SUCH MEN ARE DANGEROUS.

Putaruru Press, Volume VIII, Issue 364, 13 November 1930, Page 3

SUCH MEN ARE DANGEROUS.

(Adapted from the film of the same I name) - CHAPTER XI.—SCHEMING. j « Tell me, Paul, do you see the funny i side of the situation ? The widow of , Ludwig Kranz in a love affair with Pierre Villard, while Ludwig Kranz looks on ? What a wonderful joke ! j Paul, you’ve never heard me refer to my marriage or to the humiliation of my wife’s desertion that made Ludwig Kranz the laughing stock of Europe, have you ? ” « No, I have not ! «Well, what do you suppose 1 thought of day and night during that year at the sanatorium ? Merely ot having my ugly features transformed into a semblance of youth and good looks ? ” Once more into Pierre Villard’s eyes had come the leering look of old. . . . , „ “ Well—but what else ? “ I’ll tell you what else. All tha„ year I planned that I might win my wife back, and then —” “ And then ? ” Paul gazed anxiously at Pierre, really the mirrors of their souls. “ I don’t understand you, Ludwig.

"You shall when the time comes. Adieu, Paul. I am off to Durand s. Pierre had much to think ox during that walk to Durand’s. The last act in this comedy was soon to be staged, and if he plaved his part well— He pushed the glass swing door open and strolled along the luxuriously carpeted hall at Durand s, keeping a sharp look-out for Eleanor and Muri*He saw them at last in a secluded corner where a small fashion parade was in progress. « Well, Eleanor, dear. Good morning. Muriel. Choosing some more •owns, I see. They look very beautiful. I should like to see you wearing that one, Eleanor.” Eleanor fingered the shimmering ®you would, Pierre ? Well, perbans you will. Would you excuse me for a moment ? I shall not be long, “a T have to see about a hat. . Nr «For a minute, Eleanor. Muriel will look after me, won’t you ? “Why, yes. I’ll be—” “ Now only a moment,” Pierre warned. “ I’ll come and look for you if you are longer.” “I’ll not be away two minutes, you Impatient boy,” Eleanor laughed over - her shoulder. Be goodl! 44 You know,” Muriel said, lightly*

I “ I envy my sister. Yes, really I do. I She has everything she wants, ana ) she loves pretty things.” I “ "Well, why shouldn t she have 1 them ? After all, she has plenty of means —” Pierre seemed to speak with difficulty—“ to gratify every wish, j But Mrs Wyndham—Muriel, 1 meanmay X speak freely with you—and , privately 1 ” , .. “ Why, yes. Shall we go to the alcove ? We shall be alone.” He nodded, and they walked off together. , It was not until Muriel was comfortably seated under one of the palms that he spoke again. . T •• E r you—you must know that l | have seen your sister almost every day for the past few months—but — I but never alone. There’s always been | others present you know what I mean ? ” “ I think so, Mr Villard.” I “Well, I wonder if you and your sister would have dinner with me shall we say to-morrow evening—at my apartment ? ” “ Why, yes; we’d be delighted. “ And—” Pierre looked slightly embarrassed. He gazed doubtfully. at Muriel. “ Of course three is a crowd—and —oh—do you not under- , stand ? ”

For a second Muriel was silent. “ Pierre—l may call you Pierre, may I not ?—I think I understand — perfectly. Three is a crowd.” “ Then that’s settled ! ” Pierre gave vent to a sigh of relief. “ Shall we go and meet Eleanor now ? You will not forget, Mrs Wyndham—tomorrow evening ? ” “ I shall not forget, Pierre.” And Pierre, as he made his way slowly through the palms, gave a slight smile. His carefully-laid, deepset plot was certainly succeeding. His schemes and plans for revenge would soon bear fruit. In the smoking room of his apartment Pierre stood furiously shaking the cocktail and chatting to Paul. “ Here, taste this, Paul; it is good. Yes, I’m having visitors—Eleanor and her sister.' “ Yes. I have brought your steamer ticket to South America, as you requested me to. The boat sails from Bordeaux at nine to-morrow morning.” “ Good ! Thanks, Paul. I think that’s all. Is this Eleanor ? Ah. show her in, will you ? Good-night, Paul.” Eleanor, flushed and bright-eyed, appeared at the door. She threw her wrap carelessly on the chair and arranged a few unruly curls that peeped and twisted about her face. “ Have I kept you waiting, Pierre ? Why, what’s happened to Freddy anc

Muriel ? Aren’t they here yet ?” “ Not yet. I expect them any mom- , ent. It’s kind—very kind of you to i come to-night, Eleanor.” I Eleanor said nothing, but glanced j round with interest, noting all the j littie details of the room. They were sitting there quietly drinking their cocktail and awaiting the arrival of I Freddy and Muriel, when Paul en- j tered. i “ Madame Kranz—she is wanted on L the phone, m-sieur.” “ Me ? Are you sure, Paul ? WhoI ever would ring me up here ? ’* I “ Quite sure, madame. It is your sister, Mrs Wyndham.” I Oh.” Eleanor’s eyes clouded. She 1 excused herself, and, leaving the room, crossed the hall to the telephone. On the wire—distant and hardly distinguishable—came Muriel’s plaintive voice. “ Oh, Eleanor, I’m in bed. dear—” “ Bed ! ” Eleanor nearly dropped the receiver. “ Yes, yes, dear. It’s only a bad headache. I feel 1 quite run down, and—” “ I’m so sorry, Muriel. I’ll be right over.” “ Oh, no, no, dear.” Muriel’s voice became suddenly surprisingly energetic. “ Why spoil your evening ? I will be all right to-morrow. Tell Mr Villard how sorry I am. Good night, dear.” “Well!” said Eleanor, and she glanced ruefully at Pierre, who had come into the hall to meet her. “ That spoils everything. Muriel is ill, Pierre. She won’t be able to join us.” “ Oh, nothing serious, I hope. I’m terribly sorry. But—we can’t let it spoil our evening together, can we ?” “ Well—” “ Oh, please, Eleanor. Dinner is served. Come. Let us drink—to a perfect evening—an evening we shall

both remember as long as we live.” They were very silent during the beginning of the meal. Sue, the little maid, left the room at last, and Pierre, staring moodily into the fire, was the first to break the silence. “ Eleanor, I—l received a cable to- ! day—a cable calling me back to South America. I’m sailing in the morning.” Eleanor clutched her frock. The ’ colour drained from her face. She tried desperately to steady her voice j as she replied: 1 “ For—for how long. Pierre ? ” “ Oh, I don’t know.” Pierre gave ' a shrug, and his eyes gleamed as he saw the pain he was causing her. 1 “ Perhaps a year- —perhaps five—perhaps I may never return.” “ And is this your idea of a—a per- * feet evening ? ” “ You can make it so, Eleanor—if you give me the right answer to the ’ question I’m going to ask you. Tor day when I went to the steamship t office to arrange for my ticket I sud- “ denly realised what it all meant to ~ me—that I was probably putting you • out of my life forever; and then the d

thought was so—well, it was all I comd do not to buy another ticket and try to persuade vou to come with me. Would it—Eleanor, would it have been any use ? ” “ Oh, Pierre ” —Eleanor’s voice was piteous—“ you shouldn’t ask me that.” “ Why not, Eleanor ? I’m going away for a long time, and I can’t go without knowing—knowing if you love me as I love you.” “ I do—oh, Pierre, you know I do. But—l’m not free. You see—my husband—” “ He’s dead ! Surely, Eleanor, he’s dead ? ” “ Maybe,” Eleanor sighed wearily; “ maybe not. The law says not for six more years, but—oh, Pierre, you believe me when I say he never meant anything to me ? ” “ Then why—why did you—” “ Please—it’s hopeless to make you understand. You didn’t know Ludwig Kranz.” “ Didn’t I ? ” Pierre’s dark eyes seemed to pierce her very thoughts. “ Did I ever, tell you I didn’t know

him ? ” “ Why—why, no. I just assumed it, I Pierre.” | “ Perhaps you assumed too much. I Perhaps I understand the position bet- * ter than you ever suspected. As a i matter of fact, Mr Kranz and I were I rather closely associated. I have even I been told that we resemble each other. ! Do you see any similarity ? ” Eleanor stared at him speechlessly. Was Pierre mad ? What had happened to him ? Where was that Pierre who but a short second ago was to tell her of his love ? But Pierre was continuing, and she gazed at him, fascinated. 1“ Look closely, Eleanor. They say it’s rather marked. You see nothing familiar about my face ? But of .

course not—-the face tells nothing ! The eyes, though. Look into my eyes ! I want you to look very closely. Are

you sure there is nothing that reminds you of—” u Ludwig ! ” Eleanor swayed uncertainly. She felt dumb. There was a growing terror in her heart. What had happened ? Oh, what frightful nightmare was this ? ” “Yes, Ludwig Kranz ! ” Pierre was smiling. “ What does it feel like to be in love with Ludwig, Eleanor ? ” “ But—l’m not. I—l don’t understand. I was in love with Pierre Villard. Pierre is gone, and Ludwig Kranz has come back, and I have even more contempt for him than ever.” “ Yes ? ” The new Ludwig mocked her. “ You have contempt for him, but what of his money—what of the million pounds he gave ycu ? ” “ You think that ? ” Eleanor felt the anger surging within her. “ So money is still your soul ? But let me tell you that I haven’t used one penny of that money. Yes, you may look surprised.” Eleanor stared scornfully at Ludwig’s startled face. “I know j you saw me in Ourand’s ordering doz- | ens of gowns. Why ? Because I • work there. My job is to set the fashions. How you could ever have be-

come Pierre Villard I shall never be able to understand. Pierre, who was so thoughtful, so tender, so kind—and you who bought me as you bought everything else you wanted ! Oh, how I hare you ! ” As she spoke Ludwig gazed silently into the fire. There was a battle going on inside him, he knew. He tried to conquer the feeling that was rising up—surging above everything. He tried and failed. “ Eleanor ! ” Again it was the Pierre of old who spoke. “ Eleanor, if you hate me now you will hate me even more when I finish. I told you the truth about one thing—this was to be the most wonderful night of my life, the night when I was going to humiliate you—even more deeply than you had humiliated me. For a year I planned it—those months at the hospital. I forgot the pain—by thinkling only of my revenge. I would alter my face. I could make you love me. I could make you give yourself to me,

and then I could laugh at your love. The moment came just as I planned—the revenge was before me. I had only to take it but I could not. Something stronger than revenge prevented me—-something stronger than my wounded pride—my love for you, Eleanor ! ” “ Oh, Pierre ! ” Eleanor felt a sob in her throat. She closed her eyes tightly to keep back the tears that trembled on her lashes. “ You call me Pierre, Eleanor ? ” “ You’re not Ludwig he would have taken his revenge. You’re Pierre —my Pierre.” “ Eleanor, dear ! ” said Pierre, and for the first time since that New Year wedding he kissed his bride. (The end.)