THE GRIP OF GOLD.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXX, Issue 3576, 16 July 1912, Page 3

THE GRIP OF GOLD.

By ROBERT HALIFAX.

(Author of “The Drums of Fate,” “The House of Horror,” “A Woman in Their Web,” “Law Society,” ect., etc:} (Copyright—All Rights Reserved.) CHAPTER XVIII. SPEAK, SPEAK TO ME! It twisted up convulsively. It wits a man’s figure—that was all he knew in that whirling moment. An arm clamped his knees as lie shot out to grasp it- He went down, the base of his skull thudding against a. sawn stump. He struggled up, a noise a* of roaring waters in his ears. He seemed blinded. Refore he fairly realised that the blow had crushed the lmt-brim down over his eyes he fel-t the same arm grip him from behind. Blows from a ringed, clenched hand were raining upon his right temple. As he dashed back bis head, the man gave a moan of agony, grappled for a bold upon his throat, got it, and dragged him backwards as for a throw that would end all. Murder?—murder out here in the lonely plantation belt? Spurr hardly realised yet that a blow had been struck—the swiftness of it all in that deep obscurity left it incredible —he had been prepared for nothing so sinister and definite. His breath was coming in quick gasps; lie stared into the red mist of death —death by suffocation.

A brief tentative pause now. Their panting figures swayed together uncertainly. The hands clamped Spare's throat as tightly as ever, but the man who owned the grip was afraid —afraid to release or to kill. And Spurr was strong; he had lived a careful life from a man’s point cf view ; the surprise over, all his manhood and muscle rose against the odds, and the man who could calmly terrorise a woman. He suddenly hurled himself backward. Their bodies crashed and rolled over the pine-needles—mere slowly—more feebly-—now almost inertly. Nothing had been gained by superior strength; the fingers of the unknown man retained tlieir hold with nervous, terrible tenacity. The pheasants screeched in the trees about them ; the still plantation seemed alive with sound, as Spurr set 'his teeth and concentrated his faculties for a last effort that could not—should not—fail. He was ready; he knew that the clutching man was limp and exhausted ; he had gathered his limbs together for the twist -when—crash 1

A deadening blow had been dealt at bis bead. A heavy blow —although both of his assailant’s hands were lettered by that grip. Heaven and earth seemed to come together. "With a mighty effort he struggled up out of the threatening oblivion, groped forward into the moonlight, saw a man’s figure racing dimly ahead of him, staggered unsteadily in pursuit for about a hundred yards, tried to shout, tottered—and fell forward- * * * “'Speak 1 Speak to me 1 Mr Spurr!” It was a quiet, unflurried voice that seemed to come as from another world. He lay still, unable to open his eyes or to answer. A sick lethargy held him. How long he had lain so he might never know. “But what is it? "What lias happened? Trust me 1 You know Sister Judith Cottrell? Surely.”

'Hie subchied voice, trained in the •sick-room, came a little more clearly. He could realise that his hand was held between hers, and that she had tried to open, and perhaps to chafe it. Xot for another moment did he know that his fingers were tightly clenched upon a tiny fragment of gold watch chain.

“Lie quite still 1” she said,, passing her cool hand over his forehead. He obeyed. There was something hypnotic again in the more movement—in the very stillness of her kneeling attitude. It was Judith Cottrell —the woman whose door lie had opened in error—here! She bent yet lower, to look closely. “You almost frightened me—me!” she whispered. “I have seen a strong man taken by a fit before, but never in that way—never so strangely. Why, don’t you know? You looked to he running; you Hoppled forward; you have not stirred for ten minutes.”

“Where—where were you?” He hardly knew that his lips had moved. The oblivion, and the lulling touch, seemed to have made that struggle in the fir-belt a thing of hours ago. “On the lawn there—just behind the house. Being a woman, I ought to have screamed out —but I never was able to do that vet. The nurse’s instinct made me run. You are better —you can move? Shall I call someone from the house?*’ “No-—no!” Ho set his teeth upon a gasp of recurring pain through his temples, put back her hand, and got to his feet. “No! Say nothing—there is more than enough on their minds already. It was my own fault for — for tackling a man whom I teiefc to lie poaching. And you saw me —you saw mo from the lawn?” “You need not thank me!” ,:Sho stood, tall and composed as a Cleopatra before him. Her quiet voice had taken a cold note, as if she were chilled by his manner. “I have done nothing. It happened to me late tonight before I came down for iny only breath of air in the open—that is all. It was to be! Let it pass” “Forgive me!” He felt pak, daz-

eel. On a sudden, .vague impulse lie groped, out for ner hand and raised it to his lips. It was the homage of a single-hearted man, who had escaped cynicism—who held woman in respect as something softly-wonderful, tactful, and weaker than himself. “God knows, lam not ungrateful i I do thank you 1 Only—only—” What?” The grey eyes matched him in strange wonder. And, for the second time that night, the natural impulse to speak out was checked in his throat. The sickness had passed. He could smile.

“Nothing—nothing. I will tell yva at some other time. Yes, I can walk quite easily—hut I’ll keep your arm. It must be late 1” “Half-past- 10. There goes the Felcoto clock—one. note,” alio said.

They went slowly over the grass, without another word. On the edge of the moonlit drive Spurr paused and looked around. “Must I knock? I would rather — all this is strange to. me.” -And she seemed to understand ins man’s mind.

“Wait here,” she said. “Ycu need not be seen with me—so late. The drawing-room windows are still open —just up the balcony there. I have the key of the servants’ entrance.” She stood just an instant longer, looking at hinp “You look ill,” she wlv„*spered. “I am so sorry—so sorry that I cannot help you. But you’ll know 1 A nurse’ is not exactly as other women. She is a woman —and something more. She has learned her life’s lesson in the silent ward. You will be told, no doubt, that Sister Judith was a- mere living automaton, who existed in herself and thought only of herself. You will believe that, if you chooseI have been bated here for my very silence. Silence I—that1—that is more eloquent than all the words to those whocan understand. But 1 must not keep you out here- Evil will be worked into that small fact, you’ll find. All those windows are eyes. Gccd-night!” For that instant, drawn up, with the moonlight’s play upon her, she looked like a- tragedy queen. Then she had turned—to turn slowly again as the man’s husky voice sounded.

“Come back!” He scarcely knew what had impelled him—knew only that he was stirred to the depths. He loathed mystery : vet lie was groping into « deeper darkness every hour. He took a step and looked close into her colorless face. He was stern and strong enough in that moment. “I don’t understand,” be said. “I judge no one—l can read for myself. 1 speak to you now as I would speak to any woman I want to honor. You know what lias happened to-night; ycu know that I stand in the mostterrible position that could come to a man. I have to fight my very way out of it. I don’t care to feel that I am in the tentacles of further complications.” He took both her wrists suddenly, and hold them tight. “I may be wrong—you may think I am macl; but will you—can you—swear to me that von—”

No, lie could not put it into words. Not a muscle of her composed face had twitched; the steady grey eyes windowed only a vast wonder. It could never he asked or answered. He dropped her band:-, and stood hack- “ You go,” be said mere quietly. “Think no more of it—say nothing of this to anyone, as I asked you. Siles.ee, you said just now, can be more eloquent than all the words !” “Yes! Trust me, even although I do not understand.” Calmly, naturally, she brushed away the pine-needles and leaves adhering to his clothes, smootfied back the disordered wave of dark hair falling over his forehead, and drew his necktie, into posticn with the cool, slim fingers. “There!” she said, ever so softly. “As a man, you might have forgotten that- —and others might have wondered. Goodnight !” And she had moved around the house wall with her noiseless step. She had not looked back—she was not the woman to do that. Perhaps she know—knew that lie was staring into space with blank eyes, with the feeling that those tentacles were winding themselves more closely about him as he stood. (To he continued daily.)