THE HEART OF A GIRL.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXX, Issue 3541, 4 June 1912, Page 3

THE HEART OF A GIRL.

BY HENRY FARMER.

Author of “The Money-Lender,” “12a, Quiltry Street,”, “Bondage,” etc.

(Published, by Special Arrangement.)

COPYRIGHT—ALL RIGHTS RE-

SERVED

CHAPTER X. (Continued.)

Thorne’s hand-closed over the banknote. The general public had consigned the Hasted hank robbery to the limbo of forgotten things. The police had pigeon-holed it. Only a very small portion of the money stolen, in the shape of notes concealed in Stanmore’ S; bedroom, had been recovered at the time. The police theory had been and was, that the bulk, composed mostly of notes, bonds, and securities, the greater part being more or less negotiable with caution, might after a time filter back into circulation, probably on the Continent. The racecourse was another recognised place for the getting rid of stolen notes. The police were pretty sure on one subject, whether Stanmore had invented the story of. Roy Stannard t;> distract attention, from his. real conferderate, or had worked the robbery single-handed: when Stannard had served his time he would find a nice little pile awaiting him.

“I want that note back,” insisted Mr Gordon Price, doggedness creeping into his voice. “It might—l don’t say it will—but it might lead to revelations—placed in the hands of the police—that would throw a new light on the Hasted bank robbery!” He was not, as a rule, remarkable for the steadiness of his eyes. But he was eyeing the other man steadily now. In the past, figuratively speaking, lie had crawled round Thome’s feet and licked his boots. Perhaps, stimulants had temporarily stiffened him. His conduct at this moment was that of a blackmailer, thinly disguised. All circumstances considered, p revival of interest in the Hasted bank robbery would be inopportune at the present time. It would re-act unfavorably on Queenie —from Thorne’s point of view. Mr Price continued to look steadily at Thorne.

“Bless you, my dear boy, dear lad!” lie went on. “I feel so confident—as my dear wife dobs likewise—in your power to make my dear che-ild, mv beautiful Queenie, happy, to help her find forgetfulness. But give me back that note! As a citizen, as a member of society with duties towards civilisation, law and order, it is my duty to place ft in the hands of the police, unless ”

“Unless—:what?” asked Thorne, still retaining the note.

Mr Price pressed a hand to his forehead, and stared up appealingly at the ceiling as if asking divine forgiveness should lie permit his paternal instincts to overcome him.

“Unless—l speak now as a father—thinking of my beloved ehe-ild’s peace of mind, for Queenie’s sake, forgetting my duties as a citizen, a member of society—l—we—you and I—suppress that link with the crime that cast a shadow, a blighting shadow, over a happy, if impoverished home!” Thorne’s eyes—his head was lowered —were almost invisible. Mr Gordon Price crossed again to the whisky decanter. When he spoke again his back was turned, ■ and it was to the accompaniment of sodawater being squirted from a syphon. “But, what with a wedding in the near future,- and several pressing obligations ” Thorne pushed the five sovereigns across the table. The sound caused Mr Price to turn.

“That cashes the note,” said Thorne-. “Wait a minute!”

He quitted the room, Mr Price heaved a deep sigh, and t-ook advantage of the opportunity to strengthen his drink with a further supplement of whisky. Then, suddenly and spasmodically exhilarated, he indulged in a step-dance, slopping some of his drink on the floor as he did so. Michael had tumbled to the potential importance of. that note; was buying it. Mr Price gathered up the gold from the table "and jingled it affectionately in the palm of his right hand.

When Thorne returned to the room he brought with him a small parcel of notes. Mr Price’s rather glazed eyes lit- up. Thorne flickered through the notes with the deftness of a bank cashier. His tones were businesslike.

; “Twenty-five pounds,” he said “Five fives.”

And so the dirty deal was concluded. There was only a possibility associated with the bank-note that had changed hands, but two men had done their best to eliminate that possibility. In the past every financial transaction between Mr Price and Thorne had been conducted on a business basis. But this time no paper was signed; there were no stipulations. “God bless you, dear boy—dear lad !” Mr Price "thrust the notes into his letter-case. “I shall be running down to Southbourne next week. The home is lonely without my dear wife — Queenie —very lonely. I’m a homebird—l want my wife and all my eheildren about me. ' But I’m not selfish—here to-day—and gone to-mov-row—we are but as grass. Vanity—-

all is vanity—saith the preacher!” Mr Price was doing his best, while speaking, to restore a more or less respectable appearance to the hat on which he had seated himself inadvertently. He tripped, over a rug as he neared th 2 door, and murmured, “I beg your pardon, sir!” Thorne watched him quit the room, his expression contemptuously sarcastic He closed the door before crossing to the fireplace. A banknote was crushed up in one hand. He dropped it into the fire and thrust it deep into the live embers with the poker. / , Other notes, the numbers of which were known, might find their way into circulation; hut one at least had been disposed of.

His face was a mask as he seated himself and drew out a pocket diary. The sooner the wedding now, the better—in case of unexepected developments.

Ho starred a cross against a date. Subject to Queenie’s approval, that was the. date of his wedding. He thrust away his diary and lit a cigarette, one of the cheap brand he smoked when a plodding clerk with long ears that gleaned him the information oil which his success had been based. For some while he brooded, the shift of his dulL eyes and the occasional movement of a hand across his forehead indicating that his thoughts were of a restless, troublesome nature. Presently he again pulled out his diary and found the provisional date of his wedding. He cancelled it, sprawling through the cross with a pencil ; turned hack a page or two in quest of an earlier date.

Better nothing to chance. Once married, once the marriage was consummated, it would not matter so much if unexpected developments revived interest in the Hasted bank robbery.

He starred another cross in his diary against an earlier date. The wedding should be a quiet one—the bride in her travelling gown, which he, Thorne, would pay for as he would pay for everything else in connection with the ceremony. It should he a quiet affair—not for economy’s jsake. He would show Queenie the value and power of money on their honeymoon, during their subsequent life. He begrudged every penny lie had spent schemingly and diplomatically on her human sponge of a father. But lie would lavish it willingly on her in the hope of dazzling and distracting her. He was staring again at his diary. “Couldn’t manage it earlier, than ’that?” lie questioned-half aloud. “Xor I reckon the earliest possible date !” A telephone bell buzzed in an adjoining room, faintly audible. Business pursued Thorne into the privacy of h : - flat. He went into the next room and picked up the instrument. “Yes. I’m Thorne!” Then his great hand tightened on the instrument.

“Where are you speaking from?” lie asked huskily.

“A public call office,” came back the reply in a woman’s high-pitched, agitated voice.

“When did it haooen?”

“To-night. I’ve just come from him; they took him to the Eastern Hospital. He—lie’s still unconscious!”

Michael Thorne’s forehead had gone clammy. > Then lie lost his self-control.

“Why on earth didn’t you keep abroad?” he whispered hoarsely into the mouthpiece.

Next day the morning papers—some of them—chronicled- briefly a motorcab accident. A man had been knocked down and seriously injured outside Aldgate Station, so seriously injured that he was not expected to live. He had been removed to the Eastern Hospital, and his name was given as Henry Wentworth. •

There was no account of the grim hospital procedure when a bad accident is brought in, of certain prosaic, but necessary things done on such occa-

sions. The injured man was wearing several false teeth, and these had been removed. One of these was a false left eye-tooth.

But the general public had consigned the Hasted bank robbery and its detail to the limbo of forgotten things. A certain'official circulated at the time was not present in the memories of the house surgeon and dressers when the unconscious man’s false teeth were removed. The description ran thus:

“Boy Stannard, age about thirtyseven. Medium height. Clean shaven, light blue eyes, and lightish brown hair, and in the habit of carrying his left shoulder somewhat higher than than the right. Left eye-tooth missing. May be wearing dark cloth cap, long, dark-brown overcoat the worse for wear, blue-serge reefer suit, and brown boots. Is alleged to liavje been in Hasted on the evening and night of the 17th ult. Anyone in a position to give information as to the present whereabouts of Boy Stannard or who saw an individual in Hasted answering the above description, is requested to communicate at once,” etc.®

But not ia soul had come forward, and the description of Boy Stanndard, who had been dead three years on the evidence of his widow, a doctor, and a death certificate, had been furnished by Hilary Stanmore. (To be Continued.)'