ON THE BRINK OF A CHASM.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 3275, 21 July 1911, Page 3

ON THE BRINK OF A CHASM.

A RECORD OF PLOT AND PASSION.

(By L. T. Meade, author of “A Son of Ishmael,” etc.) <

CHAPTER 111.

THE NEXT HEIR

“It is strange to think that you are really the next heir,” said Barbara. “It is a fact all the same, Barbara. If Peirs were not in the world, dear little ciliap, I should be the baronet, and the property would be'mine. Well, don’t let us say anything more- about it. I suppose I must consent to our not being engaged for the present, but you must make me a promise.”

“What is that ” “Tell me, here and now, that you will never marry anybody else.” .•

“I promise never to marry any man in this wide world but you, Richard Pelham.” said the girl slowly and solelmly f ‘ Tarbot peered through the glass of the conservatory. He could just see the faces of the lovers. Barbara’s was all aflame with emotion. Dick was holding both her hands in a fervent clasp. With bowed head the surgeon moved away. He had made up his mind.

Hailing a hansom, he drove straight to the house of the patient whose dying bed he had promised to attend. It was not close on twelve o’clock—the man had breathed his last a quarter of an hour ago. Tarbot went into the house, made ample, apologies to the widow, sympathised with her as she stood before. him in her grief, and then took his leave.

“No time like the present,” lie said to himself. “My blood is up; I will not wait until the morning. What I have to do I will do quickly.”

“Drive me to Tottenham Court Road and put me down at the corner of Goodge street,” said Tarbot to his driver.

He stepped into the liansom, the man whipped up his horse, and 1 a few moments later the. doctor was walking quietly down Goodge street. It happened to be Saturday night, and Goodge street at that hour was certainly the reverse of aristocratic. Torches were flaring on piled-up barrows holding every sort of fruit. Women were screaming and chaffering, men were lounging about and smoking, children got in; the way, were knocked over, and cried out. Tarbot in liis light overcoat was a strange figure in) the midst of the others. One or two people remarked him, a woman laughed, and a girl came behind him and pushed his hat over his eyes. A peal of laughter followed this witticism. Tarbot did not take the least notice, but walked on quickly. At last he stopped at a corner house which was different from its neighbors. It was newly built, and looked clean and respectable. It was in short, a great block of people’s buildings. He went up the winding stairs, and presently sounded a bell on a door which was painted dark green and on which the number forty-seven shone out in vivid white. There was a brass plate below the number, on which were inscribed the words— MISS CLARA IVES, Trained Nurse, Medical, Surgical.

Tarbot waited for a moment. Would the nurse be in? or, if in, would she have retired to rest?

“Scarcely that,” he muttered to himself; “Clara does not sleep l well. Clara has been subject to insomnia:; she will scarcely retire before midnight on such a hot night as present one.” These thoughts had scarcely darted through liis brain before the door was opened, and a woman, tall and slender, with reddish hair and a freckled face, stood before him. She was a painfully thin woman, her eyes light blue, and her upper lip long. When she saw Tarbot there came a gleam into her eyes—a peculiar look Which for a. moment transformed them; Then she stretched out her long right hand, took hold of the doctor’s, and led him into' the room.

“Who would 1 have thought of seeing yon here, and now?” she said breathlessly. “What do you, want with me Another case, eh? or anything else?” “I want a good deal with you, Clara, as ifc happens!,” said Tai‘b]ot. He spoke in a familiar tone, without a trace of respect in it. “Shut the door, turn on the: gas, and let us talk. As I said, I have much to say.” “But I am going out to a case in half an hour,” said nurse Ives. “I nm packing my things now: —it is a bad case.. A child has been burnt, and they have sent for me.” Somebody else must attend to' it. I want you,” said Talbot.

“What for?” “Another case —one of lifo or death. “What do you mean?” 1 “Have I ever spoken to yon of little Piers Pelham), the present owner of the' Pelham estates?” “What the child who conies between Richard! Pelham and the baronetcy?” said the' nnrse eagerly.

“The same.” “Yes, I have heard of him!; he is a. delicate child. What of him.? ‘ 'lf you undertake his case,-' he runs a chance of being a dead child soon. “Now what does this mean ”

“lt means that I want to revenge a wrong, and the tool is young Piers

Pelham. Do youl follow me?” “Not at present, but I shall soon,” answered the woman, Then, she continued—

“What is the matter with the boy?”

“At present,” said Tarbot, speaking very slowly, “he is quite well, but within a few days lie will be. ill. I shall send for youi; you will purse him.” “And?” said the woman.

Tarbot bent forward and began to whisper in her ear. Nurse Ives had a dead-white complexion:. As the doctor spoke her face turned ghastly.

“You want me to connive at to crime?” she said. '

Tarbot winced, then ho s aid “Yes.” “Is this matter very important to you?” “It is life or death to me—life or death.”

The surgeon rubbed Ms hands slowly one inside the other; his eyes were fixed on the eyes of the nurse. She looked back at him. Then she spoke. “I will do what yon require on a condition.” “What is that?”

“That you make me your wife.” “Tliat I marry you?” said Tarbot. He started up. “That I marry you?” An ugly line, where 6h© had been, cut long ago, came out acorss the woman’s temple. It showed fiery red; the rest of the face was dead-white. Slie laid one of her hands on Tarbot’s; her hand was icy cold. He shivered. “That yon marry me,” she repeated. “That you own me before the world as your lawful wedded wife; only on that condition will I do your bidding.”

Tarbot did not reply for a minute. He turned away from the eager eyes of the purse, and closed his own. As lie did so he saw another vision a vision of a girl in white. He was carried away from his present surroundings as he listened to a girl’s voice. The girl’s face was a lovely cue. and her voice like music. She was saying solemnly, “I promts© never to marry any man in this wide woild but you, Richard Pelham.” “I .ain waiting for my answer.” said Nurse Ives.

“Yes,” cried Tarbot, starting and opening his eyes. “II you do what I want, if our scheme succeeds, I will make you my lawful wedded wife in the sight of Heaven.” (To be continued to-morrow.)