The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1909-07-29
By GUY THORNE.
CHAPTER x-Continued.

1ather, who was, as you may have
heard, the Rev. Montague Decies. She
went to be the governess of the young
Princess Sophia Marie Eleanora.
There she married good-for-nothing
and rascally officer in the little cere-
monial army OF Wohlau-Landskrona
The marriage was kept secret, but
son was born. Then the marriage
had to be declared, and Miss Decies
was compelled TO return to England
In disgrace, especially as her husband
just about that time-committed an
unforgivable crime and was impris-
oned in a fortress, where he died
Now you see the connection between
all these strange events?"
Il see that things become clearer
but / do not see why Miss Decies
should have abducted the young Duke
If she really did do SO, and, IL so.
why she should have committed sui
eide"
Basil rejoined and for half an hour
presented the wildly moving drama
before her, fitting in detail and detail,
explaining this or that drawing on his
imagination for those pieces of the
puzzle which were yet wanting, and
building up coherent whole.
He warmed to the work. He spoke
rapidly and well. Even as he talked,
he knew that he was making point
after point-that what he said was a
worthy presentation of as strange a
drama as any modern ear could hear.
1t was about five o'clock In the after
noon when he concluded.
Daisy, in the excitement of the mar
rative, had risen from her chair,
walked over to the mantelpiece, and
was now leaning upon 1t. Her eyes
were fixed upon him. Her whole atti-
tude and pose was instinct with inter-
est and imagination.
AS his last words died into silence
she made simple, impulsive gesture,
oh" she said. "but you have told it
all most wonderfully, most beautifully.
Captain Marriott, you should have
been a writer of romance"
She had taken a step towards him.
The two young people were looking
at each other In a moment of curious
understanding. Perhaps In a moment
they might have been nearer still.
The door opened, and an elderly
clergyman, whose face was rather
flushed and on whose cheeks the per-
spiration stood out In little beads,
entered the room.
How do you do?" he said. How
do you do, Captain Marriott? My
daughter told me that you were COM
ing to see her. You find me a little
dishevelled, no doubt, but have been
moving the croquet-lawn all the after
noon. Croquet, Captain Marriott, is
game which, ten or fifteen years
Tennis arose and entirely swamped 1t.
am thankful to say, however, that
its really scientific character Is now
realized by everyone. and 1t Is no
longer game for an@mic curates
and very old maids. We have re-
duced the size of the hoops and in
creased the size of the balls. We
have abolished the cage and the bell.
and our mallets are now properly
weighted and proportional.
"Croquet Is game which I should
imagine a sailor, long unaccustomed
to the pleasant happenings of the
green, would find an excellent thing
when he was on shore"
Basil looked at the old gentleman
as he would have looked at some new
and strange addition to the Geological
Gardens in Regents Park. He had
never known anyone quite SO OBJ
livious to fact and environment. He
had never realized how croquet can
sap the brain and engross the sense,
until tranquil country life becomes
q tournament.
And now, Captain Marriott" the
old clergyman said, II hope you will
have some tea. / expect there is
some tea somewhere. Daisy, my dear,
is not there some tea to be brought
in?"
ooh, yes. father, will look after
all that" the girl said.
Captain Marriott" he replied, "you
don't know what my girls are to me in
many, many ways"
He half turned, looked appealingly
at Daisy, and, with muttered apollo
gy, left the room.
In two minutes Basil and Daisy
heard the smart click of the lockwood
balls, as the enthusiast-the lawn
moved and clear-was practising a
cannon.
What a dear old gentleman"
Basil said
Daisy smiled.
my father" she replied, was a
double-first at Oxford many years
ago, but all his life he has been handi-
capped by the fact of his utter I'M
worldliness. He obtained the chap
laincy of Bad Fiirstenberg after he
had been curAte In Leeds for three
years. fIe was then appointed to this
living, and in this living he will die.
With the. kindiesi possible nature.
and scholarship which Is absolutely
profound, he is yet quite untitled for
the affairs OF ordinary life. and. In