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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -<title>BLACKTHORN FARM</title> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="42519" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="Blackthorn Farm" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1915" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="Blackthorn Farm" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2013-04-12" /> -<meta name="PG.Reposted" content="2015-05-30 - text corrections" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Arthur Applin" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators/" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.title" content="Blackthorn Farm" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.source" content="/home/ajhaines/black/black.rst" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.language" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" content="en" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.modified" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" content="2015-05-30T16:34:19.218224+00:00" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.publisher" content="Project Gutenberg" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.rights" content="Public Domain in the USA." /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42519" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.creator" content="Arthur Applin" /> -<meta name="DCTERMS.created" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" content="2013-04-12" /> -<meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width" /> -<meta name="generator" content="Ebookmaker 0.4.0a5 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="blackthorn-farm"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">BLACKTHORN FARM</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>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 </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> included with -this ebook or online at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>. 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.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: Blackthorn Farm -<br /> -<br />Author: Arthur Applin -<br /> -<br />Release Date: April 12, 2013 [EBook #42519] -<br />Reposted: May 30, 2015 [- text corrections] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>BLACKTHORN FARM</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 67%" id="figure-21"> -<span id="cover"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Cover" src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Cover</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 63%" id="figure-22"> -<span id="the-next-moment-her-eyes-had-seen-the-tell-tale-broad-arrow-on-the-boot-and-trousers-chapter-xix"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""The next moment her eyes had seen the tell-tale broad-arrow on the boot and trousers." (Chapter XIX.)" src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"The next moment her eyes had seen the tell-tale broad-arrow on the boot and trousers." (Chapter </span><a class="italics reference internal" href="#xix">XIX</a><span class="italics">.)</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">BLACKTHORN -<br />FARM</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">BY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">ARTHUR APPLIN</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">Author of "Her Sacrifice," "Love Conquers All Things," -<br />"The Chorus Girl," "The Pearl Necklace," etc., etc.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">WARD, LOCK& CO., LIMITED -<br />LONDON. MELBOURNE AND TORONTO</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">First published in 1915.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">CONTENTS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>CHAPTER</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span>I.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#ruined">RUINED!</a><span> -<br />II.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#five-hundred-pounds">FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS</a><span> -<br />III.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#salvation">SALVATION</a><span> -<br />IV.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#radium">RADIUM</a><span> -<br />V.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-accusation">THE ACCUSATION</a><span> -<br />VI.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#forgery">FORGERY</a><span> -<br />VII.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-visitors">THE VISITORS</a><span> -<br />VIII.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#arrested">ARRESTED</a><span> -<br />IX.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#a-proposal">A PROPOSAL</a><span> -<br />X.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#in-suspense">IN SUSPENSE</a><span> -<br />XI.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-trial">THE TRIAL</a><span> -<br />XII.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#marriage-is-impossible">MARRIAGE IS IMPOSSIBLE</a><span> -<br />XIII.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-irony-of-fate">THE IRONY OF FATE</a><span> -<br />XIV.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-parting-of-the-ways">THE PARTING OF THE WAYS</a><span> -<br />XV.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#escape">ESCAPE</a><span> -<br />XVI.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#you-ve-killed-him">"YOU'VE KILLED HIM"</a><span> -<br />XVII.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#at-post-bridge-hall">AT POST BRIDGE HALL</a><span> -<br />XVIII.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#alarmed">ALARMED</a><span> -<br />XIX.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#you-must-go-back">"YOU MUST GO BACK"</a><span> -<br />XX.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#plans-for-escape">PLANS FOR ESCAPE</a><span> -<br />XXI.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#ready-for-flight">READY FOR FLIGHT</a><span> -<br />XXII.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#jim-starts-off">JIM STARTS OFF</a><span> -<br />XXIII.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#success">SUCCESS</a><span> -<br />XXIV.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#ruby-s-declaration">RUBY'S DECLARATION</a><span> -<br />XXV.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#an-exciting-time">AN EXCITING TIME</a><span> -<br />XXVI.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#an-argument">AN ARGUMENT</a><span> -<br />XXVII.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#ruby-s-heroism">RUBY'S HEROISM</a><span> -<br />XXVIII.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#finis">FINIS</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="ruined"><span class="x-large">BLACKTHORN FARM.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">CHAPTER I.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">RUINED!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The result was due to-day, and Rupert had -intended going down to the hall to find out whether -he had passed or not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If it lost——?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the table a letter lay from his father in Devonshire -enclosing a cheque—the last he would be able -to send him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was also a letter from Ruby Strode, -reminding him that he had promised to take her to -see the big race that day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He set his teeth and swept aside the -accumulation of unanswered letters and bills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had come upon him stealthily, like a thief -in the night. And at the same time Love had -come, too!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again Rupert laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruin! He looked at Ruby, and advanced to -meet her with open arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert laughed light-heartedly and emptied the -contents of his pockets on to the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If he had failed in his final examination? His -body grew suddenly cold, he shuddered. He could -not face his father then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter?" Ruby stepped forward -and took Rupert's hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was wondering, if Paulus didn't win?" he -stammered. "But, of course it will. Come along, -or we shall miss the train!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You said you would let me have something -to-day, sir. I'm sorry to trouble you, but——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, I forgot. I'll pay you to-night -without fail," he cried cheerfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, slamming the front door behind him, -he slipped his arm through Ruby's. Hailing a -passing taxi-cab they drove to Waterloo Station.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By gad, it can't lose," Rupert kept on saying. -"I shall win enough, Ruby, to pay my debts, with -a little to spare."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert forced a laugh. Again, at this moment of -tense excitement, he realised what it would mean -if the horse lost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then a cry like a great chorus rent the air. -"They're off!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert leapt to his position on the stand and -putting up his glass watched the race.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A good start, though one horse was left. It was -not Paulus, so he did not care. One horse out of -the way!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nimbo wins! A monkey to a pea-nut on Nimbo!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Paulus wins! I'll back Paulus!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert took a deep breath, and for the moment -put down his glasses. Then he heard his own voice -shrieking hysterically, "Paulus! Paulus!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The race was over now. The winning-post was -reached. Thunder-clap after thunder-clap of human -voices.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Paulus wins! ... Paulus! Paulus! Paulus!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come along, let's go back," he whispered. -"There's nothing else to wait for now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A telegram was waiting for him on the table. He -picked it up and gave it to Ruby.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had failed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He broke away from her angrily. "You don't -know what you're saying. If Paulus hadn't won!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The raucous cries of a newsboy from the street -interrupted him. They both listened, then Rupert -smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another newsboy ran shrieking down the street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Result of the great race. Sensational result! -All the winners—Sensation——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert moved towards the door. "Let's get -a paper and see the starting price."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruby followed him. "Wait a moment, Rupert. -Tell me honestly, how much you would have owed -if Paulus hadn't won?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Paulus first, Ambuscade second—then in huge -black type underneath: OBJECTION!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruby bent over him and tried to raise him. -"Rupert—perhaps it's not true. Rupert!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The muscles of his face twitched convulsively. -"Leave me," he whispered. "For pity's sake -leave me for a little while."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="five-hundred-pounds"><span class="large">CHAPTER II.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Rupert!" Ruby's voice scarcely rose above -a whisper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had never considered the word before in her -life. She understood it now because she loved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert was the first to speak. "It's no use, -old girl; it's the only way out—the only way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head. "A coward's way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was fighting for the life of some other woman's -son, and for the moment he was her son.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't do it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My mind is made up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a long silence between them. Outside -the newsboys still shouted the sensational result.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rupert," she whispered, and her voice, though -a little unsteady, had a glad ring in it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rupert!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned then and looked at her. Perhaps -something in her voice attracted him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You remember giving me five pounds to put on -Paulus? Well, I didn't do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shook his head to and fro. "It doesn't -make any difference. I owe hundreds."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I put it on Ambuscade."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned right round now staring at her, -frowning. He did not understand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ambuscade started at a hundred to one." Ruby -was laughing now. She moved toward him -unsteadily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't play the fool," he said unsteadily. "It's -no use trying to—hoodwink me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The frown on Rupert's face deepened. "I saw -you draw some money—you had it in your purse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert rose and tottered towards her. His legs -gave way at the knees like a drunken man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Five hundred pounds!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She managed to assure him she was speaking the truth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Five hundred pounds!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="salvation"><span class="large">CHAPTER III.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">SALVATION.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A gentleman to see you, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stopped abruptly, as, gazing round the room, -she saw only Ruby Strode bending over the writing-table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beg pardon, I thought Mr. Dale was here. -There's a gentleman to see him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Dale went out just now—for a few minutes—he -won't be long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She spoke rapidly in jerks, and turning round -faced the door, her hands clasped behind her back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it doesn't matter! I suppose I can wait." And -the visitor entered the room. "That sounds -like Miss Strode's voice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruby stepped back and forced a smile to her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you are wrong! He doesn't want your -sympathy, as it happens."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard watched her closely, and the expression -on his face gradually changed. A cynical smile -still played about his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that your winnings you're hiding away?" -he sneered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He threw his hat on to the table and seated -himself on the arm of a chair close to Ruby.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll go out and find Rupert. You had better -say to his face what you've just said to me," she cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hurried downstairs out into the street. She -saw Rupert coming slowly towards her and she ran -to meet him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Replacing the mirror he stood with his back -to the fireplace, his hands deep in his trousers -pockets, thinking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So would you," Rupert cried, slapping him on -the back, "if you had had a fiver on Ambuscade -at a hundred to one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The frown deepened on Robert Despard's forehead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, is this a joke or what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard watched him, and his frown deepened. -"You mean to say you backed Ambuscade at a -hundred to one and got paid!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who did you do the bet with?" Despard asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I forgot the man's name. I've got the ticket -safely in my pocket. We shall get the money all -right to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But for the moment he just wanted to enjoy his -good fortune; to dance, to sing, to feast, to love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she shook her head, and held him tightly. -He felt her arms trembling. He saw tears -swimming in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard rejoined them and they all went out together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll drive you home first," Rupert said to Ruby.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I backed the horse myself. I am going to get -the money and bring it round to Rupert!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two men drove to the grillroom of the Savoy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a lucky devil," Despard said, "if -there's no mistake, and Miss Strode really backed -Ambuscade."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should there be a mistake?" Rupert asked curtly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One of the old-fashioned sort, eh?—don't -approve of betting or pretty girls. Will you keep -Miss Strode dark, too?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you're really coming?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How old is she?" Despard asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert did not reply, and the cab drew up outside -the Savoy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But for the inspiration which had made Ruby -back Ambuscade where would he have been now? -And again a shiver passed through his body.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Switching off the lights he went to bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He heard Big Ben chime the hour—twelve o'clock. -He lit another cigarette and stood on the balcony -outside the window waiting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it all right, have you got it?" he cried. -His only thought was the money now. The money -that meant salvation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me, is it all right, have you got it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert stretched out his hands imploringly.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="radium"><span class="large">CHAPTER IV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">RADIUM.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Ruby Stroke threw aside the heavy veil -she wore and placed her bag on the table. -Rupert heard the clink of coins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently he began to laugh hysterically. "You -are sure there's no mistake?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Count it again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert was in high spirits. Ruby encouraged -him to talk, and smiled as she listened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is Mr. Despard going down with you?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't like Despard, do you?" Rupert said; -"yet he's very fond of you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I know he is. I wish he wasn't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Probably," she answered evasively. "Anyway, -I shall be here when you return. Enjoy yourself -and don't worry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She kissed him again and again, clinging tightly -to him, unable to tear herself away now that the -hour had come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded, and smiled through her tears. "I -can pay them into the bank to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove, you live off the map, and no mistake!" -Despard cried looking round him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you feel jolly lonely sometimes?" he -said to Marjorie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head. "I haven't time. And -I've known nothing better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took his kit-bag from the dog-cart, and before -he could stop her she had carried it upstairs to his -room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John Allen Dale winced as if some one had struck -him a blow. The strong, determined jaws met -tightly, but he said nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He would have died a coward's death and left -his father and sister to suffer shame and dishonour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was some little time before he could find his -voice and tell his father that he need not worry -about the money.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not borrowed money, not made by gambling?" -John Dale asked. "But I needn't ask you, Rupert. -It was money honestly earned, I know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dale took his son's hand in his great, horny fist -and pressed it tightly. "I know that, I know that, -my boy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're welcome to all you can find," the old -man laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't think it would pay to erect a new -plant and start operations again, do you?" Rupert -said eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" Despard cried sharply. There was a -trace of nervous excitement in his voice which -Rupert had never heard before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" the latter said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good Lord! no wonder you've been plucked -three times!" Despard cried. "Don't you know -what this stuff is?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert examined it again. "Rather like pitch-blende."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—something," Despard sneered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A sharp cry escaped Rupert's lips. He bent -down and examined the black, sticky substance -more carefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is pitch-blende!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Extinguish the light," Despard said sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That was expecting rather too much," he whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They collected the pitch-blende they had found, -and putting it into his handkerchief Despard dropped -it into his pocket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, how much tin did you find?" she asked -jokingly. "Are you going to make our fortunes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard looked at her. "Supposing I were -to make a fortune for you, what reward should -I get?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, fifty per cent. of the profits," she laughed, -lowering her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shouldn't ask that," he whispered. "I -should want something money couldn't buy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert swore under his breath. "What on earth -can the matter be? You don't think anything -has happened to—the old man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjorie shook her head. "I don't think so. -The message is simply that you're wanted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sorry to trouble you," he said curtly; "but the -matter is rather important. Do you mind coming -up to my study?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert followed, wondering what had happened. -To his relief he saw his father standing with his -back to the fireplace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Reginald shut the door, then sitting down -an old oak bureau motioned Rupert to a seat. -But the latter remained standing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps you will explain," said Sir Reginald, -looking at John Dale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert nodded. "Yes, I received it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And cashed it?" Sir Reginald spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lost it? You never told me." Dale spoke. -"Of course you wrote to the bank?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert bit his lip. "I forgot all about it—in -the excitement of packing up and coming home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Reginald leant forward and stretched out -his hand. "Look at this, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Pay John Allen Dale or bearer the sum of five -hundred pounds.</em><span>" Then underneath in figures -"</span><em class="italics">£500 0s. 0d.</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't mean to say you think——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert flared up, then stopped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He began to tremble. His body became wet -with perspiration. He heard his father's voice -raised apprehensively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rupert, my boy. Speak, for God's sake, speak! -Say you know nothing about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Speak!" John Dale cried, his voice rising. "Speak!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Speak!" Sir Reginald Crichton echoed. "Confess -that you are either guilty—or not guilty."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-accusation"><span class="large">CHAPTER V.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE ACCUSATION.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Rupert pulled himself together and looked -at Sir Reginald. "I have nothing to say, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing to say!" Clenching his fists Dale -strode towards his son as if intending to strike him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have told you I have nothing more to say. -I know nothing about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Reginald raised his eyebrows, and picking up -a pencil commenced to tap it thoughtfully on the -edge of the bureau.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you believe I altered the amount on the -cheque?" he asked Sir Reginald.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was I who sent for you," Dale whispered, -"directly Sir Reginald told me what had happened -and showed me the cheque."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Reginald shrugged his shoulders. Drawing -forward a sheet of paper he picked up a pen and -dipped it in the ink.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On what date did you receive this cheque?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I presume you looked at it?" Rupert nodded. -"You saw the amount for which it was drawn? -What was the amount?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Five pounds."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did you do with it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't remember. I think I left it on the table -with my father's letter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What were your movements that morning?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't see what these questions have got to -do with——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are waiting," Sir Reginald Crichton said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had been lucky," Rupert stammered. "I -had made a little bit—at racing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I told you I had been lucky."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert nodded, and crossing the room unsteadily -opened the door. "Are you coming, father?" -he asked the old man, without looking at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can go on, Rupert, I'll follow presently," -Dale replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even if it came to a question—his honour or -hers. And his honour meant his father's and -sister's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What on earth are you looking at?" he asked -with exaggerated carelessness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard pointed to an amateur photograph of -Marjorie. She was seated on a stool in one of the -fields milking a cow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rather good, isn't it?" Rupert said. "The -local parson took it last year."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's happy enough here," Rupert said uneasily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="forgery"><span class="large">CHAPTER VI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">FORGERY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Absurd fears; doubts; unwarrantable suspicions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard shrugged his shoulders. "Well, one -never knows one's luck. What do you say, Rupert?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think I've always been in love—in love with -life. I suppose that sounds stupid, or sentimental, -to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Life will fall in love with you one day, and be -revenged."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rather a queer point of view," Despard laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rather wished that Rupert had stayed at -home so that he could have had a </span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span> with -Marjorie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall be only too happy to let you go, sir," -the man replied without moving a muscle of his -clean-shaven, emotionless face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For heaven's sake smile, man, or they'll really -think you've done time here. That's exactly what -you look like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't see that there's anything to smile at. -Other people's misfortunes never amuse me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think of your own, then," Despard replied, -"that will cheer you up. By the way, have you -heard from Ruby since you left town?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They passed into the kitchens—here there was -blessed warmth again and the smell of newly-baked -bread—through innumerable corridors and passages.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were shown into a cell, A.C. 2061. "Just -room enough to die"—as Despard humorously -expressed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We want something to take the taste of the -granite out of our mouths," he laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruby would help him in that, he knew, and -he would no longer have any shame in appearing -before her in his true light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert listened with a sense of relief. "Have -they traced the man?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After all, perhaps he had won only to lose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjorie sat up in her bed and laughed. "Is -that a man's man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert laughed. "You, not good enough!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He groped his way towards the door and opened it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad, dear," Marjorie whispered. "Good-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-night," he replied as he shut the door -quietly and went to his own room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A farmer's son. But his father's ambition should -be realised. He would learn to be a man and a -gentleman.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-visitors"><span class="large">CHAPTER VII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE VISITORS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the first time in his life he realised its -importance. And his father's words continually -echoed in his ears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gone away," Rupert echoed blankly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—of course, she wanted a holiday," Rupert -said mechanically. "Where has she gone?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then why had she gone? Why had she suddenly -run away from him, from London, from life?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put his hands up to his face to shut out the -pictures which danced before his eyes. He heard -himself laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've returned rather unexpectedly on business," -Rupert said, speaking jerkily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir. I hope—there ain't no serious -trouble, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert forced a laugh. "Trouble? Why—by -the way, are there any letters for me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Jones struggled for her pocket, and after -a few moments produced a crumpled envelope which -she straightened out and handed to Rupert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert nodded. He turned the envelope over, -broke the seal, then changed his mind, and put it -into his pocket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No other letters?" he asked sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The landlady looked over the top of his head, -and picking up her apron commenced to twist the -corners nervously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are no other letters for me?" he repeated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stopped, and again picked up an imaginary -hairpin from the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert swung round. He waited for her to continue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, I shouldn't have admitted them, -sir—but, I couldn't help myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Jones hesitated. She was washing her hands -in her apron now, and she sniffed suspiciously once -or twice as if tears threatened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Speak out—speak plainly, for goodness' sake!" -Rupert cried fiercely. "What did these men come -for? Who were they?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's all right, Mrs. Jones," Rupert said quietly. -"It's a mistake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That will do," Rupert interrupted. "Did they -take anything else out of my rooms?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I quite understand. But there will be nothing -to talk about. Good-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-night, sir. Anything I can do I'm -sure——" The door closed on the remainder of the -sentence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took Ruby's letter from his pocket and -opened it:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>"DARLING,—</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>"Always yours,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>"RUBY."</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"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."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps there was a warrant out for his arrest. -He smiled grimly. But suddenly the expression -on his face changed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If he were arrested and the news reached Devonshire -it would break his father's heart, ruin his -sister's life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had some letters, the contents of which -he did not know. Receipts for the bills Ruby -had paid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was quite possible they might suspect her. -He threw his hat aside and examined the bureau again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His body broke out into a sweat. He dropped -back into the chair and sat gazing into the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruby had never backed Ambuscade for him at all. -She had told a lie to save his life!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How had she obtained that money?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="arrested"><span class="large">CHAPTER VIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">ARRESTED.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I shan't be five minutes," Rupert replied. -"She can start cooking the breakfast at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had she been guilty she would never have written -to him nor let him know where she was hiding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The postcard meant that she was not hiding, -that she had not run away. He knew that she -was safe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"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."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>She did not sign her name or her initials.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She would really have run away and hidden -where no one could find her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall be out all day," he replied, trying to -speak in his normal voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you be staying another night or two, or -will you be returning to Devonshire at once, sir?" -she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I expect I shall go back to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In every little thing he did now he seemed to have -some ulterior motive. He found himself criticising -every action and every thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But by the cold, clear light of day he began -to reason again, once more to argue with himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In imagination he saw two figures standing by -his side; one on the right, the other on the left. -Duty and Love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put his hands up to his face. They were wet -and clammy now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Love and Duty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert pulled himself together. He looked at -Mrs. Jones and smiled. "I haven't finished my -breakfast yet. Tell them to come up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he spoke the men entered the room. Rupert -looked at them, and he knew who they were and -why they had come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a moment's silence. He glanced at -Mrs. Jones and smiled again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very slowly she stepped back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope nothing's wrong," she stammered. -"I'm sure the young gentleman's done -nothing—nothing to be ashamed of——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right, Mrs. Jones.... Shut the door, -please."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are Rupert Allen Dale?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. You have a warrant——" He checked himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now the man was reading. Reading the warrant -for Rupert Allen Dale's arrest. He caught words -here and there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right," he said when the officer -had finished. "But it's a mistake. I'm not guilty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again a mist rose before his eyes. He set -his teeth, telling himself that he must play -the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mind if I finish my breakfast?" he said -steadily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The officer glanced at his watch. "I can give -you five minutes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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 </span><em class="italics">Illustrated London -News</em><span>. 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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The officer cleared his throat. "I'm afraid——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert rose instantly. "Will you call a cab?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And they had both laughed then at some foolish -joke he had made.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so he laughed again now. "Get a taxi-cab, -if you can," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm ready," he said. "I don't suppose you'll -want to—to handcuff me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The officer put his hand on his arm. "I don't -think it will be necessary, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They walked downstairs together side by side.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-proposal"><span class="large">CHAPTER IX.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">A PROPOSAL.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Better than anyone else in the world; more than -anyone else in the world. She even came before -his profession.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was with a shock he discovered this. But he -had to confess it to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He could not give her up. Not even though her -brother were convicted of being a criminal and -sent to prison.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He could save her, even though it meant humbling -himself, even though it meant giving up the -profession he loved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a terrible choice, perhaps a strange one. -But Jim instinctively felt he was right.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear!" he cried, jumping to his feet. "My -dearest!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly her colour fled and she came close to -him again, holding out her hands. "Is anything -wrong?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without replying he put his arm around her -and led her away towards Blackthorn Farm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him with unbelieving eyes, almost -as if she could not understand. Then she shook -her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not now, Jim. We must wait until—until -Rupert's free; this charge against him disproved."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again she would have protested, but he silenced -her. "I've made up my mind, nothing can change it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Telling Mr. Dale he had something to say to him -in private he entered the dining-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You bring me bad news of my son," Dale said -quietly. "I know it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How did you?" Jim asked, off his guard. -"Surely it hasn't got into the local papers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without waiting for a reply he opened the door. -Dale stopped him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did you say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bent over the table and bowed his head between -his hands. Again there was a long silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have no objection to me as a son-in-law, -Mr. Dale?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely that question needs no answer—but, -please say no more now. Leave me, Mr. James."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bending down, he kissed her in full view of Robert -Despard. The latter scrunched the </span><em class="italics">Western Morning -News</em><span> up between his hands with an oath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Waving a farewell to Marjorie, Jim swung through -the gate and hurried across the moorlands towards -Post Bridge Hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-suspense"><span class="large">CHAPTER X.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">IN SUSPENSE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He began to realise that he had not a friend; -many acquaintances—many pals, yes—but not one -friend!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Why had she not been to see him? Why had -she sent no word, not even a message?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Dale, I believe! This is Mr. Marshall, who -has undertaken your defence. Please be seated!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert obeyed automatically. He was too -surprised to speak, and the man, obviously a lawyer, -continued:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Marshall murmured "Quite so! quite so!" -and began to examine the toes of his boots.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Marshall coughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was in debt. I had been betting, and living -beyond my means."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just so," said Mr. Redway; "and so you altered -the cheque under the pressure of debt—to avoid -ruin, in fact?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you kindly tell us to whom you gave the -cheque in the first instance with a view of getting -it cashed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Redway, who was fidgeting with the papers, -looked at Mr. Marshall with raised eyebrows, and -the barrister nodded to him as though he understood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door opened, and the warder escorted Rupert -back to his cell. As he reached it, he handed him -a letter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door slammed, and the retreating steps of -the warder echoed down the stone-flagged passage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"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 '</span><em class="italics">No</em><span>! 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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>"Your affectionate father,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>"JOHN DALE."</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His eye fell upon the ink-pot on the wooden shelf. -As a prisoner awaiting trial he was allowed to send -and receive letters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He found a sheet of paper and wrote to the lawyer.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-trial"><span class="large">CHAPTER XI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE TRIAL.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was the second day of the trial.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The crowd elbowed and jostled its way into the -street, where the newsboys were shouting "Special -edition! Great fraud case—full account."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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 </span><em class="italics">bohé</em><span> -and plate of hot muffins between them, Mr. Marshall -spoke:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Mr. Dale, what do you think of the prosecution?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man looked up quickly. "Do you really -think there is still hope, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the taxi drove off with John Dale, a boy -handed Mr. Marshall a telegram:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The caretaker sent me across with this, sir, as -he thought it might be important."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Marshall nodded, and tore open the envelope.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Miss Strode here now; can you come at once? -Very important.—REDWAY."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you feeling better now?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah! I remember now! The taxi-cab. Yes!" And -again he closed his eyes, and the nurse stole -softly away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was late the next morning when he awoke to -find the doctor bending over him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well! You have had a good sleep," he said. -"How are you feeling now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am aching all over, but my head is better, -thank you. Where am I?—and what time is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are in Charing Cross Hospital, and it is -just half-past ten in the morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he remembered. This was the hour he -ought to have been in Court to see his son's honour -cleared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must get up," he cried. "I have an important -engagement, and am late already."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A loud burst of conversation mingled with applause -greeted this dramatic announcement, and when the -ushers had secured silence the Judge spoke:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If there is any repetition of this most improper -demonstration, I shall clear the Court."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Mathew was already on his feet. "My Lord, -may I ask my learned friend if he proposes to put -in a written confession?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Marshall signified assent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, m' Lord, I must object."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Marshall, who was still standing, replied at -once: "It is an affidavit, my Lord, and as such is -legal evidence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I object, m' Lord!" Mr. Mathew interposed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you state the grounds of your objection?" -the Judge said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you prepared to call this witness, Mr. Marshall?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am in your Lordship's hands; if your Lordship -rules that I cannot put in this affidavit without, -I have no alternative."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A buzz of conversation was instantly suppressed -by a loud cry of "Silence in Court!" from the -usher.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Judge replied: "I so rule. Let the witness -be called!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ruby Strode!" Mr. Marshall said in a loud voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ruby Strode!" came the stentorious tones of -the usher.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently he asked her: "Did you see Mr. Despard -that day?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did he see the cheque in your hand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I object, m' Lord!" said Mr. Mathews.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not leading," replied Mr. Marshall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you put your questions in another form, -Mr. Marshall?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly, my Lord, though I had no intention -of leading at all. Did you have anything in your -hand when Mr. Despard called?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Ruby, "the cheque."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did he see it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I object!"—from Mr. Mathews.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really, my Lord, I must protest at this continual -interruption," Mr. Marshall said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Judge interposed, and the question was put in -another form.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think he saw the cheque in your hand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I feel sure he did."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, she was deeply affected by his present -position—she knew he was innocent."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Supposing he had been guilty—she would -willingly take his place?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was no sacrifice too great to make for -him—her future husband?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She had come to-day with no other object than -to save him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," Ruby replied again. "That is why I -made the affidavit now before the Court."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! So you knew he would get into trouble if -he was found out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Mathews sat down with a significant smile -at the jury, and Ruby was led sobbing out of Court.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Robert Despard!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not notice anything in Miss Strode's hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you notice a cheque or slip of paper—in -her hand?" Mr. Marshall asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must object to that, m' Lord," interrupted -Mr. Mathews.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I submit the witness is hostile, m' Lord," replied -Mr. Marshall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think Mr. Marshall is entitled to treat this -witness as hostile," the Judge said. And -Mr. Marshall again put the question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I did not see a cheque or slip of paper in -her hand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, Mr. Despard, think again: did you not -remark to Miss Strode that it was a cheque for her -winnings?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no recollection of any such conversation," -Despard replied curtly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you notice the blotter on the writing table, -Mr. Despard?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was it much used?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it was perfectly clean."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you swear that it had never been used?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I can't swear that; but I thought——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Marshall sat down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you feel sure it had not been used?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—I feel sure I should have noticed it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you; you can sit down!" And Mr. Mathews -resumed his seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat down, and Mr. Marshall rose. He was a -young man with his reputation to make, and this -was his first big case.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He spoke for forty-six minutes, and concluded -a clever and eloquent defence with the following -words:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a burst of applause as he sat -down—instantly suppressed by the ushers—and then the -Judge summed up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="marriage-is-impossible"><span class="large">CHAPTER XII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">MARRIAGE IS IMPOSSIBLE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Directly the Judge had finished his summing-up, -the jury rose and left the Court to consider their verdict.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It's the guilty man who invariably assumes the -mask of innocence to perfection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">I alone am guilty. I did it.</em><span>"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard smiled and laid his hand on hers. "I -never suspected you. I never could!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She snatched her hand away. "I believe you -want him to go to prison because——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard rose, and picking up his velour hat, -brushed it carelessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall meet again one day!" she said between -her teeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then her head sank forward; she clasped her -hands together again between her knees and -resumed her former attitude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We find the prisoner guilty, my Lord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fate could deal him no more crushing blow. His -son—his first-born—his only son!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He prayed that death would come and take him, -since there was nothing left to live for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You—why are you here?" John Dale asked -at last. "You whom we have wronged so grievously."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your son—is a—gentleman. He could never -do anything—mean, Sir Reginald."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One never knows," Crichton replied. "Your -boy must have been sorely tempted—if he did it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's right!" Sir Reginald said cheerily. -"You still have something to fight for.... There's -your daughter, Mr. Dale."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned to go—then stopped. "Have you -written or telegraphed to Marjorie—the result of -the trial I mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dale shook his head: "She's alone. If she were -to hear from the lips of strangers——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?" Sir Reginald asked, laying his -hand on the old man's shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-irony-of-fate"><span class="large">CHAPTER XIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE IRONY OF FATE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Rupert found that four weeks in prison was a lifetime.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Under his breath he cursed the warder. Had the -man no feelings; was he indeed a brute in human shape!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Translated, it meant that some of them were -going to be removed from Wormwood Scrubbs prison.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good," Rupert signalled back. He found himself -grinning until he read another signal of "Shut -up!" from the blue-eyed convict.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One man made a ribald jest. Others laughed. -A few men looked with dull curiosity. A woman -shuddered and turned away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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 </span><em class="italics">Morning Post</em><span> or the </span><em class="italics">Daily -Chronicle</em><span>. Opposite to where they were lined -up, the station wall was covered with posters and -play bills and advertisements.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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 </span><em class="italics">Financial -Times</em><span>, and beneath in huge letters one word—"RADIUM."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, 381, what are you about?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pulled himself together with an effort and -rolled into a third-class compartment of the train -with his fellow convicts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A fortune for his father and his sister. His -father whom he had ruined and shamed. And -his sister!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dartmoor! Princetown Prison," was the reply -he received.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-parting-of-the-ways"><span class="large">CHAPTER XIV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">THE PARTING OF THE WAYS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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, </span><em class="italics">mirabile dictu</em><span>, 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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjorie said nothing, but Sir Reginald noticed -that a frown puckered her forehead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a feeble effort, and Sir Reginald felt -ashamed of it directly afterwards. He held out -his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why do you say you know he's innocent? -You can't have proof. If you had——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A curious smile parted Marjorie's lips. She -looked at Sir Reginald with sorrow in her eyes, -almost pity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I also know why you came over to see me to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Reginald flushed. "I came to——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To love?" she interjected quickly. "Surely -youth is the time for love!" Then she gave a bitter -laugh. "But, of course, you've forgotten."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not yet. I haven't had an opportunity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Reginald was beginning to feel uncomfortable. -"Has he said anything to you—since -the result of the trial, I mean?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, of course. But——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What would his son say?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Directly after luncheon he broached the subject -by asking when his leave was up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In about a week's time, guv'nor! Why, are -you in a hurry to get rid of me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About our marriage?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Reginald looked at the end of his cigar. -"There can be no question of marriage now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My boy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a long silence. Father and son looked -into one another's eyes. The father was the first -to lower his gaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I love her, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, of course." Sir Reginald coughed. "I'm -sorry for you. But you're young. You—you -don't know your own mind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No." Sir Reginald was not used to being -questioned by his son. He was off his guard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've never shown myself a coward in any way, father?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Reginald just held out his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A convict. A felon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, but it would make no difference -had he been a murderer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Reginald turned away. His cigar fell into the -grate, he leaned his arms on the mantelshelf and -buried his face between his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you propose to do?" he asked eventually.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stood by Sir Reginald's side and laid his hand -on his shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="escape"><span class="large">CHAPTER XV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">ESCAPE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had come to look over the prison, to stare at -the prisoners.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stared dry-eyed along the broad highway. -Tears never dimmed his eyes now, as they had done -at first.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now the chance had come. It seemed as -if Providence had sent it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the word "Halt!" rang out. Automatically -Rupert stopped. The convicts were lined -up and their numbers called over. Rupert raised -his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. 381, get on with your work!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Keep your eyes open, the chance may come to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stand next me," No. 303 whispered to -Rupert. "Our chance has come. You won't fail me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. 381, stand up! All present, chief."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Leaping to his feet he ran along the wall, and -almost immediately fell over 303, who was crouching -against it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quick, for God's sake follow me!" he whispered. -"We must make for Beardown. This fog -may blow away at any moment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They dropped on to a road, Tavistock Road. -"Come on, we are right now!" Rupert cried excitedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quick! we must get up with the fog before -we are seen. Thank God, there is no one in -sight!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But poor 303 was no moorman, and he was already -dropping behind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't do it, 381; go on without me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Boom! A dull explosion echoed across the hills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's that?" exclaimed 303.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The alarm," Rupert replied. "We have not a -moment to lose."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="you-ve-killed-him"><span class="large">CHAPTER XVI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">"YOU'VE KILLED HIM."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Again the dull boom echoed over the moorland. -In a few minutes the hill would be swarming -with warders searching for them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll cheat them, No. 303, never fear!" he cried -to his comrade. "Keep your pecker up, man!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm all right," the convict panted; "but I -can't keep this pace up for long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If this only lasts," Rupert whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where shall we make for?" No. 303 asked. -"Plymouth ain't far from here, is it; and that's -a seaport town?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again they commenced to struggle up the steep -ascent, keeping along the edge of the water course.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are you making for?" No. 303 demanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wistman's Wood, the other side of the Dart. -A good place to hide if the fog lifts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll stand by you," he replied. "I'll do what -I can to help you. But it's no use talking. Come -along!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently they came to a high, stone wall, and -Rupert uttered an exclamation of joy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They started off again at a good pace. They had -not gone for more than half a mile when they both -stopped simultaneously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mounted warders on the tor above us," Rupert -whispered. "Quick, get over the wall! We must -hide until they're gone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By God, we're done!" 303 cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mounted warders raised a shout, and jabbing -their heels into their ponies' sides, commenced to -gallop down the hill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must make a run for it," Rupert said. -"There's fog still in the valley."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It came just as the kindly fog was about to -envelop them again. Ten seconds more and they -would have been safe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My God Bill, you've done it this time!" the -second warder said. "You've killed him!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="at-post-bridge-hall"><span class="large">CHAPTER XVII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">AT POST BRIDGE HALL.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The warders stared into each other's faces.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a bad job. You're sure he's dead——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He threw it into the heather, and turned away -to hide his emotion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which way did the other fellow go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know. You get the ponies—I'll wait here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'm damned!" he ejaculated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jamming a cartridge into his gun, he fired it off.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A voice outside hailed the warder, and he stepped -back—and disappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll keep the secret about our radium mine, old -man, never fear. It's safe with me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His head swam: he put his hands up before his -eyes for a moment. The sudden draught of freedom -had intoxicated him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course the news of the escape had spread, and -the place was alive with people searching.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How eager men and women were to hunt their -kind! He remembered how as a boy he had joined -in just such a hunt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="alarmed"><span class="large">CHAPTER XVIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">ALARMED.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim would learn to forget; work would help him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was only the night before she left for Calais that -she discovered the reason.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjorie flushed with resentment and disappointment. -Despard was the last person in the world -she wanted to see.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have I got to drive home in that thing?" she -cried, pointing disdainfully to the motor-car.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Despard has discovered that we've been -living with a fortune under our feet all these years," -Dale explained.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whose work is this?" she asked. "Mr. Despard's, -of course! I suppose Sir Reginald gave permission——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how is Mr. Despard to be paid?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was ashamed—not of herself or her brother, -but of them!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Marjorie laughed in his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear, my dear one, what does anything else -in the world matter so long as we have one another!" -Jim whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He silenced her with his lips: "And helpless, -useless without his mate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Twice a servant knocked at the door before Jim -heard, and starting up told him to enter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what is it?" he asked, striking a match -to light the candles, fearful lest his father had -returned earlier than he expected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very good, sir!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The servant was about to retire when the burly -form of a uniformed warder blocked the doorway. -He saluted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand Sir Reginald is away; can I -speak to you a moment, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim glanced over his shoulder at Marjorie. She -was hidden from sight, seated in a large armchair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly," he replied. He crossed the room -and stepped into the hall, closing the drawing-room -door behind him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very quietly stepping towards the door which -led into the hot-house, she pulled back the curtain -and peered through the glass panel.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="you-must-go-back"><span id="xix"></span><span class="large">CHAPTER XIX.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">"YOU MUST GO BACK!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she saw, pressed tightly against the wall, -the outline of a foot and leg. Some one was hiding -there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next moment her eyes had seen the tell-tale -broad-arrow on the boot and trousers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marjorie—where are you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One moment," she cried, "I want you, Jim."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something stirred at her feet. A movement -from the hunted creature lying hidden beneath -the ferns and flowers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she felt Jim's hand on her arm. "Hello, -dear, what are you doing out here in the darkness?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't move," she cried, scarcely knowing what she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wanted to steal that rose," she whispered. -"I'm not tall enough. Do pick it for me, Jim."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Silly child," he laughed. "You gave me quite -a fright. I thought something was wrong."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems rather hot in here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it's hotter in there," he laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She felt his grip tighten. "Why, just now you -confessed——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I confessed what </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> 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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some one knocked at the drawing-room door. -It opened, and the servant admitted the chief warder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jim, come here quickly. I have something I -must tell you before the warders go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim looked at her with unbelieving eyes. Then -putting her aside, he stepped quickly towards the -conservatory. Suddenly he stopped and swung round.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marjorie! You're certain of this? Why didn't -you speak—before the warders left?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you going to do?" Marjorie whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stood in the doorway blocking the exit. Marjorie -stood in front of him and laid her hands on -his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jim—you mustn't give him up. It's horrible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He tried to push her away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Silence, dear. You don't know what you're saying."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You rang, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bring the glasses, a syphon of soda water, and -the whisky," Jim said in a strained voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Directly the servant had gone he pointed to the -sofa on the other side of the fireplace away from the -entrance to the conservatory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marjorie, dear, go and sit down there. I -understand, and I'm sorry; but I must do my duty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim had turned his back on her. He disappeared -into the conservatory and the door closed behind him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perkins brought the tumblers and the whisky -into the room and placed them on a small table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He suddenly stopped and coughed deprecatingly. -He, too, in speaking of convicts had forgotten -that he was speaking to a convict's sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently she detected an answering voice. She -rose to her feet, and standing against the -conservatory door peered through the glass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go back!" he cried fiercely. "Go—away—into -the dining-room."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must tell me what you're going to do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go away, do you hear! Go away, do you hear! -Wait until I come to you." He commanded now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are hiding something from me, Jim.... -You are going to give him up——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he seized her wrists in a grip of iron. -"You know who's hiding out there," he said between -his teeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A convict—that's all I know——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go back!" Jim cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't know, Jim, I didn't know!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded. "Speak quietly. Sit down there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused a moment as if expecting an interruption, -but neither Jim nor Marjorie spoke. They -were as motionless as figures of stone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am innocent."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's not the question now. You must go back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="plans-for-escape"><span class="large">CHAPTER XX.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">PLANS FOR ESCAPE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It can make no difference." Jim Crichton spoke. -"He has been found guilty. He has escaped from -prison. He must go back to prison."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am innocent," he said at last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjorie put her arms around him, holding him -closely and tightly. "I knew it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tears filled her eyes, but she forced them back. -"Who was the guilty person? Do you know that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. I know that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who was it?" Her voice rose triumphantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall never say who was guilty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He backed across the room as he spoke, and -gazed around as if seeking for some weapon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjorie stepped towards her lover and held -out her arms. "Jim!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He shook his head, and crossing the room unlocked -the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jim! What are you going to do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must do my duty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door-handle rattled in his hand. He stood -with his back towards her. "Marjorie, don't -tempt me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be silent," Jim said again. He turned round -and looked at Marjorie. "You have heard. What -do you say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Save him. Perhaps I am asking you the greatest -thing in the world. If my love is worth the -sacrifice—make it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait here. I shall not be long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down, dear," Marjorie said, striving to -regain her normal voice. "You must be very tired."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head. "Wait."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last Jim returned. He left the door open and -beckoned to Rupert. "Follow me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am listening, Jim."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He waited a moment. Marjorie said nothing, -but he felt her body tremble. He held her -tighter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="ready-for-flight"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">READY FOR FLIGHT.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had to play a part, and she sometimes marvelled -herself at the cool, deliberate way in which -she played it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alone?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a moment's silence. Marjorie caught -her breath. There seemed to be a challenge in -Despard's voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard shrugged his shoulders as he left the room. -"Perhaps," he murmured under his breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Crichton shook hands with Dale, and the old man -held his hand a few moments longer than was -necessary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're convinced of your son's guilt, then?" -Jim said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course I am. Why, he confessed it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They reached the bridge, and stood for a few -minutes gazing down into the foaming waters. -Presently Jim held out his hand:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="jim-starts-off"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">JIM STARTS OFF.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was early morning, but all was activity and -bustle at Netheravon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-morning, gentlemen. Is Lieutenant -Crichton here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim stepped forward and saluted. He was in -service dress, with a safety helmet in place of the -usual forage cap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I hope the weather is satisfactory, -Crichton?" the Chief said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir, thank you; it is a perfect day for -a flight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The General then asked several technical questions -about the monoplane. "You are taking a passenger -with you, are you not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By Jove, he's coming down. Something wrong—look! -He's hit the ground—see the dust?" And -similar exclamations rose from the crowd.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look! Look!" shouted some one. "See the -dust he's making!" In another moment the -monoplane was seen in the air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a minute or two the aeroplane began to descend. -It brought up nearly on the spot it had started from.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good lord, Crichton, why on earth did you not -say so before? Why do you prefer Jackson?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, I'll tell him; but it's rather rough -on him, all the same."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jackson, have you put the things I told you -in my kit-bag?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir, and two of everything, sir. Shall I -strap the bag on?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, and you are to come with me; so get your -helmet, quick."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Soon it grew smaller and smaller as the distance -increased, and began to curve to West as Jim set -his course for Exeter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm going to trust you with a secret which, if -you blab, will get me into a big row."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very good, sir. I shan't talk, you know that, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Trust me for that, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very much obliged, I am sure, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very good, sir; I quite understand. I'll slip -off quietly at Exeter so as not to be noticed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jackson, do you hear that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir—cylinder misfiring?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shall have to come down. What's that ahead?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Looks like another railway line, sir; and there -is a town there, too—I can make out houses with -the glasses."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That must be Chard. I shall come down when -I see a good field."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The monoplane began to drop. Fields and hedges -were plainly visible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just put your glasses on to that big, green -patch away to the right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Racecourse, sir. First-class landing by the -looks of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim said this in a voice which could be heard by -every one present. Then he climbed into his seat -again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="success"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">SUCCESS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I remember all that," Rupert replied hastily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed only a few moments before the gleam -of water and a pall of smoke showed Rupert that -Plymouth was just ahead.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert also climbed down and was instantly -surrounded by soldiers, who plied him with questions. -Before he could reply Jim pushed through them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, sir." And Rupert gave his best military salute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert, bag in hand, hurried to the gate, glad -to escape further questions from his supposed -comrades.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert found himself confronted by a short, stout, -red-faced man in a red tunic with three gold stripes -on his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Name and regiment?" he snapped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert saw the necessity for a prompt answer at -once and replied "Private Jackson, Royal Flying -Corps."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's your number?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Number?" repeated Rupert in surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on, now—don't you let me 'ave none of -your ... nonsense. Out with it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alone in the darkness again!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the best part of a year he had been shut -off from human intercourse and converse with his -fellow men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had to keep a tight grip on himself, or he -knew he would have bolted—like a thief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, overhead, the great blue sky. He was free, -really a free man again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And there an hour or two later Jim found him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But they were not out of danger yet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim had a hot bath and changed, then he told -Rupert to do the same.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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—</span><em class="italics">John -Cotton</em><span>! 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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert nodded his head. He could not thank -Crichton. Mere words would not convey what -he felt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps Jim knew what was passing in his mind, -for he laid his hand on his shoulder a moment, -giving it a friendly grip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert raised his head and looked straight into -Jim's face. "Thank God for that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forget everything," Jim continued. "Only -remember John Cotton, the coffee planter, en route -for Singapore."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He wondered when he would grow accustomed to it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will take care of Marjorie. Whatever -happens, whether you marry her or not, don't let -Despard get hold of her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You need have no fear on that score, old man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a short silence. Rupert was still -standing with his back to Jim, staring out of the -window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean Miss Strode?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll see her and give her your message. You -mustn't write."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim started. He made a movement towards -Rupert, his lips framing a question. He checked -it, and, turning away, rang the bell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert nodded and crossed the room. "I see -you've got your name all right." Jim smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At eight o'clock they made their way to the theatre -and found Captain Sparkes and his friend already -occupying one of the boxes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It contained three words. "Flight quite successful," -and was addressed to "Marjorie Dale, Blackthorn -Farm, Post Bridge."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Long before sunrise Jim Crichton was standing -at his bedroom window gazing with anxious eyes -over Plymouth Sound.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="ruby-s-declaration"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXIV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">RUBY'S DECLARATION.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Supposing Miss Strode could prove that Rupert -is innocent, what then?" Jim asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll walk with you," Sir Reginald said. "I've -something I want to say to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was talking to my solicitors to-day, and, -of course, Mr. Despard's name cropped up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why of course?" Jim asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would it shock you if I smoked?" she asked. -"I can't help it if it does."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I smoke myself," he replied quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed and shook his head. "No. Why should I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You understand?" he whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean that Rupert has really escaped? -That there's no chance of his being captured and -taken back to prison?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bowed his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who helped him escape? Who got him out of England?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jim did not reply. Bending down Ruby kissed -his hand again and again. He snatched it away -and turned on his heel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God bless you!" she whispered hoarsely. "Don't -go yet, Mr. Crichton. Tell me—tell me that you -believe he's innocent?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe he is innocent. But—why couldn't -he prove his innocence? If you did it, unknown -to him——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely you didn't think when you did this -thing your crime would remain undetected?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They will believe you if you can find proof."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruby was walking up and down the room now, her -head thrown back, her fists tightly clenched. She -looked magnificent, terrible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's no if!" she cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You realise that if we clear him it means that -you take his place? You will be sent to prison."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="an-exciting-time"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">AN EXCITING TIME.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Singapore!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The chain rattled through the hausehole -with a deafening roar, and the great -ship swung at anchor in the Roads.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will be getting sunstroke if you stand -there with your helmet off, Cotton."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert nodded. His head was in a whirl—and -his heart. He had reached the end of his -journey. He was free! And yet——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert looked him in the face. Patterson was a -"white man" he knew. A straight man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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 </span><em class="italics">and what he was</em><span>!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An escaped convict, a felon with a price on his head!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A nice companion for this straight, clean Englishman, -who proposed to take him, alone, in the vast -interior of wild Borneo.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He thought of his father, of little Marjorie, -his sister. And last of Ruby, the woman he loved!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They would have asked him to play the game.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You—you still want me to come with you?" -Rupert stammered. "You still trust me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patterson laughed. "Now, more than ever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where shall we land?" he asked in Malay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know—wherever your honour wishes," -the helmsman replied. "Your honour knows best."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Murut! Murut!" shouted the Malays. "Turn -quick! Quick!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the first alarm Rupert and Patterson had -seized their rifles and opened fire, Patterson shouting -orders to keep the canoe in mid-stream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surrender, and the Muruts shall not kill -you. Touch not your guns but step up upon the land."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beware, O chief, for they will take our heads -presently when their blood is fired by drink."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anything I can do for you, old man, if—if you're -unlucky?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hag-like woman had seen him. Patterson was -discovered, too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A score of writhing, steel-coloured, blood-stained -bodies reeled towards them, closed round them, -cutting off all chance of escape.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="an-argument"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXVI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">AN ARGUMENT.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, if he chose to sell his shares he knew he -might realise a small fortune. But Despard begged -him to wait.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They'll touch five pounds yet," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had almost given her up as hopeless, had -frankly told Sir Reginald he could do no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Despard knew this, and it encouraged him -to play his last card. A desperate one and a -dangerous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had come after all!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His fingers trembled a little as he turned the -Chubb lock and opened the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The woman standing outside entered quickly. -Despard closed the door, and, turning, held out -his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was afraid you were not coming, Marjorie——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have made a mistake. I am not Miss -Dale. I am Ruby—Ruby Strode."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard's teeth met in his lip. He repressed an -oath. "You—what do you want with me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hesitated a moment, then pulled himself -together and opened the sitting-room door. Ruby -entered and he followed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you sit down? Have a whisky and soda?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded. "Thanks, I would like a drink."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He saw her face grow scarlet for a moment, her -eyes flash, then she veiled them, and, shrugging -her shoulders, laughed easily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's about my quondam lover, as you call him, -that I've come to see you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She emptied the glass he had given her, then -pulled her chair closer to his and looked at him -eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Despard—Bob—you are rich now and -powerful. You've got everything you want in the -world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not quite," he said, leaning towards her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nearly everything," she continued. "You've -got money, and that buys most things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," Despard grinned. There was a moment's -pause, and again he leaned towards her. "Have -you anything you want to sell?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more the colour mounted her cheeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps," she stammered. "I'll tell you straight -out. There's nothing I wouldn't do in order to -clear Rupert Dale's name."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen," she whispered. "I know if you had -spoken at the trial you would have saved Rupert."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Supposing for the sake of argument that I could -have. What then?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="ruby-s-heroism"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXVII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">RUBY'S HEROISM.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you have another, Ruby?" he asked -in a soft voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, I will have a tiny drop, please, with -plenty of soda."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard turned his back on her and half filled her -tumbler with spirit, he then frothed it over the brim -with soda.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now then, go ahead," he laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A statement which will absolutely exonerate -Rupert?" Ruby's voice seemed to come with an effort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You admit, then, that you saw me alter the -cheque in Rupert's rooms that afternoon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned round as he spoke and looked straight -at her. Her face was contorted with rage, her eyes -were flaming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've got the truth at last," she cried. "Every -one shall know it now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard moved, placing himself between Ruby -and the door. He was afraid what she might do in -her passion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You never loved me," she cried. "Rupert was -my lover and you know it. You came between us. -You were jealous of him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned away as if overcome, and with an -unsteady hand poured some more whisky into her -tumbler and raised it to her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I laughed because I found it difficult to believe -you really loved me, Mr. Despard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You knew I wanted you," he said huskily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The colour ebbed and flowed from her face. -"Oh, yes, I knew that, but——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want you now," he whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She pretended to try and drag her hand away. -"Why have you only just said so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard bent over her, feasting his eyes on her -beauty. Again he pressed his lips to hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard advanced, but she retreated. "I'll make -you love me," he whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll teach you to love me, Ruby. Come, let -me kiss your lips again—they are sweeter than wine -and more intoxicating."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed hysterically. The spirit had gone to -her head, but she fought to keep her brain clear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Prove your love!" she cried, stretching out her -hands to keep him off. "Prove it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gad, what an obstinate little vixen it is!" he -said between his teeth. "What does this fellow -Rupert Dale matter to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You want me to make a declaration that will -clear Rupert's name, should he ever return to -England?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. Write down what you said to me just -now. It must be witnessed and sent to Mr. John -Dale."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will that do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put his arm around her; she repressed a -shudder. She commenced to fold up the statement -he had made.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Until to-morrow," she cried feverishly, trying to -fasten her coat. "I must get back to-night——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard followed her as she opened the door. "Oh, -no, you don't," he cried grimly. "You might -oversleep yourself or forget, my dear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall not do that," she replied boldly. "I -love you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In her anxiety she over-acted. Suspicion flashed -in Despard's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Exerting all her strength, she tried to wrench -herself free. "Let me go—you are hurting me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her voice rose shrilly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard lost his temper. "Very well—if you'll -swear to be here to-morrow by nine o'clock!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I swear!" she cried eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ruby ceased struggling and put her hands up to -his face caressingly. "Don't you trust me, Bob?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me go, or I'll fire!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you touch me, I'll shoot you!" she cried -between her teeth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me go, or I'll shoot!" she panted. "I warn -you! I'll kill you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Neither of them heard footsteps outside, nor the -ringing of the front-door bell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quick—there has been an accident!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An accident!" he mumbled thickly. "Are you—who -are you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man brushed past him and flung himself on -his knees at Ruby's side. "I am Rupert Dale!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Despard staggered back and almost fell. The -hall-porter who was just behind put out his hand and -caught him by the arm.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head. "I'm dying. But you'll -take me with you, Rupert?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know her, sir?" the inspector said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Rupert bowed his head. He was silent a moment. -Down his tanned, weather-stained cheeks tears were -silently falling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She was my affianced wife."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="finis"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXVIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">FINIS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For his son had come back—had risen, as it were, -from the dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A fortnight before the trial of Robert Despard -took place, Sir Reginald arranged a meeting between -his son Jim, John Dale, and Marjorie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Reginald glanced at John Dale. But the old -yeoman farmer said nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjorie's eyes filled with tears as Jim took her in -his arms and kissed her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And John Dale took his daughter's hand and kissed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was found guilty and sentenced to seven years' -penal servitude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Rupert nodded and gripped Patterson's hand -tightly. "You're the best friend I ever had," he -said huskily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Best thing you can do, Dale," Patterson said, -"is to come out East again and bring your father -with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What will happen to the property now?" -Patterson asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<!-- class: center medium - -THE END. --> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<!-- class: center small - -LONDON: WARD, LOCK & Co., LIMITED. --> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>BLACKTHORN FARM</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42519"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42519</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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™ -electronic works to protect the Project Gutenberg™ concept and -trademark. 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