THE GRIP OF GOLD.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXX, Issue 3598, 10 August 1912, Page 5

THE GRIP OF GOLD.

By ROBERT HALIFAX.

(Author of “The Drums of Fate,” “The House of Horror,” “A Woman in Their Web,” “Law Society,” etc., etc.) (Copyright—All Rights 'Reserved.) CHAPTER XL. HOW STRANGE!

“No, 1 won’t go over that igrounu t Coma hack now to the present moment !

“I can only think this! Swift, as lie called' himself, may have been one of tlie gentlemanly tricksters who haunt the big liners, and live by scientific! swindling—swindling that only daring cleverness could make successful. Hie may have gleaned from me more than I know —may even have opened' my boxes in the night; and ■possibly it struck him that the simplest thing in the world would be to represent me here, hear what there was to hear, and reap some reward.

“If so, ho made his hurried preparations the moment wo reached London. He shadowed me; lie had only one more word to hear—‘Fclcoto !’ The cabman was bought at a price. That stain, on his face, the duplicate ulster and hat (in case his hona-fidcs were challenged at any point), did the rest. Even that hypothesis cannot clear up al] the fragments of mystery that have met me here; but the facts remain. Yet, with such a narrow margin of time before him what could he have hoped to profit hv the fraud—unless he thought to blackmail me subsequently into buying lies information ! And how incredibly strange that- fate, should play into his hands in the very Ciul! —that Uncle Loder should pass from life in the intervening moment!

“One thing more, Miss St. John—perhaps the most vital thing of all- I doubt that he hailed from Canada, or that his name was Swift. .Just as it happens, I have a. card that lie unknowingly dropped in my cabin one day from a full card-case. Only this morning I recollected; and there was the card in my breast pocket, where I had slipped it quite casually. Look ! -If anything, it complicates the case, and I should see my way well before using it; but —look! it fell from his'own card-case. You s. c the name and address on it—Manistv!”

He drew the pedestal light close, and hold out the pasteboard slip for her to read. It fluttered down. Sheba was trying to rise, gasps sounding in her throat. She had tried her woman s utmost to he strong and helpful ; but the intangible horror, the thickening uncertainty behind it all,' were too deeply realised. Everything seemed to slip from her for a moment. And then—-then when she came to herself, his arm was around her, and his lips set. and his eyes grave and troubled.

“I am cruel,” ho was saying, over and over. “I should have known. You have borne more than enough already. No more to-night!”

“No —no!” She made one more great effort, and put hack his hands. “You shall! You make me feel a coward—and I am not that! I want to know. You thought—you thought of detectives as your last resource? You wish me to decide for you in that ? jou hesitated: because ” He stood back, his hands twisting behind him.

“What?” she whispered. “Don’t fear to speak. What is it?’’ “ I his! I must know whether MrLoder kept his will in this house —- supposing that he left cue. I cornu ask only you. And, again, if you could give me the barest clue as to what ho had to tell before he died. It was something so precious that he would not trust it oven to his own lawyer. But you ” He held his breath, as Sheba’s shinjug eyes looked past him. He had built upon this last hope. And it fell like a. house of sand.

“1 cannot. In all truth, not one word!” she said, slowly. “I have seen no will, nor heard of one. I was trusted, hut not with that. And I fully believe that no one will ever know what he meant to tell you, except——’ ’

“Swift!’’ Mo went striding to and fro, his throat working. “The blank wall—the blank wall again! It is maddening—maddening 1” Ho strode back, and stood quite close to her. His voice had suddenly changed. “One thing more, Miss St. John, before wo part! '['here is one question of mine you can answer, and you will, strange as it shall sound. Last Thursday—think back! Wore you—con’d you by any. human possibility have been in the maze between jj o’clock and midday? Don’t look at me; just think—l want to know —I mean to know !” “In the maze?” Sheba’s voice seemml to die out of her. She repeated it to herself. Her eyes wandered past him, with a troubled 1 half-wake-ing expression. Was she struggling to recall'something? She touched his arm ever so softly. “Why, why did you ask mo that?”

No answer. His lips parted twice, hut no word pa-ssed. He waited. He saw Sheba’s hand waver up to her forehead. She Spoke, in a hushed, absent way, a si if going mentally step by step over sonic old ground half forgotten. “How strange! The maze—yes, the maze! Not Thursday—no. it seem-

ed to he at night, only a- day or tv ago, I seemed to bo walking from my 1 room in a dream, and yet to know all | that happened— without wondering, till this moment. Another figure moved along the passage ahead of me, and down the back staircase—l had to follow it. We loft the liouso by a door I had never used before; the old servants’ entrance, that had been kept fastened, for years. The 'Shrubbery ends there. Yes—yes; it was just light enough to see. It was a woman’s figure, with the face wrapped in a shawl. I, followed her straight into the maze quite calmly, and along the paths. When she stopped, I stoplied. It seemed —it seemed as if she hadoi. light, and was looking for something there. Then I lost her- leannet remember finding my way out and back into the house. Of a sudden l was standing in my own room. All was as quiet as'ever, and Mrs Saxon lay fast asleep still on the bed opposite mine. I. looked at the clock—l looked at the dust on my felt shoes—the red dust of the cinder path. I lay down again—I could not believe that I had ever moved. No, it was a. dream —must have been! Why should I think of the maze —much less of entering it in that way? And yet -—and yet it seems to real again now— ’’ In the silence Spurr cleared something'huskily from his throat. He sat her gently back, and tried to laugh.

“Don't worry—l'm not going to! Wo shall never come to the truth in that way. I was not thinking of that at all; I meant, in the broad daylight, with the sun shining. I. can't tell yon what made me—”

It broke off. As he straightened up his hand, resting upon her shoulder, tightened convulsively. She heard him draw 1 in a long, whistling breath as o? desperation—saw his figure stiffen. He, looked down at his hands for a moment critically, and seemed to lie- trying to hum a tune.- Then he stooped slowly until his eyes were on o level with hers. “Don't start or move. Keep perfectly still,” he said, in an altered tone —a voice of quiet command. “What is it? What have you seen? <'nme the quick breath. “It's all right. Don't move ! Miss St. John, that French window over there has been pushed open several inches by—by someone who is watching us now from the balcony. For all I know, all that I told you may have been overheard. No; Tam not mistaken—someone is standing there now. You’re not to tremble —not to look. I’ll know!”

(.To be continued daily.)