you would have cashed it immediately?" Sir Reginald -suggested. - -"In the last letter you wrote me, Rupert, you told me you were rather -hard up. That's why I sent you the whole of Sir Reginald's cheque, -though I was rather pressed for money myself." - -Dale spoke under his breath, almost in a whisper. He knew he was not -helping his son by what he said, but the truth was dearer to him than -anything else. And only by truth could his son be cleared and the -mystery surrounding the cheque solved. - -"I had been lucky," Rupert stammered. "I had made a little bit--at -racing." - -Sir Reginald dropped his pen and moved his chair back. "Oh, so you go -in for racing! Forgive me for being interfering, but I shouldn't have -thought you could have afforded that. You must be aware that some time -ago your father was forced to mortgage most of the land surrounding his -farm, and that I am the mortgagee?" - -"I told you I had been lucky." - -"And that's the reason you treated the cheque your father sent you so -carelessly--for, you knew in sending it that he and your sister were -depriving themselves of many of the necessities of life." - -Rupert lost his temper. Sir Reginald was making him feel a cur, making -suggestions which he had no right to make; poisoning his father's mind -against him. - -"If you want to know everything, it was the day the cheque arrived that -I made a bit," he blurted out. "I'd got a few pounds in my pocket, -money I'd borrowed from my friend Despard. He's staying with us now. -If you want corroborative evidence. I went down to the races and backed -the winner. I suppose in the excitement of the moment I must have -pulled the cheque out of my pocket and lost it on the racecourse." - -Sir Reginald sighed. It might have been a sigh of satisfaction or of -doubt. "Why couldn't you have told us this before? If, as seems very -probable, you lost it at the races, it is easy to conceive that some one -picked it up, saw his opportunity, and very cleverly altering the -figures took it to the bank next morning." He rose to his feet. "Of -course, I shall have to go up to London and put it into the hands of the -police. I'm afraid I shall need your help. They are sure to want from -you the time you travelled to the racecourse and back, the enclosure you -patronised, and so forth. I can rely on your giving me all the help in -your power, I am sure." - -"I have told you I know nothing," Rupert cried, turning on his heel. "I -can only tell the police the same thing." He picked up his hat. "Have -you finished your examination?" - -Sir Reginald bowed. "I'm sorry if it has been unpleasant. But I could -not help myself. And it would hardly have been fair to you or your -father if I had made enquiries behind your back." - -Rupert nodded, and crossing the room unsteadily opened the door. "Are -you coming, father?" he asked the old man, without looking at him. - -"You can go on, Rupert, I'll follow presently," Dale replied. - -Once outside Rupert walked quickly down the drive, past the dark, great -clump of fir-trees and along the rough granite-made road until he turned -into the main Princetown road and reached Post Bridge. A little way up -the hill the lights of the inn twinkled through the darkness. The -waters of the East Dart purled beneath him. As they rushed over the -rocks the foam glittered in the starshine. A bat swept past his face, -its wings humming faintly. He leant his arms on the stone parapet of -the bridge and gazed down into the crooning waters. - -He was innocent, but he knew that up at Post Bridge Hall there was one -man who believed him guilty of a despicable crime, and that one man his -own father, who, not knowing what to believe, doubted him. His own -father, himself the soul of honour, as proud of his good name as was -perhaps the greatest man in the land. - -His father, a man of the soil, whose greatest ambition had been to turn -his son into a man of the world, a gentleman, to give him a profession, -a start in life, an independence. For that he had made many and great -sacrifices, even to the mortgaging of the land he owned and which his -forefathers had loved and cultivated. And his only other child being a -daughter he had expected her to make many, and perhaps as great, -sacrifices also. - -Was this to be the end? Rupert asked himself. The family name and -honour dragged through the mire, their affairs the gossip of the -newspapers of the Devon towns and villages, to find himself accused and -perhaps forced to defend himself. - -Of course, he could prove his innocence--he heard himself laugh. For a -moment it all seemed so absurd. He felt he had been behaving like a -coward and a fool in not frankly confessing that he had gone the way of -nearly all young men in London, got into debt, gambled, fallen in love, -and saved himself by one of those strange tricks of fortune which happen -once and again in a lifetime. He drew himself up and looked at the sky -blazing with stars now, the million eyes of the night. - -He had held his peace because he loved. Because if he spoke he would -have to drag the name of the woman he loved into the affair. She would -be sent for, questioned, and bullied; the police would examine her. -They would find out that she had gone to the races with him and put the -sum of exactly five pounds on Ambuscade at a hundred to one, winning the -fatal amount for which the cheque had been altered--five hundred pounds. - -Fortune had smiled on him, but it had kissed the one cheek only to smite -the other. Of course, Ruby knew nothing about the missing cheque, and -could not help him in any way. It would be contemptible to drag her -name into it. - -Even if it came to a question--his honour or hers. And his honour meant -his father's and sister's. - -Presently he heard footsteps approaching, and he moved farther along the -bridge down the side of the hill to the water's edge. Every one for -miles around knew him, and it was not the moment he wanted to be -recognised or asked futile questions about his life in London--how he -had enjoyed himself, or whether he had passed his examination. - -The people crossed the bridge, walking very slowly. Now and then their -voices rose above the sound of the river. He looked over his shoulder; -a man and a woman, and as they passed he recognised his sister Marjorie -and young Lieutenant James Crichton, Sir Reginald's only son, who was -spending his leave at home. They were walking close together, arm in -arm, and in Crichton's right hand his sister's left hand was firmly -clasped. - -He saw their faces for a moment in the starlight, and in that moment he -knew they were lovers. He waited until they were out of sight, then he -hurried back to the farm. - -Sir Reginald Crichton's son was in love with his sister Marjorie. Here -was a fresh complication which at first seemed to add to the tragedy -which threatened him. "Jim" and he had been old friends as boys. -Crichton was his senior, and when he left Woolwich and was eventually -attached to the Royal Flying Corps, they lost sight of one another. -Presently, Rupert's discovery suggested a loophole of escape--if matters -turned out badly for him. If Jim Crichton and Marjorie were engaged to -be married Sir Reginald might be persuaded not to push enquiries -concerning the altered cheque too far! - -There was something not quite pleasant in the thought, and he dismissed -it. But before he had reached his home it had returned again. He -entered the parlour; the lamp was burning on the table, the peat fire -glowed in the grate. - -Despard sat in the arm-chair before it, his feet stretched on to the -mantelshelf, a pipe between his lips. An old-fashioned photograph album -was on his knees. Rupert walked to his side and bent over his -shoulders. - -"What on earth are you looking at?" he asked with exaggerated -carelessness. - -Despard pointed to an amateur photograph of Marjorie. She was seated on -a stool in one of the fields milking a cow. - -"Rather good, isn't it?" Rupert said. "The local parson took it last -year." - -Despard nodded. "It would make a very fine picture. It's the sort of -thing which, if properly done, would create a sensation in our Academy." -He knocked his pipe out into the grate. "Do you know your sister's a -jolly sight too pretty and too intelligent to be shut up in a wild, -God-forsaken place like this? It's criminal, old man. When you go back -to London, you ought to take her with you; give her a chance of mixing -with decent people and seeing life, eh?" - -"She's happy enough here," Rupert said uneasily. - -Despard smiled and closed the book. "She would be happier in London. -See if you really can't take her back with you, Rupert.... Perhaps I'd -better confess at once that I've fallen in love with her! It's sudden, -I know, and, of course, I shouldn't dream of breathing a word to her -yet. But--one good turn deserves another, and if you get a chance put in -a word for me, will you?" - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - - FORGERY. - - -Before leaving London, Rupert, at Despard's suggestion, had applied for -an order to go over the convict prisons at Princetown. It arrived the -morning following the interview with Sir Reginald Crichton. - -Perhaps because he had lived under the shadow of the prisons all his -life, the idea of visiting them (as strangers and tourists from the -cities often did) never occurred to him. The great granite building -standing on the top of the hill above the West Dart, ugly, ominous, a -blot on nature, man's menace to mankind, had never interested him or -caused him to think for a moment of the unfortunate beings who were -incarcerated there. It was just a landmark, almost part of the life of -the moorlands. He knew that originally, in the days long past, French -prisoners of war had been kept there, the men against whom his ancestors -had fought. It was some time after the war was over and peace declared -that it had been rebuilt and turned into a penal establishment. - -Despard wanted to go over it for reasons Rupert could not understand; -but he agreed to take him with just the same tolerance with which -Despard himself might have shown the Tower of London or Madame Tussaud's -to his sister Marjorie. - -As a matter of fact, now that the order had come and Despard was anxious -to make use of it at once, Rupert felt grateful. It served as an excuse -to spend the day away from the farm--and the Crichton family. They made -him feel, if not exactly guilty, at least ashamed of himself. He had -passed a sleepless night, and during the long, silent hours he had -examined his conscience and not found it as clean as it had been the -last time he slept in that little room overlooking the valley of the -Dart. - -Life in London was complex: by his own actions he had made it more -complicated, and by his ignorance of men and women and the ways of the -world. It seemed as if he had never had time in the city to examine -himself or to consider his actions, scarcely time to think. - -The only rest for the worker in London is excitement. Down here on the -moorlands it was good to be alone--if one had eyes to see, ears to hear, -and a soul to understand nature. - -In London loneliness was a terrible thing: loneliness of streets that -had no end, of walls that could not be scaled, of windows through which -one might gaze and find no perspective. - -A lonely man in London was very like a convict in Dartmoor prison. For -so many hours of the day he was let out to work; for the remainder he -could eat or sleep or gaze at the great walls of his prison and listen -to the footsteps of those who passed along the apparently unending -corridors--the streets of his city. - -Rupert had at first found relaxation in seeing London from the top of a -penny omnibus, in attending football matches, and occasionally visiting -the pits of theatres. And then, as he made friends music halls and card -parties became the attraction, with occasionally a race meeting near -London, followed, perhaps, by a "burst" at a "night club." - -And the harder he studied to pass his examination the more insistently -did his brain demand rest, and, failing rest, excitement. Without -pausing to think he had fed it, pandered to desires sometimes unnatural, -always unhealthy, and generally expensive. - -The meeting with Ruby Strode had come too late. At first she appeared -in the guise of another form of excitement. But slowly, as he realised -her worth and his own stupidity, and discovered that he loved her, he -put on the brake. - -But debts had accumulated; though he gave up card parties and wine -parties he found that friendship with an actress of the Ingenue Theatre -was an expensive luxury. Falling in love made him reckless; and when he -knew that it really was love, pride prevented him from telling Ruby the -position of his affairs. He left her to find out for herself. - -There was one advantage in this. It had proved the sincerity of her -affection. She had not realised the seriousness of the situation until -the fatal day when Rupert took her down to the races, and laughingly -told her that his future life and happiness depended on the favourite -winning the big race of the day. - -That it meant her future life and happiness, too, perhaps had not -occurred to him. Men are inclined to overlook the women's point of view -in these matters. He did not think, and not until the race was over and -he was back in his lodgings in Westminster did he realise the havoc he -had wrought on other lives--his father's, his sister's, and the life of -the woman he loved. - -Then the miracle happened. He burnt his boats behind him and left -London with a light heart, quite certain he would never make a fool of -himself again. - -And now Sir Reginald Crichton made him realise that his folly might -pursue him for some little time. Rupert had made the mistake of -thinking that by repentance he could wipe out the past. - -The start was made for Princetown shortly after breakfast--for which -meal Rupert put in a late appearance. He was afraid to face his father. -At the same time a feeling of resentment had grown in his heart, quite -unreasonably he knew. - -He had hurt the old man, as sometimes he affectionately called him. He -had disappointed him. Not one word of blame had escaped John Dale's -lips. As yet he had not questioned Rupert as to the manner of his life -in London or asked the reasons which had made him run into debt. But -Rupert knew what he felt. It was written on the wrinkled, care-worn -face. He had aged in the past twelve hours. - -Rupert did his best to dismiss Ruby from his thoughts. If his father -discovered that he was engaged to be married there would be further -complications, and the barrier which had so suddenly risen between them -would grow. - -And there were other reasons why he did not want to think of her; -reasons he would not admit to himself, and yet which continually -intruded themselves in his brain. - -Absurd fears; doubts; unwarrantable suspicions. - -"To look at you, my dear fellow, one would think you were being hauled -off to Princetown to do seven years penal servitude. For heaven's sake -buck up and say something." - -Despard spoke; they were swinging along the moorland road at a good -pace, just dropping down the hill to the valley through which the little -Cherry Brook rushes to join the Dart. - -Marjorie laughed. She was accompanying them as far as the prison, and -while they went over it she was going on into the town to do some -marketing. She was wearing a short, workman-like little skirt and high -lace boots. She carried her hat in her hand and the wind blew through -her hair; the sunshine made it gleam like dull gold. - -"I believe Rupert's bored," she said, "and he's already longing for the -excitement and gaiety of London. You must find it awfully dull here, -Mr. Despard. You don't look a bit like the type of man who would enjoy -roughing it--for that's what I suppose you call living in a farmhouse on -Dartmoor." - -"I'm having the time of my life," Despard replied cheerfully. "I was -wondering last night whether I could persuade you to take me as a -permanent paying guest." - -"Like the people who stay at the post office and the inn during the -summer months? Do you know," she said, looking at him out of her -beautiful grey eyes, "I always feel so sorry for those people; they look -unhappy and never seem to have anything to do but to drive about in -brakes or motor-cars, or, if the day's wet, wander about holding up an -umbrella. If I had to choose between the two, I'd rather be a convict -in the prisons than a paying guest." - -Despard shrugged his shoulders. "Well, one never knows one's luck. -What do you say, Rupert?" - -Rupert started. He had not been listening to the conversation. "I -can't imagine what pleasure you think you're going to get in looking at -a lot of poor brutes, half of whom will probably never know freedom -again: thieves, murderers, robbers, and heaven knows what else. The -Zoological Gardens in London are depressing enough, heavens knows; this -will be worse." - -"Not a bit of it," Despard replied. "I believe they're awfully well -looked after. Sort of glorified rest-cure. As I said just now, one -never knows one's luck. You and I might find ourselves en route to -Princetown one day, handcuffed between a couple of warders. I always -like to be prepared for eventualities. I believe convicts are allowed -to choose the work for which they are best adapted or find themselves -suited, so keep your eyes open this morning, Rupert, and pick out the -softest job." - -They paused for a few moments on Cherry Brook bridge, gazed into the -pool on the left and watched the trout sporting. The waters sang as -they tumbled over the granite rocks and swirled beneath the bracken and -heather which overhung the peat banks. In the distance a sheep bell -tinkled. Now and again one of the wild Dartmoor ponies neighed. The air -was sweet with the faint smell of gorse. - -Rupert sighed. He almost wished he had never left the moorlands. His -father had doubtless sent him to London to make a gentleman of him with -the best intentions in the world. But it was a mistake. They were -moorland folk. The land belonged to them and they to the land. He was -not suited to the city or the ways of the men who dwelt in it. - -A mirthless laugh escaped his lips, and Marjorie looked at him and laid -her hand on his. "What's the matter, Rupert? You're not worried, are -you, dear." - -"Oh, he's in love, that's all," Despard grinned. And he looked at -Marjorie. "I suppose you've never been in love, Miss Dale, so you can't -sympathise with that blessed but unhappy frame of mind." - -They watched the course of the Cherry Brook as it wound in and out, to -and fro, making a complete circle here, almost a triangle there, finally -disappearing behind the ridge of hill. There was a wistful look in -Marjorie's eyes. - -"I think I've always been in love--in love with life. I suppose that -sounds stupid, or sentimental, to you." - -"Life will fall in love with you one day, and be revenged." - -She shook her head. "For a woman life is love, and love is life. For a -man I suppose it consists of fighting.... She gives life, he takes it." - -"Rather a queer point of view," Despard laughed. - -"But life is queer, isn't it?" she answered gravely. "If all one reads -is true. The greatest nations are the most densely populated, where all -the men bear arms--and the women bear children that the men who are -killed may be replaced! It does seem a waste, but I suppose one day we -shall find something better to do." - -"Let's get on," Despard suggested. "You've got a pretty stiff hill to -tackle. And I'm a town bird, remember, and can't go the pace you can." - -He rather wished that Rupert had stayed at home so that he could have -had a _tête-à-tête_ with Marjorie. - -Rupert did not seem inclined to take the hint he had given him the -previous evening; possibly he knew his reputation with women too well to -trust him. - -To Despard, Marjorie Dale was unique, and her beauty refreshing after -the faded and painted women he knew in London. She was a strange -mixture of innocence and fearlessness which appealed to him strongly. -The fact that he could not understand her was an added attraction. Not -an easy woman to make love to, and he knew she would be a very difficult -woman to win. - -For the moment he only wanted to amuse himself, but to do that with any -measure of safety or success he knew he would have to superficially play -the game. That was why he had hinted to Rupert that he was falling in -love with Marjorie. - -They reached the prison gates just before mid-day. The town itself lay -a little distance beyond, with a couple of hotels and a little railway -station, and quite a good sprinkling of shops. The two men agreed to -meet Marjorie an hour later, and Despard insisted on lunching at the -principal hotel. - -They watched Marjorie out of sight. Ringing the bell outside the great -gates, a porter appeared from his lodge, examined the order, and -admitted them. - -They were kept waiting a little while in the porter's lodge. Eventually -a warder appeared and asked them to sign their names in a large book -which was kept there for the purpose. They had to fill in their places -of residence, their professions, and various other details. - -"I almost feel as if I were signing my own warrant," Despard chuckled. -He looked at the warder. "I suppose we shall be let out again?" - -"We shall be only too happy to let you go, sir," the man replied without -moving a muscle of his clean-shaven, emotionless face. - -Despard linked his arm through Rupert's as the chief warder led them -across the great stone square and put them in charge of a subordinate. - -"For heaven's sake smile, man, or they'll really think you've done time -here. That's exactly what you look like." - -"I can't see that there's anything to smile at. Other people's -misfortunes never amuse me." - -"Think of your own, then," Despard replied, "that will cheer you up. By -the way, have you heard from Ruby since you left town?" - -Rupert's cheeks flushed. He was saved the necessity of replying, by the -warder halting them outside another gate. It was opened with much -jangling of keys. - -Though the sun was shining outside it could not penetrate here. The -building was almost entirely of granite, cold and grey. There was no -relief for the eye anywhere; just harsh granite underfoot, overhead, and -on all sides. Rupert, free man though he was, felt a strange sense of -repulsion, a childish desire to beat against those granite walls, to try -and break them down, to escape. - -The whole time he was in the building, anywhere within the surrounding -walls of the prison, he felt as if he were a prisoner. Now and then he -heard the warder explaining. He found it difficult to pay any attention -to him. - -Despard, on the other hand, was interested in everything, asking -innumerable questions, watching convicts at work and inspecting their -work. Almost every kind of trade seemed to be carried on within the -prison walls. Tailors, saddlers, shoemakers, basket-makers. The men -sat or stood in rows, each one a certain distance apart from his -fellows; and in the middle and at the end of each row was a warder. - -Absolute silence reigned, a silence that to an imaginative person like -Rupert could be felt, almost seen. It seemed to be part of the stone -corridors, the granite walls. And granite appeared to be beaten into -the convicts' souls until the expression of it was graven on their -faces. Like their walls they were cold, grey, silent. Here and there a -few retained traces of humanity; others suggested primeval men of the -stone age, though they wore no hair on their faces and their heads had -been shaven until nothing but innumerable spikes stood erect from the -scalp. - -Each man bent over his work as if he were absorbed in it. Rupert, -watching closely, noticed their eyes roved here and there, moving -quickly, sometimes fearfully; like the eyes of an animal ever on the -watch. Sometimes their lips moved, too, though not a sound escaped -them. - -They passed into the kitchens--here there was blessed warmth again and -the smell of newly-baked bread--through innumerable corridors and -passages. - -They were shown into a cell, A.C. 2061. "Just room enough to die"--as -Despard humorously expressed it. - -The cells in which the majority of prisoners were confined were built in -the middle of a square, the floors rising one above the other, all -securely railed off, so that one warder on guard above, could command a -view of every cell in the square. - -Rupert felt a sense of relief when they reached the porter's lodge -again. They had to wait a moment while a gang of convicts marched in -through the courtyard. They were accompanied by warders with loaded -carbines. They had been at work out on the moorlands, quarrying and -farming and digging peat. - -"Well, I hope you're satisfied," Rupert said, when they found themselves -walking along the road towards Princetown. "I felt a beast all the -time. I only wonder the poor brutes didn't get up and go for us." - -"Oh, they're happy enough," Despard said carelessly. "But, I confess -it's good to be outside again in the air and the sunshine, and, by gad! -it has given me an appetite. I hope the local hotel can provide us with -something to eat." - -They met Marjorie just outside the market-place, and though all she -wanted was a little bread and cheese and a glass of milk, Despard -insisted on ordering a big luncheon and opening a bottle of champagne. - -"We want something to take the taste of the granite out of our mouths," -he laughed. - -Rupert's spirits rose when they started to walk back to Blackthorn Farm. -Marjorie found an opportunity of telling him that she had bought herself -some material for a new dress, and made several purchases for her -wardrobe out of the money he had given her. Her pride and pleasure in -having money to spend made him realise how selfish he had been, and he -again made a solemn vow that when he returned to London he would work -day and night and not spend a penny more than was necessary. - -Ruby would help him in that, he knew, and he would no longer have any -shame in appearing before her in his true light. - -He had been afraid that when she knew he was a poor man he would lose -her. And but for her he would now be ruined! - -That evening after supper John Dale drew his son aside. Rupert realised -that an interview was inevitable, and though he dreaded it he knew that -the moment had come. He expected some kind of a lecture, a warning on -the folly of gambling and living beyond his means, and an appeal as to -his future conduct. He knew his father would not be angry, probably -would not even blame him for what he had done. He almost wished he -would. It would be easier than kindness and the pain and disappointment -he saw in the old man's eyes whenever he looked at him. - -To his surprise Dale made no reference to the past. He simply told him -that Sir Reginald had received a letter that morning from his bankers, -and he outlined the contents. - -The cheque which Rupert had lost and which had since been altered from -five to five hundred pounds, had been brought to the bank by a messenger -boy, who was given the amount in gold and notes. - -On enquiry at the office from which the messenger had been despatched, -it had been ascertained that a young man had handed the cheque in to the -office in an envelope addressed to the bank, and he had called later on -for the money, which had been handed him. - -Rupert listened with a sense of relief. "Have they traced the man?" he -asked. - -Dale shook his head. "Not yet. But, of course, now the affair is in -the hands of the police. The manager of the district messenger office -where the message was handed in described him as a tall, fair man with a -slight moustache, well dressed, and, as far as he remembered, wearing a -tall silk hat, and a light overcoat." Dale laid his hand affectionately -on his son's shoulder. "Last night, at one dreadful moment, I had a -feeling that Sir Reginald suspected you, my boy, so this is a great -relief to me." - -Rupert laughed a little uneasily. "I suppose it did seem rather queer -my losing the beastly cheque and Sir Reginald knowing we were so awfully -hard up for money. But you see, father, it arrived at a critical -moment, just when I was awaiting the result of my exam., knowing I was -dreadfully in debt, and I had made up my mind to risk everything by -backing the favourite in the big race. The money I had in hand was -borrowed money. I know now it was rotten of me and I'm awfully ashamed. -I promise you I shan't make a fool of myself again. I've--I've plenty -of money to go on with, and if you want any----" - -Dale shook his head. "I'm old-fashioned, I daresay you'll laugh at me. -If I were a rich man I don't say I wouldn't do a bit of gambling myself -occasionally. But we're poor, and perhaps that makes me extra proud. -Keep your money, my boy; pay all your debts, but don't ask me to take -any. I couldn't take money that you had won like that. You had no -right to take the risk; therefore, to me it almost seems as if you had -no right to the money. But it's too late to go back now, so use what's -left, but use it carefully for your own sake." - -Rupert bowed his head. He made up his mind to make a clean breast of -everything, to tell his father about Ruby Strode and his love for her. -But just as he was about to speak Dale interrupted him. - -"I'm afraid you'll have to start by going back to town to-morrow -morning. Sir Reginald left to-day and he said he was afraid it would be -necessary for you to go up. It will only be for a couple of days, I -expect, and you'll come straight back here, won't you?" - -Rupert nodded. "Of course--I'll go if necessary, but I can't see why I -should be wanted. I've told Sir Reginald all I know." - -Dale cleared his throat uneasily. "It's not Sir Reginald, it's the -officials at the bank and--Scotland Yard has charge of the affair. They -want you to give them an exact account of your movements, what you did -and where you went on the day you received and lost the cheque. It's -the least you can do under the circumstances, my boy. You see, if the -money's not recovered, I shall have to make it good." - -Rupert nodded and said no more. His heart sank again. Yes, unless the -bank recovered the money, whether his father was legally liable or not, -Rupert knew that if it meant selling the old homestead and everything he -possessed in the world to pay Sir Reginald, he would do so. - -After all, perhaps he had won only to lose. - -Before going to bed that night he knocked at the door of Marjorie's -room, and he sat on the edge of her bed just as he had been accustomed -to do in the old days when they were boy and girl together with not a -thought in the world to trouble them, happy and contented in the life -and work of the moorlands. - -At first they talked of little things, things which had lost their -importance to Rupert, but still went to make up life for Marjorie. Then -she fell to questioning him, asking him about his life in London, and if -he were happy. - -"Somehow, you've changed," she confessed. "You don't look as well or so -jolly as you used to. There's nothing seriously wrong, is there, old -boy?" - -He shook his head. "I'm all right. I've a secret which I want to tell -you soon, but it's one that makes me happy, and I hope it will make you -happy, too.... Of course, now you'll guess, but don't say anything. -While I'm away I don't want you to be too much alone with Despard. He's -all right, but he's a man's man--the sort of fellow who makes love to -every pretty woman he sees. He can't help it, you know." - -Marjorie sat up in her bed and laughed. "Is that a man's man?" - -Rupert did not reply, but continued: "Last night, as I was coming back -from Post Bridge Hall, I saw you and young Crichton pass me on the -bridge. I don't want to interfere, dear, but, somehow, I wondered -whether--it looked as though you cared for one another, perhaps----" - -Marjorie's cheeks grew the colour of red roses. And, looking at her, as -she sat up in her little white bed, with her auburn hair falling in wild -disorder about her shoulders, her sun-kissed arms and neck warm against -the white lace of her nightgown, he realised for the first time with -something like a shock how very beautiful she was. Being a brother he -had taken her for granted. He had only looked at her with a brother's -eyes. Now he saw her as a man sees a woman; young, in the first flush -of youth with warm blood in her veins, a body moulded and made for love. - -"Yes, we do love one another," she whispered. "He wants me to marry him -one day, but I haven't promised yet. Our positions are so different. -I'm not good enough for him." - -Rupert laughed. "You, not good enough!" - -Marjorie nodded. "That's just what he said when I told him. But it's -true. I'm only a farmer's daughter; he's the son of a gentleman. Don't -say anything more, dear," as Rupert was about to reply. "Time will -tell. If we really care for one another we can both wait until we're -quite sure." - -Bending down Rupert kissed his sister very gently. There were tears in -his eyes. He rose from the bed and blew out the candle and the room was -in darkness. - -"To tell you the truth, I've been a bit of a rotter since I've been in -London," he said, finding it easier to speak in the darkness. "Owing to -my stupidity and selfishness, I've got to go up to town to-morrow, but -it will only be for a couple of days, and when I come back I'll tell you -my secret. For I've fallen in love, Marjorie. I'm beginning to feel as -you do--that I'm not good enough for her.... She's wonderful." - -He groped his way towards the door and opened it. - -"I'm glad, dear," Marjorie whispered. "Good-night." - -"Good-night," he replied as he shut the door quietly and went to his own -room. - -Perhaps it was true. Marjorie was only the daughter and he the son of a -farmer. That was why he had made such a mess of things in London. But -his eyes had been opened just in time. Love had opened them. - -A farmer's son. But his father's ambition should be realised. He would -learn to be a man and a gentleman. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - - THE VISITORS. - - -It was dark before the West of England express pulled into Paddington -Station. Rupert alighted, carrying a suit-case in his hand. He avoided -the temptation of taking a taxi-cab, but walked to the underground -railway and took a train to Westminster. He was turning over a new -leaf, and, though for the moment he had plenty of money, he had made up -his mind henceforth not to spend a penny more than was necessary. - -He had not warned his landlady that he was coming, so he found that she -was out and that nothing was ready for him. His rooms looked dusty and -uncared-for, the blinds were drawn, the atmosphere was cold and -cheerless. - -The servant suggested lighting the fire, but Rupert shook his head. He -was going to do without luxuries of any sort. The first thing he did -was to write a letter to Sir Reginald at the Imperial Hotel, telling him -of his arrival and saying he was at his service during the whole of the -next day. Then, after unpacking his suit-case and changing his clothes, -he went out and had dinner at a humble restaurant. He would have -telephoned to Ruby, but there was not much time, and, again, it would -have meant added expense. - -It was curious and irritating how important money had suddenly become. -It seemed to check him at every turn--though there was gold in his purse -and a balance at his bank. A week or two ago when he had been really -broke, it scarcely troubled him. Not as it troubled him now. - -For the first time in his life he realised its importance. And his -father's words continually echoed in his ears. - -At eight o'clock he went to the Ingenue Theatre and waited at the stage -door for Ruby Strode to arrive. She generally put in an appearance -between eight and eight-fifteen. Every minute cabs and motor-cars drew -up and members of the company got out and passed through the narrow -entrance to the back of the theatre. Some of the girls he recognised, -but he kept out of the way, as he did not wish to be seen. - -When the hands of the clock in the doorkeeper's office pointed to a -quarter-past eight, he began to grow a little anxious. Ruby was late. -As a rule she was careful about time where her work was concerned. - -He waited five minutes more, then stepping inside the passage he knocked -at the sliding glass-panel of the doorkeeper's office and asked if Miss -Strode had arrived. - -"I'm sure I couldn't say," the man in charge replied. "The doorkeeper's -been called away for a moment, but he'll be back directly. All the -chorus and extra people are supposed to be booked in by eight-fifteen." - -As Rupert turned away a girl hurrying along the passage nearly ran into -him. As she apologised he recognised Iris Colyer, a friend of Ruby's. - -"Do you know if Miss Strode has arrived yet? I wish you'd find her for -me," he said. "I've just come up to town from the country, and I don't -suppose I shall have more than twenty-four hours here. I want her to -meet me after the performance to-night." - -He noticed a look of surprise on Miss Colyer's face, and she hesitated a -moment before replying. "But don't you know she has gone away? She's -been absent about a week now." - -"Gone away," Rupert echoed blankly. - -"Yes; didn't you know? She was a bit run down. Got a chill or -something--at least, she said so! Anyway, she wanted a holiday, poor -dear! She's been at it hard for the past twelve months." - -"Yes--of course, she wanted a holiday," Rupert said mechanically. -"Where has she gone?" - -Miss Colyer shrugged her shoulders. "I haven't the faintest idea. As -you ought to know, Mr. Dale, Ruby was never one of the chatty ones, -never gabbled about her own affairs or other people's like the rest of -the girls." She held out a neatly-gloved hand. "I must rush away; late -as usual. I expect you'll hear from Ruby in a day or two. I remember now -she talked about the Continent--Paris, I believe. Said she'd send me -picture postcards--of course, the little wretch never has.... So long." - -Iris Colyer disappeared with a nod of her head. Rupert remained standing -in the passage, pushed about and buffeted to and fro by stage hands and -dressers as they passed in and out, until he recovered himself with an -effort and made his way into the street and walked slowly along in the -direction of Piccadilly Circus. He found it difficult to believe that -Ruby had gone away suddenly without a word to him, without even leaving -her address. She had not complained of feeling ill the day they parted. -He could not believe she had gone away. A sudden fear struck him that -perhaps she was seriously ill. - -Calling a cab he drove to her flat in Baker Street. He rang the bell -three times without receiving an answer, then he went in search of the -porter. - -The man corroborated what Iris Colyer had told him. Miss Strode had -gone away for a holiday. He did not know where she had gone, but he -remembered her telling the driver of the taxi-cab to take her to -Victoria Station. She had left about eight o'clock on the evening of -the same day Rupert had started for Devonshire. She had said she would -send an address to which letters could be forwarded, but up to the -present she had not done so. - -Rupert was on the point of asking if she had gone alone, then he checked -himself, ashamed of the thought. For jealousy had prompted it. - -He turned away without a word and walked blindly down the street. The -contemptible thought which had entered his heart, prompted by a sudden -wave of jealousy, was swept away by the return of the dreadful fear -which had assailed him several times during the last forty-eight hours, -and against which he had so far fought successfully. But now it would -not be denied. It brought with it a horrible suspicion. - -Why had she gone away? he asked himself again and again, still not -daring to find the answer which fear prompted. When she had said -good-bye to him at his rooms in Westminster she must have known she was -going and have made her preparations. Yet she had carefully concealed -the fact from him. It was not a case of illness. He would have seen it -or she would have told him. He knew she had not tired of her work at -the Ingenue. She loved the theatre. - -Then why had she gone? Why had she suddenly run away from him, from -London, from life? - -She loved him. Nothing could shake his faith in her love. She had -proved it. Her love had saved him from taking his own life. - -Rupert found himself standing just inside the gates of the Marble Arch. -The roar of traffic echoed dully in his ears; on his left the lights of -Oxford Street glared. Facing him was the darkness of the Park, with -here and there the red blot of a gas lamp. - -She had saved him from the crime of self-destruction. With extraordinary -clearness pictures rose before his eyes presenting each incident of the -last day they had spent together. They passed before him like the -pictures projected by a cinematograph. - -She had not told him of his good fortune until she had found him seated -in the chair with a revolver clasped in his hand. Yet she had known his -position perfectly well: she had known that with the defeat of the -favourite in the big race ruin faced him. Yet she had said nothing until -she found him face to face with death. - -He put his hands up to his face to shut out the pictures which danced -before his eyes. He heard himself laugh. - -The next moment he was striding through the Park trying to escape from -his thoughts and from the fear which now permeated his whole being. - -At Hyde Park Corner he got on to an omnibus. He wanted to get back to -his rooms again. He might find something there, some proof, that these -fears were groundless. - -The first thing he did was to light a fire and switch on all the -electric lights. He noticed a vase of faded flowers on the bureau. He -was about to throw them into the fire when he hesitated. As far as he -could remember there were no flowers in the room when he had left. - -He rang the bell and told the servant he wished to speak to the -landlady. The maid gave him a scared look and said she would ask her to -step up. - -Mrs. Jones entered the room noiselessly, and, closing the door, stood -with her back to it. She gave Rupert one glance, then stooped down to -pick up an imaginary hairpin from the floor. - -"I've returned rather unexpectedly on business," Rupert said, speaking -jerkily. - -"Yes, sir. I hope--there ain't no serious trouble, sir?" - -Rupert forced a laugh. "Trouble? Why--by the way, are there any -letters for me?" - -Mrs. Jones struggled for her pocket, and after a few moments produced a -crumpled envelope which she straightened out and handed to Rupert. - -"Miss Strode left that for you the day she went away, sir. And she put -them flowers in that vase on the bureau. I said as how they wouldn't -live until you came back. But, there, it was her fancy to have them -while you were away, and I was to leave them there." - -Rupert nodded. He turned the envelope over, broke the seal, then -changed his mind, and put it into his pocket. - -"No other letters?" he asked sharply. - -The landlady looked over the top of his head, and picking up her apron -commenced to twist the corners nervously. - -"A gentleman called to see you this afternoon, sir, and not knowing you -was returning I told him you had gone away and weren't expected. He -said you were probably coming up to London--I didn't take no notice of -that. He wouldn't give his name, sir, but he seemed anxious to see -you." - -Rupert guessed it was Sir Reginald Crichton. Turning his back on Mrs. -Jones he took out his key intending to open the bureau. To his surprise -he found it was unlocked. The landlady continued to twist her apron, -watching him surreptitiously. - -"There are no other letters for me?" he repeated. - -"Well, sir," the landlady stammered, "there were some letters--and Miss -Strode, after you was gone, I think she paid some bills for you. At -least, so I understood her to say. But two gentlemen have been here -since you arrived this evening----" - -She stopped, and again picked up an imaginary hairpin from the floor. - -Rupert swung round. He waited for her to continue. - -"Of course, I shouldn't have admitted them, sir--but, I couldn't help -myself." - -"What do you mean?" - -Mrs. Jones hesitated. She was washing her hands in her apron now, and -she sniffed suspiciously once or twice as if tears threatened. - -"Speak out--speak plainly, for goodness' sake!" Rupert cried fiercely. -"What did these men come for? Who were they?" - -"Scotland Yard, sir. In order to search the rooms." She raised her -apron to her eyes and commenced to sob. "Such a thing ain't never -happened to me before, sir, never since my poor husband died and I was -forced to take in lodgers. I told them what I thought of them, but it -weren't no good, sir. They had a warrant, or whatever it's called.... -And they took your letters, sir. What right had they to them, I'd like -to know." - -"It's all right, Mrs. Jones," Rupert said quietly. "It's a mistake." - -"I know that, sir. But it ain't pleasant to have a thing like that -happen in one's own house. Police officers they were, sir.... I told -them you was a perfectly respectable gentleman.... You'd paid your -bills, as they could see----" - -"That will do," Rupert interrupted. "Did they take anything else out of -my rooms?" - -Mrs. Jones wiped her eyes with her apron. "I don't think so, sir. I -had a look round after they'd gone. The race card you'd left and which -I'd put on the blotting-pad was missing; and they took the blotting-pad, -too, the robbers. I'd just filled it up with fresh blotting-paper the -very day before you left, as you may remember." - -"Yes, I remember." Again Rupert laughed. "You needn't worry, Mrs. -Jones. It's a mistake and it will be put right to-morrow. That'll do, -you can go now." - -The landlady hesitated, fingering the door-handle. "No one knows but me, -sir. Fortunately, I answered the door myself, so my servant, she don't -know. People will talk, so----" - -"I quite understand. But there will be nothing to talk about. -Good-night." - -"Good-night, sir. Anything I can do I'm sure----" The door closed on -the remainder of the sentence. - -Rupert waited until her footsteps had died away. He opened the bureau -and searched. A few papers were missing, some notes he had made of his -examination, and one or two unimportant letters. As far as he could -remember that was all, with the exception of the letters which had -arrived during his absence and the bills Ruby had paid. It was lucky -they had found and taken the race card. - -He took Ruby's letter from his pocket and opened it: - - -"DARLING,-- - -"In case you return before we meet again, this is just to greet you and -to tell you I have paid all the bills I could find, and put a hundred -and fifty pounds to your credit in the bank. It is just possible that I -may go away for a little holiday, as I have been feeling rather seedy, -lately, and the management say that if I give them a doctor's -certificate I can take a rest. So don't worry if you return and find me -flown. I won't write to Devonshire as you told me it would be better not -to. Guard yourself for my sake. I love you better than anything else -in the world. - -"Always yours, - "RUBY." - -"P.S. I left some flowers on the bureau. I'm afraid they'll die before -you see them, but they are my thoughts, which will always be in this -room with you." - - -He looked at the flowers: red roses drooping their heads. Bending down -he pressed the letter to his lips. Then slowly and deliberately he tore -it up, threw the pieces on to the fire and watched them burn. Drawing a -chair forward he sat down and stretched out his hands to the glowing -coal. They were icy cold. He was shivering. - -It was obvious that the police suspected him of having altered Sir -Reginald Crichton's cheque. Their suspicions must have been pretty -strong. They must have found some evidence in order to obtain a warrant -to search his rooms. - -Perhaps there was a warrant out for his arrest. He smiled grimly. But -suddenly the expression on his face changed. - -If he were arrested and the news reached Devonshire it would break his -father's heart, ruin his sister's life. - -He jumped to his feet, picked up his hat, intending to go out at once -and find Sir Reginald. The clock struck the hour--eleven. It was too -late to see him now. Besides, he did not know for certain that the -police suspected him! - -They had some letters, the contents of which he did not know. Receipts -for the bills Ruby had paid. - -It was quite possible they might suspect her. He threw his hat aside and -examined the bureau again. - -Why had the police taken the blotting-pad? He could not remember having -written any letters on the day of the race. Yet the blotting-pad must -have contained evidence of some sort or the police would not have taken -it. If the cheque had been altered in his rooms and blotted on that -pad---- - -His body broke out into a sweat. He dropped back into the chair and sat -gazing into the fire. - -His suspicions would no longer be stifled. He still fought them, but it -was useless. He reasoned with himself, he argued with himself. But the -more he reasoned the more firmly did his suspicions take root. - -Ruby had never backed Ambuscade for him at all. She had told a lie to -save his life! - -And, having saved his life, she had had to find the money which, she -told him, they had won, and without which he had confessed he dared not -face life. - -How had she obtained that money? - -He heard the question answered again and again, but he dared not listen. -He put his hands over his ears and rocked himself to and fro in agony. - -To save him Ruby had sacrificed herself. She could not have known what -she was doing. She must have been mad at the time.... As mad as he -when he had taken his revolver and placed it over his heart intending -self-destruction. - -Dawn was in the sky before he went to bed. The sun was commencing to -rise before he slept. For sleep only came when he had made up his mind -what he would do when a few hours later he met Sir Reginald Crichton. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - ARRESTED. - - -Rupert awoke with a start. Some one had been knocking loudly at his -door. He turned slowly round, then sat upright. The little maid had -drawn back the curtains and pulled up the blind with a noisy jerk. - -"It's past nine o'clock, sir. You slept that sound I began to grow -scared--though I wouldn't have woke you but for Mrs. Jones--she's got -one of her nasty moods on this morning; she says she can't have -breakfast kept about the whole morning. Shall I turn the bath water on -for you, sir?" - -"Yes, I shan't be five minutes," Rupert replied. "She can start cooking -the breakfast at once." - -Directly the door closed he jumped out of bed, and slipping on his -dressing-gown commenced to shave. Every now and then as he lathered his -face he stopped and stared at his reflection in the mirror. The action -was unconscious, yet, whenever he caught himself doing it he was filled -with a vague sense of uneasiness. On his way to the bathroom he glanced -at the breakfast-table to see if there were any letters for him. He -half expected one from Sir Reginald. But there was only a postcard. - -As he saw and recognised the writing he picked it up eagerly. It was -from Ruby. The postmark was Paris, dated the previous morning. He -turned it over, but for a few seconds the writing was blurred by the -mist which rose before his eyes. He experienced a sudden, blessed sense -of relief. The horror which had haunted him all night went away. He -read the address at the top of the card--"Hotel de Tournon." He knew -it, a little place in the Latin Quarter patronised by artists and -students. - -Had she been guilty she would never have written to him nor let him know -where she was hiding. - -The postcard meant that she was not hiding, that she had not run away. -He knew that she was safe. - -For the moment nothing else mattered. Not even the danger which -threatened him, the possibility of his arrest, the shame it would cast -on his father and sister. - -The maid came into the room carrying the breakfast-tray, so he took the -card to the bathroom, and, locking the door, read it there: - - -"I arrived here about a week ago. Thought I'd let you know where I was -in case you returned to town; but I'm moving on to-morrow, so if you get -this write by return. Tell me how you are and if everything is going on -satisfactorily. I'm anxious to know. On hearing, I'll send you my next -address." - - -She did not sign her name or her initials. - -Slowly, the feeling of relief Rupert had experienced faded away. He -read the card again as soon as he was seated at the breakfast-table. -Her anxiety to know that all was well with him and progressing -satisfactorily, caused fear to return. He told himself angrily that he -was a fool, he knew his suspicions were groundless. Of course, she -would not have written at all, not even on a postcard, if she had been -in any way connected with the altered cheque. - -She would really have run away and hidden where no one could find her. - -And yet.... When men stole or robbed or murdered or committed any -crime, they nearly always did so in the belief that their crime would -remain undetected and they would escape. In this case she would be the -last person anyone would suspect. No one connected with the affair knew -of their friendship or of the relations which existed between them. -Neither the Crichtons nor his father had ever heard of her. - -There was a knock on the sitting-room door, and Rupert started and -hastily hid the postcard in his pocket. It was only the landlady to ask -if he had everything he required and to take any orders he might have to -give her for luncheon or dinner. - -"I shall be out all day," he replied, trying to speak in his normal -voice. - -"Will you be staying another night or two, or will you be returning to -Devonshire at once, sir?" she asked. - -"I expect I shall go back to-morrow." - -Even as he spoke he had a curious feeling that he would not return home -next day. Some dreadful sub-conscious instinct warned him that he would -not return home for a long time. - -Directly the landlady had gone he looked at the postcard again, then -with unsteady hands tore it up and put it into the fire. Under normal -conditions, lover-like, he would have kept it. - -In every little thing he did now he seemed to have some ulterior motive. -He found himself criticising every action and every thought. - -He sipped his tea--it was half cold. He had been seated at the table -for ten minutes without realising the flight of time. The bacon lay -untouched on his plate. He nibbled a piece of bread, then lay back in -his chair staring across the room--at nothing. - -The clock on the mantelshelf chimed the hour--half-past ten. It was -time he started to call on Sir Reginald Crichton. But he did not move. -During the night, during the long hours of darkness, he had made up his -mind that the woman he loved was guilty of the crime of which obviously -he was already suspected. And he had made up his mind what course of -action he would pursue. - -But by the cold, clear light of day he began to reason again, once more -to argue with himself. - -In imagination he saw two figures standing by his side; one on the -right, the other on the left. Duty and Love. - -His duty was to tell the whole truth. To clear himself from any -possible shadow of guilt. That was his duty, because his life was not -his own any more than his name. Both, in a sense, belonged to his -father and sister. - -And his sister was loved by the son of the man he was suspected of -robbing. But Love, on his left hand, told him that at all costs he must -shield and save the woman who loved him. If she had done this terrible -thing, she had done it on the inspiration of the moment; love and fear -had made her do it. She had found him seated in this very room -determined to take his life. She had entered at the critical moment. -And when she had tried to show him his folly and sin, he had told her, -calmly and quietly, that nothing could alter his determination. He had -told her he was not only thinking of himself, but of his father and -Marjorie. - -And that was why she had done this thing ... To save him and those he -loved. She had not considered herself at all. It was not just because -she loved him and wanted to keep him. He remembered everything she had -said to him and he had said to her in this little room a week ago. - -He put his hands up to his face. They were wet and clammy now. - -Love and Duty. - -He heard the front door bell ring. He started to his feet, his nerve -had gone. Again the clock chimed the hour--eleven. Sir Reginald -Crichton would be waiting for him. - -He turned towards the bedroom, then stopped. There was a hurried knock -on the door and the landlady entered. He noticed that her face looked -white, her large, coarse hands were clasped together. - -"There are two--two gentlemen to see you, sir. I didn't know what to -say. I told them to wait while I saw if you was at home or not." - -Rupert pulled himself together. He looked at Mrs. Jones and smiled. "I -haven't finished my breakfast yet. Tell them to come up." - -As he spoke the men entered the room. Rupert looked at them, and he -knew who they were and why they had come. - -There was a moment's silence. He glanced at Mrs. Jones and smiled -again. - -"You can go." - -Very slowly she stepped back. - -"I hope nothing's wrong," she stammered. "I'm sure the young gentleman's -done nothing--nothing to be ashamed of----" - -"That's all right, Mrs. Jones.... Shut the door, please." - -He sat down again and sipped some tea. Then he told the men to be -seated. One stepped forward. From the breast-pocket of his tunic he -took out a slip of paper and unfolded it. - -"You are Rupert Allen Dale?" - -"Yes. You have a warrant----" He checked himself. - -The man said something else which he did not hear. There was a buzzing -in his ears. The imaginary figures on either side of his chair had -grown to an enormous size. They seemed to be hemming him in. He felt -stifled. - -Now the man was reading. Reading the warrant for Rupert Allen Dale's -arrest. He caught words here and there. - -"That's all right," he said when the officer had finished. "But it's a -mistake. I'm not guilty." - -Again the man repeated automatically the official warning. Rupert -glanced round the room. His eyes stopped at the vase of faded flowers, -the red roses which Ruby had left for him.... Her thoughts, which she -said would always be with him, surrounding him--in the little room where -they had first known one another; known and loved one another. - -Again a mist rose before his eyes. He set his teeth, telling himself -that he must play the man. - -For he had made up his mind what he was going to do, and there was -nothing for it now but to do it. To do what he felt was right. Or, -right or wrong, to do what heart and head prompted. - -"Do you mind if I finish my breakfast?" he said steadily. - -The officer glanced at his watch. "I can give you five minutes." - -Rupert made a pretence of eating. He managed to swallow a little food. -He felt he wanted to remain in this room just a few minutes more. Just -a common lodging-house room, that was all, but it seemed now as if the -greater part of his life had been passed here. - -Here he had worked; here he had really lived, learnt just a little of -the meaning of life. Here love had come to him for the first time. It -was just as much or even more his home than Blackthorn Farm had been. -He swept it with his eyes. But he did not see the common cloth nor the -lodging-house breakfast service, the framed text on the wall "Home, -Sweet Home," the cheap etching of one of Landseer's pictures, or the -coloured print from the Christmas number of the _Illustrated London -News_. He did not see the hideous wallpaper with its green and gold -pattern which had long irritated him, nor the well-worn Early-Victorian -furniture. He only saw the Ghost of the Things that Had Been. The -photograph of Ruby on the bureau, the vase of dead roses, and through -the windows one of the turrets of Westminster Abbey. - -The officer cleared his throat. "I'm afraid----" - -Rupert rose instantly. "Will you call a cab?" - -Then, to his own surprise, as much as to the surprise of the two men -waiting, he laughed. For, suddenly, the vision of an old four-wheeled -cab, a policeman on the box next the driver, and inside a man sitting -very close to a plain-clothes officer, rose before his eyes. He had -seen this four-wheeled cab and its occupants on Westminster Bridge the -day he and Ruby went to the races. - -And they had both laughed then at some foolish joke he had made. - -And so he laughed again now. "Get a taxi-cab, if you can," he said. - -He put on his hat and coat, drew on a pair of gloves. Then, not out of -bravado, but prompted by a sentimental whim, perhaps, he drew one of the -roses from the vase and placed it in his button-hole. - -"I'm ready," he said. "I don't suppose you'll want to--to handcuff me?" - -The officer put his hand on his arm. "I don't think it will be -necessary, sir." - -They walked downstairs together side by side. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - - A PROPOSAL. - - -The news of his son's arrest did not reach John Dale at once. Though -Rupert could have written or wired to him he naturally refrained from -doing so. The longer his father and sister remained in ignorance of the -crime of which he was accused, the better! - -Bad news spreads quickly enough, and he wanted Ruby to remain in -ignorance, too. It was fortunate he had burnt her postcard as quickly -as he did. He had not answered it, and unless she wrote again when she -left Paris he would not know her address. - -It was from the lips of Sir Reginald Crichton's son that John Dale -eventually learnt of Rupert's arrest. In Crichton's mind there was -little doubt but that Rupert was guilty of altering the cheque, and he -pitied the proud old farmer from the bottom of his heart. - -For Sir Reginald also had an only son, one in whom all his hopes were -centred; he could enter into John Dale's feelings and he knew how this -blow would strike him. So he wrote to his son Jim, who was, -fortunately, at Post Bridge Hall on leave, and asked him to break the -news as best he could. Though father and son had no secrets from one -another, Jim had not yet told his father of his love for Marjorie Dale. -He himself knew there were many reasons against a definite announcement -of their engagement. He was still young; needless to say, he could not -live on his pay, and though his father made him an allowance it barely -covered his expenses. Flying was an expensive game, and, like all men -attached to the Royal Flying Corps, Jim's energy and keenness knew no -bounds. He was always experimenting, trying new engines, building new -machines--giving the benefit of his experience to his corps and to his -country. - -And there was Marjorie's side of the question and her point of view to -be considered. Being both so young, having both been brought up in -natural healthy surroundings, it was impossible for them to hide their -feelings from one another, and before he was aware of it, Jim had -confessed his love and read a corresponding confession in Marjorie's -eyes. - -It was not until afterwards, when quietly and soberly he thought out -their position and considered the question of their marriage, that he -realised love was all in all to a woman, but to him, while he had his -profession, it would only be part of his life. And that at present his -life was not his own. Not only did it belong to his country, but he -risked it almost daily. For that reason alone he felt he could not tie -Marjorie down to a formal engagement. - -Sir Reginald Crichton little knew the effect his letter, telling his son -all about the altered cheque and Rupert Dale's arrest, would have on -him. Had he guessed he might not have written it. - -He asked him to break the news to poor old John Dale, to tell him that -he, Sir Reginald, was seeing his son had the best legal advice that -could be obtained, and to advise Dale to come up to London immediately. - -It was with a heavy heart that Jim Crichton walked over to Blackthorn -Farm early in the morning after he received Sir Reginald's letter. It -was not an easy or a pleasant job to tell another man's father that his -only son had been arrested on a criminal charge. He was rather annoyed -with his father for not writing direct to Dale. For, after all, he -could only blurt the news out in a way that might hurt more than if it -had been conveyed by letter. - -Youth must always be a little egotistical and a little selfish, and what -troubled Jim most of all was the shock the news would give to the woman -he loved--and the effect it might have on their love and their future -life. - -If Rupert Dale were guilty! Jim Crichton was a soldier, and so could -not help being a little conventional and having more respect sometimes -for the opinion of others than his own opinion. He had to consider what -the world thought and said. He knew he would have to consider his own -position as well as his father's. And he knew as he walked along the -banks of the purling Dart in which Rupert and he had often fished -together as boys, that before seeing Marjorie and telling her, he would -have to make up his mind as to the position he would take up in this -wretched affair--if her brother were found guilty. He knew it meant -that the Dales would be ruined, probably financially as well as -socially. - -In the West country a social sin is never forgiven, never forgotten. -They would have to leave Devonshire and go far away. And he might never -see Marjorie again. - -He halted, sat down on a giant boulder, and looked across the bleak -moorland to Blackthorn Farm not a quarter of a mile away. At that -moment he realised for the first time how deeply he loved Marjorie Dale. - -Better than anyone else in the world; more than anyone else in the -world. She even came before his profession. - -It was with a shock he discovered this. But he had to confess it to -himself. - -He could not give her up. Not even though her brother were convicted of -being a criminal and sent to prison. - -It was a glorious summer day. The sun was rising in a cloudless blue -sky. A gentle wind brought the scent of gorse. Here and there streaks -of purple showed in red heather where it had burst into bloom. Now and -then a trout leapt with a noisy splash in the pool at his feet. - -A long time James Crichton sat on the granite boulder lost in thought, -trying to look at the thing from every point of view, arguing and -reasoning with himself. No matter what happened, he could not give up -Marjorie. If he had only considered his own feelings, it might have -been possible, even though it meant a broken heart. But she loved him. -He belonged to her; she looked to him for her future life and happiness. -She had done no wrong. Why should she, he asked himself, suffer for her -brother's sin? - -He could save her, even though it meant humbling himself, even though it -meant giving up the profession he loved. - -He knew the decision to which he had come would hurt his father -terribly; but if it came to a choice between him and Marjorie, he knew -he should choose the woman who was destined to be his mate; the girl, -the whole of whose life lay before her, rather than the man, his own -father whose life had been lived. - -It was a terrible choice, perhaps a strange one. But Jim instinctively -felt he was right. - -So deep was his reverie that he did not hear a light step on the grassy -ground. A hand was laid on his shoulder and he started, looked up, and -found Marjorie smiling into his face. - -"My dear!" he cried, jumping to his feet. "My dearest!" - -He took her in his arms with a passion she had never felt before and -held her so fiercely that she would have cried out with the pain had she -not loved him as she did. - -"Jim.... You frightened me--and I thought to frighten you," she panted -when he released her. "You don't know how strong you are." She glanced -at him, her cheeks scarlet, the love and dawn of passion swimming in her -eyes. She wore no hat and her hair shone in the golden sunshine. Her -neck and arms were bare, and her short, workman-like skirt showed her -tiny, well-bred ankles and long, narrow feet. Jim looked at her -silently, hungrily. - -Slowly her colour fled and she came close to him again, holding out her -hands. "Is anything wrong?" - -Without replying he put his arm around her and led her away towards -Blackthorn Farm. - -Some one lounging on Post Bridge might see them. A labourer in the -fields, or a farmer on the hills, who would carry the news back to his -cottage at night that he had seen the young master of Post Bridge Hall -making love to old John Dale's daughter. But he did not care--now. -Every one should soon know that they loved and that Marjorie was to be -his affianced wife. - -He told her as gently as he could what had happened. Of course, he made -as light of it as possible, assuring her that Rupert would be released -and the affair cleared up satisfactorily. - -"That's why the guv'nor wrote to me instead of your father and asked me -to tell him and see him off to London. He was afraid if he wrote Mr. -Dale would put the worst construction possible on the affair. It's -quite a common thing for a man to be arrested by mistake on some scraps -of evidence the police get hold of.... Don't you worry, Marjorie. -You've got to leave all the worrying to me in future." - -She tried to smile and press his hand, but the happiness had left her -eyes and her face was very pale now. "I'm frightened," she whispered. -"I can't help it, Jim--if father goes to London I must go with him." - -But James Crichton shook his head. "That's just what you mustn't do. -That friend of Rupert's I saw the other day will see him safely up to -town. Despard was his name, wasn't it? I suppose he's still here?" - -Marjorie nodded. "Yes. He and Rupert had made some discovery in the -old tin-mine. They were awfully excited about it." She tried to laugh. -"They were going to find radium and make a fortune, I believe. I heard -them say something about it.... Oh, Jim, we were so happy and -everything seemed to be turning out so well. And now this has happened. -Rupert--it can't be true. Of course, I know it isn't true. It will -kill father." - -Jim forced himself to laugh. "My dear, we shall have him back here -within a week. You mustn't think anything more about it. There's -something else I want to tell you. I'm going to announce our -engagement--at once." - -She looked at him with unbelieving eyes, almost as if she could not -understand. Then she shook her head. - -"Not now, Jim. We must wait until--until Rupert's free; this charge -against him disproved." - -He shook his head, and, stopping, held her in his arms again. "Darling, -if by any chance the worst should happen, it would make no difference to -our love! Nothing would force me to give you up. That's why I'm going -to announce our engagement now. Now, while this thing is hanging over -our heads." - -Again she would have protested, but he silenced her. "I've made up my -mind, nothing can change it." - -Holding her hand he led her forward and opened the gate that led into -the farmhouse garden. As they entered they saw Despard lounging in a -chair on the lawn reading the morning newspaper, a pipe between his -lips. He glanced up as they entered, smiled at Marjorie, and without -taking the pipe from his lips, or rising, gave Jim Crichton a curt nod. - -"Bounder!" was the latter's silent ejaculation. But he saw old John Dale -standing in the doorway, so, giving Marjorie's hand a gentle pressure, -he left her. - -Telling Mr. Dale he had something to say to him in private he entered -the dining-room. - -"You bring me bad news of my son," Dale said quietly. "I know it." - -"How did you?" Jim asked, off his guard. "Surely it hasn't got into the -local papers." - -Dale stepped forward instantly, then, gripping the back of his chair, -sat down. "So, it's true," he said in a broken voice. "It's true." He -gave a mirthless laugh. Jim tried to speak, but the words refused to -come. He would have done anything to spare the father of the girl he -loved. He would have borrowed the money from his father, hushed the -affair up, and repaid the bank. He would have done anything. - -"It's true he has been arrested," Jim said after he had given the old -man time to recover himself. "But I'm quite sure he will be able to -prove his innocence. I know my father thinks so, too. Indeed, he -himself is employing the best legal advice he can obtain, and will see -he is given every chance of defending himself. We want you to come up -to town, if you will, sir, and, if possible, to catch the train to-day." -He glanced at the grandfather clock in a corner of the room. "There is -one that leaves Newton Abbot about two-thirty, I think. I can motor you -in. I am sure Mr. Despard will accompany you." - -John Dale shook his head slowly to and fro. "Yes, I must go up. I must -see him," he whispered. He rose to his feet and held out his hand. -"You're too good, Mr. James. I'm afraid--I'm afraid----" - -"You needn't be," Jim interrupted quickly. "Rupert's innocent, I'll -swear. Anyway, we'll see to him and see that justice is done." - -"Yes; that's so. Justice must be done at all costs." John Dale raised -his head and looked proudly at Sir Reginald Crichton's son. - -The latter took his hand and shook it warmly. "Then I'll be round with -the motor in about an hour's time. Perhaps you'll warn Mr. Despard that -you want him to go with you. Anyway, under the circumstances, he could -not be left here alone with your daughter, could he?" - -He walked to the door, then stopped. "There's something else I would -like to say, sir, though it may not seem quite the moment. I love your -daughter Marjorie: I hope to make her my wife. With your permission I -should like to announce our engagement at once." - -It was a long time before Dale replied. "That's impossible now. But I -thank you, Mr. Crichton.... It is just the sort of thing I--I would have -expected--from Sir Reginald's son." - -The old man broke down then, and Jim saw tears coursing down the lined -and furrowed cheeks. He bit his lip. "It is not impossible, sir. I -want to announce the engagement now; now, at this moment, while this -charge is hanging over your son's head. Do you think a thing like that -would make any difference to my love for your daughter? It's at this -moment she wants my love and the protection of my name. And she shall -have it." - -Without waiting for a reply he opened the door. Dale stopped him. - -"I ought to tell you," he said unsteadily, "that last night Mr. Despard, -Rupert's friend, made the same request--told me he loved Marjorie and -asked for her hand." - -"What did you say?" - -"Of course, I refused," Dale replied. "Why, they've only known each -other a few days. But, putting that aside, I'm afraid I dislike and -distrust the man. I feel he's one of the men who has led my son into -bad ways." - -He bent over the table and bowed his head between his hands. Again -there was a long silence. - -"You have no objection to me as a son-in-law, Mr. Dale?" - -"Surely that question needs no answer--but, please say no more now. -Leave me, Mr. James." - -Quietly closing the door behind him Jim walked out of the house into the -garden. Taking no notice of Mr. Despard, he drew Marjorie aside and -told her what had happened. - -"I am driving your father--and Mr. Despard--to Newton Abbot in about an -hour's time. When I come back we'll have a little run in the car--tea -together at Moretonhampstead, perhaps. Or, better still, we'll go over -to Hey Tor and have a picnic on our own. Cheer up, darling, all will be -well, I know." - -Bending down, he kissed her in full view of Robert Despard. The latter -scrunched the _Western Morning News_ up between his hands with an oath. - -Waving a farewell to Marjorie, Jim swung through the gate and hurried -across the moorlands towards Post Bridge Hall. - -An hour later he was driving both John Dale and Mr. Robert Despard to -Newton Abbot junction. And he could not help feeling some satisfaction -when the train carried the latter gentleman away from Devonshire back to -London. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - - IN SUSPENSE. - - -It was Saturday. A week had passed since Rupert's arrest, since he had -left the little rooms at Westminster and been driven to the police -court. It all seemed to him like a vivid dream, in which he played a -passive but unwilling part. - -He had seen no one but the prison chaplain since that dreadful day at -the Westminster Police Court. The long wait in a bare cell, the sudden -hurrying through dark passages, the Court, with the hum of conversation -suddenly stifled--and then he found himself standing in the dock and -felt rather than saw that every eye was fixed on him. - -He had pleaded "Not guilty," in a voice he scarcely recognised as his -own. Shame covered him as with a cold mist. He was committed for -trial, but bail was offered him, two sureties of £500 each. He had -shaken his head as he gulped down the lump in his throat that prevented -him speaking. Who would stand bail for him? - -He began to realise that he had not a friend; many acquaintances--many -pals, yes--but not one friend! - -A tear dropped on the open book on his knees--"Barnaby Rudge"--that the -chaplain had brought him. He had just finished chapter sixty-two, and -the tale of Rudge's prison had strangely softened his troubles. But the -uppermost thought in his mind was the woman he loved! - -Ruby! Again he felt that icy grip at his heart. How often had he -reasoned it all out and fought against the suspicion that at last had -become a certainty. - -Why had she not been to see him? Why had she sent no word, not even a -message? - -What a coward he had been. The pistol that he held to his own breast -had really been pointed at her heart. She had committed this great -crime to save him from a greater. - -A crime of murder, for in taking his own life did he not end hers, too? -And now it was up to him to play the man and pay the price of his own -sins. He began to pace the narrow cell. - -The key turned in the lock, the cell door opened, and a warder curtly -ordered Rupert to follow him. A second warder walked behind, and, after -descending a flight of stairs, he stopped before a door which he opened -and motioned Rupert to enter, and at once closed the door from outside. - -Rupert found himself in a small, bare room, in the centre of which a -table covered with a green, ink-stained cloth and half a dozen wooden -chairs were the only furniture. Seated at the table was an elderly man -with a closely-trimmed beard, while, standing with his back to the -fireplace, was a younger man, whose clean-shaven face and clear-cut -features at once arrested Rupert's attention. The man at the table rose -and bowed. - -"Mr. Dale, I believe! This is Mr. Marshall, who has undertaken your -defence. Please be seated!" - -Rupert obeyed automatically. He was too surprised to speak, and the -man, obviously a lawyer, continued: - -"I must explain to you that I represent Messrs. Redway, Wales & Redway, -Sir Richard Crichton's solicitors, who have been instructed by him to -arrange for your defence. Mr. Marshall has kindly accepted the brief -and will defend you. Now, Mr. Dale, I want you to tell us all you know -about this unfortunate occurrence. You must understand that whatever -you tell us will be treated as strictly confidential, and it is -absolutely necessary that you are perfectly frank with us. Mr. Marshall -will tell you that to conceal anything from us will greatly prejudice -your case--in fact, it might ruin your defence." - -Mr. Marshall murmured "Quite so! quite so!" and began to examine the -toes of his boots. - -"I have nothing to conceal," said Rupert. "I intend to plead guilty; I -have no desire to be defended--I am quite prepared to pay the penalty of -my folly." - -Mr. Marshall coughed. - -"That's frank; that's very frank," Mr. Redway exclaimed. "But, my dear -young sir, you must allow us to judge the way you should plead. Now, I -have here a statement of the case as far as we've been able to obtain it -from the proceedings in the police court, and the statements made by the -witnesses for the prosecution. What we now require are the exact -circumstances under which you--er--altered the amount on the cheque and -exactly how you proceeded to cash it. Will you kindly tell us in the -first place what caused you to be in want of this large sum?" - -"I was in debt. I had been betting, and living beyond my means." - -"Just so," said Mr. Redway; "and so you altered the cheque under the -pressure of debt--to avoid ruin, in fact?" - -Rupert nodded. - -"Will you kindly tell us to whom you gave the cheque in the first -instance with a view of getting it cashed?" - -"What's the use of all this? I have admitted the crime, and I do not -wish to make any further statement." Rupert spoke with sudden -irritation. - -"Now, look here, Mr. Dale--Excuse me, Mr. Redway!" Mr. Marshall -interrupted--"I have done an unusual thing in coming here to-day, and I -have done it entirely in your interests, to enable me to get a personal -insight into this case, which possibly I could not get from my brief -alone. The least you can do in return is to answer the questions asked -you, and give us as much information as you are able. You must -understand that unless I am fully acquainted with the details of your -actions in this matter, it will be impossible for me to meet and reply -to the evidence which the prosecution will bring against you." - -Rupert bit his lip, and, after a few moments' silence, he looked -straight into the barrister's eyes: "I am extremely sorry to put -difficulties in your way, and I fully appreciate Sir Reginald's kindness -in arranging for my defence. Believe me, I am very grateful to him and -to you both; but there are circumstances which render it impossible for -me to give you any information regarding the cheque or its subsequent -disposal. I hope you will not press me further in the matter." - -Redway, who was fidgeting with the papers, looked at Mr. Marshall with -raised eyebrows, and the barrister nodded to him as though he -understood. - -Redway cleared his throat: "We quite understand, Mr. Dale, and your -scruples do you honour; but you must remember that in trying to shield -your accomplice by refusing to confide in us, you are not only spoiling -your own case, but very possibly endangering your friend. Come, now, be -reasonable. We must know who gave the cheque, or rather the note -containing the cheque, to the messenger-boy." - -Rupert looked up, and the surprise he felt must have been clearly -reflected on his face, for Mr. Redway exclaimed: "You don't mean to say -that it was you who gave the note to the messenger?" - -There was a long silence before the lawyer spoke again. "Will you, -then, give us Miss Strode's present address? This is really most -important, as she has completely disappeared and left no trace, although -the police have been searching for her for the past week." - -Rupert's heart gave a great bound. Then she was still safe! "I can -answer that question, at least. I don't know where she is, and have -heard nothing of her since I was arrested." Then, after a moment's -hesitation: "I suppose she is utterly disgusted with my crime, and -wishes to avoid having her name in any way connected with mine!" - -Redway rose and touched the bell on the table. "I am sorry you can give -us so little help. I shall see you again before the trial, when I hope -you will see your way to place a little more confidence in us, otherwise -I fear your defence will suffer gravely." - -The door opened, and the warder escorted Rupert back to his cell. As he -reached it, he handed him a letter. - -The door slammed, and the retreating steps of the warder echoed down the -stone-flagged passage. - -Rupert glanced at the envelope in his hand, and started as he recognised -his father's writing. He sat on the wooden bunk and slowly opened it. -The envelope fell to the floor and lay there. He noticed that the -post-mark was London, not Princetown. - -For a moment Dartmoor and the great convict prisons rose before his -eyes, and he shuddered at the bare possibility of his being sent there. -He began to read the letter: - - -"MY DEAR BOY,--I hardly know how to write these few lines. I have had a -great struggle, and from my heart tried to believe you innocent--for how -could my son commit this horrible crime? Sir Reginald has been more -than kind. He asked me plainly if I believed you did this thing, and I -looked him in the face and said '_No_! It is impossible! He is a true -gentleman!' He shook my hand and said: 'Neither do I; and what's more, -I'll see he has a fair trial.' He has written to his lawyers and they -are to help you, and he has brought me up to London, and I hope to see -you to-morrow. For God's sake, my dear boy, clear yourself and our good -name! For my sake, and your sister's, help the lawyers to find the man -who has put this awful burden upon us. Find him, Rupert, and hunt him -down, for unless you do my heart is broken, and I fear ruin faces -us--all three. God help you clear our name. - -"Your affectionate father, - "JOHN DALE." - - -The letter fluttered to the floor beside the envelope and Rupert threw -himself on the hard bunk and sobbed aloud. Try as he would, great sobs -shook his frame. All his resolutions were shattered by this appeal. -How could he destroy his father, ruin his sister, and bring desolation -and unending shame to his home? - -What was he to do? A word to Mr. Redway, and his innocence would be -quickly proved. Nay, he need only give a hint, and the lawyers would do -the rest. He need not mention Ruby's name. - -Blood was thicker than water, after all; if it had only been himself to -sacrifice he would have been too ready to do so for Ruby's sake; but had -he any right to sacrifice his father and sister as well? The more he -thought of it the more convinced he became that he must save them at all -costs. - -His eye fell upon the ink-pot on the wooden shelf. As a prisoner -awaiting trial he was allowed to send and receive letters. - -He found a sheet of paper and wrote to the lawyer. - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - - THE TRIAL. - - -It was the second day of the trial. - -The atmosphere of the Court was stifling, and as the counsel for the -prosecution sat down a deep buzz of conversation and scuffling of feet -instantly succeeded the tense silence which had been maintained during -his speech. - -The judge left the bench, and every one in Court rose. It was exactly -ten minutes to five by the clock over the door. The counsel for the -prosecution had spoken for just twenty minutes. The public struggled -through the door, intent upon tea. - -"Poor devil, not much chance for him after that!" "Oh, he's guilty all -right! Did you notice the jury's faces?" "G'on! we ain't 'eard t' -other side yet." "Did yer notice the bloomin' judge? What I calls a -'anging face, 'e's got!" - -The crowd elbowed and jostled its way into the street, where the -newsboys were shouting "Special edition! Great fraud case--full -account." - -The barristers were collecting their papers, and Mr. Marshall touched -John Dale on the shoulder: "Come on, Mr. Dale, we will go and have a cup -of tea together at my own special tea-room. It is only just across the -road!" - -The old man had sat beside his son's counsel throughout the long day, -and as witness succeeded witness and the chain of evidence grew -stronger, his face became sterner and sterner, and when the eminent -K.C., who represented the Crown, had reviewed it, taking each link in -turn and cleverly wielding the whole into one perfect piece--there -seemed not a flaw in the chain of evidence against the prisoner. He was -already condemned, and it seemed to the old man that even he could no -longer believe in his innocence. - -Mr. Marshall had watched the old man all day, and his kindly heart had -been touched by his loneliness and obvious grief. He felt it would be -cruel to let him go to his lonely lodgings without doing something to -counteract the effect, which the case for the prosecution was bound to -leave on the mind of one who was totally ignorant of Law Court methods. -So, after removing his wig and gown, he steered the old man across the -crowded Strand into the snug little tea-room. When the pretty, -ribbon-bedecked Hebe had placed the pot of fragrant _bohé_ and plate of -hot muffins between them, Mr. Marshall spoke: - -"Well, Mr. Dale, what do you think of the prosecution?" - -The old man sipped his tea, and carefully put down his cup before he -replied: "I'm afraid it looks very black for my poor boy. I hardly know -what to think. Do you know, sir, that last speech absolutely shook my -faith in Rupert's innocence; what, then, must be its effect on the -Judge!" - -Mr. Marshall laughed heartily. "Good gracious, Mr. Dale, you must not -take anything he said seriously; and, besides, it is the jury, not the -Judge, that matters. It will be my turn to-morrow. You have not heard -the other side yet." - -The old man looked up quickly. "Do you really think there is still -hope, sir?" - -"Hope, Mr. Dale! I am hoping to-morrow to completely pulverise my -learned friend, Mathews. Why, bless me! he entirely ignored the fact -that the man who sent the cheque to the bank has not yet been found, -while the woman, Ruby Strode, who actually received the money, is also -not forthcoming. My dear sir, these two facts alone, -when--ahem!--skilfully handled, are quite enough to damn the case for -the prosecution! Remember this: In English law a man is innocent until -he has been proved guilty. I admit there are many very suspicious -circumstances, which our learned friend made the most of; but there has -been no direct evidence in proof adduced, and that is our strong point. -The evidence to-day, however strong, was purely circumstantial. Mind, I -do not say as things stand at present that there is no danger of an -adverse verdict; but I do say that we have a good case. I wish we could -find that young woman. I feel certain that her evidence would go far to -clear your son." - -"You have greatly relieved my mind," Dale sighed, "for I was feeling -very down about it; and now I must be getting back to my rooms. I -wonder if I can get a 'bus to Bloomsbury?" - -"You are a stranger to London, and it would be most unsafe for you to -try to find your way by 'bus. A taxi will only cost you a shilling. -Come along, and I will see you safely off." - -As the taxi drove off with John Dale, a boy handed Mr. Marshall a -telegram: - -"The caretaker sent me across with this, sir, as he thought it might be -important." - -Mr. Marshall nodded, and tore open the envelope. - - -"Miss Strode here now; can you come at once? Very important.--REDWAY." - - -Mr. Marshall's face lit up with excitement. The solicitors were only in -Chancery Lane, so he decided to walk. Just as he passed the Griffin he -found himself on the edge of a large crowd, and he had some difficulty -in forcing his way through; so he did not notice that it was caused by -an accident. A taxi-cab and a motor-bus had collided, and apparently -some one had been injured, for a police ambulance was arriving. When he -got clear of the crowd he hurried on, little thinking who it was being -lifted on to the ambulance. - - * * * * * - -John Dale had never been in a taxi-cab before, and when the kindly -barrister had shaken his hand and told the driver the address, he lay -back with a sigh of satisfaction on the luxurious cushions and resigned -himself to enjoy his first drive. It was marvellous to him how the cab -managed to dodge in and out of the heavy traffic; more than once the -driver stopped with a jerk that nearly sent him off his seat, but he -supposed this was the usual experience in London. - -Presently he saw a policeman ahead put up his hand, but the driver -dashed on across the front of a big omnibus that was coming down at -right angles from another street. In a moment there was a crash, he -felt himself hurled into space and knew no more until he found himself -lying in a strange bed, and saw a white-capped woman bending over him. - -"Are you feeling better now?" she asked. - -His head was aching, and when he raised his hand to it, he found it -swathed in bandages: he closed his eyes and asked what had happened. - -"You must not talk, but just try and go to sleep," the nurse said. "You -have met with an accident, but you will soon be all right." - -"Ah! I remember now! The taxi-cab. Yes!" And again he closed his -eyes, and the nurse stole softly away. - -It was late the next morning when he awoke to find the doctor bending -over him. - -"Well! You have had a good sleep," he said. "How are you feeling now?" - -"I am aching all over, but my head is better, thank you. Where am -I?--and what time is it?" - -"You are in Charing Cross Hospital, and it is just half-past ten in the -morning." - -Suddenly he remembered. This was the hour he ought to have been in -Court to see his son's honour cleared. - -"I must get up," he cried. "I have an important engagement, and am late -already." - -The doctor smiled. "I am afraid that is impossible. You have broken -your leg, and it will be several weeks before you will be able to walk -again." - -He thought for a few moments, then asked if he could send a telegram. A -form was brought him, and with a trembling hand he wrote the message. - - * * * * * - -The Court was packed from floor to ceiling when Rupert entered the dock -between two warders. Not only were most of his fellow students present, -but also a number of the chorus ladies from the Ingenue Theatre, who -were sprinkled among the crowd, conspicuous by their bizarre hats and -ultra-fashionable costumes. He at once noticed that his father was not -at the counsels' table, and wondered that he should be late. The -jurymen were already in their places, and immediately, on the judge -taking his seat, Mr. Marshall rose and opened the case for the defence. - -"My Lord and gentlemen of the jury--yesterday you heard the case for the -prosecution, and the long chain of circumstantial evidence that all went -to show the guilt of the prisoner at the bar. Had I known yesterday the -facts I am about to put before you, I need scarcely say I should have -interposed at once, and so saved a wasted day. We now have a complete -answer to the charge--the best answer possible--the person who altered -the cheque has come forward at the eleventh hour and has made a full -confession." - -A loud burst of conversation mingled with applause greeted this dramatic -announcement, and when the ushers had secured silence the Judge spoke: - -"If there is any repetition of this most improper demonstration, I shall -clear the Court." - -Mr. Mathew was already on his feet. "My Lord, may I ask my learned -friend if he proposes to put in a written confession?" - -Mr. Marshall signified assent. - -"Then, m' Lord, I must object." - -Mr. Marshall, who was still standing, replied at once: "It is an -affidavit, my Lord, and as such is legal evidence." - -"I object, m' Lord!" Mr. Mathew interposed. - -"Will you state the grounds of your objection?" the Judge said. - -"Certainly, m' Lord; I am instructed that the person who has executed -the affidavit is merely an accomplice of the prisoner at the bar, and -their relationship is such as to warrant the gravest doubts of its -genuine nature. I am instructed, m' Lord, not to accept this -confession, and I must insist on my right to cross-examine, if this -affidavit is put in." - -"Are you prepared to call this witness, Mr. Marshall?" - -"I am in your Lordship's hands; if your Lordship rules that I cannot put -in this affidavit without, I have no alternative." - -A buzz of conversation was instantly suppressed by a loud cry of -"Silence in Court!" from the usher. - -The Judge replied: "I so rule. Let the witness be called!" - -"Ruby Strode!" Mr. Marshall said in a loud voice. - -"Ruby Strode!" came the stentorious tones of the usher. - -Every eye was turned to the door by which witnesses enter, and the -strain of expectancy was intensified by a second loud call, "Ruby -Strode!" followed a moment later by sounds of scuffling feet and eager -whispers, as a slight figure, wearing a small toque, and thick veil, -came through the door, and quickly made her way to the witness-box. - -Rupert, who was clutching the rail in front of him, was white to the -lips; and the Judge, noticing his condition, ordered a chair to be given -him, and he at once sank on to it gratefully. He was stunned by the -course things had taken, for Mr. Marshall had purposely kept the news of -Ruby's return from him, fearing the consequences. - -Was this the reason his father was absent? But no! surely the joy at -the proof of his innocence would overcome any resentment he might feel -at his secret engagement. - -He dared not meet Ruby's eyes--with every one watching them so intently. -He was furious with his counsel, and determined to prevent Ruby -convicting herself at all costs. He drank in every word, and his brain -was busy endeavouring to see how he could defeat her loving sacrifice, -and prevent her confession from being her ruin. She had taken the oath, -given her name and calling, and was now listening to the reading of her -affidavit by Mr. Marshall. When he had finished he handed it to the -Judge, and asked her a few questions, to which she replied in -monosyllables. - -Presently he asked her: "Did you see Mr. Despard that day?" - -"Yes." - -"Did he see the cheque in your hand?" - -"I object, m' Lord!" said Mr. Mathews. - -"I am not leading," replied Mr. Marshall. - -"I submit it is a leading question, m' Lord, and, further, that it is -not evidence, unless my learned friend intends to call Mr. Despard." - -"Will you put your questions in another form, Mr. Marshall?" - -"Certainly, my Lord, though I had no intention of leading at all. Did -you have anything in your hand when Mr. Despard called?" - -"Yes," said Ruby, "the cheque." - -"Did he see it?" - -"I object!"--from Mr. Mathews. - -"Really, my Lord, I must protest at this continual interruption," Mr. -Marshall said. - -The Judge interposed, and the question was put in another form. - -"Do you think he saw the cheque in your hand?" - -"Yes, I feel sure he did." - -Mr. Marshall at last finished, and Mr. Mathews at once rose and -cross-examined. His questions were very searching; he asked about her -engagement to Rupert, and she admitted with pride that she loved him -devotedly. - -"Yes, she was deeply affected by his present position--she knew he was -innocent." - -"Supposing he had been guilty--she would willingly take his place?" - -"Yes." - -"There was no sacrifice too great to make for him--her future husband?" - -"None." - -"She had come to-day with no other object than to save him?" - -"Yes," Ruby replied again. "That is why I made the affidavit now before -the Court." - -Then the counsel's manner, entirely changed, and instead of leading her -easily and pleasantly with smiling questions that she had only to agree -to with an eager "Yes," he began to ask her questions which she found it -difficult to answer at all; and presently he made her contradict -herself. - -"Now, please be careful, Miss Strode; you distinctly told us just now -that you wrote the note to the bank asking them to give the money to the -messenger boy, and now you say that it was written by the prisoner. -What are we to understand?" - -Poor Ruby was by now thoroughly frightened, and hardly knew what she was -saying. "I--I mean Mr. Dale wrote it for us, and I sent it. You see, I -did not want him to get into trouble!" - -"Oh! So you knew he would get into trouble if he was found out?" - -"Yes, of course--I mean--that is--Oh, dear, you know he did not do it, -and I swear I did it all--all myself. Oh, Rupert, Rupert, they won't -believe me after all!" She burst into a storm of tears. - -Mr. Mathews sat down with a significant smile at the jury, and Ruby was -led sobbing out of Court. - -"Robert Despard!" - -He stepped into the box--dressed in a dark tweed suit--cut in the newest -fashion--the latest thing in ties, and a blue velour hat in his hand. -He might have stepped out of a tailor's fashion plate, which accurately -described his appearance as "Smart Gents. The latest!" - -He looked round the Court quite at his ease, and nodded to a friend -whose eye he caught; but he studiously avoided catching Rupert's. - -He gave his evidence quietly, and without the slightest hesitation. He -admitted visiting his friend's rooms on the day of the races--he came to -condone with him on his loss over the big race. Yes, he knew he was -heavily involved. He found Miss Strode there alone; he spoke to her of -the loss. No, he did not remember her telling him she had won over -"Ambuscade." He was certain of this. Yes, he waited till Rupert came -in. He sat alone in the room for a few moments after Miss Strode had -gone and before Rupert came in. - -He did not notice anything in Miss Strode's hand. - -"Did you notice a cheque or slip of paper--in her hand?" Mr. Marshall -asked. - -"I must object to that, m' Lord," interrupted Mr. Mathews. - -"I submit the witness is hostile, m' Lord," replied Mr. Marshall. - -"I think Mr. Marshall is entitled to treat this witness as hostile," the -Judge said. And Mr. Marshall again put the question. - -"No, I did not see a cheque or slip of paper in her hand." - -"Come, Mr. Despard, think again: did you not remark to Miss Strode that -it was a cheque for her winnings?" - -"I have no recollection of any such conversation," Despard replied -curtly. - -"Did you notice the blotter on the writing table, Mr. Despard?" - -"Yes." - -"Was it much used?" - -"No, it was perfectly clean." - -"Will you swear that it had never been used?" - -"No, I can't swear that; but I thought----" - -Mr. Marshall broke in: "Never mind your thoughts; what we want to know -is that you will not swear that the blotter was clean? ... Thank you, -that is all." - -Mr. Marshall sat down. - -Mr. Mathews with a smile asked two questions only. "You said that this -blotting paper was perfectly clean, but that you could not swear that it -had never been used? Will you kindly tell us why you noticed this pad -at all, Mr. Despard?" - -"I noticed it because the last time I saw it, it was covered with -ink--worn out, in fact--and I naturally noticed the clean white sheet." - -"And you feel sure it had not been used?" - -"Yes--I feel sure I should have noticed it." - -"Thank you; you can sit down!" And Mr. Mathews resumed his seat. - -Other witnesses followed to prove that Rupert was not the man who sent -the note to the bank; that the money was given to Miss Strode; that the -word "hundred" on the cheque was not his writing. But here a difficulty -arose, because Ruby had tried to copy the writing on the cheque, so that -it was not recognisable as her writing either. - -When the last witness had stepped down, Mr. Mathews addressed the Court. -He pointed out that Ruby was Rupert's sweetheart, that she herself -admitted, under cross-examination; that she had made this confession to -save her lover. - -"While doubtless she had been his accomplice in the crime, and as such -received the money," he went on to say, "the letter to the bank was in -the prisoner's own handwriting, and bore his signature. This had been -admitted by the defence, though they gave a clumsy and wholly -unbelievable explanation, namely, that it referred to a bookmaker and a -bet that he had apparently never made! - -"The evidence of their own witness, Despard, was perhaps the strongest -proof of the unreliability of Miss Strode's statements. He distinctly -denies seeing the cheque she states she had in her hand. He says there -was no mention made of winning a bet, and he declares that the -blotting-pad--that should have been stained as it now appears in Court, -was perfectly clean! So careful is this witness as to the accuracy of -what he gives in evidence, that he actually declines to positively swear -that the blotter had not been used, although sure in his own mind that -it was quite clean. Contrast this straightforward evidence with the -statements made by Miss Strode herself! Why, she cannot tell her story -without contradicting her own evidence, and then when she is asked to -say which statement is true, she breaks down and gives up her attempt to -save her lover! Gentlemen of the jury, I should be the last to take -advantage of a woman's weakness--of the unfortunate position in which -she has placed herself; I cannot but admire her heroism, her -self-sacrifice in trying to save her lover by taking the crime on -herself; but I should not be doing my duty--nay, I should be defeating -justice itself, were I to permit this loving woman to condemn herself of -a crime, of which she is only the innocent accomplice." - -He sat down, and Mr. Marshall rose. He was a young man with his -reputation to make, and this was his first big case. - -He began quietly by reviewing bit by bit the evidence for the -prosecution. He cleverly seized each point in which a witness had said -anything indirectly injurious to the prisoner, and pointed out that it -was equally true if applied to Ruby Strode. He asked the jury if there -was one single piece of direct evidence against his client. And, after -a dramatic pause, he answered: "No, gentlemen, there is not! -Circumstantial evidence there is in abundance, but nothing--absolutely -nothing--that can justify you in finding this man guilty." - -Then he took the evidence for the defence. He drew a pathetic picture -of the prisoner suffering in silence to screen his sweetheart; of his -refusal at first to make any defence; of his determination to plead -guilty; and finally, his consent when he believed his sweetheart safe on -the Continent, solely because of his aged father's grief at the -dishonour and the stigma that would attach to his sister's good name. - -He spoke for forty-six minutes, and concluded a clever and eloquent -defence with the following words: - -"Gentlemen of the jury, were I not convinced myself of the innocence of -the prisoner at the bar, I could not stand before you and ask you for a -verdict that will place his own sweetheart in the position in which he -now stands. But my learned friend who represents the Crown, heard the -confession of Ruby Strode as it fell from her lips in the solicitors' -office only last night. Had he listened as I did to her ready answers -to every question asked--seen her evident sincerity and heard her -straightforward account of the whole transaction, he would, I feel -certain, never have allowed this case to go on. I only ask you for -justice for an innocent man, and I leave him in your hands, gentlemen, -confident that he will receive it." - -There was a burst of applause as he sat down--instantly suppressed by -the ushers--and then the Judge summed up. - -He reviewed the evidence very shortly, and pointed out to the jury that -it was for them to consider these statements and to say if they believed -the affidavit put up for the defence. If they believed this, then it -was their duty to acquit the prisoner. On the other hand, if they did -not believe the confession therein to be true, if they believed the -contention of the prosecution that it was made under the motive of -affection for the prisoner, then they must, on the evidence before them, -find the prisoner guilty. - -On the point of law there was no difficulty. Fraud had been committed, -and it was for them to say if it had been committed by the prisoner or -not. He warned them against allowing their sympathies to interfere with -their judgment, but at the same time he must remind them that if any -uncertainty existed in their minds, they were bound to give the prisoner -the benefit of any such doubt. - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - - MARRIAGE IS IMPOSSIBLE. - - -Directly the Judge had finished his summing-up, the jury rose and left -the Court to consider their verdict. - -The general opinion was that they would not take much time before coming -to a decision, and so quite half the people remained in their places. A -subdued hum of conversation arose; women surreptitiously powdered their -faces, others fanned themselves. In the corridors outside barristers -discussed the case. - -"Guilty, right enough!" the majority agreed. A few wiseacres shook their -heads. They were not so sure. Certainly Rupert Dale's attitude had -been that of a guilty man, so much so that to those who had had a wide -experience of criminals he seemed innocent. - -It's the guilty man who invariably assumes the mask of innocence to -perfection. - -It was in vain that both counsel and solicitors tried to persuade Ruby -Strode to leave the Court. She was as white as death and looked as if at -any moment she might faint. Her friend Iris Colyer sat by her side and -did her best to comfort and console her. But Ruby seemed scarcely -conscious of her surroundings. Feeling had almost deserted her. - -She was possessed by just one thought. She had failed to save her -lover. Twice she had tried to save him. And each time she had failed. - -Now she had been prepared to take his place in the dock--to suffer for -the crime she had committed. And they would not believe her. The fools -would not believe her when she confessed she was guilty. In her own mind -she had proved her guilt. She sat huddled up, her hands clasped between -her knees, her eyes fixed on the door through which the jury had -disappeared. But ever and again she muttered to herself, and those -sitting near her caught fragments of what she said: - -"_I alone am guilty. I did it._" - -Once Robert Despard strolled across to her side, and the solicitors made -way for him. He made a few conventional remarks in the usual strain. -Ruby took no notice. But suddenly he said something which caused her to -sit upright and look at him with flaming eyes, eyes in which contempt -and hatred shone. - -"You could have saved him!" she hissed under her breath. "I believe you -know I am guilty. You came into his room that afternoon, and you saw the -cheque in my hand. I felt then, for the moment, that you had some -suspicion." - -Despard smiled and laid his hand on hers. "I never suspected you. I -never could!" - -She snatched her hand away. "I believe you want him to go to prison -because----" - -She faltered, and for a moment her white cheeks grew scarlet. Despard -knew what she was going to say, and he could not resist being brutal. - -"Because I loved you?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, I was very -fond of you once, Ruby. But you rejected and snubbed me, remember. -That's all over now, and I've found some one who will be kinder than you -were. No, I shouldn't have much cared if you had gone to prison." He -lowered his voice: "Though on the whole it will suit my book better if -Rupert is found guilty. As a matter of fact, I suppose you're both in -the same boat, and if justice were done, both of you would suffer." - -"And you called yourself his friend!" she cried. "If Rupert goes to -prison I swear you shall pay; for I know, if you had chosen to speak, -you could have saved him, and helped to prove the truth of my -confession." - -Despard rose, and picking up his velour hat, brushed it carelessly. - -"I shouldn't get so excited; if you raise your voice like that you'll be -turned out of Court." He bowed mockingly. "In case we don't meet -again, Miss Strode, good-bye." - -"We shall meet again one day!" she said between her teeth. - -Then her head sank forward; she clasped her hands together again between -her knees and resumed her former attitude. - -Half an hour passed; three-quarters. The tension became unbearable. -She heard a man laugh in the corridor. Behind her a couple of -barristers were telling a funny story under their breath. In the -gallery a woman dropped her fan; and as she happened to be good-looking, -there was quite a little commotion to recover it. And her lover's -honour, his freedom, his very life, lay in the balance. She swept the -Court fearlessly with her eyes; half of these people had come out of -curiosity, as they would go to the theatre. Not one of them cared. - -She knew what it was to hate, for she hated them now--heartless and -selfish. An hour passed. A minute later there was a sudden commotion. -People began to flock into the Court. The door on which Ruby's eyes had -been fixed opened, and the jury slowly returned to their places. The -usher shouted for order, and the Judge resumed his seat. - -Silence came. A pin could have been heard fall. Then the Judge leaned -slightly forward towards the Foreman of the Jury. The little -formalities that took place now seemed needlessly cruel. Ruby scarcely -heard what was said--she was waiting for one of two words: Guilty, or -Not Guilty! - -It seemed a long pause before the Foreman answered the final question -addressed to him by the Judge. The answer was what every one expected: - -"We find the prisoner guilty, my Lord." - -Ruby Strode staggered to her feet; but the solicitors who had been -watching her seized her arm and dragged her down. The Judge passed -sentence: Five years' penal servitude. - -The silence was broken, and straightway the Judge rose. A few people -were surprised at the severity; others said that Dale thoroughly -deserved it. For the public the excitement was over, the show was -finished, and in the hurry to get outside into the fresh air, no one -noticed Ruby Strode. She had risen to her feet and stretched out her -arms imploringly to the retreating figure of the Judge. - -"My Lord, I did it! I swear to God I did it!" Then she swayed, lost -consciousness, would have fallen had not Mr. Marshall stepped forward -and caught her. - -"Poor girl!" he whispered, as with the assistance of one of the ushers -he carried her off to another room. "Poor girl! how she must have loved -him. By gad! they say women haven't as much pluck as men!" - - * * * * * - -The result was brought to John Dale in Charing Cross Hospital by Mr. -Redway. The kindly solicitor broke the bad news as best he could. He -knew it was no use beating about the bush or trying to deceive the old -man. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say to alleviate -the blow. He could only tell him, and in a gentle pressure of the hand -try to convey his deep sympathy--and then leave him. - -Dale said nothing. He prepared himself for the worst, but the news for -the moment was almost more than he could bear. He covered his face, so -that none should see it. - -Fate could deal him no more crushing blow. His son--his first-born--his -only son! - -He prayed that death would come and take him, since there was nothing -left to live for. - -It was so Sir Reginald Crichton a few hours later found him and obtained -permission to sit by his side until late into the night. He knew words -were useless; but the old man was alone in London, apparently without a -friend, and he felt that he could not leave him alone in the great -hospital. - -"You--why are you here?" John Dale asked at last. "You whom we have -wronged so grievously." - -"I, too, am a father," Sir Reginald replied, bending over him. "I also -have one son who is the apple of my eye. This thing might have happened -to him, Mr. Dale--to my boy. That's why I am here. We have got to -share this thing together." - -Then for the first time tears shone in Dale's eyes and ran down his -cheeks. He tried to speak, but the poor lips trembled and quivered. - -"Your son--is a--gentleman. He could never do anything--mean, Sir -Reginald." - -"One never knows," Crichton replied. "Your boy must have been sorely -tempted--if he did it." - -Dale raised himself in his bed, and dashed the tears from his eyes. "He -did it," he cried fiercely, "and he must suffer for his sin. It is just -he should pay the penalty. I'm an old man; it won't be easy to hold up -my head and face the world now; but I'll do it. I'll fight still!" - -"That's right!" Sir Reginald said cheerily. "You still have something to -fight for.... There's your daughter, Mr. Dale." - -Dale started and dropped back on the pillows, hiding his face again. -His daughter Marjorie. Sir Reginald's son loved her--and she loved him. - -A great wave of hatred for his son swept over him. Not only had he -ruined his father, but he would break his sister's heart and ruin her -life. - -"I shall have to leave town to-morrow," Sir Reginald said as he took his -leave. "But I understand you will be fit to be moved in a few days' -time. Mr. Despard wished to be remembered to you, and said he would -look in and see you to-morrow; and when you're fit to travel he says -he'll take you down to Devonshire himself. He made a proposal to me -directly the trial was over which I must say does him great credit. I -am not at liberty to say what this thing was, but I hope you will be -able to accept it--if not for your own, then for your daughter's sake. -We have got to consider her now, Mr. Dale, before ourselves. She is -young, and life is still sweet to her." - -Dale shook his head. "Nothing seems to matter now, Sir Reginald. I -can't conceive what proposal Mr. Despard has to make. He is my son's -friend, not mine. But as you justly say, I must consider Marjorie. For -her I must live and fight in spite of the shame that has fallen upon -me." - -Sir Reginald nodded. "That's right. I think you will find Mr. Despard -means well, and sincerely wishes to help you--for Rupert's sake." - -He turned to go--then stopped. "Have you written or telegraphed to -Marjorie--the result of the trial I mean?" - -Dale shook his head: "She's alone. If she were to hear from the lips of -strangers----" - -Crichton nodded. "I tell you what I'll do; I'll wire to Jim the first -thing to-morrow morning and tell him to go over and break the news. -They're old friends and playmates. It will be better than if she sees -it in the newspapers or gets it from the gossips----" - -But Dale started up in his bed and stretched out his hands. "No, you -mustn't do that, Sir Reginald. You mustn't do it. Your boy must never -see my daughter again--never!" - -"Why not?" Sir Reginald asked, laying his hand on the old man's -shoulder. - -Dale looked at him with haggard eyes. "Don't you know? Your son is in -love with Marjorie. He wants to make her his wife!" - -Sir Reginald Crichton started and turned away: "My God!" he said under -his breath. "I never suspected that! You're right, Dale, I'm afraid -they must never meet again. I'm sorry--but it's impossible. Any -thought of marriage. Utterly impossible now!" - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - - THE IRONY OF FATE. - - -Rupert found that four weeks in prison was a lifetime. - -His experience at Holloway before the trial helped him not at all; -though he remembered now, that at the time, it had shocked and horrified -him. Yet the cruelty and ugliness had all been on the surface. Looking -back on it now, after four weeks of the real thing, with the eyes of a -professional, he saw the humorous as well as the dramatic side of it. - -If Holloway had been under the direction of the manager of a Drury Lane -melodrama it could not have been run on lines better calculated to -excite the common mind, and arouse the curiosity and the mirth of the -vulgar. It had all been very cheap and dramatic. The great gates, -barred and bolted in primeval fashion; the uniformed warders and -wardresses, obviously chosen for their stature and their lack of -humanity. The clanging of bells and the rattling of great bunches of -keys. The herding together of guilty and innocent in pen-like places. -The coming and going of numerous officials. - -The real thing was very different. It had not got the glamour of -Holloway, or its melodramatic atmosphere with a dash of pantomime. -There was an atmosphere of "Abandon hope all ye who enter here," about -Wormwood Scrubbs, though the interior of the prison was not so -depressing as the exterior--the Scrubbs itself. - -In about a week's time Rupert began to realise, not only where he was, -but what he was. The warders, neither good, bad, nor indifferent, -merely machines wrapped up in red tape, did their best to help him in -this. - -The first thing he realised was that he was no longer a man, but a -cypher, number three hundred and eighty-one. He was glad he had not a -name any longer. The only drawback was that, though unknown in the -prisons, he would remain Rupert Dale to the world outside. - -The next thing that dawned upon him was, that he was a criminal. A jury -of his fellow-countrymen had found him guilty. There was nothing to -grumble at in that! - -The difficulty lay in behaving like a guilty man. He had a curious -feeling when eventually he was exercised with a batch of other convicts -and attended Divine Service, that they resented him. In spite of having -his head shaved, in spite of wearing a costume--a cross between a -clown's and one beloved by music-hall comedians--he knew he did not look -guilty. He was hall-marked with the broad arrow, but it took more than -four weeks for the iron of prison life to enter his soul and make him -really feel like a criminal; at times wish to be a criminal--until a -curious feeling eventually came to him that he really was one--that he -only wanted to be free again to prove the fact and show himself in his -real colours. - -But for the first week or two he found himself without emotions, without -feelings. Things had turned out as he wished them to. He was -satisfied. - -The woman he loved was free! Even though she had accused herself no one -believed her. What his father thought or felt he did not know. He did -not want to think--yet. Perhaps nature was kind, and caused the -reaction of the excitement and strain of the trial to act as an -anæsthetic to his brain. - -At the periodical visits of his warders, when his food was brought him, -when he had to clean out his cell or make his bed, or when he was taken -out to exercise, he found himself quite unconsciously speaking to them, -trying to enter into conversation. Silence was the first blow that -struck him. After five days he began to wonder how he was going to -manage five years of it. If it were enforced it would probably send him -mad. - -He tried talking to himself, but that frightened him, and the one-sided -conversation soon became brainless. He welcomed the visits of the -chaplain until he found that that official considered it his duty to do -all the talking. And, moreover, he did not want to talk about anything -but the salvation of Rupert's soul. And as the unfortunate man had for -years been dodging in and out of prison cells like a ferret in and out -of rabbit holes trying to catch souls that were not at home, he had lost -all real interest in the game and had fallen back on quoting texts in an -unconvincing tone of voice. Certainly he called Three-eighty-one his -"dear brother," but Rupert did not believe he meant it, and told him so. -And so the chaplain's visits were cut short. The doctor was the only -cheery human being in the prison. - -At first Rupert was exercised alone; as soon as he joined his gang he -was slowly initiated into the conversation of eyes, lips, and -gestures--the latter by far the most effective and subtle: a movement of -a muscle of the face, the slightest elevation or depression of the -shoulders, the crook of a finger, or even the pretence of stumbling as a -man walked. - -The desire to learn this conversation saved him at the critical moment -of his incarceration. Hour after hour as he lay alone in his prison -cell he thought it out, drew imaginary pictures or diagrams on the -floor. Like a dumb man every sense became preternaturally sharpened. -He learnt how to speak with his eyes as well as his lips. He learnt, -too, how to hide his eyes when he was watched or wished to be dumb. - -He took an interest in the most extraordinary or trivial things. A -spider spun its web across two bars of the window in his cell. He took -more interest in that spider's larder than probably did the spider -itself; it was with mingled feelings of joy and horror that he saw the -first fly caught--his feelings were so equally divided between the -miserable captive and the other hungry insect. Once the spider dropped -down with a silken thread right on his foot. Rupert held his breath, -not daring to move a muscle, and he experienced the first thrill since -he had been in prison when the tiny thing eventually crawled up his leg -and ran across his hand! - -A day later, when he cleaned out his cell, he was told to wipe away the -spider's web. He nearly refused, and the tears actually swam in his -eyes as he obeyed. - -Under his breath he cursed the warder. Had the man no feelings; was he -indeed a brute in human shape! - -For forty-eight hours afterwards he waited for the return of the spider, -waited for it to climb down on its silken thread and run across his hand -again: but in vain. - -One day as he exercised with his gang in the prison yard he noticed a -man who once or twice before had been his leader in the dreary round--a -young fellow with dark eyes, and protruding jaws that had evidently been -broken in a fight. He noticed that he was talking to him. A spasmodic -movement of his hands told Rupert that he wanted to say something. - -As they turned Rupert caught his eye and signalled that he was ready to -receive a message. He was not yet an adept in this new art of -conversation, but his senses were alert and his instincts already -preternaturally sharpened. He concentrated his whole mind on his fellow -convict, and, perhaps unconsciously, he read his thoughts even before he -understood the message which hand and foot, head and shoulders sent with -lightning-like rapidity. - -Translated, it meant that some of them were going to be removed from -Wormwood Scrubbs prison. - -"Good," Rupert signalled back. He found himself grinning until he read -another signal of "Shut up!" from the blue-eyed convict. - -The change might be for the worse, but that did not trouble Rupert. -There was to be a change! Perhaps a journey somewhere. Outside the -prison walls. The silence would be broken. - -He wanted to shout aloud with joy. The silence would be broken! They -would go out into the streets. The streets where there were cabs and -omnibuses, and great drays with horses in them, and men and women -hurrying to and fro; and children playing. They might even go a -journey; in a train through fields and forests. They would see blue sky -and perhaps sunshine. - -He thought of nothing else for the rest of the day; he dreamed of it at -night. Next morning hope alternately rose and fell in his heart, -refusing to die throughout the day's routine. He continually built -pictures of the journey he might take. So far, the effect of prison had -been to make him like a child again. Time had ceased to exist; he took -no count of days, but the news of the change made him wonder how long he -had been at Wormwood Scrubbs. A week, a month, a year?---- - -It was curious how little he had thought of those he loved. At first, -when he had been taken away from the Old Bailey, he had been temporarily -overcome by remorse. The night after the trial he had suffered agonies. -Yet curiously enough after that night, thoughts of the outside world and -those he knew in it had not troubled him much. He had been a coward in -so much as he had been afraid to think of his father or his sister--or -Ruby. - -For he could not speak of them. He could not speak of them to a living -soul. He could not write to them. If a letter had been permitted it -would have been read and censored. So, not daring to write, he dared -not think. Nature had been kind, and for weeks his brain had been -anæsthetised by the deadly routine, the bare walls of his prison, the -sudden and terrible change of environment. - -This happens to some natures. Thoughts are checked, memory sleeps, but -there always comes a rude awakening. To other men it is the first few -weeks of imprisonment that are the most terrible. A few never survive; -their minds are wrecked, morally and spiritually they are ruined; then -their suffering comes to an end. - -Rupert's awakening came one grey morning when at daybreak he found -himself with half a dozen of his fellow convicts paraded in the yard, -and, after a breakfast more generous than usual, marched outside the -walls of Wormwood Scrubbs and conveyed in a van to an unknown -destination--which proved to be Waterloo Station. - -The thrill of joy he experienced when he found himself standing on the -platform surrounded by familiar sights, hearing familiar sounds, his -nostrils inhaling familiar smells, was almost instantly followed by a -sickening sense of fear. Fear of the unknown! - -He glanced at the men by his side all wearing the convict dress--the -badge of shame. It suddenly struck him how funny they looked. He -wondered if he cut as ridiculous a figure. Perhaps there might be some -one on the platform whom he knew, some one who would recognise him. - -He stared with hungry eyes at the few people who passed. Forgetting -what he was, he yearned to see a familiar face. And presently he -realised that he and the other convicts were being stared at by men who -were free. - -One man made a ribald jest. Others laughed. A few men looked with dull -curiosity. A woman shuddered and turned away. - -Rupert bit his lip. It was not nice. Especially when he realised the -handcuffs. He squared his shoulders and held up his head. He was not -ashamed. There was nothing to be ashamed of. - -A newspaper boy passed; on his tray the morning newspapers and the -illustrated magazines. Half a dozen pairs of yearning eyes followed him. -Probably each convict would have sold his soul for a copy of the -_Morning Post_ or the _Daily Chronicle_. Opposite to where they were -lined up, the station wall was covered with posters and play bills and -advertisements. - -The first thing Rupert read was the "Ingenue Theatre," a poster staring -at him in six-inch letters. His jaws dropped, and he blinked his eyes to -drive away the mist that rose before them. - -Then the train backed into the station. The warder in charge gave a -sharp order. As Rupert swung round in obedience to the command he saw -another poster facing him, the _Financial Times_, and beneath in huge -letters one word--"RADIUM." - -He started, a frown knitted his brows. For a moment he forgot what he -was, where he was. That one word had conjured up the past, swept the -fog from his brain. - -"Now, 381, what are you about?" - -He pulled himself together with an effort and rolled into a third-class -compartment of the train with his fellow convicts. - -Radium! The word seemed to be burning into his brain. He said it aloud -and received a sharp reprimand from the warder seated on his left by the -window. - -There rose before his eyes a vision of Dartmoor, the disused tin-mine on -his father's farm; Robert Despard and he groping in the semi-blackness -up to their knees in water.... Their discovery of pitch-blende--and -Despard's belief that, in that old worthless mine, there might lie -hidden a fortune. - -A fortune for his father and his sister. His father whom he had ruined -and shamed. And his sister! - -Again he blinked his eyes, driving away the mist before them. He found -himself staring straight at the convict facing him. The man was talking -to him. He saw the fingers of his handcuffed hands moving stealthily. -He saw his half-closed eyes contracting and expanding. He answered: - -"Yes?" - -"Dartmoor! Princetown Prison," was the reply he received. - -Rupert lay back and closed his eyes. He might have guessed. It was the -irony of fate. They were taking him home, back to his own land, to -Dartmoor. - -To Princetown Prison. The great monument of granite that broods over -the valley of the Dart, from whose barred windows, if a man could gaze, -he would see Blackthorn Farm ... and the disused tin-mine with its -hidden fortune waiting to be claimed. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - - THE PARTING OF THE WAYS. - - -The words Sir Reginald had spoken to John Dale when he visited him at -Charing Cross hospital after the trial, returned fairly frequently to -his mind for many hours afterwards when he reached his own home on -Dartmoor. - -"This thing might have happened to my boy." He recalled, too, the old -yeoman's reply when he reminded Sir Reginald that his son was a -gentleman--and therefore could not do a mean thing. - -The Dales came of old yeoman stock; they could trace their family back -as far, probably further, than the Crichtons. Old Dale was a gentleman -right enough, and Crichton knew it would be impossible for him to do -anything mean, much less dishonourable. Indeed, he had been the first -to warn Sir Reginald that his daughter must never meet the baronet's son -again. - -Sir Reginald did not find it easy to believe that Jim had fallen in love -with Marjorie Dale. He had to presume, like all parents, that he had -been blind. His boy had never been in the habit of keeping anything from -him. - -Since Jim had grown up and become a man, their relationship had been -that of brothers or dear comrades rather than father and son. Jim had -always bluntly confessed to the few scrapes and peccadilloes into which -he had got, and his tendency had been to exaggerate rather than diminish -the few mistakes he had made in life. - -Probably he had not considered falling in love a mistake. But it is--a -grievous one, to the elderly, or to those who have fallen in, been -half-drowned, and crawled out again. - -Even had this terrible tragedy of the altering of the cheque never -occurred, Sir Reginald knew he would have found it very difficult to -agree to any engagement between his son and the daughter of John Dale. - -First of all, Jim was much too young to think of marriage. Secondly, -when he did marry, it would be some one in his own cast, occupying the -same rank in life or a higher one than he. For though Crichton kept his -youth, he had already forgotten that he married for love, and, _mirabile -dictu_, had been happy. Thirdly, Jim had apparently been wedded to his -profession. He had already done excellent work in the Flying Corps, and -his name was down for early promotion. He had received both public and -official recognition for the services he had rendered to aerial -navigation. - -Sir Reginald had meant to tackle him at once on his return home and tell -him, what he felt sure Jim would have already realised, that it would be -impossible for him to see Marjorie again, and, in future, they could not -even be friends, much less lovers. He thought the task would be quite -an easy one. Of course, he would be sorry for the girl, but she was -still young, and would easily find a suitable husband later on in her -own class; for Crichton was old-fashioned enough to still believe that -marriage was the only suitable profession for a respectable female. - -But directly he saw Jim he realised that Rupert Dale's conviction had -been a serious blow to him. As in duty bound, he walked across to -Blackthorn Farm to sympathise with Marjorie, to give her the latest news -of her father, and reassure her in case she should be feeling anxious as -to his health. He knew as little about women as he did about the Bible. -One had brought him into the world, and he believed the other kept him -there; but he had never thought it necessary to go deeper into the -subject. Both women and Bibles were necessary to the State. The place -for both was the home and the church, and he had a good Protestant's -profound distrust of the man who had too close an intimacy with, or -quoted, either, except in the secret precincts of his own castle or the -local cathedral. - -So, to his surprise, Marjorie greeted him calmly, with a smile, and gave -him a cool, steady hand. He said the conventional thing in a -conventional tone of voice, but she showed no signs of hysteria, neither -did tears once rise to her eyes. - -"I expect your father will be back in two or three days at the latest," -he said. "Mr. Despard--one of--er--your brother's friends, is going to -bring him down." - -He had nearly said one of your late brother's friends, but he checked -himself in time. Of course, it would have been far better if Rupert had -died, and Sir Reginald secretly hoped he would never live to come out of -prison. - -"Why is Mr. Despard bringing father home?" Marjorie asked. "Perhaps he -was one of Rupert's friends, but he is practically a stranger to us -both." - -"He has been exceedingly kind," Sir Reginald explained. "He is the only -man your father knows in London at present. And I may say that he has -given practical proof of his kindness and sympathy. He has done -something I should like to have done myself--I won't say anything more -about it now, but I will only hint that as long as you choose to remain -at Blackthorn Farm no one will disturb you.... The property is your own -again--for the mortgage will be redeemed." - -Marjorie said nothing, but Sir Reginald noticed that a frown puckered -her forehead. - -"I think Mr. Despard was very glad of the excuse your father's accident -gave him to come down here again." He was trying to be tactful, and -failing. - -With a woman's quick instinct Marjorie divined the hidden meaning of -what he said. "Mr. Despard is not a man whose acquaintance I care to -continue. I don't think father was impressed with him, either." - -"One can't always judge from appearances. When I first saw him I was -certainly not prepossessed in his favour. But he is showing great -solicitude for your father in his hour of trial. He is an exceedingly -kind-hearted man, and--I know he is looking forward to seeing you again, -Miss Dale." - -It was a feeble effort, and Sir Reginald felt ashamed of it directly -afterwards. He held out his hand. - -"If I can be of any service to you please let me know. I'm afraid you -may find your position here a little difficult--but I'm sure we shall do -our best to help you to forget the--er--the sorrow that has fallen upon -you." - -Marjorie took his hand and held it. Then, raising her head, she looked -straight into his eyes. "Tell me, please, do you believe my brother -guilty?" - -Sir Reginald cleared his throat. It was an extraordinary, a stupid -question. Had he not felt so sorry for the girl, he would have been -irritated. - -"Naturally, you haven't read the newspapers--the evidence. I'm afraid -his guilt was proved beyond doubt. Of course, he must have been sorely -tempted. The jury would not have found him guilty, my dear young lady, -if they had not been absolutely certain of the justice of their -verdict." - -"I'm not asking you what the jury thought. I want to know what you -think. For I know that he's innocent. He did not do it." - -Sir Reginald pressed her hand tightly. He did not know what to say. -That was the worst of women, they were so illogical. Rupert Dale had -been found guilty by a jury of his own countrymen, therefore, of course, -he was guilty. - -"Why do you say you know he's innocent? You can't have proof. If you -had----" - -A curious smile parted Marjorie's lips. She looked at Sir Reginald with -sorrow in her eyes, almost pity. - -"How strange men are! They only use their reason, never their instinct. -Evidence has hanged many an innocent man, Sir Reginald, hasn't it? -Instinct--which for some reason women have cultivated and men have -neglected--tells me that my brother is innocent. I know. You will -never know." - -Sir Reginald shrugged his shoulders. It was impossible to say anything. -Argument would be useless and unkind. He pressed her hand again and was -turning away when she stopped him. - -"I also know why you came over to see me to-day." - -Sir Reginald flushed. "I came to----" - -"To tell me that you will not allow an engagement between myself and -Jim. He has told you, or you have found out, that we love one another." - -Sir Reginald dropped her hand. His body stiffened. He looked at her -sternly. "Your father told me. My boy has said nothing. This is the -first time in his life he has ever had a secret from me. I suppose you -wished it kept a secret?" - -She shook her head. - -"I haven't spoken to him yet," Sir Reginald continued, his voice -hardening. "But, of course, as I hope you will realise, it's -impossible, utterly impossible, that there can be any engagement between -you. You must not see each other again. I'm very sorry, Miss Dale; but -leaving this unfortunate affair of your brother's out of the question -altogether, I should have looked with strong disapproval on any -engagement of marriage, however remote. Jim is much too young----" - -"To love?" she interjected quickly. "Surely youth is the time for -love!" Then she gave a bitter laugh. "But, of course, you've -forgotten." - -"My boy has his future to consider, his profession. He has only just -started in life. Surely you must see, Miss Dale, that any alliance -between you would ruin his career for ever." - -She bowed her head. "To be married to a girl whose brother is a -convict. To marry the sister of the man who robbed her husband's -father. Yes, I quite see it's impossible." - -She looked at him proudly and there was defiance in her eyes. "I am -sure my father would never permit it, Sir Reginald, and as I am his only -daughter and not yet of age, I suppose I should have to obey him. Yet, -surely, it's for Jim to say what he'll do. You haven't spoken to him -yet?" - -"Not yet. I haven't had an opportunity." - -Sir Reginald was beginning to feel uncomfortable. "Has he said anything -to you--since the result of the trial, I mean?" - -"As to our future? Not a word," she replied. "But it's for him to -decide. I shall not try to persuade him either way, though if I thought -it would be better for him were we never to meet again, I might be -persuaded to give way even in opposition to his wishes. I can't say -yet. I haven't had time to think.... I've suffered, Sir Reginald. -Rupert and I were more to each other than most brothers and sisters, -perhaps. But Jim is more to me than father or mother. He's all the -world to me." - -"Yes, yes, of course. But----" - -"It's for he and me to decide," Marjorie said again. "This blow that -has fallen, this shame, which I suppose attaches to my name, affects -only him and me. Not you nor my father, not you nor anyone else in the -world. We two must settle it, no one else." - -She bowed gravely, and Sir Reginald turned away without speaking again. -There was nothing more to be said. He did not go straight home, he took -a long walk. His wishes had never been opposed, and he had not expected -opposition now. - -What would his son say? - -Directly after luncheon he broached the subject by asking when his leave -was up. - -"In about a week's time, guv'nor! Why, are you in a hurry to get rid of -me?" - -Sir Reginald stood with his back to the great oak fireplace in the large -panel dining-room, and with fingers that were not quite steady lit a -cigar. - -"When I bid Dale good-bye at Charing Cross Hospital before leaving -London he told me your secret, Jim. I was sorry to hear it from a -stranger's lips. You've never kept anything from me before." - -Jim nodded. "I'm sorry, sir. It was a secret I'll admit. Love is -different--to other things, and I wanted to be sure of myself and sure -of her." - -"That's all right. But this unfortunate affair has, of course, altered -everything. I saw Marjorie this morning. I went over to sympathise -with her and see if we could do anything to help her. She broached the -subject." - -"About our marriage?" - -Sir Reginald looked at the end of his cigar. "There can be no question -of marriage now." - -"Why not?" - -"My boy!" - -There was a long silence. Father and son looked into one another's -eyes. The father was the first to lower his gaze. - -"I love her, sir." - -"Yes, of course." Sir Reginald coughed. "I'm sorry for you. But -you're young. You--you don't know your own mind." - -Again a short silence. "Has anything I ever did at school or after I -left school, at Sandhurst or at home or since I joined the Flying Corps, -suggested to you that I don't know my own mind? That I am fickle or -changeable?" - -"No." Sir Reginald was not used to being questioned by his son. He was -off his guard. - -"I've never shown myself a coward in any way, father?" - -The old man started, came a step nearer to his boy and looked at him -again. And his eyes lighted as he smiled. "Good heavens, Jim, you a -coward! My dear boy!" - -"I don't mean just physically," Jim continued. "No normal, healthy man's -afraid, of course. I suppose it's the danger of my job that gives it a -zest. I've never shown myself to be the other sort of coward, either, I -hope?" - -Sir Reginald just held out his hand. - -"Wouldn't it be cowardly, then, to desert the woman I love just at the -moment she most wants me? I don't mean that she just wants my love, but -she wants my protection. The protection my name can give her. We have -a clean record, we Crichtons, haven't we? I shall be smirching it if I -desert the woman I promised to marry just because her brother's turned -out a bad egg." - -"A convict. A felon." - -"Yes, yes, but it would make no difference had he been a murderer." - -Sir Reginald turned away. His cigar fell into the grate, he leaned his -arms on the mantelshelf and buried his face between his hands. - -"What do you propose to do?" he asked eventually. - -"To announce our engagement at once. Or, if that decision does not meet -with her or your approval, to wait a little while and then announce it. -I've given her my word, and I'm going to keep it. I'm sorry, father, if -it hurts you, but you must see that I'm right." - -"I don't see it!" Sir Reginald cried fiercely. Then, after a few -moments' silence, "Do you know what it means if you persist in marrying -her? It means your career will be ended. You will have to send in your -papers." - -"I don't think so." - -Sir Reginald turned round. "There can be no question. Do you mean to -say if you married a convict's sister you would be tolerated in any -regiment, in any decent society?" - -Jim sighed. "I don't know. Perhaps you're right. After all, aviation -is not confined to the army. I can still do my job. The world's a big -place, father." - -He stood by Sir Reginald's side and laid his hand on his shoulder. - -"I'm sorry if I've hurt you, dad. But, leaving my feelings out of the -question, putting aside society, even love, I feel it's my duty to keep -my word, my duty to protect the woman who loves me." - -Sir Reginald nodded his head. He looked at his son through a mist. -"Have you thought of your duty to me? Your duty to society, then--to -the State?" - -"The fact that I love will not prevent me doing all three. The woman I -love is straight, clean, honourable. She has done nothing of which to -be ashamed. If because of this woman you and society and the State -refuse my services"--he shrugged his shoulders--"as I said, the world is -large, father. I'm young, and I can fight." - -The old man held out his arms. "You're young and you'll forget. She'll -forget, too, Jim. My boy, you don't know what you're doing. Why, she's -only a girl. Inside of a year, she'll forget it. There are lots of -men----" He stopped, hesitated, and looked at his son again. "Why, -that fellow, Mr. Despard, who was down here a little while ago, I know -he's in love with her----" - -Jim stopped him with a gesture. "Don't say any more, father. I don't -think you quite understand. I've made up my mind. I've given my word -and I'm going to keep it. I'll do everything in my power not to hurt -you. But nothing, no one, will come between the woman I love and me." - -Sir Reginald Crichton dropped into a chair and sat huddled up, staring -across the room. Jim stood by his side and put his arm around his -shoulder. A long time they waited, but neither of them spoke. Each knew -there was nothing more to be said. - -Youth and age had travelled side by side for a long time, until at last -they had reached the inevitable barrier, the place where the road -divided. - -The parting of the ways. To try to go on together meant destruction, -yet the old man would not believe it. The young man, whose sight was -clearer and whose heart was bolder, knew. - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - - ESCAPE. - - -The great convict prison of Princetown stands on the wildest part of -Dartmoor, nearly fifteen hundred feet above the sea, surrounded by wild, -rock-strewn tors, whose heather-covered slopes stretch for miles in -every direction. Four main roads cross the moor from Plymouth to -Moretonhampstead, and Tavistock to Ashburton. These unite at Two -Bridges, where they cross the river Dart. - -In the triangle formed by the Plymouth and Tavistock roads which divide -at Two Bridges lie the prison farms. This land has been reclaimed from -the moors with years of heavy toil by the convicts. Only those who by -good behaviour have earned a conduct badge are taken for work on the -farms, where they have more freedom and even the chance of stolen -conversation. Although the rule of silence is not relaxed, it is -impossible for the warders, who stand on guard at every vantage point -around the field in which the men are working, to hear; and the art of -speaking without moving the lips is practised by every convict. - -Nearly six months had passed since Rupert had stepped from the train -between two warders on to the tiny platform at Princetown, and for six -months the prison walls had hidden from his longing eyes the moor that -was his home. - -But eventually the day came when he was taken outside the prison walls -to work in the fields. As he was marched with his gang through the -great gates soon after the sunrise of an early summer morning he -remembered with a curious tightening of his heart-strings another -morning--he had forgotten how long ago--when he had entered those very -gates with his friend Robert Despard. - -They had come to look over the prison, to stare at the prisoners. - -He choked back a laugh, and the convict marching on his left half turned -his head and gave him a look of warning. They had reached the cross -roads and the next moment halted outside the gate that led to the -fields--for the convicts were never marched further along the road than -was necessary. - -Rupert looked back at the risk of reprimand. It was at this very spot -that his sister Marjorie had left them, going on into Princetown to do -the week's shopping--and to buy herself a present with the money Rupert -had given her! - -He stared dry-eyed along the broad highway. Tears never dimmed his eyes -now, as they had done at first. - -Reaction had come long ago. He had gone through the fire and had come -out hardened. For a little while his sufferings had been unbearable. He -had prayed for death. Even his love for Ruby Strode had not been -sufficient to give him a hold on life. - -In the great convict prison day and night had been merged into one. -There had been no break to the dreadful monotony and the everlasting -silence. Time had not been composed of days and nights, but of hours; -hours of minutes, minutes of seconds--and each second had been an -eternity. - -Part of his torture had been in thinking of the sufferings of those he -loved. Of the woman who had tried to save him, and whose great love had -brought him to this pass; of his father and sister, who, perhaps, would -never hold up their heads again, ostracised by the so-called decent -people. - -He did not even know how they managed to live, whether they had enough -money to keep body and soul together. And it was that thought that -sometimes nearly drove him mad. - -The old man who had sacrificed everything for his sake to make a -gentleman of him; his beautiful little sister, who had been standing on -the threshold of life with the dawn of love in her heart. He had robbed -her, too, of life and of love. - -Over and over again he had pictured Marjorie and his father sitting in -the old kitchen of the little farmhouse alone, afraid even to look at -one another, afraid to talk. Shunned by all their neighbours. Poverty -facing them, perhaps starvation, the farm going to rot and ruin before -their eyes. And yet, had they but known, a fortune waited for them in -that old, disused tin-mine. No one knew anything about it but his -friend, Robert Despard. - -His eyes had been opened too late, and he knew what sort of a friend -Despard was. He did not even dare hope that the man who had taken their -hospitality would play the game and tell John Dale of the vast -possibilities that were hidden in the mine on his property. He would -keep the knowledge to himself and take advantage of it ... and of -Marjorie!--Rupert's sister--whom he had professed to fall in love with. - -The convicts were crossing a patch of moorland towards the fields in -which they were to work; the soft turf was beneath Rupert's feet, the -blue sky above his head, the scent of gorse, already blossoming, in his -nostrils. The sweet sounds and sights and scents stirred his blood. He -gazed down into the valley across the Dart. There lay Two Bridges, -almost a stone's throw away. Beyond, Post Bridge. He almost fancied he -could see Blackthorn Farm! Were they still there, his loved ones, ekeing -out a lonely, miserable existence, or had shame driven them away, and -had the home they owned been taken? With a fortune lying hidden beneath -the land! - -Sometimes he had wondered whether the story Despard told him about the -traces of radium in the pitch-blende had been an hallucination on his -part. But long ago, a month or two after his arrival at Princetown, he -had made up his mind and sworn a solemn oath that he would wait for a -chance of escape. He knew that no convict had ever succeeded in getting -right away, but now and then some unfortunate had hidden on the moors -for many days before he was captured. - -Knowing the country as he did it would be easy for Rupert, if he could -make a dash for freedom, to get to Blackthorn Farm, see his father and -tell him what lay hidden in the old mine just outside his very door. -The place was mortgaged to Sir Reginald, and in that fact lay the one -chance that Despard had been unable to either purchase or lease it. He -would have to wait until Sir Reginald foreclosed and then buy it from -him. - -Every week that passed, every day, meant that the chance of the fortune -was slipping away from his father. Rupert knew by the time of the year -that more than nine months had passed since he had been tried and -sentenced. Unless he escaped within the year it would be too late. - -It might be too late now, but it was worth the risk. To get out from -the prison cell, or from the great walls that surrounded the prison -itself, was practically impossible. His only hope had lain in being -sent to work in the quarries or fields. - -And now the chance had come. It seemed as if Providence had sent it. - -Suddenly the word "Halt!" rang out. Automatically Rupert stopped. The -convicts were lined up and their numbers called over. Rupert raised his -eyes. - -The man on his left was speaking to him again--using his usual -signals--a man who had often been his companion in exercise within the -prison walls and whose one idea, curiously enough, had also been escape. - -Rupert did not look at him. His fists were clenched, every muscle in -his body was tight and taut. It required all his self-restraint not to -make a dash then and there. He looked up: the blue sky flecked with -fleecy clouds was above him, the sweet smell of new-mown hay was -everywhere in the air; the soft bleating of sheep and the barking of a -dog came faintly down the breeze from Beardown Hill, and along the white -dusty road he could see the carrier's cart crawling to Post Bridge. - -"No. 381, get on with your work!" - -The raucous voice of the warder brought him back to the fact that work -was about to commence. As he lifted the hay on his fork he gazed around. -The black forms of the warders stood like silhouettes against the sky, -their rifles glinting in the sun, a wall as formidable, as impassable, -as those of the prison behind him. - -By a lucky chance the convict who was raking by him now was his pal, No. -303. He had been plying him with questions of roads, paths, and -distances to the nearest railway stations, and only yesterday had -offered to make an attempt with him to escape. He was a small man with -flaxen hair, which now stood up in a short, stiff stubble like a -closely-mown cornfield, and the blue, dreamy eyes, whose kindly glance -belied the broad arrows which covered every portion of his costume, made -one wonder how this kindly little gentleman had earned the ten years, -four of which had failed to stamp the convict brand upon his face. In -all their many opportunities for secret conversation he had never -confided in Rupert his crime or his name. - -He was a mystery, but his willingness and his ready obedience, his -haunting smile and kindly blue eyes, had made him a favourite with the -warders, who treated him with a lack of harshness that almost amounted -to kindness. And as he worked as though his life depended upon it, and -always with the same sad smile, he was allowed more freedom of movement -within the limits of the warder's chain than any other convict. - -Once or twice during the day, whenever they were close together, No. 303 -questioned Rupert as to the part of the moorlands they were on, how far -from Princetown or Moretonhampstead. - -"Keep your eyes open, the chance may come to-day." - -But Rupert shook his head. What chance had they, surrounded by armed -men, in the broad light of day? True, there was always the chance of a -fog, and though in the spring they were fairly common, as the summer -advanced their appearance was rare. - -To-day the heat was oppressive, and though the sun shone in a cloudless -sky a thin, almost imperceptible, haze hung over the tors, and the peaks -shone with a curious light. Rupert noted this, for it sometimes was the -precursor of a summer fog, and when these fogs did come they appeared -suddenly, without warning--and as suddenly disappeared. - -In the afternoon a slight breeze, which now and then had blown from the -hills, died down. There was not a breath of air. It was with a sigh of -relief that even the warders saw the sun sink beneath the bank of grey -cloud that had covered the western sky. - -The perspiration poured down the convicts' faces as they worked, and the -warders began to throw anxious glances behind them where Great Tor had -already disappeared in an ominous cloud-bank, which rolled down its -slopes like cotton-wool. The field in which they were working was the -furthest one from the prison, and just above Two Bridges, which lay at -the bottom of a steep slope of rough grass. The field was separated -from the road by another one, and a high wall without any gates ran down -the whole length of the road. - -The head warder pulled out his watch. It was a quarter to five. He -glanced at the low, white clouds which the least puff of wind might at -any moment bring down and blot out the landscape. - -He sounded his whistle, and the convicts at once began to form up and -the guard to close in. There was a few moments' delay while the rakes -and forks were collected and the waggon brought up from the end of the -field. - -"Stand next me," No. 303 whispered to Rupert. "Our chance has come. -You won't fail me!" - -Rupert, whose knowledge of the moor told him that escape was impossible -for one as ignorant of his surroundings as poor 303, stooped down to tie -his shoelace. "For God's sake, don't be a fool! Summer fogs are no -good, I can't----" - -"No. 381, stand up! All present, chief." - -The chief warder immediately gave the order to march, and the whole -party moved up the centre of the field towards the prison, the warders -marching beside their charges and the armed guard about thirty paces -away extended so as to completely surround them. - -Further conversation was rendered impossible. A faint breeze began to -stir the still air, bringing a damp mist, which beat in their faces. -Rupert, with his eyes fixed on the ground, began to pray that the -approaching fog might not blow away. A chance had come--for him. His -heart went out in tender sympathy to the poor soul who could not face -the long dreary years of his punishment yet to come, while his mind was -torn in two by an agony of doubt. - -He, who knew the moors so well, did not believe for a moment that, alone -and unhampered, he could escape; even if they could hide on the moors -for a day or two, capture in the end was inevitable. All he wanted was -to get to Blackthorn Farm; but 303 wanted to get clear away. - -Within a few minutes telephones and telegraphs would inform every town -and village in the two counties, every railway station would be watched, -every egress barred; every constable in Devon and Cornwall would block -all roads. - -Suddenly the voice of the chief warder ordering the convicts to close up -broke in upon his thoughts, and looking up he saw that the prison had -disappeared--nothing but a white sea of fog lay all around, and even the -walls of the field a few yards away were almost invisible! They were -only two fields now from the prison, and the gang checked for a moment -as the last gate but one was reached. - -Rupert was almost the centre of the gang, and he noticed that his own -warder, who was just in front, was only just visible in spite of his -dark uniform. - -As he reached the gate 303 gripped him by the arm, dropped on his knees -behind the wall and disappeared. At this moment the chief warder gave -the order to halt, and his heart flew into his mouth, for he thought -303's action had been seen. But the sound of some one shouting at the -horses, and the chief warder's voice raised in angry question, reassured -him. - -Without thinking of what he was doing he dropped on his face and crawled -rapidly down the side of the wall. At the same moment the order to -march was given and the noisy beating of his heart was drowned by the -creaking of the waggon as it lumbered past. - -He lay perfectly still, flattened against the wall. He wondered why he -heard no shot or other indication that they had been seen. The rear -guards passed within six feet of him, and when their black forms were -swallowed up by the white fog, he realised that their absence from the -gang would not be discovered until they reached the prison. - -Leaping to his feet he ran along the wall, and almost immediately fell -over 303, who was crouching against it. - -"Quick, for God's sake follow me!" he whispered. "We must make for -Beardown. This fog may blow away at any moment." - -They ran like hares; scrambling over the walls, falling into holes, -stumbling on rocks, Rupert intent only on reaching Wistman's wood before -the fog lifted. - -He had nothing to guide him but the knowledge of the direction in which -he originally started from the wall and the moorman's instinct to -prevent him from travelling in a circle, which is the inevitable fate of -every one lost in a fog. - -They dropped on to a road, Tavistock Road. "Come on, we are right now!" -Rupert cried excitedly. - -They scrambled over the wall and raced down the steep hillside. -Suddenly they saw the gleam of water below them, bushes and stones -appeared. They had left the fog behind, the valley was clear. - -As they plunged across the river and breasted the steep hill they saw -the blessed fog shutting out Beardown Farm and all the tors above it. - -"Quick! we must get up with the fog before we are seen. Thank God, -there is no one in sight!" - -But poor 303 was no moorman, and he was already dropping behind. - -"I can't do it, 381; go on without me!" - -Rupert turned back and, taking him by the arm, pulled him down into a -little hollow behind a huge furze-bush and laid him on his back. - -"You're only winded; we have run over a mile; you'll get your second -wind in a minute," he whispered. "But we must not wait here a moment -longer than absolutely necessary. If the fog should lift now, we are -certain to be taken. I am going to make for Hartland Tor, which is -close to my father's house; there is an old, disused mine below the tor -in which we can hide for the present." - -Boom! A dull explosion echoed across the hills. - -"What's that?" exclaimed 303. - -"The alarm," Rupert replied. "We have not a moment to lose." - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - - "YOU'VE KILLED HIM." - - -Again the dull boom echoed over the moorland. In a few minutes the hill -would be swarming with warders searching for them. - -Rupert felt a thrill of excitement. The first thrill he had experienced -for many weeks. Curious thoughts and memories flashed through his brain -as he raced along shoulder to shoulder with Convict 303, who kept -closely to his side in spite of the steep ascent. He remembered as a -boy hunting with a pack of harriers which sometimes met at The Hall; he -used to ride a rough moorland pony. This thrill of being hunted was -somewhat similar to the thrill of hunting. As a boy he had always had a -sneaking sympathy with the quarry, and a vague hope, he was always -ashamed to express, that it might escape. He understood now. It was -far finer to be hunted than to hunt. - -"We'll cheat them, No. 303, never fear!" he cried to his comrade. "Keep -your pecker up, man!" - -"I'm all right," the convict panted; "but I can't keep this pace up for -long." - -They had entered the thick pall of fog, and presently Rupert stopped in -order to regain his breath. They stood close together, touching one -another, listening. At first they heard nothing but the sobbing of -their own breath, and the beating of their own hearts. And they could -see nothing; the blessed fog shut everything out from sight--rocks, -walls, roads, hills, and valleys. - -"If this only lasts," Rupert whispered. - -"Where shall we make for?" No. 303 asked. "Plymouth ain't far from here, -is it; and that's a seaport town?" - -Rupert turned and looked into the blue eyes of his comrade. He laid his -hand on his shoulder. "Man, you don't expect to get right away, do you? -It has never been done and never will be done. I was born on these -moorlands. I know every stick and stone and bush on them. Even if I -wanted to I couldn't get away." - -"Even if you wanted to!" No. 303 hissed. "What do you mean? What sort -of game is it you're playing--Hide and Seek, or Puss in the Corner?" - -He broke off suddenly, and Rupert's grip tightened on his shoulder. The -silence was broken. On the still air they heard the sound of a horse -galloping along the distant road in the valley somewhere below them. -They held their breath and listened intently. - -The sound grew nearer and nearer; for a few seconds it seemed as if the -speed of the horse was checked. Then, to the relief of both men, the -sounds became fainter and fainter, gradually dying away. - -"A mounted warder galloping to Post Bridge to cut us off in that -direction," Rupert said. "We must stick to the tors. While the fog -lasts they can't leave the roads or bridle paths." - -Again they commenced to struggle up the steep ascent, keeping along the -edge of the water course. - -"Where are you making for?" No. 303 demanded. - -"Wistman's Wood, the other side of the Dart. A good place to hide if the -fog lifts." - -"Ain't no use hiding," the convict objected. "We must find a farm or a -cottage where we can get a change of clothing and food. Then we may get -a chance of slipping away. You say you know the moorland--then you must -know the folk on it. Ain't there some one who would help us--or -somewhere where we could hide ourselves? This is life or death, -remember." - -Rupert nodded, and once again he slackened speed and stopped. "Listen, -303. I don't want to escape, because I know it's impossible. All I -hope is to get on the other side of Post Bridge to Blackthorn Farm--to -my home." - -His voice faltered a moment at the last word. "There is something I want -to say to my father--if he's still alive. Something I must say. It's a -matter of life or death to him, perhaps--and to my sister. When I've -done that, delivered my message--why then I shall give myself up." - -The muscles about 303's face contracted, his blue eyes clouded. For a -little while he was silent, turning over in his mind what Rupert had -said. - -"You're balmy!" he growled eventually. "Crikey, what a chance! Why, if -you gets home, they'll hide you, won't they--give you food and clothes -and money? And I'll jolly well see that I gets the same too. We're -going to see this thing through together." - -Rupert sighed and shook his head: "Follow me, if you like; but it's not -a bit of good. My father will give us both up." - -He looked at 303 sadly. For months, perhaps for years, he knew this -convict had only thought of, and planned, escape, dreamed of it day and -night. The taste of freedom was sweet in his mouth already; he could not -believe that they would not get clear away. It was no use trying to -persuade him that he was attempting the impossible. - -"I'll stand by you," he replied. "I'll do what I can to help you. But -it's no use talking. Come along!" - -Presently they came to a high, stone wall, and Rupert uttered an -exclamation of joy. - -"We're just above Wistman's Wood, and this is the great wall that runs -from Beardown to Rough Tor, which is past Post Bridge Hall. It will be -easy going now, and if the fog lifts the wall will help to conceal us -from anyone on the road below." - -They started off again at a good pace. They had not gone for more than -half a mile when they both stopped simultaneously. - -The sound of a voice had come out of the fog far above them. They -listened. It came again--a faint shout. They were straining their ears -in the intense silence. Presently they heard a pony's iron-shod hoofs -striking on the granite. A moment later another shout, nearer than the -first. - -"Mounted warders on the tor above us," Rupert whispered. "Quick, get -over the wall! We must hide until they're gone." - -As they climbed the wall a large stone was displaced and went rolling -and bounding down the hill side. Then, just as they jumped to the -ground, there was a sudden puff of wind and the cloud of fog rolled -away, almost as if it were a great white blanket withdrawn by invisible -hands. And there on the tor above them Rupert saw clearly outlined -against the sky two horsemen, about three hundred yards apart. - -"By God, we're done!" 303 cried. - -The mounted warders raised a shout, and jabbing their heels into their -ponies' sides, commenced to gallop down the hill. - -"We must make a run for it," Rupert said. "There's fog still in the -valley." - -Before he finished speaking, 303 had torn off like a hare, leaping, -stumbling, dashing first one way, then another to avoid obstacles. -Rupert followed. Twice 303 fell, and each time Rupert waited to lend him -a hand. Once he glanced back and he saw the warders reach the wall; -they dismounted, and one commenced to pull the stones off the wall to -make a gap for his pony; the other unslung his rifle and shouted to the -flying convicts to stop--or he would fire. - -Twice the warning came. They were racing side by side now. Rupert -heard himself laugh. The sheltering pall of fog was not a hundred yards -away now. He set his teeth and flung back his head while he waited for -the crack of the warders' carbines and the "ping" of the buckshot. - -It came just as the kindly fog was about to envelop them again. Ten -seconds more and they would have been safe. - -Perhaps the warder had the instincts of a sportsman. Perhaps he had -purposely given them a run for their money. But he had to do his duty. -He knew that if once they got into the fog again they would be lost. - -So he fired. He saw the right-hand man stumble, then roll over and over -like a shot rabbit until he lay quite still face downwards on the -heather. Before he could raise his carbine and fire again the other man -had disappeared. - -Both warders let go their ponies, stumbled over the wall and ran down -the hill-side to the fallen convict. The man who had fired the shot -stooped down and turned him over. And he started and looked at his -companion. The convict's face was white as death; blood was flowing -from a wound on his forehead. - -"My God Bill, you've done it this time!" the second warder said. -"You've killed him!" - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - - AT POST BRIDGE HALL. - - -The warders stared into each other's faces. - -"It's a bad job. You're sure he's dead----" - -"I wouldn't have done it for anything," the man who had fired the shot -whispered. "I aimed at his legs, too. Damn the gun!" - -He threw it into the heather, and turned away to hide his emotion. - -The second warder glanced back over his shoulder. The fog was slipping -down the hillside again. The stone wall and the ponies were already -lost to view. - -"Fire off your gun again; they'll hear it on the road. I'd better go -back for the ponies, or we shall lose 'em." - -"Which way did the other fellow go?" - -"I don't know. You get the ponies--I'll wait here." - -The second warder hurried up the hillside towards the stone wall and -disappeared into the fog. The one who had fired the fatal shot stooped -to pick up his gun. As he did so, the figure of the convict lying on -the heather stirred. A second later he was on his feet, running for -dear life! - -He was gone before the warder could realise what had happened. He swung -round and stared open-mouthed at the wall of fog surrounding him on all -sides. - -"Well, I'm damned!" he ejaculated. - -Jamming a cartridge into his gun, he fired it off. - - * * * * * - -When the fatal shot was fired Rupert was a few yards ahead of 303, and -he felt a sharp sting at the point of his shoulder as he heard the shot -whiz by. Thinking that the shot was aimed at him, and feeling himself -hit, he swerved to the right and made for a low wall which ran down -towards the powder-magazine, intent only on reaching its shelter. The -shock of being fired at had put all thought of his comrade for the -moment out of his mind, and it was not until he was over the wall and -heading for the small clump of trees, through the top of which he could -see the ruined chimney of the old powder-mill which instinct told him -was his only chance, did he think of 303. - -Slackening his pace, he glanced back over his shoulder--but he could see -nothing. He turned once more and sped towards the trees which were now -only a few hundred yards away, and the fold in the ground hid him from -the road and also from the hill above. On reaching the trees, his -breath coming in great gasps, worn out with excitement, he threw himself -upon a bed of rushes growing beside the Cherry Brook, which flowed -within the walls that enclosed the powder mills. - -He was consumed with raging thirst, and when he had recovered his breath -sufficiently, he crawled to the brook and buried his face in the cool, -clear stream. As he sat up he saw his right hand dripping with blood, -and for the first time remembered his wound. Taking off his -broad-arrowed coat, he felt his throbbing shoulder, and was relieved to -find the bullet had but grazed his flesh. He went to the stream and -dipped his coat into the water--when he was startled by the dull thud of -horses' hoofs approaching. - -The powder mill buildings were mere ruined shells. There was no shelter -there--but suddenly his eye caught the chimney, a circular stack about -thirty feet high. The horseman had reached the wall; he heard him check -the horse and dismount. Rupert remembered that he had often swarmed up -the inside of the chimney when a boy. The sound of the pony's hoofs -striking the stones of the wall as the warder led him through the gap -caused Rupert to spring towards the chimney. In a second he was within -the ruined furnace, grasping the iron bar which crossed the chimney some -six feet above the ground. - -He swung himself up, and placing his knees against the round wall in -front of him, and with his back against the other side, he slowly worked -himself up the narrow shaft until he was some twelve feet up. By jamming -his feet in a niche from which the mortar had fallen out, and with his -back thrust against the opposite wall, he made himself secure for the -moment. - -He heard the warder and the pony stumbling over the rubble which strewed -the mouth of the ruined chimney; his heart was in his mouth. Pony and -man were within the furnace, and the voice of the warder almost beneath -him made Rupert look down in momentary expectation of meeting his -upturned gaze; he saw his arm and shoulder already beneath the -chimney--another moment he would be discovered. - -A voice outside hailed the warder, and he stepped back--and disappeared. - -For some little time Rupert heard the voice of men talking in the -precincts of the powder mill. He strained his ears to try and hear what -they said, but only caught odd words. He gathered that they were still -searching both for him and Convict 303. He was relieved to know that his -friend had not been caught; yet in his heart he realised it was only a -matter of time. Once he reached home--if indeed he were lucky enough to -succeed in doing so--he would only wait long enough to discover how -things were with his father and sister, and to warn them that a fortune -might still be lying within their grasp. He did not know how much of -the little property had been mortgaged to Sir Reginald Crichton; he -almost hoped the disused tin mine was included. As long as the interest -was paid, the mortgage would remain undisturbed; and Sir Reginald had -proved himself to be not only an upright gentleman, but a kind friend. - -It was his one-time friend, Robert Despard, the man who had called -himself his pal, whom he feared. Almost the last words the latter had -spoken to him echoed ironically in his brain: - -"I'll keep the secret about our radium mine, old man, never fear. It's -safe with me!" - -Various schemes flashed with lightning-like rapidity through Rupert's -brain as he clung to his perilous position in the chimney above the -furnace. He began to think that the men outside intended to remain there -for the night--it seemed so long before they moved away, and he heard -the beat of their ponies' hoofs growing fainter and fainter. But at last -he knew they were really gone. Even then he waited awhile before he -commenced to painfully clamber to the ground. - -He was stiff and sore. His shoulder ached and throbbed where the stray -buckshot had struck him. There was blood upon his hand, too, where he -had cut it. - -But he was still free. At first he moved cautiously, examining the -country as much as was visible in all directions. The fog had partially -cleared away, but it still lay in patches here and there. - -There was not a soul in sight. Not a sound to be heard save the purling -waters of the little Cherry Brook on his left. He knelt down and washed -the blood from his hand, then took a drink. And suddenly he laughed -under his breath. - -It was good to be alive again--for he had not been living those past -months in prison. He had been less alive than a caged animal. He had -slept, eaten, worked, and exercised with mechanical-like precision. -Even the agonies of mind he had undergone seemed unreal now. They did -not even seem to matter--nothing mattered but the fact that he was free! - -Free to sit or stand, to walk or run, to laugh or to cry. Free to move -as he liked, look where he liked, do what he liked. He dug his hands -into the soft peat and tore it up, and sniffed the sweet scent. He stood -upright and stretched out his arms, then laughed aloud. - -It was indeed good to be alive again. It was wonderful! The next -moment he was trembling from head to foot, and his body broke out in a -sweat. He was not to be alive for long. Even if he reached Blackthorn -Farm and delivered his message he would have to give himself up and go -back to prison. Back to that living grave! - -He had told poor 303 that escape was absolutely impossible. Even if a -man got outside Dartmoor and reached Tavistock or Exeter or Plymouth he -was certain to be detected and brought back. His father would never -hide him or help him--he knew that. - -Yet if he once succeeded in getting home he could remain there hidden -long enough to disguise himself, to grow a beard. And then one day, so -altered as to be hardly recognisable, he might ship off to Canada or -Australia. - -His head swam: he put his hands up before his eyes for a moment. The -sudden draught of freedom had intoxicated him. - -Once again he gazed round the moorland. It was growing dark, the sun -had set, and the western sky was still glowing red. Now and then a -faint puff of wind stirred the trees surrounding the powder mill, and he -saw stray banks of fog driving here and there, shifting their position. -By crossing the stream he could step right into the white bank of mist. - -Freedom! The thought of it had become an obsession now. Taking a run -he cleared Cherry Brook and plunged into the fog. He knew his way now; -he could have found it blindfold. But he went cautiously, for no man -can be sure of himself if he once misses his way when a Dartmoor fog is -down. - -To reach Blackthorn Farm he would have to pass Post Bridge Hall, which -lay between him and the East Dart. He kept edging towards the valley, -for though it was near the main road, the fog lay more thickly there -than in the higher ground. - -It was rough going. Rocks and boulders and gorse bushes impeded the -progress, invisible in the mist. Now and again he struck a boggy patch -of ground and had to make a wide detour to avoid it. He had been -walking for upwards of an hour, and he began to fear lest he had missed -his way and perhaps been going round in a circle, when suddenly he -stepped out into a clear, starlit night. Below him he saw the tiny -village of Post Bridge, and almost directly in front of him red lights -gleaming through the belt of trees. - -Post Bridge Hall! Down on the bridge itself, near the little post -office, he saw figures moving to and fro. He dropped on to his hands -and knees behind the shelter of a rock. He heard the barking of a sheep -dog, the voices of men and women travelled up to him. - -Of course the news of the escape had spread, and the place was alive -with people searching. - -How eager men and women were to hunt their kind! He remembered how as a -boy he had joined in just such a hunt. - -He commenced to crawl along on all fours towards Post Bridge Hall. The -trees there might shelter him, but it would be useless to try and cross -the patch of country on the other side. He climbed a couple of stone -walls, crossed a field, scrambled over a fence, and dropped straight -into the garden of the Hall itself. - -Lights gleamed from the windows. The front door stood wide open, and -not a hundred yards away from him he saw the outer door of the glass -conservatory which abutted from the drawing-room. He saw with surprise -that this was open too. - -For a long time he lay waiting, watching, afraid to go on--because he -knew the fog would not descend again. The million eyes of the night -watched him from a cloudless sky. - -Presently from the woods behind him he heard voices and the barking of -dogs. A gang of men were beating the spinney, searching for the two -convicts. - -Within sight of home he would be caught. He rose to his feet, crossed -the narrow stretch of turf and walked boldly up the drive. - -He stood a moment outside the conservatory door, listening. He heard -nothing but the voices of the men in the wood and the barking of the -dogs. - -He stepped inside the conservatory, closed the door, and then, fumbling -for the key, found it. He locked it, and drew the bolts top and bottom -which he knew were there. Stooping down he crawled beneath the broad -shelf which ran the length of the glass-house. The leaves of a palm and -the fronds of a large fern gave him complete shelter. - -He stretched himself out full length so as to lie perfectly flat, and as -he did so his foot struck a pile of empty flower-pots. They fell over -with a crash. He stopped breathing. He thought he detected a woman's -voice in the drawing-room. A minute passed, but no one came. - -He breathed again. He was safe for the time being. The conservatory -door was locked. They would never search Sir Reginald Crichton's house! -He was still a free man. And freedom to him now was more than anything -else in the world. More than love or honour, or the wealth that might be -lying hidden in the tin mine at home, waiting for his father and sister. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - - ALARMED. - - -Marjorie Dale only remained at Blackthorn Farm after her father's return -from London long enough to nurse him back to health. When he had -completely recovered from the effects of his accident she left home, -Devonshire, and all she knew and loved. She went away as much in -deference to her lover's wishes as to her father's, though so far as her -own feelings were concerned she would have preferred to remain at Post -Bridge and face public opinion--scandal, cruelty, and calumny. She knew -that both she and her father would be social outcasts. - -She had connections on her mother's side living at Calais. They were in -the lace trade, and had spent the best part of their lives out of -England. To them Marjorie was sent--not altogether as a guest. In return -for a home and protection she was expected to play the part of nursery -governess to their children and help in the housework. - -No one was more delighted at this arrangement than Sir Reginald -Crichton. Marjorie would be away for at least six months, and during -that time much might happen. - -Jim would learn to forget; work would help him. - -He was so grateful that he made the mistake of thanking Marjorie for the -step she was taking. But she read his thoughts as she had done before: -she knew what he hoped would come from this parting between Jim and her. - -"I'm going away, not for my father's sake, nor for yours, nor my own, -but for Jim's sake," she explained. "I know that the parting will only -strengthen our love, and his determination to marry me. With him I -believe that love is the greatest thing in the world." She smiled when -Sir Reginald shrugged his shoulders. "I know it's an unfashionable -belief, yet everything in the world depends on love. The greatest men -have always been the greatest lovers; even soldiers, sailors, and Empire -builders. When I return from abroad Jim is going to announce our -engagement. I'm not entirely selfish in agreeing to this; for I know -that his happiness and his future lie in my hand." - -Sir Reginald had nothing to say. He had proved that argument was -useless. His son's attitude was a severe blow to him. For the moment -love was stronger than reason or ambition, but he still believed that by -waiting, love would weaken and even Jim would listen to wiser and more -worldly counsels. - -So Marjorie bade her lover farewell one grey autumn morning and left for -France--but not before she had had an unpleasant interview with Robert -Despard and taken a very unhappy farewell of her father. - -For when Despard brought the old man back from London, he had stayed on -at Blackthorn Farm, and he had seized every opportunity of making love -to Marjorie--even after she had told him his case was hopeless, that her -heart was already given. - -Despard had merely laughed and said he intended to win her in spite of -all opposition. At first his attitude puzzled her, for she could not -conceive why a man of his type should wish to marry into a family whose -name was now a byword in the county. Her father encouraged him, -moreover, and did everything in his power to make her look kindly on -Despard's suit. - -It was only the night before she left for Calais that she discovered the -reason. - -Despard had insisted on paying off the mortgage which Sir Reginald held -on Blackthorn Farm, and the homestead was once again her father's -property. Crichton, too, had acted very generously in the matter of -paying the conveyancing expenses himself. - -Instead of being grateful, Marjorie was shocked and horrified. It -seemed as if the three men had laid their heads together and planned -this thing to put her in their power. It was a trick on Despard's part, -and Sir Reginald had helped him--not really for John Dale's sake, but in -order to save his own son from what he considered would be a -mesalliance. - -To a certain extent she was right. But Despard had another and stronger -motive for his generosity in paying off the mortgage on the farm and -handing the estate back to the man who had, only a month or two ago, -been a stranger to him. The reason was to be found in the old tin mine -where Rupert and he had suddenly discovered the presence of -pitch-blende, firing their imaginations with thoughts of radium--and a -fortune. - -News of what was happening in the outside world seldom reached Marjorie -in Calais. And the only news she received of what was taking place in -the wilds of Dartmoor was contained in a weekly letter from her father. -He refrained from telling her everything. Jim wrote to her daily. They -were very wonderful letters telling her of his work, telling her of his -love. But for those letters she would never have remained for half -those long, weary months in the conventional Anglo-French family in the -sleepy little town of Calais. - -But even Jim did not know what was taking place at Blackthorn Farm until -the news became public property, and the great boom which Despard -cleverly engineered was burst on a credulous, Tango-dancing world. - -By that time Marjorie had returned home to find Despard ensconsed at -Blackthorn Farm, the land surrounded and over-run by a small army of -men, and Jim Crichton still absent with his corps at Netheravon. - -Marjorie hardly recognised her old home. It was over nine months since -her brother had been convicted and sentenced. A change had taken place, -too, in her, and she knew it. Six months abroad had made a great -difference--mentally and physically. She had looked forward to -returning to Blackthorn Farm in spite of its loneliness and the bitter -memories she knew she would find there. - -Her father met her at Newton Abbot station, and it was some minutes -before he found her in the crowd of passengers who alighted from the -West of England express. To the old man it seemed as if she had grown -up suddenly. Grown from a girl into a woman. From a farmer's daughter -into a lady. - -"Why, how swagger we have become," he smiled. "I almost took you for a -Frenchwoman with that smart little hat and dress, and those ridiculous -shoes! It's lucky we haven't brought the dogcart, so you won't have to -walk up the hills." - -Marjorie imagined they would take the train to Moretonhampstead, and -from thence by motor omnibus to Post Bridge. When she had collected her -luggage, John Dale led her across the bridge and out of the station. -And there she saw Robert Despard waiting in a motor-car. He seized the -reluctant hand she gave him, and after pressing it warmly, put it to his -lips. - -"Welcome home!" he cried; then, turning to Dale: "By Jove, what a fine -lady she's become! She'll be able to play the part to perfection, eh?" - -Marjorie flushed with resentment and disappointment. Despard was the -last person in the world she wanted to see. - -"Have I got to drive home in that thing?" she cried, pointing -disdainfully to the motor-car. - -While the luggage was being strapped on, Dale explained that it belonged -to Mr. Despard, and that he kindly allowed them to make use of it. - -"It belongs to the syndicate," Despard replied. "There have been great -happenings at Post Bridge since you went away, Marjorie. I'm afraid -you'll find the place changed--not the farmhouse itself, but the -surrounding waste land." - -"Mr. Despard has discovered that we've been living with a fortune under -our feet all these years," Dale explained. - -He looked anxiously at his daughter and took her hand; but she made no -response. After two or three attempts at conversation when the car had -started, Dale relapsed into silence. It was not easy to talk at the -pace they went, with the wind singing in their ears. And in his heart, -too, he felt a little afraid of Marjorie. A little frightened at the -quick march of events since she had been away. And perhaps just a -little ashamed. - -Marjorie guessed what had happened. When Blackthorn Farm was reached, -she knew. But instead of feeling grateful or elated, disgust seized -her. Within a few hundred yards of the farm, hideous corrugated iron -buildings had sprung up; the land all around the tin mine had been -cleared and levelled. Plant was being erected; scattered here and there -were temporary dwellings, and offices for the workmen; a miniature -railway line had already been laid on the ancient granite track. Tears -rose to her eyes as she looked at the desecration that had been done to -her moorlands and her home. - -"Whose work is this?" she asked. "Mr. Despard's, of course! I suppose -Sir Reginald gave permission----" - -Dale explained all that had happened, and the generous part Despard had -played. "I owe him a debt I can never repay. Ruin stared us in the -face, Marjorie, and through him it has been averted. When--when my boy -comes out of prison--though I hope I shall not live to see that day--he -will at least have the chance of living a decent life, of wiping out the -crime he committed, and becoming a useful citizen. He will have the -opportunity, for he will be a rich man. God grant that he takes it." - -Marjorie shook her head. "Mr. Despard is a stranger to us. It's unlike -you, father, to accept so much from a stranger. What does Mr. Despard -expect in return?" - -The old man turned away. "Nothing. Of course he'll share in our good -fortune. He'll take the larger share of whatever money we make. I have -insisted on that. A company will be floated--it's in the course of -promotion already. It's a gamble, to a certain extent. I believe -there's a deal of opposition; there are men who scoff at the idea of -traces of radium having been discovered here. Other eminent men have -made exhaustive tests, and their report leads us to believe there is no -doubt that we shall be able to extract radium from the mine. But I've -refused to take a single penny in cash; I'm to be paid entirely in -shares." - -"And how is Mr. Despard to be paid?" - -"I don't believe he has thought of himself," Dale replied. "He'll join -the board of directors, of course, and I suppose he'll receive a certain -number of shares. He'll become a very famous man, Marjorie. I've seen -a lot of him during the past few months, and my respect has grown daily. -He has thrown himself heart and soul into this business. At first every -one scoffed at him, but lately a change has taken place in public -opinion here. Even Sir Reginald is converted. Can't you guess why Mr. -Despard has worked so hard and been so generous? I'm sure his love for -you, born originally of pity, has been the motive." - -"Then I'm sorry," Marjorie said quickly. "Even if I were not engaged to -Jim I could never care for Mr. Despard. I dislike and distrust him. -The sooner he realises this the better." - -John Dale sighed and shook his head. He had forced himself to believe -his daughter would forget. He had hoped, he had prayed, that she would -have grown to see things in a reasonable way, and that this sudden -promise of wealth would entirely change her point of view of life and -love. - -"Sir Reginald will never consent to his son marrying you," he replied -harshly. "Why, Jim is little more than a boy, he doesn't know his own -mind. He has already forgotten." - -Marjorie smiled and said nothing more. She knew that she would see him -in a few days' time, for he had applied for special leave on urgent -private affairs, and he had written assuring her that he would be at the -Hall again within twelve or fourteen days. He also hinted that he had -important work in hand, that he might be doing some long distance -flights on a new monoplane containing improvements, which were his own -inventions, later on in the year. And he was down for early promotion. - -The twelve days of waiting for her lover's return were long and weary -ones. Blackthorn Farm was no longer the lonely, forgotten homestead, -tucked away in a secluded part of the moorlands it had been formerly. -Tourists and trippers thronged to look at the curious old farmhouse and -to watch the works being erected a few hundred yards away. The place was -over-run by workmen. All day long cars and lorries were rushing to and -fro along the main road between Princetown and Post Bridge and -Moretonhampstead. Solitude and loneliness, which had been so easy to -find in the old days, disappeared. Marjorie had to take long walks -before she knew she was safe from intrusion. She dreaded meeting -friends and acquaintances more than the strangers who came to stare at -her old home. She was not afraid of being cut or shunned. Instinct -warned her, that now it was known vast wealth was hidden in the old -mine, people would conveniently forget the shame that had fallen on her -name. They would no longer think of her as the convict's sister, but as -the future heiress. Shame made her want to hide from every one but her -lover. Even from her father and the labourers and farm hands on the -estate. - -She was ashamed--not of herself or her brother, but of them! - -At last, one Friday morning, a note arrived from her lover saying that -he would reach Post Bridge Hall that evening. Of course the news of the -happenings at Blackthorn Farm had been carried to him. He told Marjorie -that his father would be absent on Friday evening, and asked her as soon -as it was dark to go straight up to the Hall. He did not want anyone to -know of his arrival. - -So Marjorie said nothing. Her love had become too precious a thing to -be talked about. Moreover, she did not want Despard to know of Jim's -presence at the Hall. Feeling secure in the knowledge that John Dale -approved of his love for Marjorie, Despard had pressed his suit on every -available opportunity, giving her no peace. When he found it was -useless to plead, he even threatened her. - -But Marjorie laughed in his face. - -"You can laugh now," he said savagely. "But I mean to make you my wife. -I mean to win you. Not many men would have done for a woman what I've -done for you. I've saved you from poverty, I've saved you from -disgrace. Perhaps when we're married I can save your brother from -prison." - -She had always believed in her heart that Despard could have proved -Rupert's innocence if he had chosen to speak at the trial. And these -words returned to her a few days later with redoubled force. - -Soon after the midday meal on Friday she left the farm and walked in the -direction of Beardown, intending to pass the rest of the day there -reading, until it was time to meet her lover at the Hall. When the fog -came down, she had to slightly alter her plans, and she made for the -main road as she knew she could not lose her way there. She was -terrified lest the fog delayed Jim, and she hovered close to Post Bridge -Hall until it began to grow dark. She scarcely heard the boom of the -warning signal gun from Princetown, so intent was she on meeting the man -she loved. It was just as the fog lifted and she was making her way by -the long drive towards the Hall that a motor-car overtook her and pulled -up, and Jim jumped to the ground. - -They looked at one another, but spoke no word. Telling the chauffeur to -take the car on, Jim slipped his arm through Marjorie's, and together -they walked up to the house. Not until they had entered the -drawing-room, where a cheerful fire was blazing, did Jim Crichton speak. -He took Marjorie's hand in his and looked deep into her eyes. - -"I can hardly believe that you are really here," he whispered. "It -seems too good to be true. The months have been like years. But you -have never been absent from me--even in my work you have always been -beside me. By day and by night. If I had ever doubted that love was the -greatest thing in the world I should know it now." - -Marjorie smiled: her red lips parted and she tried to speak, but no -words came. He had said just what she wanted him to say. And he had -said it quietly, almost coldly. - -For a few moments there was silence. Then he released her hands, and -opening his arms he took her in them and, holding her tightly, covered -her face with kisses. The pent-up passion burst. The months of -separation, the obstacles that had been placed in their way, instead of -killing their love, had increased it ten-fold. - -"My dear, my dear one, what does anything else in the world matter so -long as we have one another!" Jim whispered. - -"Nothing," she sobbed, unable to keep back her tears--tears of joy. -"Nothing--but I'm a woman. Therefore love is all in all to me. But -you're a man, and----" - -He silenced her with his lips: "And helpless, useless without his mate." - -The darkness increased. The old oak-panelled room was only lit by the -dancing flames from the log fire. There was silence in the house, and -outside on the moorlands there was silence, too. Presently it was -broken by the shouts of men and the baying of dogs. But the lovers did -not hear. - -They only heard the beating of each other's hearts and the voice of Love -calling them to walk fearlessly along the path they had chosen. And the -voice of Fate calling them to face the unknown future together. - -Twice a servant knocked at the door before Jim heard, and starting up -told him to enter. - -"Well, what is it?" he asked, striking a match to light the candles, -fearful lest his father had returned earlier than he expected. - -The servant explained that an official from Princetown Prison wished to -see him. "I understand, sir," the man said in an excited voice, "that a -couple of convicts escaped this afternoon in the fog. They traced one -in this direction. He was wounded by a shot the warder fired. They -want permission to search the grounds and out-buildings." - -Jim hesitated for a moment. "Of course they can search," he replied. -"You know where the keys of the garage, the stables, and the -out-buildings are, Perkins. You had better accompany them; and be sure -to lock up carefully." - -"Very good, sir!" - -The servant was about to retire when the burly form of a uniformed -warder blocked the doorway. He saluted. - -"I understand Sir Reginald is away; can I speak to you a moment, sir?" - -Jim glanced over his shoulder at Marjorie. She was hidden from sight, -seated in a large armchair. - -"Certainly," he replied. He crossed the room and stepped into the hall, -closing the drawing-room door behind him. - -As he did so a noise from the conservatory on the left of the fireplace -startled Marjorie. The sound of a sudden crash. She listened a moment, -then rose to her feet. - -Very quietly stepping towards the door which led into the hot-house, she -pulled back the curtain and peered through the glass panel. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX. - - "YOU MUST GO BACK!" - - -Marjorie could see nothing. It was quite dark outside now. She -listened, straining her ears, but not another sound could be heard. -Whatever had fallen or been knocked down had made a great noise. -Obviously, some one was in the conservatory. - -She turned the handle of the door; it was unlocked, and it opened. Her -first thought was that perhaps one of the dogs had been shut in by -mistake. As she stepped down on to the tessellated pavement into the -darkness she experienced a sudden little throb of fear. For the thought -came that perhaps one of the escaped convicts had made his way into the -conservatory and was hiding there. The fear went as quickly as it came. -Her eyes, growing accustomed to the gloom, saw dimly outlined the -delicate fronds of the ferns and the graceful palms and overhead the -green of the clambering vine. The air was heavy with the warm and -subtle odour of forced growth. - -She made her way to the door leading into the garden, and found it -locked and bolted. So no one could have possibly entered that way. She -gave a whistle and snapped her fingers, still thinking that one of the -dogs might be there. There was no response. - -She was turning away when her foot struck a portion of broken pot. -Stooping down she saw that a large pile of them had been overturned, and -the majority lay in fragments on the ground, behind them a tin bucket -from which water was still trickling. - -She gave a little laugh--it seemed so mysterious. And then her brow -puckered in a frown.... Had some one been listening and spying on them? -The idea was ridiculous, and yet--the bucket, obviously half full of -water, and the pile of pots could not have fallen there on their own -account. It was just possible that a large rat---- - -She stooped down to peer under the shelf. As she did so she was -conscious of footsteps on the gravel outside, and at the same moment a -brighter light shone through the door leading into the drawing-room. A -servant had brought in the lamp. Then she heard Jim's voice, obviously -speaking to one of the warders from the prison. - -The ferns and the drooping tendrils of plants and a bank of moss blocked -her view underneath the shelf; the light from the drawing-room fell at -the wrong angle. Bending lower she brushed aside a clump of ferns. - -And she saw, pressed tightly against the wall, the outline of a foot and -leg. Some one was hiding there. - -The next moment her eyes had seen the tell-tale broad-arrow on the boot -and trousers. - -One of the escaped convicts! She caught her breath, and drawing back -stood upright, uncertain for the moment what to do. The door was bolted -on the inside, and with Jim and the warders a few feet away in the -drawing-room he was trapped. There was no escape. She hesitated a -moment, not in the least alarmed, only surprised and a little -overwhelmed by her discovery. She knew that the moorlands must be alive -with men searching; already, probably, the outbuildings and the houses -were being ransacked--and here the convict lay, at her feet. - -The next thought was that he must have heard her enter and knew that she -had discovered him. She wondered why he had not attacked her and tried -to bolt. - -"Marjorie--where are you?" - -She started at the sound of her lover's voice. It brought her back to a -sense of her duty. As she turned towards the drawing-room she -heard--him saying good-night to the warder to whom he had been talking. - -"One moment," she cried, "I want you, Jim." - -Something stirred at her feet. A movement from the hunted creature -lying hidden beneath the ferns and flowers. - -Suddenly, in a flash, she felt as if her soul, her whole being, had -changed places with his. She experienced the agony that he was -feeling--alternating hope and fear. The desire to live and escape at -all costs, and the desire to kill those who stood between him and -liberty. She heard herself draw her breath with difficulty, with hard, -sharp gasps. Her body broke out into a sweat. She trembled from head to -foot. - -Then she felt Jim's hand on her arm. "Hello, dear, what are you doing -out here in the darkness?" - -She turned her back on him, afraid lest the light coming through the -open door shone on her face. Again she heard a stealthy movement of feet -followed by a shuffling under the shelf. The convict knew the game was -up and was coming out. - -"Don't move," she cried, scarcely knowing what she said. - -With an effort she steadied herself and gained self-control. Against -the wall on her right a Maréchal Niel rose-tree had been trained. A -yellow bud caught her eyes just out of reach. Jim Crichton entered the -conservatory. - -"I wanted to steal that rose," she whispered. "I'm not tall enough. Do -pick it for me, Jim." - -"Silly child," he laughed. "You gave me quite a fright. I thought -something was wrong." - -Standing on tip-toe, he picked the rosebud and gave it her. Bending her -head she placed her lips to it. Jim kissed the top of her head, then, -turning away, tried the outer door. - -"That's all right. No one can get in here. Come along back to the -drawing-room, Marjorie. Those fellows will have finished searching in a -minute and we shall be left in peace again. It's rather serious, you -know, a couple of convicts getting away. But, of course, they'll catch -them all right--though I'm afraid they'll have to wait until the morning -now." - -Taking her hand he led her back to the drawing-room. He was closing the -conservatory door when she asked him to leave it open. - -"It seems rather hot in here." - -"Well, it's hotter in there," he laughed. - -He put his arms around her and gazed into her eyes. "I'm jealous of -every minute that's stolen from us. I shall never let you go away again -for such a long period. It's been bad enough for me, and I've had work -that I love. It must have been worse for you, darling." - -She nodded, and laid her face on his shoulder. "That's all gone, dear. -This hour is ours--and there's the future.... Jim, I have a confession -to make." - -"Well, come and sit down in the arm-chair and make it," he laughed. -"Let me hold you in my arms as if you were a child, for that's all you -are sometimes." - -"Not now. I'm a woman. No," as he made a movement, "listen to me, Jim. -While I was away from you I had no doubts about the future. I was -certain that I could make you happy, that love was the principal thing -in life. I'm not so sure now." - -She felt his grip tighten. "Why, just now you confessed----" - -"I confessed what _I_ felt," she interrupted. "I want you to confess. -I want you to look far, far into the future ... and also to remember the -past. Remember what I am--and what my brother is." - -Against her will her eyes were drawn towards the conservatory where the -convict was hiding. An outcast, an outlaw, wearing the shameful uniform -of crime. Just such a man was her brother. Wearing just the same -uniform, living the same life, thinking the same thoughts. Just as -desperate. Her brother: herded with other criminals in one of the great -prisons of England. She had been speaking her thoughts, saying just -what she felt. She knew that she was speaking them to gain time. She -ought not to have wasted one moment before telling Jim of the man hiding -a few yards away from them. Warders were at that moment searching -outbuildings and the gardens. She was committing an unlawful act in not -giving him up. She was making her lover party to her guilt. - -But she could not tell him. For one dreadful moment she had entered -into that wretched man's feelings. It was as if she had taken his place -in the darkness out there where he was hiding. - -She wanted him to escape! She was incapable of reasoning that moment. -Perhaps the taint of crime was in her blood. Perhaps her brother really -had been guilty of robbing her lover's father. - -"My dearest little one, you needn't trouble about my future. I shall -really only begin to live when you're my wife. I can't lose my job--if -I do I can find another. And your love will make me twice as keen on my -work, for you will share in it. We have each got our job to do, and we -shall do it better for being together. That's all about it." - -She heard his voice, as from a distance off. As he finished speaking she -heard footsteps in the hall--the opening of the front door. - -Some one knocked at the drawing-room door. It opened, and the servant -admitted the chief warder. - -"We've searched carefully, sir," he said to Jim, who put Marjorie from -him and stood in front of her. "And some of my men have been right -through the gardens and shrubberies, but they ain't hiding anywhere -here. No doubt you'll see that your men-servants keep a sharp look-out. -One man's badly hit--but he was a sharpish one, he was. I'm afraid there -ain't much chance of getting them to-night, but we shall have them as -soon as day breaks." He saluted. "Good-night, sir. Good-night, ma'am." - -The drawing-room door closed, and Marjorie listened to the footsteps -crossing the hall. "We shall get them as soon as day breaks." -Automatically she repeated the words the warder had spoken. - -"Jim, come here quickly. I have something I must tell you before the -warders go." - -He turned towards her, frowning, a look of amazement on his face. Even -then she hesitated. She heard the front door close. The warders had -gone. Taking Jim by the arm she led him towards the conservatory. - -"There's some one hiding in there," she whispered. "When you left the -room to speak to the chief warder I heard a crash from the conservatory. -I went in, and under the shelf I saw a man crouched up. His clothes -bore the broad arrow. He's one of the convicts who escaped." - -Jim looked at her with unbelieving eyes. Then putting her aside, he -stepped quickly towards the conservatory. Suddenly he stopped and swung -round. - -"Marjorie! You're certain of this? Why didn't you speak--before the -warders left?" - -Something moved in the darkness of the hothouse. Slowly out of the -masses of foliage a head and shoulders emerged. Jim sprang to the bell -and rang it. - -"What are you going to do?" Marjorie whispered. - -"Send Perkins to call the warders back. Give the fellow up," he replied -sharply. "You ought to have told me at once, Marjorie. You had better -wait in the dining-room." - -He stood in the doorway blocking the exit. Marjorie stood in front of -him and laid her hands on his arms. - -"Jim--you mustn't give him up. It's horrible." - -He tried to push her away. - -"Jim," her voice rose piercingly. "My brother is a convict.... You -needn't hide him, but just let him go--give him a sporting chance. Let -him go. No one will ever know. Give him a chance." - -"Silence, dear. You don't know what you're saying." - -The door opened and Perkins entered the room. For a moment there was -silence. Not a sound from the conservatory now. Not a sound from the -garden outside. The barking of the dogs and the voices of the men had -died away. - -"You rang, sir?" - -"Bring the glasses, a syphon of soda water, and the whisky," Jim said in -a strained voice. - -Directly the servant had gone he pointed to the sofa on the other side -of the fireplace away from the entrance to the conservatory. - -"Marjorie, dear, go and sit down there. I understand, and I'm sorry; -but I must do my duty." - -She looked at him dry-eyed. All the tenderness had left her face. -"It's five-score of men against one. Open the door and let him go. -Yes, he's bound to be caught to-morrow, but every hour, every minute, -every second of freedom must be as sweet to him as our love is to us, -Jim. Give him a run--for his money." - -Jim had turned his back on her. He disappeared into the conservatory -and the door closed behind him. - -Perkins brought the tumblers and the whisky into the room and placed -them on a small table. - -"Quite exciting, miss, this escape of two convicts. Hasn't been an -escape from Princetown for a long time. What with that and this radium -mine on Mr. Dale's estate----" - -He suddenly stopped and coughed deprecatingly. He, too, in speaking of -convicts had forgotten that he was speaking to a convict's sister. - -Marjorie waited. For a long time she heard no sound. Then Jim's voice, -strained and very stern. Not the voice of a lover now, but the voice of -a soldier--even something more than that, the voice of a man under the -strain of great emotion. - -Presently she detected an answering voice. She rose to her feet, and -standing against the conservatory door peered through the glass. - -She could see the outlines of the two men distinctly. One her lover, -the other the convict. Jim turned, and as he did so he saw her. She saw -him push the convict back, then, mounting the steps, he opened the door. - -"Go back!" he cried fiercely. "Go--away--into the dining-room." - -"You must tell me what you're going to do." - -She looked into his face, but his eyes fell. His mouth looked merely a -thin line, his jaws protruded. She put her hand on his arm--it was like -a steel band. - -"Go away, do you hear! Go away, do you hear! Wait until I come to you." -He commanded now. - -He tried to push her across the room. She clung to him and stood her -ground. She stared into his face, forced his eyes to meet hers. - -"You are hiding something from me, Jim.... You are going to give him -up----" - -Suddenly he seized her wrists in a grip of iron. "You know who's hiding -out there," he said between his teeth. - -"A convict--that's all I know----" - -A sound from the conservatory made Jim turn his head. Marjorie wrenched -herself free. Out of the darkness beyond the conservatory door the -figure of the convict emerged. Marjorie stopped as she saw him. - -"Go back!" Jim cried. - -The convict spoke. "It's too late! I'm a coward, I know. But -liberty's dearer than life now." He held out his arms to Marjorie. -"Hide me, for God's sake, hide me!" - -She put out her hands as if to keep him off. Her lips framed his name. -The name of her brother! It rattled in her throat. She turned to her -lover. - -"I didn't know, Jim, I didn't know!" - -He nodded. "Speak quietly. Sit down there." - -Crossing the room, he locked the drawing-room door. He motioned Rupert -to the arm-chair and made him place it so that if he had to open the -door no one would see him. Then he poured out a stiff whisky and soda -and gave it him to drink. The tumbler rattled between his teeth as he -emptied the contents. He laid it on the floor by his side, then he -looked at Jim, avoiding his sister's eyes. - -"I--I was hunted here. I didn't come purposely. When I broke away it -was not to escape.... I had a message. But the taste of liberty has -grown so sweet that--that nothing else matters!" - -He stopped, and drew the back of his hand across his mouth. "But before -it comes to a question of--of fighting for my freedom--in case I go -under, you had better hear what I've got to say. It's for Marjorie and -my father I escaped. It was not for you or your father's ears, Mr. -Crichton--I want to make sure that swine Despard doesn't cheat us of our -rights." - -He paused a moment as if expecting an interruption, but neither Jim nor -Marjorie spoke. They were as motionless as figures of stone. - -"Just before--before I was accused of robbing your father, Mr. Crichton, -Despard and I found there was pitch-blende in the old tin mine by -Blackthorn Farm. Despard made experiments with it and--he got a report -from Vardoff--you may have heard of him--an expert. The report said -there were good grounds for supposing that radium might be----" - -Then Jim Crichton stopped him. "Save your breath. We know this. Why, -already the plant is being erected, a company floated. Mr. Despard has -apparently done quite the right thing. Anyway, the property belongs to -your father again, and if there's any truth in the report he'll make a -fortune. If that's all you came to say, all you wanted to know, you can -go back to prison with an easy conscience." He spoke brutally. "You -must go back, you know." - -"I am innocent." - -"That's not the question now. You must go back." - -Slowly Rupert turned and looked at his sister. "Marjorie. Help me! Say -a word for me. He loves you.... Ask him, and he'll help me to escape. -For he can, now. The warders won't come back here. I'm safe for the -moment. Marjorie--speak. You are my flesh and blood. Speak! It's my -life I'm pleading for." - - - - - CHAPTER XX. - - PLANS FOR ESCAPE. - - -Marjorie looked at her lover. He met her gaze fairly. But she saw fear -in his eyes--a thing she had never seen there before. - -She knew he had never known the meaning of fear until now. Then she -looked at her brother. Crossing to his side she told him to stand up. - -"Look at me, Rupert. Tell me whether you're innocent or guilty--one -moment, before you speak. I know, but I want to hear the truth from your -lips." - -"It can make no difference." Jim Crichton spoke. "He has been found -guilty. He has escaped from prison. He must go back to prison." - -Brother and sister were standing close together, facing one another -fearlessly now. To Jim listening and watching it seemed a long time -before Rupert spoke. - -"I am innocent," he said at last. - -Marjorie put her arms around him, holding him closely and tightly. "I -knew it." - -Tears filled her eyes, but she forced them back. "Who was the guilty -person? Do you know that?" - -"Yes. I know that." - -"Who was it?" Her voice rose triumphantly. - -Again there was a long silence. Jim turned his back. He was fighting -against the fear which possessed him. He was afraid of himself. -Emotions of which he had never before been conscious filled his -heart--war against ideals, principles and faiths to which he had been -brought up. - -"I shall never say who was guilty." - -Marjorie gave vent to a little cry: a cry of joy. She took her brother's -hands, both of them, and covered them with kisses. Roughly he snatched -them away and stood back. - -"I've given you my message--though it has come too late. I don't know -what Despard has done for you, but don't trust him, Marjorie. Warn -father.... When I said just now that I had had no intention of escaping -it was true. But now I have escaped I don't mean to go back. If you -won't help me, if the man who loves you does his duty and gives me up, -then I shall fight for it." - -He backed across the room as he spoke, and gazed around as if seeking -for some weapon. - -Marjorie stepped towards her lover and held out her arms. "Jim!" - -He shook his head, and crossing the room unlocked the door. - -"Jim! What are you going to do?" - -"I must do my duty." - -She followed him. "Your duty to the State? But what of me. Yes, I am -pleading for myself now. For the love we bear one another." - -The door-handle rattled in his hand. He stood with his back towards -her. "Marjorie, don't tempt me." - -"I'm not tempting you," she replied quietly. "I'm asking you calmly and -coldly to save my brother. I know what I'm asking. I know that if you -hide him and if he's discovered you will be ruined. I realise the awful -responsibility I'm putting on you. I'm doing a terrible thing, but I'm -doing it with my eyes open, conscious of the love I bear you.... Still, -I ask it. Save him." - -Beads of perspiration stood on Rupert's forehead. He was trembling from -head to foot as if with an ague. The muscles of his face worked -convulsively. - -"Just let me go then. I'll take my chance outside. They'll never know -I was here, I'll swear to that. A few hours' more freedom--that's all I -want. I might get back home and see my father for a moment.... They -won't take me alive. I can't go back to that granite hell at -Princetown. Death's easier. I'm not afraid--for I can die fighting ... -but to be taken back like a dog on a chain, to be put into a hole where -there is neither night nor day, only silence and four narrow walls, and -a cup of water and a piece of bread----" - -Jim held up his hand. "Silence, Dale. Don't say any more. This rests -between Marjorie and me. There is one thing, however, you should -know--I am going to marry your sister." - -Rupert made a movement forward, then stopped. "I told you just now that -I was a coward," he cried fiercely, his voice rising. "I am no longer a -man. Prison has done its work quickly.... All I want now is freedom. I -don't care how I get it. I was neither a thief nor a liar nor a coward -when I was convicted nine months ago, but I am now, and I'll lie, cheat, -kill--for freedom. I'm going to get out of this house alive even if -they shoot me like a dog outside your garden gate. So now you know." - -"Be silent," Jim said again. He turned round and looked at Marjorie. -"You have heard. What do you say?" - -"Save him. Perhaps I am asking you the greatest thing in the world. If -my love is worth the sacrifice--make it." - -He took her hands in his then. They were as cold as ice. She scarcely -looked beautiful. The agony she was undergoing had distorted her -features. - -"Wait here. I shall not be long." - -He left the room, closing the door behind him. Marjorie stood with her -back to it, supporting herself against it. Rupert stared round the -room, crossed to the conservatory door and closed it. He pulled the -curtain at the window closer. He picked up the decanter of whisky as if -to help himself again, but changed his mind and put it down. Twice he -tried to speak, but no words issued from his lips. - -"Sit down, dear," Marjorie said, striving to regain her normal voice. -"You must be very tired." - -He nodded his head but remained standing. Jim was absent a long time. -Now and then sounds they would not have heard under ordinary -circumstances startled the brother and sister waiting in the -drawing-room--waiting far apart. Once they had been all in all to one -another; now a third person stood between them, and in his hands lay -Rupert's life. - -At last Rupert spoke. "I can't stand this much longer. Marjorie, open -the door and let me go. I'm asking too much. Let me go and take my -chance." - -She shook her head. "Wait." - -At last Jim returned. He left the door open and beckoned to Rupert. -"Follow me." - -The convict glanced at him. There was no need to question. He crossed -the room on tip-toe, holding his breath. His expression was that of a -hunted animal, his movements the same. - -The door closed and Marjorie was alone. An hour passed, but now she was -unconscious of time. She sat on the Chesterfield staring into space. -She was only conscious of Jim's presence when she felt his arms around -her. - -"Father may return any moment," he said. She heard a sob of fear in his -voice, it had changed. She did not recognise it as the voice of her -lover. "I'm afraid you must go. Before you go I must tell you what I've -done and what I hope to do. Listen, dear--and remember." - -"I am listening, Jim." - -"You know my workroom at the back of the house, just underneath my -bedroom? It was built out for me just before I joined the R.F.C. -Underneath it is a cellar where I keep a few things stored--plant, bits -of machinery, petrol, and so forth. Some of the plant I want for my -experiments is there and a small furnace. The entrance to my workroom -is always locked and the way to the cellar bolted and padlocked, too. -I've hidden him there, in the cellar. Binks, my bull terrier, always -sleeps in the workroom. He knows Rupert, remembered him and made -friends at once. He would give warning if anyone approached.... I've -given Rupert a change of clothes and food--enough of the latter to last -him twenty-four hours in case of need. I spend half the day in my -workroom always, so--he won't feel lonely. A fortnight or three weeks -at least must pass before we can dream of escape. He can change his -appearance in that time, too." - -He waited a moment. Marjorie said nothing, but he felt her body -tremble. He held her tighter. - -"I've thought of a way. It seems the only way, but, at the same time, -it means the greatest risk. I'll tell you now in case there's not -another opportunity. We may want your help. In about three weeks' time -I'm doing a special flight--a long distance flight from Netheravon to -Plymouth, carrying a passenger. It isn't long enough to attract public -attention. As an experiment I am using a new engine and trying a little -invention of my own which the Government may take up. A certain amount -of secrecy will, therefore, be observed. I shall be free to make -whatever arrangements I like, take whatever course I choose, and so -forth. My idea, hazy at present, is that Rupert shall be my passenger. -If I can pick him up and land him at Plymouth he'll stand a chance, a -fairly good one, perhaps. Luckily, he knows every inch of Dartmoor, so -do I. A monoplane doesn't attract as much attention as it used to, and -if the public doesn't know anything about the flight or the direction -I'm taking, I may manage to pass over the wildest part of Dartmoor, -Cranmere Pool, for example, come down there unnoticed, and pick up -Rupert.... Don't say anything, dear, and now go. If you're asked, don't -hesitate to say where you've spent this evening. Hide nothing--except -the fact that you've seen your brother. Any distress you may show would -be perfectly natural. Blackthorn Farm is sure to be watched day and -night. You and your father will be watched and followed, probably, but -that needn't prevent your coming up here if you want to see me. I won't -announce our engagement until Rupert is safe, in case it arouses -suspicion." He led her to the door. "Good-night, dear. God bless -you." - -"God bless you," she stammered. "It is mean to ask now, but tell me one -thing more before I go. You don't hate me? I've asked the impossible, -and you have done it--you won't hate me when you realise what you've -done?" - -He forced her eyes to meet his and he smiled bravely. "I realised what -I was doing before I did it, dear. It's a big thing. It's like war. -That's all now. I love you better than----" - -The sentence was unfinished. He kissed her lips, and opening the door -led her through the hall out into the garden. There he wished her -good-night again, loudly, in a cheery tone of voice, and watched her -until she was out of sight. - -The fog had quite disappeared. The million eyes of the night shone from -a cloudless sky. An owl hooted from a wood on the right. Down in the -valley the East Dart sang its way to the sea. - -Jim Crichton looked up at the sky. And presently he smiled. It was -good to be a soldier and to fight. It was better to be a man, and to -love. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI. - - READY FOR FLIGHT. - - -Marjorie had reason to be grateful now for the sudden fame into which -Blackthorn Farm had sprung owing to the discovery of pitch-blende in the -tin mine, with the supposition contained in the expert's report that -radium would undoubtedly be found. For the county was far too -excited--even though still sceptical--over this discovery to have more -than a fleeting interest in the escape of two convicts. - -No. 303, the man who had been hit and cleverly deceived the warders into -believing they had killed him, was, of course, eventually caught, though -not until he had enjoyed thirty hours of freedom. - -Nearly a fortnight passed and No. 381 was reported to be still at large. -The police and warders scoured the county. Plain-clothes detectives -were at every seaport town and village on the coast. Nearly every tramp -steamer leaving Plymouth was searched. Hotels and common lodging houses -were kept under constant surveillance. Occasionally an arrest was -reported--but 381 was not found. - -The police confessed themselves baffled at last. The authorities at -Princetown were at their wits end. That a convict should escape at all -was bad enough, but that fourteen days should pass without his being -captured was almost without precedent. - -At first the moorland dwellers and village folk all strenuously aided in -the search, but soon they grew tired, and presently they began to laugh -at the futile efforts of the warders and police to capture 381. Public -opinion on Dartmoor veered round, and soon a wish was openly expressed -that the convict would really make good his escape and never be caught. - -"He must be a durned smart chap, and deserves to get off. Dang me! if I -came across him now I'm not sure I'd give him up." - -The police decided that he had safely got out of the county, probably -out of England. Up at Princetown, however, the officials insisted that -the man was still hiding somewhere on Dartmoor. And they had good reason -for thinking this. The news soon leaked out that 381 was none other -than Rupert Dale, of Blackthorn Farm. A moorman, one who knew every -inch of the country, born and bred on Dartmoor. Such a one, provided he -could get food and drink, might easily play hide and seek with his -would-be captors for many weeks. - -When the best part of three weeks had passed, when every scrap of -country had been searched and no stone left unturned--indeed, there was -not a cairn nor a pile of boulders that had escaped examination--then -the officials began to look rather ridiculous, and were inclined to -confess that Rupert Dale, though he had not left the country, had at -least got out of Devonshire. - -The moorlands resumed their normal aspect and were no longer dotted -about with detectives, constables and armed warders. But the police -increased their vigilance in all the neighbouring towns. - -Old John Dale had done his best to help in the search and aid the -warders. It was only natural that at first he should be suspected of -knowing where his son was hiding, in spite of the character he bore for -straightforwardness and honesty. A very careful account was kept of the -workmen employed in erecting the plant of what was already known as the -radium mine at Blackthorn Farm. - -Marjorie's sufferings those three weeks were terrible, but she hid her -feelings and showed no more anxiety as to her brother's whereabouts and -welfare than was to be naturally expected in such a case. - -Curiously enough, with each passing day confidence in his ultimate -escape grew until she felt no fear at all that he would be discovered -and taken back to Princetown. While he was hidden in Jim's workroom at -Post Bridge Hall he was safe. Even the terrible risk her lover had taken -for her sake ceased to worry her. - -She had to play a part, and she sometimes marvelled herself at the cool, -deliberate way in which she played it. - -The one, the only person, she feared, was Robert Despard. Before -Rupert's escape she had avoided him on every possible occasion. Now, -she no longer dared do so. For she felt he suspected her--suspected she -had seen Rupert and knew where he was hiding. His work kept him so busy -that he had not much time to persecute her. Still, she knew he was at -watch--and when he was not watching her, she in turn, was watching him, -terrified that whenever he left the farm he would bend his footsteps -towards the Hall. - -She had only seen Jim once since the night of Rupert's escape, when he -had called at the farm with some message from Sir Reginald for her -father. They had not been alone for a minute, but a glance at his face -told her all was well. - -There were moments, of course, when she repented of what she had done. -She told herself she was a coward. For repentance meant that she was -putting her own happiness and future before that of her brother. Being -a woman, she argued that since her brother was innocent it was her duty -to help him to escape. It was criminal for an innocent man to suffer -for the guilt of another, even though, by speaking, he could have -cleared himself. In her eyes, his silence gave him an added nobility. -Her soul revolted when she thought of the long years he might still have -to endure shut up in the dreadful granite prison on the moors. For the -first time in her life she realised what it meant to be a convict, a -prisoner, a criminal. - -She knew now that these men she had sometimes seen working in the fields -and quarries were treated worse than beasts of burden; in harness day -and night, knowing not one minute's liberty or freedom; doomed to years -of silence, forced to implicit obedience of every order given them. -Just enough food and just enough sleep dealt out to keep them alive. - -No risk could be too great to save her brother. She knew a chance would -never occur again. And if he were caught and sent back until he had -served his time, then, when he came out, he would no longer be a man but -really and truly a criminal--something distorted, hideous, unnatural. A -human being at war with humanity. - -It was just at the end of three weeks that Jim Crichton presented -himself at the farm to say good-bye before going back to Netheravon to -join his corps. Rupert's escape had never been spoken of in the -farmhouse. Dale had forbidden his name to be mentioned, and Marjorie -sometimes wondered if her father had lost all feeling for his only son. -She had a dreadful thought that if he knew of his hiding-place he would -instantly inform the police and give him up. - -"I suppose when we meet again you will be millionaires," Crichton said -cheerily. "I see a prospectus is being issued next week of The -Blackthorn Development Company. I shall apply for a few shares--just -for luck." - -"I'm afraid you won't get them," Despard answered. "The Company will be -subscribed two or three times over. You go back to Netheravon -to-morrow?" - -Jim nodded. - -"Alone?" - -There was a moment's silence. Marjorie caught her breath. There seemed -to be a challenge in Despard's voice. - -"Yes, alone," Jim replied with a laugh. "Unfortunately, I can't take -Marjorie with me--yet. Perhaps in a few months' time, though, we shall -fly off together, man and wife." - -Despard shrugged his shoulders as he left the room. "Perhaps," he -murmured under his breath. - -Crichton shook hands with Dale, and the old man held his hand a few -moments longer than was necessary. - -"It's a brave thing you're doing in keeping the promise you gave -Marjorie; but if you insist on making her your wife, you'll break your -father's heart, Mr. Crichton." - -"I hope not. I hope he'll come to see things my way. But if I had to -make a choice, Mr. Dale, I'd rather break his than hers." - -Dale sighed and nodded his head. "I suppose youth must be served," he -whispered. "Perhaps it's just that the old should suffer. My boy has -broken my heart--that's why I feel for your father." - -"You're convinced of your son's guilt, then?" Jim said. - -"Of course I am. Why, he confessed it!" - -Jim turned away. "Perhaps one day his innocence may be proved, Mr. -Dale. Oh, I don't want to raise false hopes in your breast. But I'm -beginning to believe with Marjorie that he was innocent of the crime of -which he was convicted. While there's life there's hope, remember." - -He took Marjorie's hand: "Walk down as far as Post Bridge with me, will -you? We will say good-bye at the place where we first confessed our -love." - -Once they were alone it was not of love they spoke. They walked side by -side, and now and then Marjorie laughed. If anyone had overheard, if -anyone had been watching them, they would never have guessed of what -these two lovers were talking. - -Jim had perfected his plans for Rupert's escape. He outlined them in -detail to Marjorie. Her help would be wanted; and her task, he said, -would perhaps be the most difficult task. - -On Monday evening she would receive a telegram from him telling her of -the flight he was going to make from Netheravon to Plymouth. On receipt -of the wire she was to go up to Post Bridge Hall, ostensibly at a -request the telegram would contain, to show the message to Jim's father. -But she would find Sir Reginald out. Jim knew he would be at -Moretonhampstead on business. She was to wait for him, and Jim gave her -the keys of his workroom and cellar. Rupert already had duplicates. -The telegram would contain certain code words, of which Jim gave her the -translation. She was to find some way of giving her brother the message -they contained--the exact hour he was to leave his hiding-place and make -his way across Dartmoor to a certain spot already decided on. - -"If he fails it will be bad luck," Jim said. "But as far as is humanly -possible he can't fail. No one would recognise in the smart, -soldierly-looking young fellow the late Convict 381. If he gets safely -away I shall send you a wire from Plymouth--just two words: 'Flight -successful,' that's all. There's only one man I fear: the man who would -like to be my rival--Despard. Once or twice in the evening lately I've -seen him hanging around The Hall. It's impossible he could suspect the -plans we've formed. I don't believe for an instant he knows where -Rupert's hiding. If he did, he'd speak, and give him up, or only keep -silence on condition that you----" - -Marjorie stopped him. "You needn't fear, Jim. He suspects something, I -know. On Monday night, after I've been to Post Bridge Hall, I'll make -it my business to keep Mr. Despard at the farm until I know that -Rupert's safely away. I can keep him--I'm a woman." - -They reached the bridge, and stood for a few minutes gazing down into -the foaming waters. Presently Jim held out his hand: - -"Au revoir," he said quietly. And he lowered his voice for a moment. -"Next time we meet I hope I shall have a marriage licence in my pocket." - -"Au revoir, my lover," she whispered. "Remember, whatever happens, I'm -yours and only yours: ready to follow you to the end of the world." - -He took off his hat, kissed her hand, then nodding cheerily, he strode -away. She watched him out of sight. He was risking his life, his -honour, his reputation, for her sake. If he failed, she knew she would -never see him again. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII. - - JIM STARTS OFF. - - -The great plain stretched away in the sunlight, broken only by the -silver line of the little Avon river and the Downs--like giant -molehills--to the north. - -It was early morning, but all was activity and bustle at Netheravon. - -The great rows of "hangars" gleaming in the bright sunshine were already -open, and groups of men--mechanics and cleaners--were busy on the -aeroplanes they contained. - -A group of officers of the Royal Flying Corps was gathered around a -monoplane that had been run outside, and was being tuned up by a number -of mechanics. - -The two or three civilians with note-books in their hands were evidently -pressmen. Something unusual was afoot, for half a dozen horsemen had -just cantered into the aerodrome and, dismounting, approached the little -crowd round the monoplane. - -Suddenly it opened out and the group of officers saluted the smart, -iron-featured, white-haired veteran who approached with a slight limp, -his beribboned coat eloquent of hard service to the wealthy citizens of -a thankless nation who greedily devour the spoils that they are too lazy -in lending a hand in obtaining. - -"Good-morning, gentlemen. Is Lieutenant Crichton here?" - -Jim stepped forward and saluted. He was in service dress, with a safety -helmet in place of the usual forage cap. - -"Well, I hope the weather is satisfactory, Crichton?" the Chief said. - -"Yes, sir, thank you; it is a perfect day for a flight." - -The General then asked several technical questions about the monoplane. -"You are taking a passenger with you, are you not?" - -"Yes, sir." - -The General turned away, and Crichton saluted. Quite a number of people -were arriving from every direction, and it had evidently become -generally known that a special flight was about to be attempted. - -Meanwhile the monoplane was ready. Jim climbed into his seat and -started the engine. In a few moments he gave the signal to let go, and -after running along the ground for a short distance, it gracefully rose -in the air and was soon far over the plain. Suddenly it dipped and -began to descend. - -"By Jove, he's coming down. Something wrong--look! He's hit the -ground--see the dust?" And similar exclamations rose from the crowd. - -"Take my car, Johnson, and see what's wrong, will you?" said the Flight -Commander--and in a moment the car was speeding across the plain. - -"Look! Look!" shouted some one. "See the dust he's making!" In -another moment the monoplane was seen in the air. - -"By Jove, he's up again. Splendid! That's the first time this machine -has left the ground single-handed, I'll bet. He's coming back." - -In a minute or two the aeroplane began to descend. It brought up nearly -on the spot it had started from. - -Jim clambered down, and to the volley of questions from his brother -officers merely explained that he had dropped his note-book, and had -descended to pick it up. - -"Look here, Major," Jim said to the Commandant. "I want to take my -servant, Jackson, instead of young Hayward, but I don't like to tell him -myself. Will you break it to him gently?" - -"Good lord, Crichton, why on earth did you not say so before? Why do -you prefer Jackson?" - -"I shall have a much better chance with Jackson if I have to descend -with engine trouble, because he's a trained mechanic, as you know, while -young Hayward would be practically useless. I don't want to be stuck in -the middle of Dartmoor, you know!" - -"All right, I'll tell him; but it's rather rough on him, all the same." - -The Commandant strolled over to where Lieutenant Hayward was talking to -a few friends. As soon as he had gone, Crichton beckoned to his -servant. - -"Jackson, have you put the things I told you in my kit-bag?" - -"Yes, sir, and two of everything, sir. Shall I strap the bag on?" - -"Yes, and you are to come with me; so get your helmet, quick." - -Soon all was bustle and commotion. The crowd of officers and soldiers -and few civilians present made a wide semi-circle in the rear of the -monoplane. - -"Good luck, old chap!" "Don't lose your way!" "Got your maps?" "Wire -us time of arrival!"--and a host of other remarks, mingled with chaff, -were drowned in the roar of the propeller as Jim started the engine. He -raised his hand and the great, bird-like aeroplane rushed forward and -almost at once began to rise. - -Soon it grew smaller and smaller as the distance increased, and began to -curve to West as Jim set his course for Exeter. - -The roar made by the engine of an aeroplane renders it impossible to -hear one's own voice, much less to speak to another; but all military -"two-seaters" are equipped with 'phones to enable the pilot and observer -to converse with ease. - -Jim now pulled down the receiver and adjusted it over his helmet. "Look -here, Jackson! Do you know why I've taken you instead of Mr. Hayward?" - -"No, sir." - -"I'm going to trust you with a secret which, if you blab, will get me -into a big row." - -"Very good, sir. I shan't talk, you know that, sir." - -"Well, I have promised a great friend at home to give him a flight, and -I'm going to take him up to-day in your place--only as it is strictly -against the Royal Flying Corps regulations to take anyone on a Corps -machine, you must play up and not give the show away." - -"Trust me for that, sir." - -"My friend knows that he is to take your place--that is why I've put in -a second suit of clothes--and he has asked me to give you a fiver." - -"Very much obliged, I am sure, sir." - -"All right. That is why I told you to put a suit of your own uniform in -my bag. My friend will put on your uniform and will take your place. -You will have to be careful not to be seen in Plymouth till he has -changed at the hotel. I shall drop you at Exeter and you must go on to -Plymouth by train; take two rooms for me at the 'Duke of Cornwall,' -which is right against the station, and then hang about the place till I -arrive. If anyone questions you--which is unlikely--you must only say -that you are my mechanic from Salisbury. But don't you go near Crownhill -Barracks till after we have arrived; then you may go to the canteen and -'gas' as much about the flight as you like." - -"Very good, sir; I quite understand. I'll slip off quietly at Exeter so -as not to be noticed." - -For the next hour the steady hum of the great propeller was the only -sound heard by the airmen, but just as Crewkerne had been passed a new -note sounded--a steady umph! umph! umph! like the distant throbbing of a -drum. - -"Jackson, do you hear that?" - -"Yes, sir--cylinder misfiring?" - -"We shall have to come down. What's that ahead?" - -"Looks like another railway line, sir; and there is a town there, too--I -can make out houses with the glasses." - -"That must be Chard. I shall come down when I see a good field." - -The monoplane began to drop. Fields and hedges were plainly visible. - -"Just put your glasses on to that big, green patch away to the right." - -"Racecourse, sir. First-class landing by the looks of it." - -The aeroplane banked steeply as Jim swung round to the right and -commenced to descend. He stopped the engine and the machine dived down -steeply, only to be checked as it neared the ground by a sudden rush of -the propeller again, which stopped when it had given the necessary -momentum. Now the wheels touched the turf as lightly as a bird, and -after running along the ground for a short distance, it stopped nearly -opposite the grand stand. Already people were running towards the -racecourse from every direction, and Jim realised that the chance of his -servant getting away unreported would be small. - -"Look here, Jackson, you must go by the South Western to Exeter, then -change to the Great Western and book to Millbay station, Plymouth. When -I order you to meet me at Exeter, remember that is only a 'blind' for -any reporters who may see you go, so you must stick to the story that -you are meeting me there with more petrol. Understand?" - -"All right, sir." - -People began to arrive and questions were showered on Jim, who replied -good-humouredly, and warned each newcomer not to come too near as he was -about to start the engine again--a warning which was immediately -emphasised by the throb of the engine itself, as Jackson tested the -ignition. - -"All right, sir." - -Jim lit a cigarette, and taking a telegraph form from his pocket, wrote -out a message to his Commanding Officer and handed it to Jackson. - -"Send this off at once and go on to Exeter by train. Have the petrol -ready there for me, and I'll pick you up at the place of which I told -you." - -Jim said this in a voice which could be heard by every one present. -Then he climbed into his seat again. - -"Stand back, please!" The crowd scattered, leaving a free run up the -course. A minute later the monoplane was speeding away over the -tree-tops and was soon lost to sight in the West. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII. - - SUCCESS. - - -Cranmere Pool! The most desolate spot on Dartmoor. Here rise seven -rivers--born in the quaking morass, itself the result of the drainage of -the giant tors which shut it in on every hand. A lonely spot encircled -by the everlasting hills, without a road or cart-track--inaccessible, -isolated. In summer visited by tourists who boast of having made the -pilgrimage on the hardy little moorland ponies; in winter as solitary -and forsaken as the Great Sahara itself. - -Half a mile from the pool is a low, grassy plateau from which the hills -slope upwards, and half-way up is the remains of a ruined house--the -walls of which are only a few feet high, and are level with the ground -in many places. - -A strange place for a house until one notices the hummocks and -depressions in the rock-strewn heather, and then one realises that once -in far-off times this was a primitive tin mine. - -The silence is intense--the hillside, save for the heather, bare and -lifeless. Suddenly a clump of heather stirs, and a man's head appears -thrust out of the hillside itself--followed by his body--as it emerges -from a hole hidden by the heather. He raises a pair of Zeiss glasses -and carefully sweeps the country--first the foot hills, then the more -distant tors. Then having satisfied himself that he is the sole human -being on that wild moorland, he throws himself into the heather--and -fills and lights a pipe. - -Rupert's waiting place had been well chosen. For anyone but a born -moorman it would have been impossible. Dressed in a smart blue suit, -his hair of decent length, and a decent moustache, it would have been -difficult to recognise in him Convict 381! He lay on his back and -nervously blew smoke rings into the blue vault above him. Presently he -ceased smoking and sat up. A faint humming greeted his ears! - -He rose to his feet and faced the north; his glasses swept round the -skyline east and west--then he took them down and gazed slowly round the -visible horizon. Nothing in sight, and yet the hum increased. - -Now it stopped suddenly. He looked up, and there, right above him, was -a monoplane, far up in the blue heavens, circling round and descending -in great spiral swoops till he could see the figure of the pilot. - -With a strangled cry of joy he ran down the steep hillside to the grassy -plain, and presently the monoplane swooped down and bounded along the -rough turf. - -Rupert raced after it, and as gradually, almost imperceptibly, it -slackened speed, he seized hold of it and used his weight to help bring -it to a standstill, Crichton eventually jumping from his seat and doing -the same. - -Then Jim took off his safety helmet and the two men faced one another. -Rupert held out his hand. He tried to speak, but he could not trust -himself. Jim Crichton understood; he, too, had a queer sensation of -choking in his throat. - -He turned away and commenced to examine the machine, to see that it had -not been damaged in alighting--and to give Rupert a chance of recovering -himself. The latter was trembling from head to foot. He had been brave -enough when he had been hunted by armed men through the fog, and his -nerve had not deserted him when he came out from his place of -concealment at Post Bridge Hall and begged to be given a chance to fight -for his life. And all the time he had been hidden in the semi-darkness -of the cellar adjoining Jim Crichton's workroom at the Hall he had felt -confident that he would eventually obtain his freedom. But now that the -hour had come, now that he stood on the vast moorland beneath the -glorious blue sky, no longer wearing the badge of shame, to all intents -and purposes free, his nerve failed him and his courage suddenly oozed -through his feet. - -He started at every sound--the call of a curlew, a distant sheep bell, -the rattle of a stone beneath his boot. Jim unstrapped a parcel from -the front seat of the monoplane and threw it on to the turf. - -"Now then, Dale, you've got to be quick," he said brusquely, as if -giving orders to one of his own men. "Undo that suit case. You'll find -a uniform; take off the suit you're wearing and get into it. You mustn't -waste a moment. I may have been seen descending, but I don't think it's -likely from the height I was up." - -Again Rupert tried to speak, but the words rattled incoherently in his -throat. He commenced to change his clothes in a way that would have won -the approval of a quick-change music-hall artist. When he had finished -he packed up the blue suit of clothes and Jim strapped the case on to -the monoplane again. Then he looked at Rupert critically. - -"Yes, you'll do. You had better brush your moustache up a bit--so." He -gave a little laugh. "Gad, you would make a very good soldier. Let's -see you salute." - -Rupert cast an anxious eye round the horizon. "You said there wasn't a -moment to lose--some one may have seen you descend--this means life or -death to me! ... and for you, the risk----" - -Jim stepped forward and laid his hand on Rupert's shoulder. "Come, pull -yourself together, man. You'll want all your courage in an hour's time -when we land at Plymouth. You haven't forgotten what I've told you? ... -I started from Netheravon with my soldier servant, Jackson. Dropped him -at Chard, and he went on by rail to Exeter, where I picked him up -again--you're Jackson!" - -"Yes, I remember all that," Rupert replied hastily. - -"Now, when we arrive at Plymouth be careful not to speak a word. Yes or -no will be quite enough. Go straight to the Duke of Cornwall Hotel, and -refuse all invitations to the canteen or mess. You know what to do at -the hotel? Now, try that salute again, the first was rotten. It's more -important than you think. We mustn't take the slightest risk of failure -now." - -Eventually Crichton was satisfied. They had some little difficulty in -starting the engine. Altogether, scarcely half an hour passed since the -monoplane alighted before it was once more in the air making great -spirals as it climbed steeply into the clouds. Rupert scanned the -moorlands surrounding the pool with his glasses. To his relief no human -being was in sight. They had not been observed. - -Jim contrived to keep Cranmere Pool as the centre and avoided even -sighting Okehampton Camp, nor was Princetown visible till they sailed -swiftly over it--a mere speck thousands of feet below. - -It seemed only a few moments before the gleam of water and a pall of -smoke showed Rupert that Plymouth was just ahead. - - * * * * * - -The monoplane began to descend in great spirals, till woods and houses -were clearly visible. Jim did not approach the town, but circled round -a large down. Now crowds of people could be seen running towards an -open green space with a great white cross on it, directly below them. - -Rupert noticed that many were soldiers. More soldiers poured out of the -line of huts to the south. The engine stopped. Now the cross was right -ahead, and the ground appeared to Rupert to be rushing towards them. He -clutched the supports on each side and realised they were falling at a -frightful rate. Suddenly the engines started again--but only for a -moment. Before he knew how it happened the monoplane was rushing along -the ground with great leaps, till it stopped just beyond the canvas -cross. In a moment a cordon of soldiers formed round the monoplane. -Jim jumped from his seat and was shaking hands with a group of eager -officers. - -Rupert also climbed down and was instantly surrounded by soldiers, who -plied him with questions. Before he could reply Jim pushed through them. - -"Now, Jackson, don't stand gossiping there! Take my suit-case down to -the 'Duke of Cornwall' at once. Ask for the rooms I've engaged. I -shall want a bath and change immediately." - -"Yes, sir." And Rupert gave his best military salute. - -"Here, take that safety helmet off and put on your cap," Jim commanded, -"or you'll be mobbed outside.... Now, men, don't interfere with him, he -will be back in an hour. Just help to wheel the 'plane opposite the -polo pavilion." - -Rupert, bag in hand, hurried to the gate, glad to escape further -questions from his supposed comrades. - -At the gate he met a cavalcade, and had to stand aside to let it pass. -Just as he was hurrying down the road again, he heard a horse behind -him, and a voice hailed him. - -"Hi! You there! Why don't you salute the General, eh? Here, sergeant, -take this man's name and regiment." And the young officer turned his -horse and galloped after the General again. - -Rupert found himself confronted by a short, stout, red-faced man in a -red tunic with three gold stripes on his arm. - -"Name and regiment?" he snapped. - -Rupert saw the necessity for a prompt answer at once and replied -"Private Jackson, Royal Flying Corps." - -"What's your number?" - -"Number?" repeated Rupert in surprise. - -"Come on, now--don't you let me 'ave none of your ... nonsense. Out -with it!" - -Rupert went hot and cold all over. His number! So he was discovered, -after all. He gave it in a low voice. "No. 381. I'll go quietly with -you, but I should like to see Lieutenant Crichton first." - -"I ain't going to put you in the guard-room," the sergeant guffawed, -"not unless you gives me any more of your blooming cheek. But you're -for the orderly-room to-morrow morning, 9.45 sharp, for not saluting the -General Officer Commanding the Western District--and don't you forget -it, or you'll find yourself in 'clink.' Now, fly off, and don't give us -so much of your ... Flying Corps manners." - -Rupert reached the "Duke of Cornwall" safely without further adventure. -But on his way there, when he found himself in the busy streets, a -sudden panic seized him. He felt his body alternately grow hot and -cold. He was overcome by an overwhelming desire to run--to run away -from the people who thronged the pavements, to fight a passage through -the traffic and escape--somewhere, anywhere, where he could hide himself -and be alone. - -Alone in the darkness again! - -Ever since his escape from prison he had lived the life of an -underground animal. Always in the darkness. And at night, when he had -dared sometimes steal a breath of fresh air; the darkness still -surrounded him and the silence and the mystery of the night. - -For the best part of a year he had been shut off from human intercourse -and converse with his fellow men. - -Now he suddenly found himself rubbing shoulders with them. He was -jostled to and fro; laughter echoed in his ears. The noise of the -traffic threatened to deafen him. - -He had to keep a tight grip on himself, or he knew he would have -bolted--like a thief. - -Then, gradually, as his self-confidence returned and he found he was not -molested, fear left him and was replaced by a tremendous excitement. He -began to feel like a child who has run away from home, or a schoolboy -who has escaped the vigilance of his masters. The noise of the streets -began to have a meaning for him: colour and movement. The motors and -tram-cars and the splendid shops. - -And, overhead, the great blue sky. He was free, really a free man -again. - -At liberty! He mouthed the word lovingly. And he stood still on the -pavement and gaped at the men and women who passed to and fro. How -easily they took their liberty; how unconscious they seemed of it. They -had never known what it was to be imprisoned. They had never known what -it was to live behind walls, to be shut up in a narrow cell in the -everlasting twilight, without even a window through which one might gaze -and be reminded that God's in His heaven, all's well with the world. - -Again he laughed. At that moment a policeman passed him and turning his -head looked at him. Rupert was standing just outside a shop. Hardly -knowing what he was doing he bolted into it. The next moment he cursed -himself for a fool and a coward. A huge glass mirror showed him his -reflection. He stared at it fascinated. He looked no more like a -convict than he looked like the old Rupert Dale he had once known. - -An assistant's voice behind the counter asking him what he wanted -brought him back to the needs of the moment. By good fortune the shop -was a tobacconist's--and Rupert knew he did want something very badly. -A smoke. He bought a four-penny cigar, and the chink of money gave him -another strange thrill. He spent an unconscionable time in lighting it, -but when he ventured into the street again he found to his relief the -policeman had gone. - -And so eventually he reached the hotel safely and sat down at the open -window of the private sitting-room reserved for Lieutenant James -Crichton. - -And there an hour or two later Jim found him. - -The two men shook hands silently. It was difficult to find words. They -had both gone through big ordeals. They had both been fighting against -pretty stiff odds. Victory seemed assured. - -But they were not out of danger yet. - -Jim had a hot bath and changed, then he told Rupert to do the same. - -"You will have to get into mufti," he explained to him. "I've had a -kit-bag sent here, and it contains everything you'll want for your -journey. You remember all I've told you? Well, I've had to change our -plans slightly. You sail to-night on a small boat, about a thousand -tons, that's going East. I've booked you as a coffee planter--thanks to -working in the fields at Princetown you've got a good tan on your face. -Your name is John Cotton--which fits in with the initials on my bag. I -thought it out as I was filling my 'baccy pouch----" He laughed. "For -heaven's sake, remember--_John Cotton_! You'll find a book amongst your -kit dealing with coffee planting. You'd better study it in case you're -tackled on the subject. The captain of the ship's a pal of mine. He's -got a box for the theatre to-night, and is bringing a friend. We're -going to join him there, and after the show, in the middle of supper, -we're all to walk down to the Barbican Steps, where the captain's dinghy -will be waiting.... Captain Sparkes is a decent chap, and a sportsman. -He knows you're under a cloud, that's all he knows. I would have told -him the truth, but I couldn't, for his sake; for if he knew and anything -went wrong he would get into no end of a mess. He won't question you. -And once you're outside Plymouth Sound you'll know you're safe." - -Rupert nodded his head. He could not thank Crichton. Mere words would -not convey what he felt. - -Perhaps Jim knew what was passing in his mind, for he laid his hand on -his shoulder a moment, giving it a friendly grip. - -"That's all right," he said steadily. "Now, from this moment I want you -to blot out the past. You told your sister you were innocent. I didn't -believe it at first. I believe it now." - -Rupert raised his head and looked straight into Jim's face. "Thank God -for that." - -"Forget everything," Jim continued. "Only remember John Cotton, the -coffee planter, en route for Singapore." - -He took out a note-book from his pocket and handed Rupert a wad of -notes. "There's a hundred pounds there, half in English, half in dollar -notes. When the radium mine booms you'll have more money than you know -what to do with. Now then, just before you close the door on the past -and lock it, is there anything I can do for you in England?" - -Rupert walked round to the window and gazed out. Down below the bustle -and business of life; the buying and selling, the loving and hating of -the streets. Beyond, the shimmer of the blue sea, which for him meant -safety. And, above, the dome of the blue sky, which for him meant -liberty! - -He wondered when he would grow accustomed to it. - -"You will take care of Marjorie. Whatever happens, whether you marry -her or not, don't let Despard get hold of her." - -"You need have no fear on that score, old man." - -There was a short silence. Rupert was still standing with his back to -Jim, staring out of the window. - -"There's a letter I'd like to write--to some one; some one very dear to -me. I don't know where she is now. But I daresay you could find her. -Perhaps you can guess----" - -"You mean Miss Strode?" - -Rupert nodded. He gave Jim her address and the name of the theatre -where she had last played. "I want her to know that I'm well and -safe--and--happy. Don't forget to emphasize the fact that I'm -happy--because, perhaps it would be safer not to write--if you would see -her and give her the message instead." - -"I'll see her and give her your message. You mustn't write." - -Again there was a short silence. Rupert took out the bundle of notes -Jim had given him and fingered them thoughtfully. "I shan't want all -this money. Ruby may be out of an engagement. I wish you would find a -way of sending her half the amount you've given me." - -"You stick to them. I'll see that she wants for nothing. That is the -first thing I'll do when I get back. I daren't tell her even that -you've escaped out of England, though of course, she'll guess. But I'll -give her your message. Is that all?" - -"I think that's all," Rupert replied. He found it very difficult to -keep his voice under control. "Tell her--tell her I love her--and am -grateful, always grateful." - -Jim started. He made a movement towards Rupert, his lips framing a -question. He checked it, and, turning away, rang the bell. - -"And now for dinner and then the theatre. You had better go into the -other room, Cotton, while I give my orders to the waiter, in case he saw -you coming in with my bag--he might wonder what sort of game I was -playing with my servant." - -Rupert nodded and crossed the room. "I see you've got your name all -right." Jim smiled. - -As soon as dinner was ordered the two men strolled down to the lounge, -and then Rupert remembered to tell Jim the incident of the General he -had forgotten to salute, and the scene he had had with the sergeant. - -Crichton laughed. "By jove, you might have got poor Jackson into a nice -mess! But as you were carrying my bag and men are not supposed to -salute when they're carrying things, I'll make it all right for you." - -At eight o'clock they made their way to the theatre and found Captain -Sparkes and his friend already occupying one of the boxes. - -Four hours later they were walking beneath the starlit sky towards the -Barbican. The captain was in a rare good humour with himself. They -found the dinghy waiting for them at the appointed place. Sparkes and -his passenger tumbled in unquestioned. The final farewells were -shouted, the oars struck the water. The little boat pulled out and was -soon lost to view. - -Jim Crichton gave a slight sigh of relief, and, turning on his heel, -walked back to the hotel. At the bureau he asked for a telegraph form, -and, writing out a message, handed it to the porter with instructions -that it should be sent off the first thing in the morning. - -It contained three words. "Flight quite successful," and was addressed -to "Marjorie Dale, Blackthorn Farm, Post Bridge." - -Jim turned in at once. For the first time he realised that he was -thoroughly exhausted. But sleep did not come. A dreadful fear seized -him lest he had written his message a little previously. Captain -Sparkes' boat was not due to sail until daybreak. Rupert would not be -really safe until she was out of the Channel. - -Long before sunrise Jim Crichton was standing at his bedroom window -gazing with anxious eyes over Plymouth Sound. - -A black speck on the blue horizon; a thin line of slowly drifting smoke! -His glasses told him that the boat had sailed, and that Rupert Dale was -safe. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV. - - RUBY'S DECLARATION. - - -The first thing Jim Crichton did--after he had made a successful return -flight to Netheravon--was, on getting five days' special leave, to run -up to London and search for Ruby Strode that he might keep his promise -to Rupert. He resisted the temptation to pay a flying visit to -Blackthorn Farm. Rupert was safe, a thousand miles or more away on his -journey. But that made Jim the more anxious not to take the faintest -risk. - -Despard had been suspicious. Despard disliked him, and was in love with -Marjorie. Jim had received a letter from her--short, carefully worded. -It dealt principally with the doings of Post Bridge and the radium mine. -The company would soon be floated, the prospectus was prepared, and, she -stated, it was confidently expected that when it came out the capital -would be over-subscribed. - -Jim smiled to himself, for he read between the lines. He had little -faith in the venture, perhaps, because he had no faith in Despard, -though he hoped for John Dale's sake it would turn out successfully. - -Soon after reaching London he discovered that his father was in town, -and Jim frankly told him the object of his visit--to see Miss Strode and -give her a message. Sir Reginald congratulated his son on his flight, -but Jim did not dare tell him yet how successful it really had been, nor -its real object. - -"I think I'd like to meet this Miss Strode," Sir Reginald said, somewhat -to Jim's surprise. "Though, I'm afraid, I still feel convinced of young -Dale's guilt, I've never been able to eradicate from my mind the part -she played at the trial--the strange outburst when she confessed it was -she who altered the cheque. It seems, too, that when the solicitors saw -her she said that Mr. Despard could, if he chose, prove the truth of her -assertion. Of course, it's very possible that she and Rupert were -equally guilty. Perhaps the suggestion came from her.... The woman -tempted and the man fell. I'd like to know if Despard did keep anything -back at the trial." - -Jim nodded. "I'll see what I can do. But I should think the kindest -thing would be to let Miss Strode forget all about it, if that's -possible. Guilty or innocent, she must have been very fond of Rupert." - -His father's suggestion came as a surprise to him. He had, during the -last few weeks, cultivated Despard's acquaintance and seen a great deal -more of him than Jim liked. But, as a rule, Sir Reginald never made a -mistake in his judgment of men. - -"Supposing Miss Strode could prove that Rupert is innocent, what then?" -Jim asked. - -"I don't think she can do that," Sir Reginald said quickly. "I'd like -to discover what part she played in the unfortunate business. And -perhaps she could enlighten us as to Despard's past history, his -character--and so forth." - -Jim smiled. "You're beginning to feel suspicious of this brilliant -company promoter who is playing the Good Samaritan at Blackthorn Farm -and trying to feather his own nest at the same time." - -Sir Reginald did not reply at once, and looking more closely at him, Jim -noticed that he looked worried. A heavy frown furrowed his brows. -Presently he took Jim's arm and asked him where he was going. - -"Well, my first visit is to the Ingenue Theatre. It seems rather too -much to expect that I shall find Miss Strode there, but it's the obvious -place to look." - -"I'll walk with you," Sir Reginald said. "I've something I want to say -to you." - -Jim almost suggested that the best place to talk would be the -sitting-room of Sir Reginald's hotel, in which they found themselves. -But he refrained. He felt as if he had suddenly changed places with his -father, and that it was the older man who wanted to unburden his mind -and make a confession. Not until they were in the bustle and turmoil of -the streets did Sir Reginald speak. - -"I was talking to my solicitors to-day, and, of course, Mr. Despard's -name cropped up." - -"Why of course?" Jim asked. - -There was a moment's hesitation before his father replied. "I had -instructed my brokers to apply for a rather large number of shares in -this--this radium mine when it is floated. I found it necessary to -realise certain securities. My solicitors did not seem to have a very -good opinion of Mr. Despard. They confessed they did not know much -about him. They seemed to think him a man of straw. He has already -been connected with one or two companies--rubber and oil, I believe, -both of which went into liquidation shortly after they had been -promoted. As you know, I'm one of the syndicate of this radium mine." - -"I don't know anything about the game," Jim admitted. "But I didn't -know that Despard had convinced you there was anything but water in the -old Blackthorn mine. I'm sure he's a rotter. You're not worried, are -you? I mean, he hasn't done you for any amount?" - -"He hasn't done me at all," Sir Reginald replied testily. "He started -by forming a little syndicate, and I--but you wouldn't understand. You -mustn't forget we had expert opinion, and the reports read so well. If -by any chance the venture fails--well, it would hit us rather badly. -You must not forget," he added hastily, "that property has been -depreciating lately, and that, in consequence, my income has been -dwindling, and just when this fellow Despard came along I was looking -about for a good investment." - -Jim laughed and pressed his father's arm. He knew that Sir Reginald had -been thinking of his future more than of himself. "The desire for -wealth has never troubled me, guv'nor. Love in a cottage sounds -sentimental rot, I know; but one's got to live somewhere, and as long as -I've got work and the woman I want, a cottage will be good enough for -me. Here's the Ingenue Theatre, so you had better leave me now unless -you want to lose your reputation!" - -Sir Reginald laughed. "I understand that the stage-door of a London -theatre is a damned sight more respectable than the most fashionable -matrimonial office, and that unless a man can produce a marriage licence -he don't stand a chance of getting inside nowadays." - -In answer to Jim's question the doorkeeper told him Miss Strode was -playing, and that she generally left the theatre about eleven o'clock. -Jim left his card, and said he would return at that hour. He arrived -punctually, and had not to wait long before Ruby made her appearance. - -He had never met her before, and at first he was not impressed. She -treated him brusquely, and asked him plainly to state his business. He -explained who he was and told her he had brought her a message from a -friend. She looked him up and down, and he read mistrust in her eyes. - -"Perhaps you'll walk as far as the end of the street with me," he -suggested. She nodded. He told her he was engaged to be married to -Rupert Dale's sister. "Can you guess from whom I bring a message?" - -She started then, and her face grew deadly pale. She hesitated a moment, -looking steadily into his face. Then she asked him to call a cab. - -"Do you mind driving back to my flat with me? Yes, I live alone at -present, but you needn't bother about the conventions. What people -thought and said never troubled me much, and now it doesn't trouble me -at all." - -They scarcely spoke until her flat was reached. Ruby led the way into -her sitting-room, mixed a whisky and soda for Jim and made one for -herself. - -"Would it shock you if I smoked?" she asked. "I can't help it if it -does." - -"I smoke myself," he replied quietly. - -He saw a tinge of colour touch her cheeks. She apologised, and handed -him the case. "Forgive me; but you're a soldier, aren't you?" - -Jim nodded. - -"I suppose you think women who earn their living at second-rate -theatres, who smoke cigarettes, drink whisky instead of aniseed, and -live alone, lose caste, don't you?" - -He laughed and shook his head. "No. Why should I?" - -"The Ingenue Theatre is largely patronised by the army, the navy, and -the House of Lords. I've found that the youthful members of the -aristocracy want to marry us, naval men want to amuse us, the army men -expect us to amuse them--Aunt Sally up to date, six shies a penny!" She -turned her back on him. "Will you tell me your message?" - -"It's from a man called Cotton, John Cotton. You knew him under another -name. He left Devonshire a week ago en route for Singapore. He wanted -me to tell you that he was safe, that he loved you, and was deeply -grateful for all you had done for him." - -He waited, but Ruby Strode did not move. She still stood with her back -to him. It was a long time before he dared break the silence. - -"You understand?" he whispered. - -Then at last she turned round and stood beside him. The expression on -her face had changed. It was no longer hard and cold. Her eyes were -tender and beautiful: the eyes of a woman who has loved. She stretched -out her hand and Jim took it. - -"You mean that Rupert has really escaped? That there's no chance of his -being captured and taken back to prison?" - -He bowed his head. - -"Who helped him escape? Who got him out of England?" - -"That doesn't matter," Jim replied. "It's enough for you to know that -he's safe. He's bound for Singapore, where he'll find work--a man's -work, under the British flag. He will, as the Americans say, make good -yet." - -He tried to withdraw his hand, but Ruby held it tightly. "You helped -him. I daresay you didn't do it for his sake but for his sister's, the -woman you love. But you helped him." - -Jim did not reply. Bending down Ruby kissed his hand again and again. -He snatched it away and turned on his heel. - -"God bless you!" she whispered hoarsely. "Don't go yet, Mr. Crichton. -Tell me--tell me that you believe he's innocent?" - -He looked at her then. And in her eyes he read her secret. If he had -had any doubts as to Rupert's innocence they went now. - -"I believe he is innocent. But--why couldn't he prove his innocence? -If you did it, unknown to him----" - -"Of course it was unknown to him," she interrupted. "He never suspected -for a moment--how could he? That's why I did it. Oh, I was mad at the -moment, but I loved him so! His life was in danger. He was going to -kill himself. Why won't anyone believe--why can't anyone understand? -Ruin, dishonour, faced him. When a woman loves nothing in the world -matters but the honour, safety, and life of the man she loves. Being a -man you may not have much of an opinion of women--the Lord knows why we -love them so! Just as a man will die for his country, just as a soldier -will kill, spy, suffer indignities, be tortured, rather than betray his -trust, rather than see his country shamed or his flag hauled down, so -will a woman do just the same rather than see her man hurt or the flag -he carries dishonoured. Oh, I suppose it's only an idea that each -fights for--the flag for the soldier, the man for the woman. The flag -is his country and its future. The man is her mate and the children he -will give her.... Can't you understand? I'm not defending myself; but -they wouldn't believe me when I confessed, because they couldn't see why -I should do it. The fools!" - -"Surely you didn't think when you did this thing your crime would remain -undetected?" - -"A woman doesn't think when the man she loves is in danger. I tell you, -if I hadn't found the money for him he would have taken his life. I had -to find the money. The cheque was lying on the floor, he had forgotten -it. The idea came. I acted on it. I didn't think. It was a crime, I -daresay. One day, when you're at war, perhaps, and you capture a spy -you'll shoot him. You know he's a brave man and a soldier doing a job -you might have been deputed to do for your country. But you'll shoot -him. That's a crime in its way, but you'll do it because it's your duty -to your flag. If you stopped to reason, to think it out, you wouldn't do -it. When I committed my crime I obeyed the orders of my -heart--instinct--call it what you will. I wanted to save my man--who -was to be the father of my children. That's all I knew or remembered. -I didn't save him. It's not too late now--if only they would listen to -me, if only they'd believe me." - -"They will believe you if you can find proof." - -"The man who can prove it won't speak. I believe he could prove my -guilt and Rupert's innocence absolutely if he would speak. Several -things have come to my knowledge since the trial. That man is Robert -Despard. He has disappeared from London and I can't find him." - -Ruby was walking up and down the room now, her head thrown back, her -fists tightly clenched. She looked magnificent, terrible. - -"If I could find him," she cried between her teeth, "I would accuse him -of perjury. For he did perjure himself. He came into Rupert's -sitting-room just after I had altered the cheque. I was holding it in -my hand just underneath my glove, and he saw it there and asked what it -was. I believe after I left the room he must have seen the marks on the -blotting-pad. Things I had forgotten at the time, things he said, -returned to me afterwards when it was too late. He knows, but he won't -speak." - -"Gently, gently," Jim said, taking her arm and making her sit down. "We -must help you, my father and I. We'll force Mr. Despard to speak--we -must clear Rupert's name if----" - -"There's no if!" she cried. - -"You realise that if we clear him it means that you take his place? You -will be sent to prison." - -She seized his hands and looked into his eyes. "For me, the day I enter -prison and he is pardoned, will be the first happy day I shall have -known since Rupert was arrested. I love him." - - - - - CHAPTER XXV. - - AN EXCITING TIME. - - -Singapore! - -The chain rattled through the hausehole with a deafening roar, and the -great ship swung at anchor in the Roads. - -A tropical sun beat fiercely down on the awnings, and Rupert Dale, -leaning over the rail, gazed shorewards at the great plain framed in -cocoanut palms--the Cathedral spire rising white and dazzling out of the -green, fan-like leaves. To the left the brown slopes of Fort Canning, -crowned with its giant flagstaff and fluttering flags. Round the ship a -score or more of sampans tossed and jostled each other in the sparkling -sea, their copper-skinned owners--naked to the loins--gesticulating and -shouting in a language which sounded harsh and vehement to his -unaccustomed ears. A strong, pungent odour of hot spice in which -cinnamon predominated filled the air, while kites and eagles wheeled and -swooped round him above the dancing waves. - -Singapore! The gate of mystic, far Cathay! China--Japan--Siam--Borneo! -Lovely Java, sea-girt Celebes. The spice islands! Lands of wonder and -romance. The great Unknown, his future Home! - -What a revelation it had been to him--the wonderful voyage. He had -never been abroad before, and "foreign parts"--as anywhere out of -England was called in Devonshire--were still a closed book. - -Egypt! The Desert seen from the Suez Canal had impressed him. The Red -Sea, with a distant glimpse of Mount Ararat, had brought the Bible story -of the Israelite wanderings right before his eyes, for was not that the -very "Wilderness" all round him? What was he but a wanderer in a -strange land, surrounded by the desert of the sea--the promised land a -mere speck on the chart--a tiny island away in the far north-west. The -dear homeland, his home which he would never see again. - -Then the miracle happened. First at Gib, then at Malta, Aden, Colombo, -Penang, and now here. All along the vast ocean journey, four weeks long, -wherever the great ship touched, there ashore flew the old flag, his -flag. There stood his own countrymen on guard beneath its folds. Home? -Why, he had brought it with him. There it was ashore now, and there -stood his blood brother, white-helmeted, his bayonet flashing in the sun -for witness of his birthright. - -Rupert could hear a band playing somewhere ashore, and as though in -answer to his thoughts across the water there floated the heart-swelling -strain of "Home, Sweet Home." He listened entranced till the air died -away and all was silent. Then came the stirring crash of the National -Anthem. He remembered the last time he had heard it. At the Moreton -flower-show. It brought back in a flash to him the faint damp scent of -moss and roses. That happy summer day. Home and all it stood for was -here! It was good to be a Briton and feel this glorious freedom, this -great sense of fellowship, of ownership. - -"You will be getting sunstroke if you stand there with your helmet off, -Cotton." - -He started--the spell was broken. His fellow-passenger, a grey-haired, -clean-shaven man of fifty, with whom he had struck up a friendship -during the voyage, stood behind him with a smile on his kindly face, -which was lighted by a pair of keen, grey eyes. - -"It sounds good to us exiles--the old tune--doesn't it? 'What does he -know of England who only England knows?' Eh? The chap who wrote that -must have known something of our Empire--what? And yet there are -millions of fools in the old country this moment who neither know nor -care whether the Empire exists or not; while the very bread they eat is -bought with the blood of those who created it! Look at that long wharf -over there. See those piles of bales? That is cotton pieces from -Manchester. See those chests piled under that big shed? Tea--cheap -'Straits' tea--shilling a pound in any little grocer's shop at home! -See that steamer loading those sacks, there, that black-funnelled one? -That's sago, that the kiddies eat at home." - -"Wonderful!" Rupert echoed, and then he sighed. He had left the old -country--a felon. He had found a new world, a free man!--with his -country's flag flying a welcome. And yet---- - -"Do you see that little cruiser over there?" Patterson continued -excitedly. "It's hard to realise that she's the only British warship -within a thousand miles of this--the most important trade-route in the -world. No, that's not a British ship--that big battleship over there is -a German, and that other with four big black funnels is a Jap, and the -one beyond is a Russian. Bit of a shock, isn't it, when you recognise -what a tiny thing the British Navy is compared to the Colonial Empire it -has to defend?" - -Rupert nodded. His head was in a whirl--and his heart. He had reached -the end of his journey. He was free! And yet---- - -"By the by, have you decided what you're going to do? My offer is still -open. Your mining knowledge would be very useful to me in Borneo, -although you haven't got the certificate of the School of Mines. It -will be rough work--dangerous work at times, as I told you, for we are -going up to the unknown interior where the Head-hunting Muruts live, and -you may not see civilisation again for twelve months." - -Rupert looked him in the face. Patterson was a "white man" he knew. A -straight man. - -"I have thought it all over, and I decided last night to accept your -offer if you are still willing to take me after you have heard why I am -here. I can't explain everything, but what I shall tell you is only what -you ought to know. Come down to my cabin and I will tell you who I am." - -In the saloon of the boat--deserted now--where they had spent so many -happy weeks, sharing storm and sunshine, dangers and pleasures, -unconsciously growing to know one another, as men ashore never can. - -A genuine friendship, backed by respect, had been formed between Rupert -and Patterson. The former had only just realised what this friendship -had done for him. - -What it meant for him now! He, who had been for so many months a -convict, cut off from all communications with his fellows--a mere -machine, a cypher! Number 381! - -Patterson had offered him a job. Work after his own heart. It was only -now, at the last moment, that Rupert realised he could not accept it, -could not continue the friendship that had commenced, and which meant so -much to him, unless he told Patterson who _and what he was_! - -An escaped convict, a felon with a price on his head! - -A nice companion for this straight, clean Englishman, who proposed to -take him, alone, in the vast interior of wild Borneo. - -To speak, to confess, meant losing his first, only friend. It meant -losing the chance of work. It might mean that he would be arrested and -sent back to England and prison! - -But he had to play the game! It is curious how little things affect one -at a great crisis of one's life. Rupert had known he would have to leave -Patterson and refuse his offer--or else speak and tell him his history, -and, sub-consciously, he had decided to say nothing, make some excuse -for refusing his offer and just leave Singapore, alone. - -It was the sight of the Union Jack flying from the shore, the sound of -the old English tune, "Home, Sweet Home," that had suddenly turned the -scales and made him decide to leave his fate in Patterson's hands. - -He thought of his father, of little Marjorie, his sister. And last of -Ruby, the woman he loved! - -They would have asked him to play the game. - -So, over a final drink in the empty saloon, Rupert told his new friend, -already his old friend, Jim Patterson, the story of his life, his -imprisonment and escape from Dartmoor. He refrained from mentioning any -names; he made no attempt to defend himself. - -When he had finished Patterson ordered another drink, and then lit a -cheroot. Having got his "smoke" well under way he rose and held out his -hand. - -Rupert took it hesitatingly. "I'm glad you told me, Cotton," Patterson -said. "I rather flatter myself that I'm a judge of character. I knew -the moment I saw you that you had a 'history.' I didn't want to know -it, but I guess you feel better for having told me. A man who has gone -through the fires and has got his fingers burnt is worth twice as much -as the fellow who has never fought and blundered, suffered and gone on -fighting. Now then, shut down on the past and ... get ashore!" - -"You--you still want me to come with you?" Rupert stammered. "You still -trust me?" - -Patterson laughed. "Now, more than ever." - -Half an hour later Rupert's bag was put into a long boat with Mr. -Patterson's more bulky luggage. There was a choppy sea on and it was not -an easy task to get into the boat as it rose and fell at the ship's -gangway. At last they pushed off, Patterson sitting beside Rupert in -the stern, with their baggage piled in front of them. The six Malays -bent to their long, thin paddles with short, jerky strokes, and the -light boat flew through the white-topped waves towards the shore beneath -the slopes of Fort Canning, where the Union Jack still fluttered a -welcome. - - * * * * * - -A long canoe cut out of a single giant tree, with a palm leaf awning -covering the stern portion, under which two white men inclined on a mat, -while eight brawny Malays, sitting crossed-legged with their backs to -them, bent their bronze-coloured bodies from which the sweat poured in -streams to the regular strokes of their paddles. In the stern, behind -the awning, sat the steersman, an old, parchment-faced Dyak with a small -white goatee beard, fierce, pig-like eyes, and a broad slit of a mouth -which dripped a blood-red juice as he chewed his betelnut quid. - -He was the guide, an old "Gutta-hunter" who knew this trackless forest, -these giant mountains through which the great river flowed three long -weeks' journey to the sea. Here, in the far interior, where no white -men had been before, it had become a clear, swift stream, with constant -rapids, up which the narrow canoe had to be dragged by the crew -waist-deep in the rushing white-foamed water as it swirled and tumbled -over the jagged rocks. - -Tropical vegetation hung in thick green masses to the water's edge, -while the blacker mass of foliage of colossal trees whose huge trunks -shot up a hundred feet or more without a branch, shut in the landscape -on every hand. - -"'This is the forest primeval, only more so,'" Patterson quoted gaily, -"and, if it wasn't for the leeches, not a bad place after all." - -These pests hung on every leaf and blade of grass and, with outstretched -head, waited the passer-by on whom they instantly fixed, to worm through -puttie or breeches, through coat and shirt, until the flesh was reached -and the blood-sucking head inserted beneath. - -For nearly nine months now Patterson and Rupert had been -travelling--prospecting and working--in this wild and dangerous region. -For Rupert, nine months of keen excitement, which had almost wiped out -the dreadful past. But, deep in his heart, was embedded the memory of -the woman he still loved; and the memory of his father and the little -homestead among the Devonshire moorlands. - -The one thing he could never forget was that he would, perhaps for ever, -remain an exile. Yet he dreamed of returning home one day, of seeing -his loved ones again--if only for a few brief hours. - -The sun was below the mountain tops, and it was almost time to think of -selecting a camping-place for the night. Patterson stretched himself -and sat up. - -"Where shall we land?" he asked in Malay. - -"I don't know--wherever your honour wishes," the helmsman replied. -"Your honour knows best." - -Before Patterson could reply a huge tree on the right bank, not twenty -yards ahead, crashed down right across the stream, its great branches -throwing up a column of water, while its dense top was locked in the -foliage of the other bank. - -"Murut! Murut!" shouted the Malays. "Turn quick! Quick!" - -The water swirled beneath the swift strokes of the paddles as they -turned the canoe in its own length. A sudden crack with the rending -sound of a falling tree caused them to pause with paddles in the air, as -another giant of the forest crashed down the stream below them. -Instantly a shot rang out from the jungle and the air was filled with -yells of "Hoot-ka-Poot," the dread war-cry of the Head-hunting Muruts. - -Naked figures climbed over the fallen trees that hemmed them in, and -musket shots from both banks added to the din, though the bullets -whizzed high overhead or harmlessly struck the water. - -At the first alarm Rupert and Patterson had seized their rifles and -opened fire, Patterson shouting orders to keep the canoe in mid-stream. - -"Fire at the men on the tree ahead, Cotton," he said. "We must force a -passage up stream.... Good shot!" as a Murut who had reached the middle -of the tree threw up his arms and toppled face down into the stream. - -Two more were lying limp in the tangle of branches and another went -splashing and spluttering past the canoe, the swift running current red -with his blood. Suddenly the man in the bows leaped up with a shriek -that ran high above the noise of the fight, his eyes starting from his -head with horror, as he stared at a tiny bamboo shaft that he held in -his left hand, while his right plucked convulsively at his side, from -which a few drops of blood were oozing. Slowly he sank to his knees, -while his fellow paddlemen huddled away from him, muttering the dread -words, "Upas, Upas poison! He's hit!" - -As the cruel poison began to work, the poor fellow's face became livid -and his limbs contorted with agony, and soon he lay a knotted and -inanimate mass of twisted limbs in the bottom of the canoe. - -The deadly blow-pipe is the Murut's chief weapon, for guns are few and -only obtained where the Arab trader has penetrated to buy "gutta" and -other jungle produce. The blow-pipe is about six feet long and is bored -with wonderful skill from a perfectly straight piece of seasoned hard -wood. Its darts are made from bamboo, thin as a knitting needle, and -with a very sharp point, which is nearly cut through, so that it breaks -off in the wound before the dart can be withdrawn. A piece of pith that -exactly fits the bore of the tube is fixed to the other end of the dart, -and so powerful is this primitive weapon that a skilled warrior can blow -a dart with extreme accuracy to forty or even fifty yards range. - -The Malay next Rupert dropped his paddle, which floated away, and when -he looked at him he saw a thin line of blood running down his face from -a hole in his left temple. He was stone dead, but still squatted in his -place. A bullet now broke the steersman's, Unju's, paddle, and the -canoe began to drift towards the bank. - -It had all happened so quickly that they had scarcely time to realise -their danger, and it was not till a shower of spears had wounded Unju -and killed the other two Malays, that Patterson saw they were almost -ashore. - -"Quick, Cotton, paddle for your life!" he shouted, and, seizing a -paddle, he tried to turn the bow of the canoe to the stream again. - -But it was too late, a score of naked forms leapt from the bank and -threw themselves upon the canoe, which filled with water, and surrounded -by shrieking savages was soon fast wedged in the undergrowth on the wear -side. - -It would have gone hard with the two white men, for a dozen spears were -poised against them, when Unju, the Dyack, yelling his war-cry, leapt -into the midst of the Muruts, his heavy parang swung by an arm of steel, -cleaving through skull and shoulder, breast or back, and sending death -and destruction on every side. In a moment he had cleared a circle -round the canoe. Suddenly a shot rang out, and Unju collapsed into -Rupert's arms, and an instant later a tall native with a Winchester -repeating rifle in his hand, stepped from behind a tree, and, signing to -the Muruts to keep back, approached the canoe. - -He wore a short Arab coat, a pair of tight-fitting "sluar," and a small -handkerchief turban of stiff gold embroidery round his head. An -acquiline nose, two piercing black eyes set very close together, and a -small black moustache that covered but did not hide a thin, cruel mouth, -showed that the newcomer was not a Murut. He addressed Patterson in -Malay with the peculiar drawl of the Brunie noble. - -"Surrender, and the Muruts shall not kill you. Touch not your guns but -step up upon the land." - -He then turned to the Muruts and gave some orders in their own language. -Unju had sat up, and Rupert was trying to staunch the bullet wound in -his left shoulder. With Patterson's assistance they lifted him from the -canoe and laid him against a tree on the river bank. The Muruts were -cutting branches of trees and with a few rattans soon constructed a -rough litter. - -What fate awaited them Rupert hardly dared to guess. That their lives -had been spared was evidently due to the presence of the Brunie chief, -whom they learnt later on was an outlaw and a desperado called Mat -Salleh, who, in his young days, had been a pirate and was a native of -Suloo, an island of the north coast. Old Unju knew him well by -reputation, and seemed to fear him far more than he did the Muruts, whom -he really despised. Mat Salleh had obtained a great influence over the -Muruts of the interior, who believed him to be invulnerable and -possessed with supernatural power. - -When the litter was ready, Mat Salleh ordered them to march behind it, -and surrounded by armed Muruts and preceded by others carrying the gory -heads of the poor Malays, they started up a steep mountain track through -the gloom of the dark jungle. After about an hour's march they emerged -from the forest into a large clearing, where paddy and sweet potatoes -were planted. At the top of a conical hill in the centre of the -clearing was a high stockade of bamboo enclosing some dozen houses on -piles and thatched with palm leaves. As the long procession entered the -clearing, a great hubbub arose out in the village. The deep notes of a -big war gong mingled with the shrill cries of the women, who poured out -of a gateway and danced down towards the approaching warriors. The sun -had set and it was nearly dark, though a bright moon lighted up the -clearing, throwing the stockade and houses into black relief against the -opal sky. - -Rupert glanced at Patterson. The latter shrugged his shoulders. "We're -in for it, I'm afraid, Cotton. Sorry, old man, but while there's life -there's hope!" - -As they entered the stockade flames shot up from a huge fire that had -just been lit inside, and the ruddy glow thrown on the bronze figures of -the men and the naked bodies of the women who surrounded them, made a -scene so weird and eerie that Rupert's blood ran cold with dread of what -was about to happen in this devils' cauldron. At one end of the -enclosure was a long house with an open verandah about six feet above -the ground, against which was placed a single bamboo in which notches -had been cut to form steps. - -By this Mat Salleh and the Murut chiefs mounted, and squatting round a -huge jar began to refresh themselves by sucking a reed that was inserted -in the top. Similar jars were placed near the fire, and groups of -warriors quickly surrounded them. Patterson and Rupert were dragged to -the fire, and poor wounded Unju was also dragged there by a horrible old -hag, who appeared to be the mistress of the ceremonies. The women now -took the heads, still dripping with blood, and began to slowly dance -round the fire, chanting a deep song with a high wailing note at the end -of each stave. Their long black hair hung straight to their waists, -they were naked save for a dark cloth of bark round their loins. The -great wooden gong beat time and throbbed on the still night air. -Gradually the time became faster, and men and women from the drinking -jars joined in the dance. The gory heads were tossed from hand to hand, -and it was evident to the unfortunate prisoners that the drink was -beginning to inflame the dancers. - -Spears and parangs flashed in the firelight, and old Unju, who had -hitherto remained motionless, stirred uneasily and at last spoke to -Patterson in a low voice. - -"Beware, O chief, for they will take our heads presently when their -blood is fired by drink." - -Patterson nodded. "I'm afraid I've given you a poor run for your money, -Cotton," he whispered. Rupert smiled. "I'm all right. Glad we're -together." - -At this moment a band of women were seen advancing from the chief's -house, leading two youths who were to be initiated as warriors. They -each carried a head by the hair and were led into the circle of dancers. -The same old hag who had conducted the dance now smeared the youths with -blood, shrieking an invocation, to which the crowd replied at intervals -with a shout of "Augh!" Next an old warrior stepped forward and broke -off their two front teeth with the aid of a stone and a short iron -instrument, afterwards filing the stumps off to the gums. - -This was done to enable the sumpitan or blowpipe to be used with greater -facility and is the sign of manhood. More jars of tapi (rice spirit) -were broached, and every one gave themselves up to drinking. - -Patterson whispered to Unju and asked him if he was able to walk, to -which the old man replied that he could walk all night if his head -remained on his shoulders--about which he expressed some misgivings. - -"Listen," said Patterson, "in a short time the moon will be down. They -have put green boughs on the fires to smoke the heads while they drink. -It is pitch dark under the stockade, and most of the men are already -drunk. If we can crawl one by one to the stockade, without being seen, -we can overpower the man at the gate, and, once outside, Unju must guide -us to the river. It is a desperate venture, but to remain here is -certain death." - -Unju shook his head. On the whole, he preferred to remain where he was. -Their lives were in the hands of fate. To go or stay--it would come to -the same thing in the end. - -Patterson turned impatiently to Rupert. "What do you say? At least we -shall be doing something, and, anyway, get a fight for our lives. This -inaction is getting on my nerves." - -Rupert managed to laugh. "It is a bit dull. I almost feel as if I were -watching my own head being smoke-dried over that beastly fire." - -It was agreed that at a signal from Patterson each man should begin to -creep towards the stockade, keeping as far apart as possible. If one -was discovered and caught the other two were to make a dash for it, -trusting to the excitement and drunken confusion to get away. - -Patterson drew a ring off his finger, a plain gold band, and gave it to -Rupert, asking him (in the event of his getting away and Patterson being -caught) to give it to a certain person he named and whose address Rupert -would find at the National Bank, Singapore. - -"Anything I can do for you, old man, if--if you're unlucky?" - -Rupert thought for a moment. "There is a girl I love called Ruby -Strode. You will probably find her at the Ingenue Theatre, London. -Tell her that I understood and appreciated everything she did on my -behalf--tell her she was my last thought." - -"Right-ho," Patterson replied cheerily. "Now, crawl a few feet away and -lie low until you hear me whistle twice. Then make for the stockade on -your hands and knees. Each man for himself, remember. It's our only -chance." - -Rupert gripped his hand. The next moment he found himself alone. By -the faint light of the flames from the fire he could see the hideous, -naked figures of the Muruts dancing to and fro, men and women. They -reeled, leapt, staggered. The rice spirit was doing its deadly work, -and already they were mad with excitement. - -Suddenly above the noise Rupert heard two long, low whistles. He turned -over on his hands and knees. But, as he did so, he heard a wild yell. - -The hag-like woman had seen him. Patterson was discovered, too. - -A score of writhing, steel-coloured, blood-stained bodies reeled towards -them, closed round them, cutting off all chance of escape. - -Rupert saw Patterson rise to his feet. He followed his example, giving -himself up for lost. The flames from the bough-fed fire leaped up -brightly for a moment, then died down again, making the night -inky-black. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI. - - AN ARGUMENT. - - -Despard sat in the den, as he called it, of his new chambers in Duke -Street, London. A shaded electric light shone on his desk. A mass of -papers and a private account-book lay before him, a half-smoked Havana -cigar was in his mouth, a whisky and soda by his side. - -The gold travelling clock on the mantelshelf struck the hour. Nine -o'clock. Despard pushed back his chair, took a pull at his cigar, -sighed, and then, looking at the clock, frowned. Evidently the visitor -he expected was not coming. - -Nearly two years had passed since he successfully floated the radium -mine at Blackthorn Farm. For several months his little venture had -threatened to sink. It had been more difficult than he supposed to get -people to believe in radium. The public wanted something they could see -and handle for their money. Radium was a little too elusive. - -But Despard, for all his faults, was a fighter, especially when he had -something for which to fight. He had got two or three people with a -small amount of money to believe in him--and in radium. Some of those -people had influence. So, after many weary months of working up a slow -but steady boom, and by a brilliant system of advertisement, the company -had been successfully floated and launched, and the public had come in -at first slowly and hesitatingly, but eventually with a rush which was -accelerated by an unexpected boom on the Stock Exchange. - -The one-pound shares in the radium mine, fully paid up, mounted from -five shillings to par. From this they suddenly boomed to twenty-five -shillings, and then gradually and steadily rose until they were quoted -at three pound ten. Sir Reginald Crichton and one or two other members -of the original syndicate, though honestly believing in the venture, -were surprised. So far, no radium had been extracted from the -pitch-blende--though the reports were excellent and full of -encouragement. But Crichton expected he would have to wait some years -before he got a return for his money. - -Now, if he chose to sell his shares he knew he might realise a small -fortune. But Despard begged him to wait. - -"They'll touch five pounds yet," he said. - -His nerve, which had never deserted him during the early days of the -venture, when people had frankly laughed at the idea of radium being -discovered in Devonshire, when there was real danger of utter failure, -and rumours of fraud echoed in his ears, now began to fail him. - -He knew he could trust old Dale, Sir Reginald Crichton, and a few other -men who had been nothing more nor less than his dupes. It was his -friends in the City, sharks like himself, whom he could not trust. Men -who had helped finance the company and boom it; the men who had forced -up the price of shares originally when they were worth as many pennies -as they were quoted in shillings. - -Gold had been the god at whose shrine Despard had always worshipped. -For he believed that money could purchase anything, even the love of -woman. - -Even the love of the woman he had grown to desire more than any other, -more than anything else in the world, save wealth--Marjorie Dale. - -The frown on Despard's face deepened as the clock ticked cheerfully on -and the hands slowly but inexorably pointed to the fleeting minutes. In -spite of all opposition, in spite of all the influence he had been able -to bring to bear on her father and on Jim's father; in spite of threats -and promises she still refused to listen to him or to consider him for -one moment as her lover or her future husband. - -The announcement of her engagement to Lieutenant James Crichton had been -made, only to be contradicted by Sir Reginald. Her father had sent her -to London to stay with some wealthy friends they had made--through Sir -Reginald's introduction and the fame the mine had brought them. He had -hoped that a season in the great city would help her to forget and make -her more amenable to his wishes. - -But he did not know his own daughter. It had always been his boast that -when a Dale gave his word he never went back on it. Perhaps he forgot -that though his daughter was a woman she nevertheless inherited the same -proud, obstinate spirit that he and his forefathers possessed. - -He had almost given her up as hopeless, had frankly told Sir Reginald he -could do no more. - -Society has a conveniently short memory on occasions, and those members -of it, who knew the history of the Dales and the story of the convict -brother who had escaped from Dartmoor and successfully disappeared from -the country, quickly forgot all about him. Those who had not heard -asked no questions. Miss Dale was young, rich, beautiful, and -apparently well-bred. That was enough. Even Sir Reginald was in his -heart of hearts beginning to relent, though, outwardly, he showed no -signs of it. - -But Despard knew this, and it encouraged him to play his last card. A -desperate one and a dangerous. - -That was why he now glanced impatiently at the clock and the frown on -his forehead gradually deepened. That morning he had commenced to -unload--to sell his shares in the radium mine. He had gone to work -cautiously so as not to alarm the public. It was important that no one -should know that he was clearing out of the venture until he had -realised every penny he possibly could. As soon as the shares began to -drop he knew there would be a rush by those behind the scenes to sell. -And eventually there would be a scramble by the public to get rid of the -shares that he believed were not worth seventy pence, much less seventy -shillings. By that time Despard hoped to be out of the -country--travelling for his health! And he fondly dreamed that Marjorie -Dale would be with him, too. As his wife--or, if she proved obstinate, -he intended to try what force would do. - -He had made up his mind that Jim Crichton should never have her. For he -hated him. And he had good reason. Jim had kept his promise to Ruby -Strode and had left no stone unturned to try and force Despard to prove -Rupert Dale's innocence. - -But it had been of no avail. Sir Reginald's suspicions of Despard had -been lulled to rest again. Money talks, and it had successfully lured -the elder man into the comfortable belief that things were best left as -they were, and that Rupert Dale, having escaped and apparently been -forgotten, his memory was best left in oblivion. - -The clock on the mantelshelf struck the half-hour. Despard closed his -books, folded up his papers and put them away. He had realised a tidy -little fortune, and for the moment the frown disappeared and he gave a -sigh of satisfaction. To-morrow, he decided, he would warn Sir Reginald -to sell; but if Marjorie Dale did not come to his rooms that evening in -reply to the letter he had sent her, he would let her father be stranded -with a few thousand worthless shares, and the old tin mine at Blackthorn -Farm as a reminder of his folly. - -He had warned Marjorie in the letter he had sent her that unless she -came to his rooms that evening to hear what he had to say he would ruin -her father, ruin him utterly and irretrievably. - -He crossed the room and opened the door which led into his bedroom. His -trunk was packed, everything was ready to start for the Continent at a -moment's notice. It looked now as though that start would be made -within twelve hours. For he knew that if Marjorie did not respond to -his letter in person, she would either send it to her father or else -show it to her lover, Jim, and in that case--in Mr. Despard's own -language--"the fat would be in the fire," and the sooner he got out of -the country for a few months' change of air the better. - -He knew Marjorie had no fear for herself. Poverty had no terror for -her, and she had shown by her loyalty to her brother that she was ready -to face disgrace. But he believed that she would come for her father's -sake. - -Just as the hands of the clock pointed to a quarter to ten there was a -knock at the front door. Despard started, and a smile flitted across -his thin lips. - -She had come after all! - -He closed the bedroom door and glanced round the room. There was a -little too much light, so he switched off the hanging lamp. He glanced -at himself in the mirror, smoothed his hair and straightened his tie. - -She had come. He knew, as he noiselessly crossed the hall, that she -would not leave his rooms until he had obtained her promise to marry -him, or, failing that, until he had obtained a promise more certain of -fulfilment. - -His fingers trembled a little as he turned the Chubb lock and opened the -door. - -The woman standing outside entered quickly. Despard closed the door, -and, turning, held out his hand. - -"I was afraid you were not coming, Marjorie----" - -"You have made a mistake. I am not Miss Dale. I am Ruby--Ruby Strode." - -Despard's teeth met in his lip. He repressed an oath. "You--what do -you want with me?" - -He hesitated a moment, then pulled himself together and opened the -sitting-room door. Ruby entered and he followed her. - -"Won't you sit down? Have a whisky and soda?" - -She nodded. "Thanks, I would like a drink." - -While he mixed it she stared round the room. "I've not been here before. -Rather a nice place. You have made a lot of money, haven't you?" - -She spoke nervously, in short, sharp sentences. Despard realised -something was wrong. He wondered what. He looked at her more -critically as he handed her the tumbler. She was smartly dressed. Her -face looked very white, her eyes large and brilliant. If anything, she -was more beautiful than when he had last seen her. She had always -attracted him. He remembered how once he had wanted to marry her. - -And the thought crossed his mind that if Marjorie did not come Ruby -Strode would not make a bad travelling companion for an enforced -holiday. - -"It's a long time since we've met," he said easily. "Though your friends -have been busy on your behalf--or perhaps I should say on behalf of your -quondam convict lover." - -He saw her face grow scarlet for a moment, her eyes flash, then she -veiled them, and, shrugging her shoulders, laughed easily. - -"It's about my quondam lover, as you call him, that I've come to see -you." - -Despard yawned, and, taking a fresh cigar, lit it. "How disappointing! -I thought you had come to see me for myself alone. You are just as -beautiful as ever you were, Ruby." - -She emptied the glass he had given her, then pulled her chair closer to -his and looked at him eagerly. - -"Mr. Despard--Bob--you are rich now and powerful. You've got everything -you want in the world." - -"Not quite," he said, leaning towards her. - -"Nearly everything," she continued. "You've got money, and that buys -most things." - -"Yes," Despard grinned. There was a moment's pause, and again he leaned -towards her. "Have you anything you want to sell?" - -Once more the colour mounted her cheeks. - -"Perhaps," she stammered. "I'll tell you straight out. There's nothing -I wouldn't do in order to clear Rupert Dale's name." - -Despard leaned back and flicked the ash off his cigar. "The same old -subject. Gad, one would think you believed I altered the cheque, I'm -the guilty person. I've told you and your pal, Jim Crichton, that I can -do nothing, that I know nothing." - -Ruby drew still a little closer to him. In the dimly-lit room she -looked exceedingly beautiful. Yes, he admitted that she still fascinated -him as she had done a year or two ago. - -"Listen," she whispered. "I know if you had spoken at the trial you -would have saved Rupert." - -"Supposing for the sake of argument that I could have. What then?" - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII. - - RUBY'S HEROISM. - - -Despard knew exactly what Ruby Strode had come to ask. He saw his -opportunity "for getting a little of his own back," as he would have put -it. He smiled to himself as he watched her sitting there, nervously -twisting up the gloves she had taken off, and, obviously, at a loss to -continue. - -A more generous man would have tried to make it easier for her, to have -helped her. But Despard was not that sort. He merely calculated how -much he might ask, how far he might go without meeting a rebuff. The -cards all seemed to be in his hand. - -Here he was in his own flat, alone, with a beautiful woman who had come -to ask, to beg, or to purchase a favour of him! He glanced at the -clock; it was now past ten o'clock. In a few minutes the outer door -would be locked and the hall-porter gone! He rose, and, crossing over -to the table, poured himself out a stiff whisky. As he placed his glass -under the syphon he broke the long silence. - -"Won't you have another, Ruby?" he asked in a soft voice. - -Ruby started, and the blood rushed to her face. Her courage oozed away. -Then she thought of her mission--she must not fail. She must keep cool -and play this man with his own game. She must fool him, deceive -him--appear to give in to him; permit him to make love to her, anything, -everything so long as she could persuade him to come forward with the -evidence that would save her lover from the crime that now dishonoured -his good name; that had ruined his life and threatened to ruin his -sister's. - -"Thank you, I will have a tiny drop, please, with plenty of soda." - -Despard turned his back on her and half filled her tumbler with spirit, -he then frothed it over the brim with soda. - -"Now then, go ahead," he laughed. - -"I have come to you to-night to throw myself on your honour, to appeal -to your generosity--to beg you, to pray you, on my knees if necessary, -to help me to undo the great wrong that I have done to an innocent man. -Oh, Mr. Despard, I know you don't like him, but I do not ask a favour -for him. I ask it for myself. You once said you were fond of me, that -you loved me. Think then what it means to me when I love Rupert Dale -more than life--more than honour--more than anything in this world or -the next. Think of my feelings---night and day, night and day, never a -moment's rest--never a moment's peace; always the same terrible thought -clutching my heart, tearing my very soul. That I--I, his chosen love, -his future wife, have ruined him, blasted his life, branded his name -with dishonour, made him an outcast, an outlaw, hiding in shame from his -fellow-men. And Marjorie, his sister, she is suffering, too. I cannot -bear it any longer. I should have killed myself long ago if that would -have helped; but it would only end it for me, while he would live on, -never able to clear himself, without hope, doomed to life-long suffering -by my act. My statements were not believed. Your evidence contradicted -mine, or, at least, threw doubt on what I said. The jury would not -believe me, and an innocent man was condemned to penal servitude for my -crime. I know you saw the cheque in my hand because you frightened me -by asking me if it was my winnings. When I went out of the room I -turned as I reached the door and saw you looking at the blotting-pad. -You looked up and our eyes met. I knew you had seen the figures on it -as surely as though you had told me. For some reason you denied all -this in court. I thought at the time it was to screen me, I know now -that you had another motive. I have been to my solicitors and to Sir -Reginald's; they both tell me that it is quite useless appealing to the -Home Secretary for a re-hearing or a pardon or anything, unless there is -some new evidence that was not given at the trial and that will -conclusively prove my guilt. You can give that evidence--you can prove -that what I said at the trial was true--you can save the man I love from -worse than death. God help me, but you will, you will!" - -She stopped. Despard struck a match and lit his cigar and puffed the -smoke in rings to the ceiling. When the silence had lasted till she -could bear it no longer Ruby's eyes fell upon her tumbler, and with a -trembling hand she raised and emptied it. It burned her throat like -fire, but her strained nerves hardly noticed it. She lay back in her -chair and closed her eyes. She heard, as from a distance, Despard's -voice, soft and coaxing. - -"My dear little girl, I had no idea you felt it like that. You have -always treated me so harshly, so coldly, I thought you had no heart, -that you were incapable of feeling the passion that consumed me, or of -understanding why I refused to speak. I will confess to you now that I -did it because I love you--there, don't move, hear me out. I couldn't -bear to send you to prison, to make you suffer. I thought you would -forget this fellow Dale, now that he has gone out of your life for ever. -For remember, that whatever happens, he can never marry you after this. -Even if he was pardoned and returned to England--yes, I know he's -abroad--the proof of his innocence is your condemnation, don't forget -that! So it's not much good clearing his name of crime only to tie him -to a felonious wife. Now, I have a little proposal to make to you. I -have made some money out of this mine in Devonshire. I have a nice -little flat here, a capital little car round at the garage, but no one -to share them." - -He rose and crossed the room, standing behind her chair so that he could -see her face in the mirror above the fireplace, but she could not see -him. - -"Now, in order to clear Rupert Dale's name, to give him his -freedom--which, by the way, he has already taken--I shall have to -confess that I committed perjury two years ago. And they make it rather -hot for perjurers. They would certainly send me to prison. And you -will get there without a shadow of doubt. Nobody knows where Rupert is, -nobody cares. He has probably married and settled down in some remote -corner of the earth perfectly happy and content. By raking up this -wretched affair we shall be merely making several people very -uncomfortable, do ourselves an incalculable amount of harm, and benefit -Rupert no whit whatever." - -In the mirror he saw the colour mount to Ruby's pale cheeks. The -suggestion that Rupert was happily married had not been tactful. He -waited a moment, but she did not speak. - -"Now, supposing I make a statement for private circulation only. It can -be witnessed and made quite a legal document if you like, but only those -interested should see it--Rupert's father and sister, for example; Sir -Reginald, if you can guarantee that he will hold his tongue." - -"A statement which will absolutely exonerate Rupert?" Ruby's voice -seemed to come with an effort. - -"Of course." - -"You admit, then, that you saw me alter the cheque in Rupert's rooms -that afternoon?" - -Despard shrugged his shoulders. "Well, as far as I remember I was just -coming into the room and I saw you sitting at the bureau scribbling on a -piece of paper. You blotted it and I saw it was a cheque. I hesitated a -moment, and as I entered you rolled it up and put it in your glove. -There was a guilty look on your face and I suspected something. That -was why I questioned you. I took the opportunity of examining the -blotting-pad with a little hand-mirror--of course, I could not tell -anything was wrong, but I had a pretty shrewd suspicion. You may be a -good actress, Ruby, but you gave yourself away that afternoon." - -He turned round as he spoke and looked straight at her. Her face was -contorted with rage, her eyes were flaming. - -"You coward! You actually saw me alter the cheque and you examined the -blotting-pad! You knew Rupert was innocent. You knew I did it. Yet, at -the trial you would not speak. You let an innocent man, your friend, go -to prison.... Why did you do it? Why, answer me? Why?" - -Her sudden passion alarmed him. She had risen to her feet and was -standing close to him, gazing straight into his eyes. He strained his -ears fearing lest some one had overheard her. - -"I've got the truth at last," she cried. "Every one shall know it now." - -Despard moved, placing himself between Ruby and the door. He was afraid -what she might do in her passion. - -"You asked why I let an innocent man go to prison?" he said softly, in a -gentle, reassuring voice. It was almost wistful in its tenderness. "I -had to choose between my friend and--and the woman I love. You, Ruby." - -"You never loved me," she cried. "Rupert was my lover and you know it. -You came between us. You were jealous of him." - -"That's true," he replied with a sigh. "But I would have been loyal to -him if my love for you had not been the strongest thing in my life." - -Ruby laughed sarcastically, then checked herself. What did it matter how -Despard lied? What did it matter if she let him believe that he was -fooling her? For two years she had been trying to get the confession he -now made. She had tried every means but one. She had done everything -but come to him herself and plead with him, bargain with him. Nothing -mattered if she could get him to put in writing the confession he had -just made. - -She turned away as if overcome, and with an unsteady hand poured some -more whisky into her tumbler and raised it to her lips. - -"I laughed because I found it difficult to believe you really loved me, -Mr. Despard." - -Stepping forward he seized her wrist and swung her round. He had just -called her a bad actress, but she acted well enough now to deceive him. - -"You knew I wanted you," he said huskily. - -The colour ebbed and flowed from her face. "Oh, yes, I knew that, -but----" - -"I want you now," he whispered. - -She pretended to try and drag her hand away. "Why have you only just -said so?" - -"Because I knew Dale still stood between us. Because you have done your -best to avoid me, and have tried to set Rupert's father and Sir Reginald -Crichton against me." - -"Oh, can't you understand my feelings," she cried piteously. "I loved -Rupert and I knew that he loved me, and I had injured him in trying to -save him. It was my duty before everything else to clear his name.... -And I was always a little afraid of you--perhaps because I knew you were -Rupert's rival." - -Despard drew in his breath sharply as he inhaled the perfume of her -hair. She raised her eyes an instant, then lowered them. In every way -she was the direct antithesis of Marjorie Dale. The latter was gentle, -innocent. - -Ruby knew how to love as she knew how to hate; a woman with hot blood in -her veins, a woman with passion. Her lips gleamed moist and red in the -dull light. - -Suddenly he flung his arms around her and kissed her. She gave a little -cry, struggled for a few moments, then lay quite still and limp. - -Despard bent over her, feasting his eyes on her beauty. Again he -pressed his lips to hers. - -"I'm leaving London to-morrow for a holiday abroad. I'm going where -there's sunshine, flowers, and music. You'll come with me, Ruby--far -away from this dull, prosaic city. We'll go where there's life and -colour and amusement. I'm rich now, there isn't a whim of yours I can't -satisfy." - -She started, stared, and wrenched herself free. She was still acting -superbly. "No--you mustn't tempt me. I can't--not until Rupert's -innocence is proved.... Duty must come before love--though I don't even -know whether I do love you." - -Despard advanced, but she retreated. "I'll make you love me," he -whispered. - -The clock struck. He glanced at it. Eleven! Marjorie would not come -now. To-morrow she would probably show his letter to her lover or her -father. They would realise quickly enough the threat it contained. The -sooner he got away the better. - -"I'll teach you to love me, Ruby. Come, let me kiss your lips -again--they are sweeter than wine and more intoxicating." - -She laughed hysterically. The spirit had gone to her head, but she -fought to keep her brain clear. - -"Prove your love!" she cried, stretching out her hands to keep him off. -"Prove it!" - -"Gad, what an obstinate little vixen it is!" he said between his teeth. -"What does this fellow Rupert Dale matter to you?" - -She forced herself to smile at him. "Perhaps I'm thinking of myself. I -told you I've been in hell these two years. My conscience has given me -no peace. I can't rest, be happy, until I have at least given his -father proof of his innocence. It would be no use coming away with you; -I couldn't love you or make you happy." - -A moment Despard hesitated. He felt with the fascination a return of -the desire he had always known for Ruby Strode. She was worth -winning--worth purchasing. - -"You want me to make a declaration that will clear Rupert's name, should -he ever return to England?" - -"Yes. Write down what you said to me just now. It must be witnessed -and sent to Mr. John Dale." - -Despard sat down at his table and picked up a pen. Rupert was never -likely to show his face in England again, he was sure of that. But -there was a risk. It was greater for Ruby than for himself. He glanced -at her over his shoulder. He wanted her now--but in six months' time he -might tire of her. - -Dipping his pen into the ink, he commenced to write. Ruby stood beside -him and watched him. When he had finished he signed his name with a -flourish and handed it to her. - -"Will that do?" - -She read it carefully. "Yes, that's perfectly clear," she said, and -there was a trace of surprise in her voice. "It must be witnessed." - -He rose and stood by her side. "To-morrow morning. I'll get the -hall-porter or some one. By the way, we'll have to catch the ten -o'clock boat train. It's no use your going back to your flat. It's -nearly midnight; you must stop here, dear." - -He put his arm around her; she repressed a shudder. She commenced to -fold up the statement he had made. - -"I must go back in order to pack," she said with a little laugh. -"Besides, Iris Colyer--I share a flat with her now--she'll be wondering -what's happening to me." - -"That will be all right. You can write and explain from Paris. And as -for clothes, why, I'll buy a trousseau there fit for a queen. Come, -Ruby, now I've got you I'm not going to let you go." - -She shrank back, and Despard held her closer. He thought she was only a -little frightened--and her fear was fuel to the fire of his desire. - -She slipped the statement she had now folded up inside her blouse. -Despard kissed her again and again. Then suddenly with a quick movement -she escaped from his arms and ran to the door. - -"Until to-morrow," she cried feverishly, trying to fasten her coat. "I -must get back to-night----" - -Despard followed her as she opened the door. "Oh, no, you don't," he -cried grimly. "You might oversleep yourself or forget, my dear." - -"I shall not do that," she replied boldly. "I love you." - -In her anxiety she over-acted. Suspicion flashed in Despard's eyes. - -"I don't trust you; I don't trust any woman living. To-morrow you might -alter your mind. Your love may change and leave you cold. I want you -now. I've kept my part of the bargain; you must keep yours." - -Exerting all her strength, she tried to wrench herself free. "Let me -go--you are hurting me!" - -Her voice rose shrilly. - -Despard lost his temper. "Very well--if you'll swear to be here -to-morrow by nine o'clock!" - -"I swear!" she cried eagerly. - -"And give me back that piece of paper--my statement. If I have it in my -possession it will help you to remember your promise." - -Ruby ceased struggling and put her hands up to his face caressingly. -"Don't you trust me, Bob?" - -"I don't!" he grinned, and as he spoke he caught the neck of her blouse -with one hand and with the other tried to snatch the folded sheet of -paper hidden there. - -Ruby staggered back, and clenching her fists, hit him in the face. Her -cheeks burned with shame and indignation. "You coward! How dare you! I -hate you!" She backed towards the door as she spoke. "I shan't come to -you to-morrow, but I shall take your statement straight to my -solicitors, who will show it to the police. You thought I would sell -myself to you--you of all men in the world!" - -She flung open the door and ran across the hall. Before she could escape -Despard overtook her and seized her left arm. As he swung her round her -right hand slipped into the pocket of her coat. She whipped out a tiny -revolver and pointed it into his face: - -"Let me go, or I'll fire!" - -Instinctively he stepped back. Then, as he recovered from his surprise -he laughed: "You little devil! So that's the stuff you're made of. -Well, I like it. Put that toy away and come back immediately. If you -don't I'll take that paper from you if I have to tear the clothes off -your back." - -"If you touch me, I'll shoot you!" she cried between her teeth. - -As she spoke Despard jumped forward and hit up her arm. But she kept a -tight grip on the revolver. He tried to snatch it from her. They -struggled. - -"Let me go, or I'll shoot!" she panted. "I warn you! I'll kill you!" - -Neither of them heard footsteps outside, nor the ringing of the -front-door bell. - -Despard seized the hand which held the revolver and slowly forced it -back. A faint cry of agony escaped Ruby as she felt her wrist twisting. - -Suddenly there was a sharp report. The revolver rattled to the ground. -Ruby ceased struggling, twirled round, then fell in a heap at Despard's -feet. - -The front-door bell rang again. There was a loud knocking. Despard -stood staring at the limp body at his feet. Then he knelt down and -seized Ruby's hands--spoke to her. He felt for her heart--and his -fingers touched something warm and wet. - -There were voices outside shouting for admittance. He rose to his feet -and gazed round. There was no help for it--he would have to open the -door. - -He did so. - -"Quick--there has been an accident!" - -His voice rattled in his throat as he found himself face to face with a -tall, bronzed, bearded man--a man he did not recognise, yet whose -features caused a thrill of fear in his heart. - -"An accident!" he mumbled thickly. "Are you--who are you?" - -The man brushed past him and flung himself on his knees at Ruby's side. -"I am Rupert Dale!" - -Despard staggered back and almost fell. The hall-porter who was just -behind put out his hand and caught him by the arm. - - * * * * * - -Ruby Strode opened her eyes and looked into the bronzed face bending -over her. A little light came into them as she gazed into the eyes -watching her so tenderly. - -"I--he shot me--an accident, I think; but he tried to steal----" She -moistened her lips and tried to raise herself. Her eyes grew brighter. -"Who are you?" she whispered. - -"Don't you know me, Ruby?" Rupert said brokenly. "I am your lover, -dear. I'm Rupert. I've come for you--I've come back to take you away -with me, out to the home in the East I've made for you.... Ruby! -Ruby!" - -With an effort she raised her arms and fastened them around his neck. -"Thank God you have come!" Her voice was growing very faint. "Don't -believe what Mr. Despard tells you. Here, inside my blouse, there's a -paper signed by him. It completely exonerates you. It tells the truth -which he concealed at the trial. Listen, Rupert, don't speak. You are -free now--I've saved you at last in spite of all. Say you forgive me. I -did it because I loved you, dear. Say you forgive me." - -He lifted her and rested her head on his breast. He kissed her lips. "I -came back to take you with me, Ruby. I made good out in the East, dear. -A home for you. I only landed this morning. I went to your rooms. -Miss Colyer told me you had come here. Hush, don't speak, you'll be all -right by and by." - -She shook her head. "I'm dying. But you'll take me with you, Rupert?" - -His lips trembled. The words stuck in his throat, "I came home for you. -I'll take you with me, Ruby darling.... I'll take you with me." - -A smile flitted across her lips. Her eyes closed--almost as if she were -tired and falling asleep. Then her head rolled and fell back. Gently -laying her down, Rupert put his face close to hers. - - * * * * * - -When he stood up there was a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. He -turned and saw Robert Despard standing in the centre of the -sitting-room, on either side of him a police constable. An inspector -came forward and said something, but Rupert scarcely heard. He unfolded -the paper and handed it to him. - -"I've just found this tucked inside the lady's dress," he said, fighting -for control of his voice. "She told me ... it may throw some light ... -on the affair." - -"You know her, sir?" the inspector said. - -Rupert bowed his head. He was silent a moment. Down his tanned, -weather-stained cheeks tears were silently falling. - -"She was my affianced wife." - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII. - - FINIS. - - -Robert Despard was taken before the magistrate at Bow Street Police -Court and was remanded, bail being refused. At the inquest on Ruby -Strode the jury returned a verdict of manslaughter. On Despard's next -appearance at the police court he was committed for trial. - -This took place some weeks later, but in the meantime something like a -panic seized the shareholders in the radium mine at Blackthorn Farm. -There was a wild rush to "get out." The early birds in the City--those -who were prepared and had merely gambled--managed to do so, and to make -a small profit: others lost heavily. Here and there in Devonshire there -were rumours of men and women who had lost all their savings in the -venture. - -But the real sufferers who said nothing at all were old John Dale and -Sir Reginald Crichton. They were utterly unprepared, and the tragedy -that had occurred at Despard's flat engaged their whole attention. - -They were too shocked and horrified to think of themselves, and even -when they knew what was happening and saw the sudden drop in the shares, -which were eventually knocked down to nothing, they made no attempt to -save themselves. The thought of ruin never entered John Dale's head. -And when it was slowly born upon him that he was ruined he merely -shrugged his shoulders and said no word. - -For his son had come back--had risen, as it were, from the dead. - -Fate was kind, and they were allowed to meet for a few brief moments -before Rupert was re-arrested and taken back to prison. And though by -the laws of his country he was still guilty and a convict, yet John Dale -had the satisfaction of knowing that his son had always been innocent. - -And on his knees he thanked his God that he had been spared. And very -humbly, too, he prayed for forgiveness for having ever doubted his own -flesh and blood, for having, no matter what proof was given him, -believed that his son could have been guilty of so mean and despicable a -crime. - -A fortnight before the trial of Robert Despard took place, Sir Reginald -arranged a meeting between his son Jim, John Dale, and Marjorie. - -"Repentance comes too late, I know," he said, "and it's no use my trying -to explain; but I hope it's not too late to ask Miss Dale to forgive an -old man whose greatest crime after all has been a foolish, unbending -pride. I know now that it was false pride." - -Marjorie shook her head, and when Sir Reginald would have continued she -stopped him. "There's no need to say anything. Your attitude was -perfectly natural. If I had been a woman instead of merely a girl and -Jim had been my son instead of my lover I should have felt just the -same, behaved just the same. So long as you and father understand--and -will forgive us if our love has made us a little selfish -sometimes--nothing else matters." She looked at her lover: "Does it, -Jim?" - -Sir Reginald glanced at John Dale. But the old yeoman farmer said -nothing. - -"Is it too late," the former said, "to ask you to take my boy and make -him happy? Remember, he hasn't a penny now to bless himself with, -except what he can earn. I was never one to believe in love in a -cottage, but perhaps I've been converted. Anyway Jim has brains, and I'm -glad to say--I hope it isn't false pride again--that his country has -already recognised it, and I think there's a big career before him. It -will be still bigger, my dear, if he has you beside him as his wife." - -Marjorie's eyes filled with tears as Jim took her in his arms and kissed -her lips. - -"When my brother's innocence has been completely and legally proved and -he is set free we will be married, but not till then," she whispered. - -And John Dale took his daughter's hand and kissed it. - -Rupert was, of course, a most important witness when Despard's trial -took place. The document found on Ruby Strode which proved that Rupert -had been wrongfully convicted more than three years ago was sufficient -to convince the jury that Despard, though he had not contemplated -murder, was nevertheless responsible for causing the woman's death. The -fact that his trunks were packed and that he was ready to leave the -country at a moment's notice without anyone being aware of his intention -to do so made the case look black against him. It was on his -solicitor's advice that he made a perfectly frank and complete -confession of the part he had played three years ago when Rupert Dale -stood his trial for tampering with Sir Reginald Crichton's cheque. - -But Despard's record was a black one, and the Counsel for the Crown did -not hesitate to show him up in his true colours. - -He was found guilty and sentenced to seven years' penal servitude. - -A fortnight later Rupert Dale received the King's pardon and was set -free. As it happened the very first man to greet him outside the prison -doors was his friend, Patterson. He shook Rupert's hand almost -casually, then gave him a hearty pat on the back. - -"Gad, we've been in some tight corners together, Dale," he laughed. -"But I thought when we got back to the old country we should find things -a bit tame--no more fighting, no more narrow squeaks for our lives, no -more excitement. I was wrong, eh? At any rate you stepped right into -the thick of it. Glad I was here to see you come out top dog." - -And Rupert nodded and gripped Patterson's hand tightly. "You're the -best friend I ever had," he said huskily. - -"I ought to be," Patterson grinned, "since I owe you my life. But for -you I should never have got away on that black night when the Muruts -were dancing round the fire ready to cut our heads off and smoke 'em -over the burning embers. Lord, what a fine game it is! Think of it, -this scalp of mine might have adorned some chief's sword now; or the old -hag who played mistress of ceremonies might be using it on state -occasions as the latest fashion in evening dress." - - * * * * * - -It was on a warm, spring morning in April that Marjorie Dale and Captain -James Crichton were quietly married at Princetown, within sight of the -prisons which had played such a strange and important part in their -lives. Erstwhile Convict 381 was Captain Crichton's best man. - -As soon as the happy pair had left for the honeymoon--destination -unknown--Patterson, Rupert, and John Dale returned to Blackthorn Farm, -and over mugs of old brown ale again drank their health. - -The farmhouse itself remained unchanged, but outside there was a scene -of desolation. The mine, which a few months ago had been a scene of -activity, was now deserted. It was a blot on the beautiful moorlands. -Though the great plant still remained, silence now brooded. - -"Best thing you can do, Dale," Patterson said, "is to come out East -again and bring your father with you." - -"Take my boy," the old man whispered, "he'll succeed there, I know. The -old country's played out, I'm afraid. But I--I'm too old now. I'd only -be a drag upon him." - -But Rupert shook his head and laughed. "I'm not going to desert you, -guv'nor. We've been parted long enough. And, what's more, I'm not -going to desert the old farm, or the rotten old mine, as far as that -goes. After all, I'm responsible, for I made the discovery of -pitch-blende and got the radium idea in my head." - -"What will happen to the property now?" Patterson asked. - -And old Dale explained just how matters stood. He was the largest -shareholder and he had not parted with a single share. They had been -quoted that day on the Stock Exchange at threepence! - -"Seems to me the scare came at the very moment that hope was held out -that radium would be extracted," Patterson said. "I was talking to one -of the fellows who had made the first report on it the other day, a -German, I daresay you remember him, Mr. Dale. He backed out of it -because he objected to Mr. Despard and certain other men who were behind -the scenes. He says he is perfectly certain there is radium and that it -can be extracted. I don't pretend to know much about the subject, but -I'd like to have a look round to-morrow morning, and it wouldn't be a -bad idea to get hold of this fellow--Swartz is his name--and see what he -has to say. By jove, I've put away a bit of money, and I'd just like to -gamble! Think of picking up a few thousand shares in a radium mine in -England at threepence a piece. Gee whiz!" - -And that is just what Mr. Patterson did. Mr. Swartz was called in, and -on his advice the company was reconstructed. Sir Reginald Crichton and -John Dale held on to their shares and even bought a few more. The new -company took over the whole concern, buying it at a merely nominal -price. - -After six months of ceaseless work and research; of hope and despair, a -rich strain of pitch-blende was discovered with radium emanations. The -shares of the newly named "Blackthorn" Mine were daily quoted on the -Stock Exchange. At first their behaviour was erratic, jumping from -pence to shillings, shillings to pounds, and back again in a way that -suggested that the market was once again being rigged. - -But it was not. Patterson, working quietly and secretly with Mr. -Swartz, discovered a new method of extracting radium-ore, which reduced -the cost of production of the element by fifty per cent. - -And shortly after Captain and Mrs. James Crichton returned from a very -prolonged honeymoon, the Blackthorn Mine had produced enough radium to -assure them they need have no fear as to their future--unless it were -the fear that such great and unexpected wealth might rob them of the -simple love and happiness they had found. John Dale was overwhelmed. - -When, metaphorically, the rats had left the sinking ship, he had found -himself with several thousand worthless shares. These shares were soon -quoted at a hundred per cent. premium. - -"I don't like it," he said in his old-fashioned way, wagging his head. -"It don't seem right somehow. All I want now is a few pounds a week and -the old farm, my son by my side, and my girl happily married." - -"Well, you've got all that," Patterson laughed. "And whenever you feel -worried by your wealth, you've only got to step outside your front door, -walk over the East Dart, buy five thousand pounds worth of your own -radium, and send it to one of the great hospitals in London. They'll -know what to do with it there. Blackthorn Farm means life for thousands -of poor creatures who have abandoned hope. We can give 'em life, John -Dale, so don't worry about being rich. Money's an awful nuisance I -know, but one always has the consolation that one can get rid of it as -quickly as one likes--which is more than a poor man can do, anyway!" - -Dale admitted that he had never thought of it in that way. But he has -taken Patterson's advice, and he finds that it answers very well. - -And he is still to be found at Blackthorn Farm, Dartmoor, living -principally on old ale and brown bread and cheese, and--so the gossips -affirm at the village inn--dividing his time between reclaiming the -waste land and turning it into pasture, and signing cheques for the -benefit of certain schemes and institutions, which he keeps a secret -from everyone but his son Rupert. - -Robert Despard is also living on Dartmoor--but not at Blackthorn Farm. -His country keeps him--for his country's good. And he wears a very -pretty uniform and attends church-parade regularly. - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLACKTHORN FARM *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42519 - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so -the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. -Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this -license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) -electronic works to protect the Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and -trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be -used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific -permission. 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