The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1909-07-08

viduals use the machinery Of law ant
procedures to their own provate ends
as is possible in some countries. Ir
this case, however, the interests in
yolved were so vast, and the people
who had to do with the affair were sc
highly placed, that the inquest had
been held that very morning. The
true facts were thoroughly well
known, but they were not given to
the world. The jury was discreet-a
breath had blown upon the dingy
Westminster mortuary from an exalt'
ed quarter. Sir Anthony HELLER was
not president of the local government
board for nothing.
AS Basil sat at his meal, and the
s~hort-jacketed walters staggered up
and down the gangway with the
courses, he heard all around him con
versation on what was the absorbing
topic of the day.
The well dressed, irst-class passen-
gers, as they lunched, had no other
topic Of talk. THE little duke this"
THE little duke that"-"They say
the duchess has gone out Of her
mind"-"Michael Grant, the great ath-
lete, is mixed up in it somehow, |
hear"-"The Daily Wire says that it
is now generally known that the old
aunt was seized with mania, and
III r9H fhn 1fft1n I,tIvn {rfn thn uNlnn,nc
They are going to drag the river"
And so on-and so On-and so on.
Capt. Marriott heard all this with a
grim smile.
He was in a singularly cheerful
frame of mind; it was true that he
was mixed up with a terrible tragedy,
yet he had entered it as an outsider
not from concern with any of the per-
sonalities, to whom it meant much.
1t was therefore a sporting interest
that he took in it all, and-well, he
was going to interview Daisy Hobson.
He lay back in his seat and recalled
the memory of the tall and gracious
girl.
Why was it that the touch of her
hand had sent his blood pushing and
rushing through him?
Even now, as the swift train bore
him nearer and nearer to the little viii
lage where he should find her, his spir-
it's were distinguishing, his whole be-
ing was quickening with a sense of
expectation, or was it a sense of long
He descended from the train at
Chelmsford, and, after some inquiries
in the station, was told that the viii
lage of Trink was six miles away, in
the pleasant corn county of Essex.
He had already advised Miss Hob
son Of his coming by telegram, and
had received an answering wire to
say that she would await his arrival.
Accordingly he engaged a carriage
the local news and set out for
he village.
1t was a perfect day. The cor was
not yet ripe, but tall and strong, and
sweetly in the summer air.
Far up in the sky larks were pouring
out their little joyous hearts in a per-
'ect ecstasy of song. The trees were
full green of summer. The sky was !
ike a hard, hollow turquoise. Sweet
scents came from the flowers in the
gardens, and all the summer
world was fair and well.
AS he lay back in the landau the
young sailor felt almost as if he were
home. His father, Sir Her
Jules, had no country house. Years
lgo, on the death of Lady Marriott, .
Sir Hercules had disposed of his place
lear Bath and lived entirely in Lon
lon, like the old society campaigner
hat he was, alternating between HON.
,urg and the Riviera at the right
seasons, and always a guest in Scot
and for the shooting.
So Basil for many years had never
a home. His advancement in J
he navy had been singularly rapid,
wing to his influential connections
md also to the fact of his personal
achievement. But "home" had meant
him either the spacious cabin of
he cruiser he commanded, temporary
in London, rooms at an no.
ell, or a welcome in the houses of his
ITO Rs CoptinuedA !