A Runge in to the Unknown

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 290, 28 February 1928, Page 5

A Runge in to the Unknown

CHAPTER XII.—IN BERKELEY SQUARE She expected Mrs. Tourmaline to weep also. For the events of the last hour presaged disaster to her patroness. Eva had failed to carry out her imposture. Two people had detected her. True one was silenced, but the other was actively hostile. There wasn’t the least doubt the story -would reach Mrs. Dickson-Dickson’s ears. But Mrs. Tourmaline only laughed. She seemed to think it a good joke, and though she verified Mr. Mailing’s prophecy by at once going to the telephone and ringing him up, her conduct became more and more unaccountable to the puzzled Eva. What Mr. Mailing said she could only guess, but Mrs. Tourmaline calmly and positively told him that the lady under her roof was Lady Doulton, solemnly warning him that if he repeated publicly any statement that she wasn’t, the consequences would be socially disastrous to him. Finally, she suggested that he and Mrs. DieksonDickson should call the following morning, when convincing proofs that her companion that evening was Lady Doulton would be given them. Then she hung up the receiver, told Eva she looked tired, and suggested her going to bed. Eva accepted the suggestion gratefully, wondering in her own mind how the other woman would get out of the impasse into which she seemed deliberately to have placed herself. But she was too tired to trouble much, the strain of the long evening had left her physically exhausted. Apathetically, in * Lady Doulton’s bedroom, she vielded herself to Bennett who disrobed her of Lady Doulton’s clothes, and a few minutes after getting into bed passed into slumber, broken by dreams in which she was pursued by raging husbands, while grinning Mailings looked on, and ineffective Arnold Berlyns faded away when appealed to for help. It was a relief to wake and see the early morning .sunshine stream-

ing through the blind into the room, and know that at least the dangers that had disturbed her brain while sleeping were illusory. Then she fell asleep again, and this time slumbered peacefully and dreamlessly.

Bennett woke her by drawing the blinds and flooding the room with sunshine, and Eva opening her eyes found a breakfast tray by her bedside. For the moment she lay silent, luxuriating in surroundings never before enjoyed. Governesses, in her experience, never got such bedrooms.

“Good morning, Miss,” said Bennett politely. "Good morning, Bennett.” “Mrs. Tourmaline says, Miss, she’ll be obliged if you’ll be/ dressed and ready by ten o’clock.” “What time is it now.” “Nine, Miss.”

She departed, the staid disagreeable Bennett, leaving Eva to her reflections. Presumably Mrs. Diekson-Dick-son and Mailing were coming at ten. But how was Mrs. Tourmaline going to brazen out of the situation? And how could she help her patroness? "I’ve done my best, and I’ve earned my fifty pounds, and I’d like to have the rest of it and go,” decided Eva. She couldn’t fathom Mrs. Tourmaline, and she wasn’t quite sure if she liked her. She recalled Mailing’s remark about Mrs. Tourmaline throwing her away like an old glove when she’d done with her. Well, she didn’t mind being thrown away, but she expected to be paid first. What an objectionable cad the man was. How different from Arnold Berlyn! As she leisurely and luxuriously ate her breakfast, it was only tea and buttered toast and an egg, but the tea and the buttered toast and the egg were each perfect of their kind. Eva thought of Arnold Berlyn. She fell into a delicious reverie over the fact that he was coming to see her that afternoon in Highgate. She was all alone in the tiny flat, her friend. Madeline Kent,* being out of town,* and there was

no servant. She wondered if she could borrow the temporary services of the housekeeper in the flat below to lend an air of domestic dignity to the establishment . . .

It was so comfortable in bed that she felt averse to quitting it, and when finally she rose she did not hasten, and was indeed only half dressed when Bennett returned with the news she was wanted immediately. Mrs. Dick-son-Dickson and Mr. Mailing had arrived.

Eva was startled. “Isn’t Mrs. Tourmaline coming to speak to me here?” she asked, she had in fact been expecting a visit from her hostess.

“No, Miss, she’s in her boudoir, with Mrs. Dickson-Dickson and Mr. Malilng.”

With Bennett’s assistance Eva got into her plain tailor made, gave herself a final glance in the long mirror, and followed the servant to the sitting room. Mrs. Dickson-Dickson sat in an armchair looking grim and vengeful, close by her, posing elegantly on the hearthrug, stood Mr. Mailing, even more carefully groomed than usual. On the sofa opposite reclined the hostess, seemingly quite at her ease, making play with a scent bottle, and casting amused glances at her former friend.

Some ten minutes had elapsed since their arrival, and the situation, so far as the visitors were concerned, was getting strained. Their hostess puzzled them exceedingly. She had received them as if it was an ordinary call.

"My dear Henrietta, how nice to see you so early. How is your headache?” such had been her greeting. "Thank you, it still lingers, but I had to come after the extraordinary communication Mr. Mailing has made to me.”

“Oh, yes. I remember; he has a silly idea I’ve been passing off a strange woman for Eva Doulton.” Mrs. Tourmaline cast a careless smile at that gentleman, which signified that his vagaries amused her. “As if I would do such a thing'”

"But you have, dear lady,” Mailing pointed out. The lady who was in Mrs. Dickson-Dickson’s house last night, who passed for Lady Doulton,

attended the meeting of “The Society,” and afterwards appeared at the concert, was an impostor.” “So you said last night, and I warned you if you repeated it in public I would make you sorry you levelled such accusations against me.” “You said you could give proofs,” said Mrs. Dickson-Dickson; “that is why I’ve come. For I’m very curious to hear them. I may add, besides Mr. Mailing’s discovery, I have independently the best of reasons for knowing you introduced an unknown woman into my house last night.” “Well, well!” said Mrs. Tourmaline equably, “we will see. One of us has made a mistake. It may be me, after all.” “You take it very lightly, Madge.” “You take it very tragically, Henrietta.” "I do,” grimly replied the other, “and so will you before l*ve done. Where is this young woman?” “Eva Doulton? Dressing, I presume. 1 asked her to be ready at 10 o’clock, and I’ve sent Bennett to expedite her. Eva is a lazy-bones about getting up. you know.” Mrs. Dickson-Dickson put her lips close together and relapsed into silence. Mr. Mailing gazed at his carefullymanicured finger-nails and wished the young lady would hurry. A mere man, involved in a woman's quarrel, lias always a feeling of inferiority or rather of helplessness. The division of sex is never greater than in the difference between masculine and feminine quarrels. But, after a few apparently interminable minutes had ticked by, Eva entered. “Good morning, my dear Eva!” said Mrs. Tourmaline, politely. "I hope you slept well?” “Yes —thank you!” Eva smiled at her hostess, and bowed slightly to Mrs. Dickson-Dickson, who retorted with a hard stare. Mr. Mailing the girl ignored. “This is not Lady Doulton!” stated Mrs. Dickson-Dickson. "This is not Lady Doulton!” echoed Mailing. "Oh, come!” remonstrated Mrs. Tourmaline in a gentle voice. "Don’t speak so rashly. Take a good look at her before you decide.” She sat up. a malicious smile on her face, -while the other two continued to stare hard at Eva, v/ho could not help colouring under their intense scrutiny. ‘This was the lady who was at Mrs. Dickson-Dickson’s last night,” said Mailing, "and she is not lady Doulton, though I grant the likeness is amazingly close. However, Mrs. ! Tourmaline, it will be easy to put the matter beyond doubt. Send for Lord | Doulton, whom this lady ran away from last night. I am perfectly willi ing to accept his word on the matter.” j "Well—well!,” aaid Mrs Tourmaline.

*‘l see it’s no good trying to deceive you. You’re so clever, Mr. Mailing, and dear Henrietta, who really isn't sure herself, accepts your word. I will keep up the deception no longer. Let me introduce Miss Kva Wantage temporarily residing at Tighgate, and following the occupation of a governess. She is, as you see, exactly like Eva Doulton, so I engaged her yesterday to impersonate our absent friend.” “Yes, and fraudulently carried your candidates at the election by her aid,' Mrs. Dickson-Dickson indignantly burst out. “What are you going to do about it?” asked the other woman, with polite curiosity. “You must acknowledge your deception at a special meeting of ‘The Society,’ and resign your membership. ‘The Society,’ as a whole, shall decide if any further steps are to be taken.” “I shall not resign!” “You will brazen it out?” cried Mrs. Dickson-Dickson, in amazement. “I shall call a meeting of ‘The Society* for to-night. Tell them what you have done ” “You will do nothing of the kind!” “And why not?” cried the other, shrilly. “Because, Henrietta, you did the same thing yourself a month ago at the meeting at Queen’s Gate. Mr. Le Vitre was confined to his room and unable to leave it. Mr. Mailing engaged an actor to impersonate him, who voted at that meeting as Miss Wantage did last night. You set the precedent; I follow it. So I don’t think you can afford to make a public accusation against me.” CHAPTER XIII.—FURTHER ADVENTURES. Mrs. Tourmaline, having thrown her bomb, leaned back and surveyed its result through half-closed eyes. The explosion, metaphorically speaking, that followed, was all that she could desire, blowing her adversaries into fragments. They were silenced, defeated, routed. Their faces betrayed their chagrin. Mrs. Dickson-Dickson could for a brief while have dispensed with her artificial complextion, a warm natural colour dyed her cheeks, and she strangled a groan in her throat. Mailing set his teeth, scowled blackly, and cursed his luck under his breath. The man was the more discomfited, humiliated. The idea was his, the plot his handiwork, and now he was revealed as a trickster whose plans have miscarried; worse, the secret he shared with Le Vitre and the Lady was now worth nothing. He had reckoned it an asset of no inconsiderable value. He could not conceal his rage, and if looks could slay, the glance he flung at Mrs. Tourmaline would have laid her dead among the sofa cushions.

But Mrs. Dickson-Dickson was only temporarily discomfited. It is always annoying to be found out. For a minute she looked foolish, but she rallied herself.

“My dear Madge, how clever you are,” she cried, “however did you ‘get wise’ to our little game? Do tell me?” Eva, a silent spectator of the scene, heard Mrs. Tourmaline’s revelation with the utmost relief. It explained her employers’ apparent fool-hardiness, and partly justified her in what was, the girl was guiltily aware, an unjustifiaable trick. She hadn’t liked her role at all, and nothing but the extremity of her needs had led her to accept it. She glanced radiantly at the victorious figure on the sofa, and obeying a gesture seated herself beside her. “I’m so glad 1 can be Eva Wantage again,” she said. Mrs. Tourmaline, patting her arm caressingly, looked across the room at her defeated rival.

“I’m afraid I can’t claim much cleverness, Henrietta. I’d heard the day of our meeting that Mr. Le Vitre was down with an attack of pleurisy, and so was surprised to see him present. Driving home I recalled a certain oddness in his appearance, and the idea that someone was impersonating him crossed my mind. There my cleverness, as you call it, ended. I sent for a private detective, one of those people who advertise in the daily papers. I told him my suspicions, and asked him to look into the matter. He did so, and soon discovered that Mr. Le Vitre never left the house on the evening he was supposed to be at Queen’s Gate, where the meeting was held. Then my detective got on the track of a man looking like an actor, who called upon Mr. Le Vitre earlier that day. The man judiciously plied with drink let out the ; whole story, and when sober next day ; for the trifling sum of five pounds put • his signature to a statement confessing ■ what he had done. I hold this cohfes- | sion. Your fault, my dear Henrietta, ;or rather Mr. Mailing’s, lay in not choosing your tool with sufficient care. In possession of the secret I hadn’t the smallest compunction in paying you back in your own coin.”

“Very clever indeed, dear Madge, but you also made a little mistake.”

There was a bite to the words which rendered Mrs. Tourmaline vaguely uneasy. What did they imply, and why was the speaker cheerful in the hour of her humiliation? Mailing, at any rate, was not in the secret, he stared at bis patroness, hope now in his eye. Eva looked frankly puzzled.

"What mistake have I made?” de manded Mrs. Tourmaline.

“My mistake, that of not choosing your tool with sufficient care.” “I don’t understand you,” Mrs. Tourmaline spoke sharply, resenting on her own behalf and that of her protegee the comparison the other made. “You,

Jor rather Mr. Mailing, employed a low- ! class, drunken actor, I, a young lady | governess, whose character and reputal tion are unimpeachable.” I “Are they? What do you know of I Miss Wantage, what references did you ! get with her? There are governesses i and—and governesses.” I Mrs. Tourmaline felt a sudden sink--1 ing of the heart. It was true she knew nothing of Eva beyond what the young lady had told her. but Miss Wantage i carried her credentials in her face and : manner. Impossible to doubt that she I was other than the well-bred, well-con- | ducted girl of twenty-two she looked. ; Yet Mrs. Dickson-Dickson's smiling. ! malicious face hinted at unpleasant : revelations. ! “You are harbouring an impudent 1 little thief and adventuress,’’ continued Mrs. Dickson-Dickson, “that girl stole my diamond necklace last night!” Eva went white at the sudden and , unexpected charge, and Mr 3. Tourmai line wthdrew her hand; it was with a sense that her patroness had already abandoned her that the girl cried out . sharply. “It’s a lie, I’m not a thief. I . know nothing about a necklace. Mrs. , Tourmaline, surely you don’t believe | this wicked accusation?” “No, no, of course not,” was the hasty response. “Henrietta, what reason have : you for making it?” but the tone of the words were uttered in betrayed that Mrs. Tourmaline’s faith in her protegee was shaken. She knew, in fact, that Mrs. Dickson-Dickson, though j unscrupulous in some ways, was incapable of deliberately inventing such a charge. | “You may remember my head was so j bad last night that I had to retire to ray room before my guests left. I could hardly stand, the pain was so great ! Nield put me to bed. gave me one of the powders I always take, and left . me. Later a note arrived from Mr Mailing, but was not delivered to m' till this morning. In it he said he ha f proved that Lady Doulton, who had been in my house that evening, was an impostor, but that you over the telephone still denied it. I read the note 1 out to Nield, who immediately ran into my dressing room, then came back to say my diamond necklace was missing. (To be Continued.)