The Two Miss Carrs

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 65, 8 June 1927, Page 16

The Two Miss Carrs

By

Thomas Cobb,

Author of " Joanna Seta to XV “t he Late Mr. Beverly/* &c., &c

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. CHAPTERS 1. to Vl.—Mrs. Fentiman flatters herself that she d«»es not look her ago. although she is 10 years oldei than Dick Warrender. He knows he has only to say the word and the lady and all her possessions are his. She is trying to get his a post as private secretary to Sir Edwin Shackel. Mrs. Fentiman returns from a visit to her mother a.nd sees Dick Warrender with a young lady companion. She Is handsomelj dressed, and holds a Sealyham by tht leash. Eater in the day Mrs. Fentimar entertains Dick and taxes him aboin ♦his vcun? lady, whom Dick owns h< does not know. On their way to tennis Luke Harborough notices that Dick Wartender waves his hat to a radiant-look-frig girl standing bareheaded at a cottage gate. On Monday Dick devotes the day to Mary Carr and on that morning Mrs. Fentiman drives past in her car. She recognises the girl, and greets Dick with a distant bow. In Hyde Park Dick * omes across another lady with a Sealyham. The dog recognises him. am r *ick scrapes acquaintance with the girl He brings up the topic of Mary Carr and his companion asks whether sh« has yet obtained a situation. Dick h astounded, and asks whether Miss Can eft her last situation on Saturday last* Saturday.” is the reply. Havin' made up his mind to forget Mary. Diet does not take her home on Sunday, but believing she wants a situation, he gets • Mrs. Harborough to call on the girl Mary says she does not mind being a lad\ help. Duke goes to an at home at Lady • Mnninpbury's and there meets anothei Mary Carr. CHAPTER Vll.—(Continued.) “At Highstead—at least she’s staying there for the present in a jolly little cottage overlooking the common.” Madame Wellby-Rine was beginning to sing, and the. fact may havt I'-counted for Molly's silence, bul after the encore she looked up at Luke again. “Would you mind telling me yeui own name?” she asked, and, n a vine lizard it, added: "Do you livt at Highstead ?” “I’ve never lived anywheie else,’ he said. A foreign-looking man was playing something of Chopin’s, and Luke •stood looking down at Molly Carr’s hair, speculating about her connectior with A!ary at Virginia Cottage. That there was a connection her manner •..om polled him to suspect, nor could he forget Dick Warrender’s account of the girl who had told him that alary was looking for a berth. Presently the chair next to hers became empty and Luke promptly took it. “I suppose.” she said, “you would be tremendously astonished if I dared : • ask you to do sometning or me?”

“You may be certain I'll do it if I can,” he answered. “It’s quite the simplest thing in the world,” she insisted. “You have only to promise not to tell anyone you have met me this evening.” The plot seemed to be thickening, and while his natural impulse was to no as she wished, the result must be that he would leave Lady Canningbury’s more perplexed than he had arrived, but no wiser. “Oh, but ” “Surely,” she interrupted, “you’re not going to hesitate.” “Upon my word I’m afraid 1 am.” He saw there could be nothing tragic about what he felt might now almost be regarded as a mystery. She did not seem annoyed by his hesitation, amused rather, as if the whole affair were a joke. “It’s impossible to talk here,” she said. “Moral —give me the opportunity to see you somewhere else.” She seemed to be studying him attentively, as if she could not quite make up her mind. “I suppose I must,” she answered, and now he thought that he should hear where she lived, and so be enabled to find out all about her —and also about the other Miss Carr. “Would tomorrow suit you?” she added. “I’m afraid I shan’t get away from the Temple till half-past fiVe,” he said. “That will do nicely if you will come to the Hypatia Club—at the corner of Constable Street, you know.” Luke could not help feeling disappointed. He was not to hear her address after all. “Of course,” she said, “it is quite understood that you will not mention my name to any human being till you have seen me again.” CHAPTER VIII. The evening had been more profitable than Luke Harborough anticipated. He had at least made an important discovery. There were two Mary Carrs, though why one of them should object to his telling the other he had met her, was more than he could imagine. Or, perhaps, it was Dick Warrender whom she wished to keep in the dark.. But quite apart from his interest in the original Mary Carr, and indeed from the outset, he always thought of the other as Molly, the evening stood out from every other in his experience. Although he had met her in an environment new to him, of which he. to | tell the truth, stood a little in awe,

she had made him feel perfectly at ease. He put it to himself that she was typically womanly, neither extremely up-to-date on the one hand, nor old-fashioned on the other. She did not belong to a period but to all time, moreover he would like her to belong to him. So that he looked forward to his visit to the Hypatia Club with satisfaction as well as curiosity, and reached its door shortly before six.

It had a reputation for exclusiveness and might have been a private house, but for the uniformed hall porter in the vestibule, where he was kept waiting a few minutes, when Molly came to receive him, wearing a very becoming hat. She led the way to a small room on the first floor, where two middle-aged women were reading, bvl before he had time to sit down they both went away, staring rather antagonistically. “You know, Mr. Harborough,” said Molly, when he had refused afternoon tea and accepted a cigarette, “you ought to have done as I asked without making conditions.” “I’ve been painfully conscious of that ever since,” he admitted, “But naturally when you wished me to keep silencD my chief desire was to speak “What should you have said ?” she demanded. “I have more than a suspicion that it was you who saw my friend Warrender in the park last Friday,” said Luke. it was!” “You led him to believe that Miss Carr —the other Miss Carr —had been living with you in a subordinate position, that in fact she was on the lookout for a job which she wanted rather urgently.” “Well?” “If you won’t be annoyed ” “I shan’t,” she cried with a smile. “I Can promise that.” “I am inclined to think it wasn't true. Miss Carr doesn’t look the part. She was born to command —that sort of thing. And I’ve been wondering why you went out of your way—to pull Warrender’s leg.” “Did you never hear of answering a fool according to his folly?” Molly suggested. “You jumped to the conclusion that he was one?” ‘I know exactly what he is,” she retorted. “Exactly. I see so many of the same type; extremely nice-looking, specious, insinuating, so beautifully turned out, like the lily, neither toiling nor spinning, but less modest and retiring. Do you mean to insinuate that he’s in 1 with Mary?” “He would swear it by all his gods.” “Oh, naturally! And he assumed that she had money?” said Molly. “He judged by appearances,” returned Luke. “But,” suggested Molly. demurely, “now he is convinced she’s poor?” “You succeeded perfectly',” said Luke. “Is Mr. Warrender still pursuing her?” she demanded. Luke broke into a laugh.

“If it’s a question of pursuit,” he answered, “I should say he’s the quarry.”

She was silent for a few moments and seeing a few wrinkles on her forehead, Luke added, “You promised not to be annoyed.” “Anyhow,” she said, “does he see as much of her,since —since he saw me?” “Why, no, for an excellent reason. His income is far too small to enable him to marry a woman without money. When you persuaded him that Miss Carr was penniless, the decent thing was obviously to leave her alone. But you are a friend of Lady Canningbury’s.” “I had never seen her till last night. It’s true I know Lord Rothnill. He was kind enough to ask her to send me an invitation to hear Piranelli, but surely that doesn’t prove that Mary i other than I told Mr. Warrender. Yet, I suppose, you would have set him on tl • warpath again if I hadn’t made a great effort to conquer my repugnance to appeal to You." “And,” cried Luke, hoping to force her hand, “unless you show cause, 1 shall speak to him this evening. In the fullness of his heart, he is actually trying to get Aliss Carr a berth.” “How supremely ridiculous,” murmured Molly. “He has enlisted my mother’s sympathy. She is doing her best to hear of a job as mother’s help or whatever you call it.” “It really is comic,” said. Molly. “It wouldn’t be if you hadn’t intervened,” returned Luke. “There would be nothing to amuse you unless Miss Carr were in the position I should naturally expect in a relative of yours.” “I don’t wish to talk about myself. Air. Harborough.” “I wish to goodness you would ” “In order to throw a side, light on Mary, you are assuming that I, ot all people, am rich; and that consequently she can’t be poor. Nothing could possibly be more false than your premises, but still you propose to tell All*. Warrender your conclusion.” “You are rare among women,” urged Luke. “You ntagonistic to him.” “I look upon him as neither more nor less than an adventurer,” she admitted. “He impressed me in that way directly I saw him and his behaviour bears me out. While, for some mysterious reason, he thought Alary had money, he ran after her. Now he believes she has none, you confess that he has altered his tactics.” “Well, I shall see him to-night,” cried Luke, rising from his chair. “In fact, you’re threatening me,” she said. “I shall explain that there are two Miss Mary Carrs, and that one of cbern is unwilling even to let me know where she lives.” ‘ Not at all,” she answered. ‘ Personally. I’m the least mysterious person in* the world.” “But you have a partner—Mr. Jorkins,” suggested Luke. “You must give n . a few days’ grace,” she said- “ How many?”

“ Suppose you come here again on Sunday at a', out four. Till then, of course, you will hold your tongue.” you will write to Virginia Cottage,” said Luke, and she laughed as she held out her hand. CHAPTER IX. Dick Warender found it increasingly necessary to put a severe restraint upon himself. Nothing would have been easier than to meet Alary Carr once or twice a day. She had nothing to do but walk about the common, or change her books at the circulating library on the Parade, and his absten - tion was the more painful, because he felt certain that she was as deeply disappointed as himself. Yet he rigorously avoided the neighbourhood of Virginia Cottage, and this fact ought surely to count for righteousness. Often as he was tempted to diverge a few* yards on his way to and from the golf club, he always took the shortest path, never ceasing to lament the circumstance that had rudely interrupted the sweetest dream of his life. At the same time, it was impossible to ignore the fact that one pair of his evening trousers was becoming shiny at the knees. AEoreover, a looser style was coming in. Alessrs. Yarrow and Son had made his first pair, and, having clothed the late Air. VVarrender for many years, allowed his son longer credit for the sake of old times. Dick made his way to Sackville Street after luncheon on Thursday, and at three o’clock was greeting the present head of the firm as a friend. His opinion on the question of bagginess was listened to with respect, and, the measure having" been taken, he apologetically explained that, having an acceptance for a considerable sum to meet next week, he should be greatly obliged by a cheque on account. “AY hy. yes, rather,” answered Dick. “Thursday, you say.” Taking out his diary, he made a memorandum. “I’d better make it Wednesday to be on the safe side. That’ll be quite all right. Yarrow.” On leaving the shop he hesitated on the doorstep while he lighted a cigarette, then walked toward Picauilly, wondering whether he should see Bunch again, for. while sighing because one woman was fair, there could be no reason against diverting himself with another. On the way to Hyde Park Corner lie recognised Bunch’s owner without Bunch. She was a few yards ahead, about to cross the road at Clarges Street, and he promptly made up his mind to overtake her. After all, the dog had given him an introduction of sorts, and he was never very exactSecond thoughts, however, prevailed. Why not seize the opportunity to rind out where she lived, where Alary Carr used to live? With luck he might track her to her own door. Not that lie had any particular desire to know where this was situated, still sue was an attractive woman, though not to be compared with Alary, and he had nothing to do for the next few hours. Carefully adapting liis pace to

hers, he followed in her wake till, at the corner of Hamilton Place, she stopped to spea k to a tall, heavilybuilt, pompous personage, who buried his chin in his collar as he talked. Dick had to make a sharp turn down Park Lane, but picked up the scent again opposite St George’s Hospital, where she crossed Knightsbridge, walked on for some distance, then turned to her left. A few doors down she entered a tempting-looking confectioner’s, causing Dick to pull up short and turn his back as he gazed at the stock-in-trade of a convenient tobacconist. She came forth with a white paper parcel—chocolates, probably—and having walked a little further, went round the corner to the right. Stopping there, Dick saw her go up the steps of one of half-a-dozen large, redbrick modern houses, Quinton Gardens, and counting it he judged it to be No. 4. The next thing was to ascertain her name, and, making his way back to ihe tobacconist’s, he bought a box of Egyptian cigarettes. “Do you happen to have a directory?” he asked, as he put them into his own case. ‘Only a local one, I'm afraid,” said ti c tobacconist. He was a middleaged, pleasant-looking man, with a wooden leg. “And it’s three years old,” he added, bringing it from the desk at the end of the counter. Dick began hastily to turn the but suddenly stopped as if he were not quite certain he had read the name correctly. “Good Lord!” he exclaimed, looking as if the tobacconist were concerned in the revelation. It was nothing less. Dick had found Quinton Gardens, and Number 4 was occupied by “Carr, Sir Timothy, J.P.” Then, who in the world, was Mary? Presumably his daughter, but then who was the owner of the Sealyham terrier, the little minx who apparently lived in the same house, who had insinuated that Mary was her “companion,” urgently in need of another situation? “Do you know anything of Sir Timothy Carr of 4, Quinton Gardens, round the corner?” asked Dick. “Knew him well,” answered the tobacconist. “He often looked in. I used to keep a special box of Coronas. You see, he made, a point of walking acAss the park on the way to business —a tendency to put on flesh toward the last.” “Then he’s dead,” suggested Dick. “Died a little over two years ago,” said the tobacconist. “Carr’s Capsules, you know, sir.” “Carr’s Capsules!” Of course Dick knew. Who did not? The advertisement was familiar on every hoarding, in every train, “Carr’s Capsules If you’re well they make you better, If you’re ill, they cure you.” Astonishing that he had never tumbled to it before! But though he had seen the advertisement, certainly every time he travelled to town, it had neve? occurred to him that Mary was associated with it. “Sir Timothy,” the tobacconist con-

tinued, “left over a quarter of a million. Every penny, bar a few small legacies, went to his daughter. She couldn’t have been a day more than three and twenty.”

Leaving the shop in an excited state of mind, Dick Warrerfder walked to Knightsbridge, but had to go as far as Brompton Road, before he could obtain what he now urgently wanted —a local directory for the current year. Having succeeded at last, he stood outside the stationer's, turning the leaves \v t > . shaky hand. There it was just as • had begun to expect: “CARR, MISS MARY.” Now be felt he knew enough. Mary Carr, at present staying at Victoria Cottage, Highstead, was the daughter and heiress of Sir Timothy of Carr’s Capsules’ fame! What in the world was she doing at Mrs. Dale’s? Why had that little demon said she was looking for a berth ? Why had not she, herself, contradicted the statement? Why, on the contrary, was she permitting Mrs. Harborough to find her employment—Sir Timothy’s heiress, with an income which could scarcely be less than ten thousand pounds a year!

(To be continued.)