"THE BRUNDAGE PLOT”

Manawatu Times, Volume LIV, Issue 7284, 11 October 1933, Page 9

"THE BRUNDAGE PLOT”

CHAPTER XlX.—(Continued)

“Are you mad, Jane? Or . worse than mad?" Melissa asked. ‘‘l had news that you were dining here, In the company of that man, and came on at once.”

“You should mako yourself clearer," Jane said, deeply offended. “What do you mean by worse than mad?”

“I mean that It would be as bad for me, or almost as bad, If my .sister were the next Lady Burr-and-Aschc,” Melissa said, “almost as bad as Marisc herself.”

“OhI” Jane said, under her breath, and rose unsteadily. .Melissa clutched her 'anxiously by the arm. “I didn’t mean that, dear,” she said. “You don’t know what is going on, of course. That man is collecting evidence in support of a claim. That is what brought him to England." “I don’t believe It,” .Jane said passionately. “We cannot talk about it here,” Melissa said, looking at her friends, feigning to 'be interested in the dancing. “Can you make an excuse, and come homo with me?” “I suppose so,” Jane said wearily.’ She found Jennifer talking to Urundage.

“I’m afraid I must go off, Jennifer,” she said “Lias came specially to collect me. Family troubles; but don’t mention that. It’s a nuisance, when everything was so jolly.” Then she glanced at Brundage, and for the first time was smitten by the possibility that what Melissa said might be true. He looked so different, so uneasy. Worse than his evasion of her overture was this sudden suspicion that his changed manner was that of a wrongdoer detected. Miserably unhappy, Jane permitted herself to be carried off to .Melissa’s flat.

"Now tell mo, Lies, why you are so positive, when you say that Brunclagc la making a claim,” she begged. "And don’t forget that it makes all the difference to me whether this is true or not." "Don’t say that, Jane; I refuse to believe it," Melissa replied. "When you hear what we have learned about this man, you will change your mind about him." “Wo?” Jano queriesd. "Mr Sharpies has been Inquiring,” Melissa explained. "He had no trouble In learning that somebody else had also been searching the records, looking for proofs. He had no trouble in tracing tho inquiries back to Mr Brundage." "Are you sure of that?” Jane asked. "Quite sure. It happens that Mr Sharpies employed the same person; tho person who inquired for this Australian.” "But why should he make Inquiries If he knows all about it?" “Mr Sharpies says he is looking for conclusive proof. He may know about It, without possessing documents which would substantiate a claim. It may be well-nigh impossible to find them. I suppose you haven't told the man anything?" Jane contented herself by anwerlng this question with a look. “What else has your wonderful Mr Sharpies discovered?” sho asked. "That the man is in financial trouble in Australia,” Melissa said. "What more would you want to know-?” "He'll be in financial trouble here, if he docs what you credit him with wanting to do,” Jane said grimly. "There’s not much to being Lord Burr-and-Asche, except the title and tiic Chalmers money—which, of course, you know- how to protect."

“In my own case, and Bonzo’s,” Melissa replied. “But not In yours, my dear.” “That's the last iniquity, Is it?” Jane eried. “He’s a fortune hunter as well? Then let me tell you, Liss, that I as goocl as flung myself at his head lOrnight.. And he turned me down." “Jane! Oh, I blame myself. But who would have thought that you would become infatuated with a man like that?” “Never mind what he’s like; you don't know,” Jane said. “What, happens next?” “Bronzo will be here In a few days, and Mr Sharpies will confer with him.” Jane interrupted, by a peal of Matter, mirthless laughter. “Bonzo and Mr Sharpies?” she jeered. “If Brundage w r ants anything, he’ll just take it from children like that. And it is his to take, by rights, I suppose. Only. . . only. . . .’’ Melissa watched her sister, openeyed, as she wrung her hands Jn utter wretchedness. “If he docs, ho can never have me,” Jane cried. “And I cannot have him! And oh, Liss, lie is all I want in the world.” “I blame myself," Melissa repeated, staggered by her sister’s passion of regret. “Go to bed and try to sleep, Jane. There must be something attractive about the man, to make you talk like that. But why does he behave so strangely?” “Why?” Jane repeated miserably. “You don’t know half of it.” "Tell me, dear," Melissa urged. “Arc you sure that you care so much? Isn’d the truth that you set out to best Marlse Formbv? And where does he stand with tier?” “What docs it matter?” Jane asked. "If he’s acting as you say, nothing else matters. But you can put Marlse out of your head, if it is any satisfaction. Only to-day. . . .” She broke off abruptly, determined not to pursue that train of thought.

“Yes?" Melissa encouraged. “What happened ta-day?” Encouraged by questions, Jane contrived to give her sister some account of the day’s events. It did her good to talk, she found, when once she was started, and it did her good, too, to see how puzzled Melissa was by her narrative. She found some of her faith reviving, as she spoke; but the puzzle became only the more baffling. “But how extraordinary!” Melissa commented. “I'm not quite’ sure that i follow it all.” . “Of course you do," Jane said hotly. “Marise had spread the rumour that lie was engaged to her, in such a way that he could not deny it. She was conceited enough to meddle with his horse, too. Before racing finished, everybody on the course knew how politely he'd slapped her for it, and you know how racing gossip spreads." “But Jane! You . , , “it will he your name now.’’

(By E. C. BULEY)

Instalment 18.

“I know I" Jane said. “Jennifer attended to that, and we permitted her to do it—lie and I both. And then he. . . . lie hacked out.” ”1 wouldn’t allow anybody else to say that, Jane." "Well, that’s what it amounted to. That’s what make rne think that Sharpies may be right for once. And lie’s not often right, either,” Jane concluded viciously. „ “I can’t make head or tail of u, Melissa mused. “He must know what father left you." “Oh, money!” Jane raged, walking up and down as she twisted her Angers. “Money’s got nothing to do with it. It’s just some notion about this wretched title. And when I say that, it sounds ridiculous. Oh, .1 don’t know.”

"Then go to bed!” Mci.ssa counselled. "You’re all on edge, and a sleep will do you good.” She administered a sedative, and Jane, too weary and wrelched to face her own thoughts, slipped into a profound slumber.

Three days later Lord Burr-and-Aschc arrived, a little more mature and very much browner, but otherwise the same Bonzo. Jane had a pang when she saw his brown face and square shoulders; at first glance lie was so like the man who was the cause of all this trouble and anxiety; lint Jane quickly came to resent the likeness as a sort of caricature. Bonzo unhesitatingly accepted everything lie was told, and it almost tempted Jane to some biting comment when he referred to Brundage as “that rascal.” She was forced to hear a great deal of talk -and deliberation; all based on the supposition that Brundage would surely deprive. Bonzo of his birthright, if that could possibly be done.

The docility of her nephew further enraged Jane Chalmers. Sharpies, who 'thought of many things, was responsible for the suggestion that the young man should assume a monocle, so that hJs extraordinary likeness to the man whom ihe solicitor called 'the “claimant" should not be so palpable. And it rather sickened Jane to hear Bonzo promising to keep clear of any fresh entanglement with Marise Fornrby.

"As if Marise would choose such a thing I” sho said to Melissa. "I can't stick any more of this, Liss. I’m retiring io Bedleap, to be out of the way of it. all."

“But the house Is practically shut up," Melissa remonstrated. “And you’ll he frlghtfullly lonely. ’ “I can rub along," Jane assured her. “And I want no company but my own, and Greygown’s. For the time being, I’m not fitted for civilised society, it rather makes- me want to scream." CHAPTER XX. "The man who invented that bit of advice about "treating ’em rough" must have been thinking of Marise," Lall Formby confided to George Winterbrook, one day when the Lingfield Parle incident was about a week old. “She's on the warpath after Brundage again; after taking it out of everybody for the dressing-down that he gave her.” "She’s no-t a bad judge,” George said indulgently. "He’s a topping good sort."

“She as good as admitted that she had no right to Interfere," Lall went on. -“I-heard her asking Mr Godseil to convey that to Brundage. Fancy Marise! I never knew her to admit that she could be wrong about anything. . . “What came of it?" the jockey asked.

“Nothing- at all,” Lall said. “Brundage has gone missing again, ever since that day. Down at Swetherton they swear that they know nothing of his movements; and if they don’t know, who does?” “He’s not bound to tell anybody his business,” George remarked. “Don't you he drawn into meddling, Lall." Lall laughed aloud. “So easy, isn’t it?” she asked. "With Marise raising small hell about every least tiling she doesn’t like, .just because she is uncertain about him. Believe me. George, there’s not a soul at the studio, from Jimmy Keegan downwards, who wouldn’t subscribe liberally to a reward for the discovery of Brundage. Not that it would do her any good to ilnd him. Brundage has fallen, and for good, for that pretty girl who won the big double.” “How do you know?” the jockey asked. “I saw him looking at her, stupid,” Lall said, tweaking his ear. “Like I look at you?” “Not a hit,” Lall said. “You look at me as if I were a well-bred yearling, and you wondered what price I would fetch under the hammer." “There arc meaner looks,” George said. “If Marise could only be made to sec it,” Lall continued. “I mean, that Brundage has- no use for her. But she never gives anything up, when -once she has started on it.” “Ah, well, it’s not my business,” the jockey said comfortably.

“No; you don’t have to work with her.” What Lall said was true, in essence. Marise, after feeling herself prodigiously insulted, had arrived, by some process of thought entirely her own, at the opinion that Brundage had been right, whoever may have been wrong. He had treated her as she might have treated anybody else, under the same circumstances. And having absolved him, she proceeded to vent, her annoyance on the people with whom she worked. Among those who suffered from her mood was Mi-ss Fay Delacourt, who was fully justifying Keegan’s choice of her for a small part. Fay had not only caught on to her work very cleverly, but she had won general approbation as a “nice little thing.” Marise, who missed very little that happened in the studio, was conscious of the fact that her protegee was bidding for favours all round, and receiving them, The scenario writer had slipped a few extra lines into tier part; and they were bright ones. The very best of them, when Marise heard it, was neatly transferred to Marise herself. Marise ordered this burglary with a grim smile, as she imagined the -skilful flattery Fay must have expended in earning this effort on the part of a notoriously lazy man. .(To be Continued.)