The record-union., 1897-05-09
On quitting his cabin he made it his

first business to find Dare.
Il say. young man." he began, that
must have been queer stuff you gave
me last night 1t made me feel half
silly and sent me into a sleep from
which / didn't wake till simmons came
and shook me, and told me it was past
10 o'clock; and not only that, but I've
had a beastly headache all day. and
don't feel good for much even now"
/ Dare opened his eyes and gave ex-
preston to his astonishment in terms
which might easily have deceived a
| much more suspicious man than Mr.
Jevons.
1T had no such effect on me-" he
said; 'in fact, it suited me so well that
I'm going to have a nip of it now
by the way of pickme-up before dim
ner" They were close by his cabin
as he spoke. He at once opened the
door and went in, and, while Mr.. Je-
vons looked on he filled a glass from
the flask of Eau de Plaisir, and slipped
it with much apparent gusto. 1t was
from a different flash, however, than
the one he had produced the night be-
| fore
The mail officer knew not what to
think
Eustace Dare was back in London
| within three weeks of the day he had
left 1t. His first and most pressing ne
cessity was to ascertain the state Of
| his uncle's health, and whether he was
| still occupying his rooms in Devon
| shire street. AS 1t would not have
| done to write to Mary Everson, lest
| the letter should be seen by his uncle,
| who was acquainted with his writing,
| as soon as the lamps were lighted he
| took UP a station near the house and
waited with such patience as he had
at command till some one whom he
could question should appear. Fortu-
nately he had not waited long before
youth in buttons came up the area
steps, whom he at once hastened to ac-
cost.
Mr. Armishaw, sir. died a week
since, and was buried yesterday" said
the youth in reply to his question.
The news, although not wholly unex-
pected-indeed, of all possible news it
was that which he had been most anx-
ious to hear-came upon him with
something of a shock. After moment
or two of silence. he said to the page:
And Mr.. Armishaws niece, Miss
Everson, what has become of herr"
Miss EversOn is still here, sir. Her
|
to stay with her.
This was enough for Dare. Three
minutes later he was shown into the
drawing room, where Mary and her
mother, both, of course, in deep mourn
ing. were seated. Mary rose to her
feet as he entered. Dare, looking
sympathetically grave, advanced and
held out his hand, only to perceive
next moment that his doing so was de-
liberately ignored.
Il did not reach town till a couple of
hours ago on my return from New
York," he began; consequently | have
only just heard of my poor dear uncle's
death"
When he had gone thus far he be-
came aware that the set statuesuue
race, lighted by two coldly contemptu-
Gus eyes which were now gazing stead
| lastly into his, appertained to an al
| together different Mary Everson from
the one he had heretofore known That
such a transformation BODIED him no
good he needed no one to tell him 1t
seemed to him as though his heart were
grlpped by a hand of ice
Immediately after your uncle's death
cabled to his lawyers in New York
said Mary, speaking in such chilling
accents as Dare had never heard from
her lips before. 1T was at his own
wish, expressed to me only a few hours
before he died that 1 did so. One of
Messrs Spurling's clerks is now on his
way to England. If you will leave your
address, Mr.. Dare, l will take care that
his arrival is at once notified to you
And now l must ask you to read this
letter, which reached your uncle about
three weeks ago. He himself gave it
to me to read, and a the same time he
told me his reasons for diScarding you,
which had never known before. This
lady is my mother and if, when you
have read the letter, you should have
any questions to ask, she will endeavor
to answer them" She bowed slightly.
and turning, walked softly out Of the
room. 1t was distinct relief to Dare
when those two unwavering eyes. fired
with scorn too intense for words. no
longer dominated him.
The letter Mary had given him to
read was the one written by his wife
to Mr.. Armishaw
Two days later Dare received a sum-
mons to meet Mr.. Winch of New York
at Devonshire street He went with
a heart that beat high with exultation.
All the lawyer would have to do would
be to inform him that, in the absence
Of any will, he Eustace Dare, was Mr..
Armishaw's heir-at-law OF course
Inquiries which would necessitate a GER
tain amount of delay in the final settle
ment of affairs, would have to be in
stituted with regard to the missing
viii, about which Mary would doubtless
have spoken to Mr. Winch. But not
all the inquiries in the world could
restore it to existence. 1t lay fathoms
deep among the Atlantic ooze
| EuStace Dare went to the meeting
like man treading on air; he came
Iback from 1t half an hour later looking
like criminal who had just been con-
demned to undergo a lifelong sem
tence. After ALL it turned out that
Mr.. Armishaw had made an antecedent
will, and that almost Immediately af-
ter his quarrel with his nephew and
when his feelings were very embittered
against him. By that document he had
cut Eustace off with a hundred pounds
a year; whereas by a clause of the Sec
ond will-the one which had been de-
stroyed-he had increased the allow
ance to five hundred year. Roguery,
as 1t so often does, had overleaped it,
| self. Verify EuStace Dare had his re-
ward.
| We are not concerned with the way
Mr.. Armishaw had devised his proper
ty, but it may be taken for granted that
Mary Everson's name figured promi-