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PUKSDKD BY THE LAW,

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[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMKNT] PUKSDKD BY THE LAW, BY J. MACLAREN COBBAN. Author of The Red Sultan," The Avenger of Blood," "Wilt Thou Have this Woman ?" Her Royal Highness's Love Affair," The Tyrants of Kool.Sim," The White Kaid of the Atlas," The Burden of Isabel," Ac., &c. [ COPYRIGHT.] CHAPTER XVI.—THE IRON CURTAIN. Townshend exchanged some words in French with a dark young man, and then in German with a tall, broad- shouldered, square-headed, fair young man. Afterwards he turned to the wretch bound in the chair. 4 So, my blackmailer,' said he, I hope you are taking to heart the indelible lesson my friends have been impressing on you.' He stepped up to the man, and turned his left arm so that Graham should see on its upper part the letter S' newly branded and oiled over. He now bears our trade mark,' said he, but condescended to explain no further. You understand dearly,' he then continued to the wretch, in his most commanding and sonorous tones, that now you will be known to all my friends and agents—and I have friends and agents everywhere. You are marked and your photograph is here,' (laying his hand on a photo- graphic slide), and if you repeat any of your very agreeable tricks on this friend here,' (taking Graham by the elbow) you will at once be wiped out. I have no conscience or scruple about killing human vermin like you.' If anything happens to this friend of mine, at once—understand at once—you say Good-night' to this world. And that you may have no excuse, when my friends dismiss you from this in three days you will get one pound and the chance of earning a living you have said you are a blacksmith, but are hunted about because you belong to no union.' And that's a fact, the wretch blurted out. I'm an engineer.' Very well, you shall have a member's ticket of the union provided for you, and with that you should get into work. Remember, you don't know this friend of mine '—again taking Graham by the elbow—' his name, nor anything about him as soon as you pretend to know anything, as sure as you are alive now, you will be dead then Try no tricks I am not to be trifled with. There will be no escape for you. My friends and agents have eyes everywhere. Your death will make no noise: it will be silent, but certain These sentences, each one, he emphasised with a pointed forefinger, and his remarkable head and face looked so threatening, terrible and Rhadamanthine that Graham shuddered at his aspect, and his flesh crept. As for the tramp, he uttered no word, but he turned green with fright, the scar on his cheek standing out drawn and purple on the expanse of green. As Town- shend turned away, however, he shot a vicious, ferrety, vindictive glance at him, which suggested that he was not completely cowed. Townshend and Graham then passed in silence from the house, and when they stood again on the pavement Graham had the impression merely of having been in a disagreeable dream so swiftly and smoothly had the whole experience passed. You have to be up early,' said Townshend with great consideration, as they walked away. You had better take a cab as soon as we come upon one and get home that way there will be no trains for you at this hour.' Soon they passed by a railway station, where cabs were waiting. Townshend hailed one, saw Graham enter it, and insisted on paying the cabman. Graham protested, but Townshend would have his way. You must permit me,' said he the whole of this evening is my affair. Good-night. Let me know how the valve progresses.' On that drive to Kershaw, in a condition between sleep and wake, Graham was much exercised in mind by the strange manifestations of Townshend—above all, by that last display of his extraordinary secret influence. What did it mean ? Who could he be ? And who could those foreigners be who seemed his active and obedient agents ? What bound him and them together F Then, as he thought, a new, terrific suspicion rose on him like a cloud. Townshend was not to be trifled with,' that was plain he had no scruple about killing human vermin; that seemed very likely he dealt out punishment, even death, silently but surely What,' he asked himself, what if my father tried to tjifle with him ? What if his death was, therefore, caused—silently but surely—with my own gun ?' These disturbing reflections made him sit up, wide- awake. Did not that seem the clear and plain explan- ation of several things that otherwise were inexplicable? The nearness of Townshend at the time of his father's death—and his remarkable interest in Graham ever since Why should that last be so strong, generous and constant, but that Townshend, who certainly was a generous and courageous man—whatever else he might be—was smitten with sorrow and compunction for having brought such grievous trouble on him—Graham --for a deed he himself had caused or committed ? That opened such a wide turmoil of feeling and speculation that Graham could come to no clear con- clusion on it, and he went to bed with his mind engaged in the whirl of it. In the morning all seemed more ordinary and com- monplace. He began to doubt the truth of his specula- tion and suspicion he began even to think that the scene he had shared in with the tramp in the strange house must be a dream; for he recalled that he had dined the night before — not wisely, perhaps, but certainly well. That evening, when his duty at the works was over, he made haste to wash and array himself for his promised visit to Miss Bolsover at the Theatre Royal. She was a remarkably handsome, a wonderfully clever, and an exceedingly amiable woman, who (according to Towns- hend) had expressed some kind of admiration of him and though she had made no allusion to that the evening before, she might when they were alone. That, there- fore, gave a peculiar picquancy to his expectation, for even a man in trouble, and already in love with a faithful sweetheart, is pleased and flattered (I may even say cockered up,' though it sounds vulgar) by the preference of any lady. When he reached the theatre he found (as he had been instructed) the stage-door, and through that he was conducted to the presence of Miss Bolsover in a prettily appointed parlour such a parlour as he, in his ignorance of theatres, had not conceived it possible could exist in the neighbourhood of the stage. He went with her upon the stage itself to attend to the ailment of the iron curtain; but he found so little the matter that he was almost tempted—in his secret, suspicious heart—to wonder whether the iron curtain had not been merely an excuse to get him there. In less than a quarter of an hour from his first intro- duction to it the iron curtain was rolling up and down quite smoothly and obediently. And then they returned to the little parlour. May I give cup of tea, Mr Leighton ?' said Miss Bolsover. I am-just having one do be nice and share one with me Thank you,' said he, I will.' We've had a morning performance to-day,' she said, and between that and the evening I don't trouble to go to my lodgings, but just sit here and make tea. It's so like what we used to do on Sundays.' On Sundays ? he queried. Yes,' said she. Perhaps you never taught in a Sunday School. I did. After school there might be a meeting of some kind—committeee or something—and then there was no time for me and some of the others to go home and get back to evening service. So we stayed and made tea, and had larks. Oh, yes, I wallered' in Sunday Schools, like Mark Twain's dear Tom Sawyer Graham, who was not much of a reader, was un- acquainted with Mark Twain's hero; and therefore he said nothing to that revelation about Sunday Schools. 'Perhaps you think,' said Miss Bolsover, 'what an extraordinary thing for a Sunday School teacher to have become an actress Is it more extraordinary,' said he, than if an actress became a Sunday School teacher P Now, it's very sweet of you to say that I' exclaimed Miss Bolsover. I don't think it is so extraordinary but most people don't agree with me. But the fact is, all the tricks and little wickednesses I've ever known I learnt at Sunday School.' Really ? said he. Truly and really said she. That seemed a strange confession but it prepared for an easy and confidential footing. But now tell me about yourself,' said Miss Bolsover, after they had thus talked a little at large. I mean- how are you getting on in this place ? Graham stared; it was rude, but he could not help it. Oh, I forgot,' said she, with a beautiful blush, that you don't know I have all your story by heart- and that your real name is James Graham.' Graham started he was very much disturbed. 'No,' said he, I certainly did not know you knew that Oh, I really beg yotir pardon if I ought not to know said she. But—please !—please !—look upon me as a friend you can trust with anything—and who would do anything in the world I can for you She said that with such a passion—or, apparent passion—of earnestness, that Graham was still more astonished. Oh,' said he, with the faintest touch of constraint, and with some perfunctoriness of tone, there can be no harm in your knowing at least I don't believe you would do me any harm.' I ? Do you harm P she exclaimed. Ah, you little guess, child, how much I would give to be able to help you, instead of doing you harm Actually there were tears in her eyes and Graham's heart warmed and gushed with emotion at the manifesta- tion of such obvious and delightful sympathy. I feel certain,' said he reassuringly, that you will keep my secret tight locked up. But how did you know about me ? I suppose Mr Townshend told you p' 'Yes Fred—Mr Townshend—told me,' said she told me all about your noble conduct in taking that horrible business on yourself, all to save your mother It was that, you know, that made me admire you I do admire, you know, courage and self-sacrifice so much! I don't think I have a scrap myself But I do admire them so much in others So mean and merely senti- mental that, isn't it ?' So she ran as if, like Tennyson's Brook, she would 1 go on for ever.' I suppose,' said Graham, presently dashing in upon that stream of talk, in the hope that he might learn something that would reassure his troubled mind about Townshend, I suppose you know Mr Townshend very well rt Oh, yes, I know him very well,' said she, lightly. You don't, I suppose not very well yet, but you will. He is very fond of you awfully fond He thinks you so couragt.-ous and so clever and above everything he admires courage allll cleverness. Ah, but he admires more than them Ah, yes, he is a dear He is truly —. mi lie does think so much of you But why ?' blankly asked Graham. Why? Oh, my dear child exclaimed the actress, yon are too modest You are really Fancy you wondering that a man even should think highly of you Still,' persisted Graham, I don't understand why. I know so little of Mr Townshend. I don't even know what he is I know nothing but his name, and that he has an enormous influence with ithe most diverse kinds of people.' To tell you the truth,' said Miss Bolsover, leaning towards him, and speaking low. and tapping his hand in confidence, I don't know what he is Sometimes I used to think he was on the Stock Exchange or one of those South African millionaires, you know, that pick up the dirt and blush to find it diamonds. But I gave up that idea long ago; things don't fit in. No, he's not a financier.' 'He told me,' said Graham, when I asked him what he' was that he was a free banker—whatever that may mean.' Ha ha ha laughed Miss Bolsover. That was one of his little jokes Poor Fred is a dear, but his jokes are heavy. Like the Scotchman, he jokes wi deeficulty Like you, I've noticed he knows all kinds of odds and ends of men but I don't know what he is—and I don't care. Whatever he is, he is a real dear !—a kind of gentleman,' she added, with feeling, that is not very common. That I can tell you Thus they were talking when a knock sounded on the door, and on Miss Bolsover's chaunting Come in in did come a tallish, stoutish young man, with a remarkably comic countenance, and with an extra- ordinarily shy, hesitating manner. His face was round and plump, and small-featured and smooth as that of a Japanese doll. Graham, to his amazement, and some- what to his embarrassment, recognised him as young Poynting, the only son of Mr Poynting, and with equal readiness he recognised Graham. What ? Mr Poynting ?' said Miss Bolsover, evi- dently not too well pleased with the young man's visit. I did not expect you. Let me introduce you to my friend, Mr Leighton.' How-de-do, Leighton ?' said the young man. Didn't know you were interested in the theatre.' Oh, Mr Leighton is an old friend of mine,' said Miss Bolsover, compelling Graham with a forcible look to acquiesce in her statements. But you know each other ?' You forget,' said Graham, craftily, 4 that I am employed with Messrs Hepplewhite and Poynting.' Of course said Miss Bolsover. 4 Yes,' said young Poynting, beginning to chew the top of his stick. Jolly weather, isn't it ?—awfully jolly, I think.' But how have you managed to get in ?' asked Miss Bolsover, not yet acepting his presence with resignation. I told the door-keeper to say I was engaged.' I—didn't see the door-keeper,' said young Poynting. I think I just twigged him slipping round the corner- don't you know?—for what they term half-a-pint. And so I walked in at the open door.' 'Well, I'm very sorry,' said she. 'But I must send you both away now, because the company will be arriving to dress in a few minutes. Good-bye, Mr Leighton,' said she. Come and see me again soon. I've lots of things to talk about with you. And next time you give me a call, Dolly, don't wait to take advantage of the doorkeeper's back being turned.' t Oh, really, Miss Bolsover exclaimed Dolly. Really I never heard such an accusation before— don't you know ? I never did, really Well,' she said, I've heard of it being done, and now I believe I've seen it. Now run along with you and manage more cleverly next time.' And that is how the Iron Curtain brought Graham and the actress together. CHAPTER XVII.—' STRICTLY PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTAL.' Graham and young Poynting passed out of the theatre together in silence Graham did not know what to say of his acquaintance with Miss Bolsover, since she claimed him as an old friend, and Poynting was evidently jealous and sore. Good-bye said Poynting, as soon as they were out I'm going this way.' Good-bye said Graham. And so they parted. Graham being thus in town, and no longer in dread of the Tramp, went and paid a dutiful visit to his mother, and thereafter made haste to meet Nelly Clemance on her leaving the Kershaw Post Office at eight o'clock. In the meanwhile something had happened—some- thing, one would say, the least likely, and certainly by Graham the least expected—to cause a profound and unusual disturbance in Nelly's mind. Ever since Nelly's occupation at the Kershaw Post Office she had noted young Poynting as a daily visitor to her counter. Often he was in more than once a day, and always to send telegrams—and telegrams invari- ably addressed to the same person one named Bol- sover,' who sometimes seemed to be at the Theatre j Royal and sometimes in a private house. These telegrams were commonly handled by Nelly but, being expert at her business, she needed to give them only the surface of her attention; and she had telegraphed several before she was struck with their unbusiness- like sameness. Then she read them attentively, understood, and—having a merry sense of humour— she laughed, and observed their progress with growing interest. This is the kind of telegram the young man would march in with in the middle of the morning having tabled it, with sixpence, he would march out again without a word :— 4 To Bolsover, Theatre Royal.—She is sweeter than all shape of sweet.' There was neither word nor hint, of who was the sender. In the afternoon he would appear again with this :— To Bolsover, 12, Park Terrace.—Faint heart never won fair lady. You understand.' By looking at an advertisement of the Theatre Royal in the local daily paper Nelly discovered that 'Bolsover' was a lady. It then became plain to her that the young man had chosen this singular, scrappy, remote, and shy way of making love to the lady. She continued to observe the progress of so original a courtship, and her interest and amusement at length caught young Poynt- ing's attention. He lingered to talk to her, but made no allusion to the meaning or purpose of his telegrams, till she compelled him to do so. One morning he handed in the following telegram, with his regular sixpence, and disappeared in haste:- To Bolsover, Theatre Royal.—' Daughter of Gods, divinely fair The first phrase she corrected with her pencil to A Daughter of the Gods.' Mr Poynting,' said she, promptly, when the young man appeared next day, 4 you owe me a penny.' 4 A penny ?' he inquired. What for Miss Clemance? Not for a stamp, eh ?' No,' she answered. For two words omitted in your yesterday's telegram that I had to fill in.' 4 Two words—to fill in ?' I can't allow you to misquote poetry to a lady, not even to save a penny. You wrote Daughter of Gods,' which is silly, instead of A Daughter of the Gods,' which is correct.' 4 I'm awfully sorry,' said he, handing over the penny to the smiling Nelly with some awkwardness, but I was in a hurry, don't you know ?—and I thought it didn't matter. I suppose a fellow ought to quote correctly, though. But, I say, Miss Clemance, how did you know that I sent them to a lady ?' I've seen about Miss Bolsover in the paper,' answered Nelly. Have you really P But she might have a brother or—or a father,' said the young man. Nelly laughed. Would any young man send love messages like yours to a brother, or a father ? But how could you tell me they were love messages ? he demanded. Oh,' said she with a toss, 4 what else could they said he, 'what else? Of course! But I didn't think you would spot them, don't you know ? And she can't make any mistake about what they are, either, can she ? 4 She must be very stupid if she does, said Nelly. 4 That's spiffing exclaimed the young man. I'm awfully gone on her, you know. I don't think I can live without her.' 4 Why The idea exclaimed Nelly. You are only a boy.' A boy,' he said, with a hurt accent. 4 That's what everybody thinks me. How old do you think I am, now ?' said she, considering him,' sixteen or seven- teen—but big for your age.' I'm one-and-twenty,' said he, in triumph. And how old is Miss Bolsover ? I suppose,' said he, 4 she must be quite as old as me; but she looks younger, and she is younger, don't you know r—in mind, and feeling, and all that.' 'I don't think,' said Nelly, 'it would be possible to be much younger than you in those ways.' you think so, really P I wish I could get anybody—you, for instance—to think me more than a boy. It's an awful grind, you know, to have to tell everybody that you're older than you look. But look here, Miss Clemance, I'll be awfully obliged if you con- sider thisas 'strictly private and confidential.' You won't tell anybody—will you P—not a single soul; honour bright. Honour bright,' she answered, laughing, I won't'. That's the ticket,' he answered. You're a trump.' And so he went his way, and continued to repose con- fidence in her. Mainly because he still believed her a trump, when he parted from Graham with disappoint- ment and jealousy in his heart, he went directly back to Kershaw, entered the post-office, and dived into the little telegraph box to indite a telegram. After a few labour- ing minutes he emerged, looking very pale but resolute. He handed his telegram to Nelly. What's this ? she asked, reading Women are deceivers ever. Men is wrong.' Yes,' said he, looking as ferocious as his round, good-natured face would permit, that's for her. She'll get it in her dressing-room to-night. And she won't like it. By Jove, she won't.' But,' said Nelly, this is quite a new sort of message.' I should rather think it is,' said the desperate young man. I've more than that to say I haven't finished yet by a long chalk.' 4 But what has gone wrong P' asked Nelly. 4 Everything's wrong, Miss Clemaace! What do you think ? I dropped in to see her this afternoon, and who should I find there but another fellow, taking

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PUKSDKD BY THE LAW,