Catching Up

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 248, 10 January 1928, Page 5

Catching Up

By

Henry C. Rowland .

Author of “ Hit Dear Eccentric.** “ The Pedlat.* "Duds,** &e., fcc.'

CHAPTER XVII. Calvert led Agnes to the cloak-room, where they got their dominos. Few were leaving yet. The doorman called them a taxi and they sped off. Once in the cab, Agnes seemed on the point of collapse. Her head fell back in the corner, and Calvert reaching for her hand found it cold and a little damp. The suspicion flashed suddenly across his mind that Howard might have drugged her, but this idea he quickly dismissed. The man would not have wanted an unconscious girl upon his hands. For some distance they rode in silence; then the fresh air seemed to revive her a little. “It is nice of you to take me home,” said she. “I hope you don’t mind. Won’t your partner be angry?” “Oh, no! To tell the truth, I think she got rather a liking for yours. She’s a gay young society woman with a lot of money, and does precisely what she chooses. She asked me to bring her here to-night because she knew I was a safe sort of fellow and that I would keep my mouth shut. Your viking seems to be an English swell. “He is.” “Then look out for him!” “What?” Agnes straightened suddenly. “No offence, please. Only I happen to know something about those birds. They’re a dangeroust lot. A girl to them is like a horse or car or something of the sort; a toy or plaything to be chucked when they see one they like better.” “What makes you say that?” “Because I think you’re a nice girl, and if you don’t mind my saying so—without a whole lot of experience. That’s a pretty awful riot back there.” “It was terrible. I didn’t think it was going to be like that, or I shouldn’t have gone.” “Well, I hope it hasn’t hurt you any so far. May I speak as a friend—even if an unknown one?” “Yes,” she answered hesitatingly. “Then mind your step with Howard. I know his sort. Is he a suitor?” She nodded. “We’re engaged—wants me to marry him as soon as we can get the papers.” “What do you know about him—or at least, how much do you know about him ?” "Not such an awful lot,” she confessed. “Then take my advice not to get married until you do. Marriage is a vicious habit with some of these British adventurers.” Her body stiffened. “He’s not an adventurer. He’s an officer and a gentleman. He’ll be a lord some day.” “When dealing with gentlemen you can't be too careful, especially Englisn ones out of their own country. Dock at the thing on the face of it. Do you think if I were engaged to a girl like you I’d let her go away feeling woozy with a strange man? For all he knows I might be the worst kind of a rotter.” “But he had to stay. He’s one of the floor committee.” Well, I’d have let the floor go to blazes —which it seems to be doing without any help. I wish you’d promise me something. You really ought to, because I’ve got a feeling that you’re in need of a bit of looking after. Will you?” “What is it?” “Don’t marry him for at least a month. Meantime, try to find out more about him.” Agnes turned and stared at him intently. . “I wish I could remember where I ve heard your voice,” said she. “I think vou know who I am. Oh, dear!” • What’s the matter?” “My head's swimming again. I

don’t know how I’m ever going to get into the villa, and it’s broad daylight.” “Only half past four. Pull yourself together. We’re almost there.” The next five minutes were anxious ones for Calvert. The swaying and jolting of the taxi in its rapid motion, and objects flitting past, appeared lo put the finishing touches on Agnes’s giddiness. She swayed, seeme.d about to pitch forward, and to steady her he put his arm round her shoulders and drew her against him. He was now convinced that the champagne alone could not account for this semi-col-lapse. The man had certainly drugged her, slightly perhaps, but carefully gauging the narcotic—whatever it might be —to get its cumulative effect a couple of hours later. Her speech had been slightly thick when they first began to dance, but now she seemed suddenly deprived of it. The taxi drew up in front of the Villas des Lilas. “Come, now,” said Calvert, “here tve are—one final effort.” “I—l—can’t—see!” Calvert flung open the door, glanced up and down the street, then practically dragged her from the taxi. The sympathetic chauffeur got down to bear a hand. They half led, half dragged her to the gate. The chauffeur touched the bell, when after a moment’s pause the latch clicked, this being as much a reflex on the part of the sleeping concierge as one’s pupils contracting to sudden light. “All right,” said Calvert to the chauffeur. “Wait.” He got her to the door of the little house, where, holding her erect with sagging knees, he gave her a vigorous shake. “Give me the key.” He shook her again. “Your key!” Then getting no response, he tugged at a small gold chain round her neck, drawing from her corsage a little mesh purse, which he opened, and took the key. As he took this out he wondered with some dismay what he ought to do next. H© couldn’t very well put Agnes to bed, nor did he feel that he ought to leave her alone in that condition. But his perplexity was relieved, though in a highly embarrassing manner, for as he turned the key in the lock the door swung open with the jingle of Dutch chime pipes, and almost immediately a voice from a bedroom at the far end of the corridor called in crisp English accents, “Is that you, Agnes?” Calvert was seized with an almost irresistible temptation to let Agnes drop, close the door and beat a speedy retreat. But there was a quality in his nature which forbade this measure. He was guilty of no wrong. His act was worthy and chivalrous . So he answered: “Yes, Lady Audrey, it is Agnes, and she’s ill.” “And who are you?” “I am a friend of Agnes’s. I found her at a ball in bad company and brought her home.” “Indeed! You seem to have taken your time about it. Wait a minute, please.” And then to Calvert’s horror there came from an adjoining room a sleepy girlish voice which asked fretfully, “Who is it? What’s all the noise about?” This was too much for Calvert’s nerve. He realised instantly that Isabel must have returned late with Ladv Audrey. As he was half dragging, half carrying her into the salon he heard the swish of draperies outside,

and laying Agnes down looked up to confront the terrifying figure of Lady Audrey glaring at him from the threshold. She was in silk pyjamas of pale mauve over which she had flung a sort of Arab burnoose, her feet in Moorish slippers with tufts on the upturned, pointed toes. Her ruddy, weatherbeaten skin and lofty, clean-cut masculine features suggested a hardened campaigner of the Soudan, which effect was enhanced by her short, curly, grizzled hair. Standing thus erect and militant, she looked with angry amazement at the tableau of a graceful young man in the costume which disclosed his pleasing proportions just in the act of depositing a woefully crumpled Columbine upon a Recamier, straightening her shapely legs that they might not flop upon the floor. “Well, upon my word!” said Lady Audrey.. “Is this the sort of thing which takes place in my absence? Who are you and what have you done to her? Take off your mask!” As Calvert was about to comply there came another rustle, and he saw the rosy, sleepy and astonishing face of Isabel peeping out from behind, Lady Audrey’s elbow. His hands fell to his sides again. “It’s not entirely Agnes’s fault, Lady Audrey,” said he. “She thought she was going to a harmless masquerade, and it turned out to be the jockey ball. I saw her there and brought her home. I think she must have been drugged.” “With whom did she go?” demanded Lady Audrey. “She told me he was her fiance.” “Fiance rubbish!” exploded Lady Audrey. “What was lie —and who are you, young man? Take off your mask!” Calvert did so unw'illingly, and saw Isabel’s eyes grow round with astonishment and shock. “Lieutenant Steel!” she gasped. But Lady Audrey after one glance at his face stepped quickly to the side of the unconscious girl and took off her mask. Agnes’s face was flushed and her breathing slow but laboured. Lady Audrey took her pulse, but stood for a moment looking at her thoughtfully, then raised her eyelids and glanced at her pupils. “Contracted,” said she. “1 believe you’re right. She’s had an opiate. How did you fetch her here?” “In a taxi,” Calvert answered. “She only lost consciousness when we got to the gate.” “Well, let’s get her in bed. Her pulse is strong, and there’s no use making *a Calvert picked up the limp girl, and following Lady Audrey carried her into a bedroom and laid her down, then returned to the salon, where a few moments later he was joined by Lady Audrey*and Isabel. “Now tell me what you know about this. Lieutenant Steele,” said Lady Audrey. CHAPTER XVIII. "I went to the ball about midnight,” said Calvert, “and in passing Agnes I recognised her voice. She was with an Englishman she called Howard, ■who was costumed as a viking. In the rumpus that was going on I spoke to her, and though she wasn’t able to identify me she guessed that I was someone whom she knew. That was only about an hour ago. I asked her to dance and saw right away that she was in bad shape.” “What was her escort doing?” “I spoke to him, and he saw that I was American and made no objection, as he wanted to dance with another girl. Agnes said that he had promised to take her home early. My own opinion is that he’s a scoundrel who had designs on her. So I asked Agnes to let me bring her home.” Lady Audrey’s stern features relaxed. “Well, I must say it was very decent of you,” said she. “What a little fool! Almost anything might have happened to her.” “It may yet if she’s not looked after,” said Calvert. “She’s told me that this man was a captain in the British Army, but there’s no doubt he’s a, bad lot. The chances are she’s told him of this inheritance of hers.” “Quite so,” said Lady Audrey, “and he meant to force her into an immedi- ; ate marriage. I can’t understand, ] though, his letting her go away with “Well,” said Calvert, “he'd got fasI einated by another girl and drunk a jgood bit of champagne, and thought no

doubt there was no desperate hurry. He may have thought too that Agnes was going to be something of a nuisance.” ‘Did she seem rational coming back in the cab?” “Her speech was clear enough, though she didn’t say much, but seemed to be fighting to keep her consciousness. That’s what makes me think that she was drugged. He probably gave her small ampunts in her wine during the course of the ball, not wishing it to take effect until after they had left.” “Hoity-toity, a calculating blackguard! That sort are when they go bad.” She checked herself suddenly. “How was it Agnes failed to recognise you?” “She knew my voice, but coulfln’t place it through being confused, and having talked to such a lot of soldiers.” “Then why did you keep your identity secret?” “Because,” said he slowly, “I have my suspicions of this man and I don’t want him to be put on his guard.” The expression of Lady Audrey’s face showed that she had immediately caught the idea. “I see,” said she. “Well, why not? Young man, I believe you’re on the right track.” “Then you don’t think it was Jerry Heming?” murmured Isabel. “I never did think it was Jerry Heming. More than that. I’ve been positive that it was not. Heming may have been unable to account for himself without compromising some woman. Just as 1 might have been to-night if asked to account for myself when with Agnes.” ‘Run in and have a, look at Agnes, Isabel,” said Lady Audrey. “You might sit with her a few moments and see that her breathing is regular. Sit down, Mr. Steele. Now suppose you tell me all about this business. I go everywhere and know everybody who might be able to throw some sort of a slant on this fiance of Agnes’s. Fiance!” She drew down the corners of her patrician lips and her green eyes glared from under the straight, heavy lashes. “Hell’s full of fiances like that. This girl has had a close shave and her escape can be charged to your credit, my dear boy.” Calvert came to a quick decision. It is one thing to be loose-tongued and another to know when to take advantage of a valuable confidante, and as he now looked at the shrewd, austere, yet benevolent face of this aristocratic Englishwomen he was seized by the conviction that here might prove a valuable ally. “If you can spare me half an hour. Lady Audrey,” said Calvert, “I’ll tell you what only two persons know about the whole devilish affair. I think I am on a hot scent, but I’ve got to mind my step a little.” “Ul send Isabel to bed,” said she, "and we can have a good talk.” She went out, to return a few moments later with a bottle of Irish whisky and a syphon and a box of cigarettes. Calvert declining refreshment, she poured herself a little nip, lighted a cigarette, then tilting back in her chair crossed her silk-pyjamaed legs and looked a curious and incongruous figure, with her short curly hair almost white, fresh but weatherroughened fac.e, scored in lines of character pleasing rather than disfiguring, and the smoke from her Turkish cigarette swirling like incense above her. Calvert, a good narrator in a boyish, staccato way, leaned forward in his chair and proceded to put her in possession of all the facts in their proper sequence. But Isabel, having gone obediently to bed, slipped stealthily out to creep through the dining room, and was now watching the conference through a chink in the portieres. When in,the course of this he came to the part which Nita had played that | night he swerved slightly from the literal truth, but without the slightest skid, giving Lady Audrey to understand that he had costumed himself at his hotel and called for Nita. But he did not modify in the slightest the intensity with which she had . subsequently played her part and might still be playing it. There came a gleam in the green eyes of Lady Audrey as she listened to this, and as Calvert concluded she blew a thin column of smoke at the chandelier, took a sip of her strong waters and looked at him with a grim nod. “As you Yankees say, some girl’” said she/ “If going to mix it up with murderers, you’ve got to be pre-

pared to go the limit. I’ve met her once or twice. She’s a beauty.” “Just at this moment I’m a little anxious about her.” “Hoity-toity! She knows her book. But what I don’t quite see is what she expects to get out of this hound.” “She wants to find out what she can about him, then overhaul his past record. Agnes should be our star witness.” “Yes,” admitted Lady Audrey. “Agnesis a good girl, if an awful little fool.” And then without the slightest movement of her head or body she snapped out sternly: “Isabel, come here! I’ve heard you listening there the last five minutes.” Calvert’s eyes opened very wide. There was a frou-frou from behind the portieres, and there appeared a very lovely and shamefaced figure in a silken nightgown covered by a crimson kimono. Isabel’s thick, dark haid hung over her shoulders in two heavy braids. Her face was burning with confusion, but her mouth with its full red lips in a pout looked more rebellious than penitent. “Well,” barked Lady Audrey, “don’t you feel ashamed of yourself?” “How did you know I was there?” asked Isabel. “I didn’t. It was just a bluff. Now how much have you heard ?” “Everything, Lady Audrey.” “H’m! And how much are you going to blab?” “Nothing. I'm not that sort. I eavesdropped because it seemed to me that after being already mixed up in this thing I had a right to know what was going on. First I proved Mr. Steele’s alibi; then told him about this man Townley.” “What are young girls coming to?” cried Lady Audrey. “But most of them are already there nowadays.” ‘Then since I was here when you brought Agnes in.” went on Isabel, “I thought it a stingy mean trick to send me off to bed as if I were a convent pupil.” (To be Continued.)