ON THE BRINK OF A CHASM.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 3342, 7 October 1911, Page 3

ON THE BRINK OF A CHASM.

(By L. T. Meade, author of “A Sou of Isbmael.” etc.)

A RECORD OF PLOT AND PASSION.

CHAPTER LXX

THE KING HAS HIS OWN AGAIN

It occurred to little Sir Piers that it would' be a good thing if mow that he was quit© well, be went home. As no one was inclined to take him he thought he would go by himself. That would not be exactly breaking his word, for surely if lie were well he might go home to his mother and to Dick and to Barbara. He thought the matter over in. the puzzled and yet wise way of seven years old. He did not wish to be unkind to his nurse or unkind to grannie, but, all the same, it seemed to him only fail- that ho should at least see the old place again, and his mother and Barbara, the lady with the starry brown, eyes, and Dick, the hero of his boyish dreams.

So when Mrs Ives went to London Piers quickly made, up his mind. He had no money, but lie had a slirewd wit, a brave spirit, amd a gentleman’s heart. When darkness fell lie left the cottage and walked quickly up the high road. Piers was dressed by Clara’s orders just as any other peasant boy. He wore a shabby blouse, much worn knickerbockers, and socks which revealed his bare legs above them. His socks were blue, coarse homespun, his shoes were also coarse, and just what a village boy would wear.

But, though Clara and her mother disguised the lad in. these clothes, they could not take away his gallant figure, his beautiful face, liis dancing eyes, and his classical features. They could not take away a certain personality which raised him above the common, herd. Still, in the dusk no one would specially notice these tilings', and a village boy wandering about was not like to ah tract attention,. He walked lie did not know where for a very long time. He was under the impression that be was going in the direction of Devon- - shire. Whenever he met anyone he asked where Devonshire was, and as a rule the person spoken to pointed in a certain direction, and Piers walked on. When, he got, to a cottage he went to the door and asked for a drink of water. There was something wonderfully appealing in his dark eyes, and he usually received either a hunch of bread or a big glass of milk instead, so that although lie bad no money be did not starve, and as the first night was a warm one be lay down under the shelter of a great hayrick, burrowing a little way into it, and so escaping the worst of the cold and cliill. Early in the morning he got up and walked < n again, and thus lie continued, journeying by easy stages, receiving food from time to time from the cottagers, and attracting little or no attention for two

days. He bad really at last crossed the borders and was ini Devonshire. He was footsore and weary, and Devonshire was a big place, and he had not the least idea in what part- of it Pelham Towers was situated. It occurred to him early on the morning of the third day that lie must do something more. His boots were much worn with walking and his dress untidy. His knees were torn, and his face had lost its color; uis eyes, too, Siad a strained and anxious expression

He began to see his home in liis dreams. He began, to dream when he walked as well as when lie lay down ; ho became very anxious indeed. . The longing to see his mother and Barbara grew keener and keener. He had neverrealised before that; walking was so tiring. It seemed hard that he chuld have to walk and be bo hungry when he was in reality such a rich little boy—a king in liis way—with five big places of his own. As lie was thinking these thoughts in the arly morning he saw a gentleman coming towards him in a gig. The gentleman had red whiskers and a red face. He was a stout personage, and lie was driving a chestnut, cob with a firm hand.

“Please stop!” said Piers, running into the middle of the road and holding up, his own thin hand to arrest attention.

Now it so happened that this man, a certain Squire Furzby, liad been reading the account of the magistrate’s inquiry into., the strange case of Sir Richard .Pelham. He, had been reading it wiijh great interest, for, of course, he, knew the Pelhams or Pelham Towers well.

“Please stop,!” called little Piers. / The gentleman drew up liis house and said “Hullo!”

“Is this Devonshire, please?” asked Piers.

“You ought to know that, my little man,. You were born here, I make no doubt.”

“It is quite true, I was born in Devnsliire,” replied Piers. “But I have come from Cornwall. I have walked a very long way.” “What a queer little chap! Can I do anything for you?” piers ga.zed earnestly up at Squire Furzby. “May I speak to you as one gentleman to another?” he asked.

The squire gazed hard at the battered and much dilapidated little apparition in the road.

“As one gentleman to another? Yos, certainly,” lie said, a smile dancing into his eyes. < a • “As I am in Devonshire, and as tick-

ets cost a great deal,” continued Piers, “I was going to ask if you would drive mo t-o the nearest railway station, and if you would lend me my fare, third class ? to a station called Haversliam. I’m seven years old, so I shall only want a half-ticket.” -What an extraordinary boy! What do you want to go to Haversliam for? Have you no money of. your own?” Piers held up his two empty hands. *‘l have a great deal of money,” lie said. “I am a very rich boy.” He paused. “Well?” “I can’t tell you any more ; hut will you trust, mo with a third-class fare to Haversliam?” “The nearest railway station is lialf-a-mile away, just behind those trees,” said Squire Furzby. “Please will you take me there. I will promise so -faithfully to return the money if you’ll lend it to me, on my honor, you know. And as you are a gentleman, and I’m another, do you think you could trust mo?” “Your ticket at lialf-pric© third-class costs one and elevenpence,” said the gentleman. “I happen to know that line well.” “Well you lend it me? It would be such an immense help.” “If you tell me what you want it for.” (To be continued on Monday.)