The Nets of Fate

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 345, 4 May 1928, Page 5

The Nets of Fate

SERIAL STORY

By OTTWELL BINNS

Paxton went to a shelf, and reaching down a book handed it to her, laughing as he did so; then excusing himself he left the room. Left to herself, Vera Vanity looked round the charmingly furnished room. She had never been there before, and was a little interested in the taste displayed by the owner. On the walls there were nothing but etchtttgs, the few ornaments that the room boasted were genuine antique. A Chippendale bureau and book-case stood on one side of the room, and . were three Chippendale chairs w th ribbon-pattern backs which would have caused some excitement among the frequenters of Christie’s sale rooms. A card table by the same ar.ist in furniture stood by the window, and there was a miniature grand piano ?n a c °rner. The rest of the furniture was of the “cosy” type, and Vera Van--1 f smiled to herself as she reflected that the owner must be a lover of ease as well as a man of taste. Then 3 e took a whiff at her cigarette, Picked up the book, and opened it at ndom. As she did so, something «K° Ut and sli PP e( l in to her lap. bhe glanced down at it, to find that was an opened letter in an enveJJJJ? °f thin foreign paper. She p ked it up, and was about to replace rh *** k°°k when her eyes caught e handwriting of the address, and tw! 1 at U . fascinated. She knew nandwriting well, and because of l J sae w as tempted to read the tpmf’ • w as just yielding to the Ptation, and her thumb and finger S} ready thrust into the envelope h n the intention of pulling out the « °f Paper which it contained, e n she heard her host approaching i ® do ° r * Instantly she thrust the back into the book, and when an Paxton entered the room she as apparently absorbed in Munster--65£,3., 3 . Criminological Lectures. » is an aw fullv fascinating I S^e cried - “Just listen to this.” whii be^ an to read, almost at random, af , e Paxton listened vastly amused w er . enthusiasm. Fortunately luck she 7 lth her ’ and the Passage which . struck was not without an interest °f its own.

he hypnotised person may become « n _i Pewerless instrument of the crimDr Wlll , of the hypnotiser. He may aav' • trigger of the gun, ZDat miX the P° ison in to the food, rp _, stea * an( i forge, and yet the responsible actor is not the has co mmits the crime. All that a h by experiments h v dndred times. I perhaps tell the ypnotised man that he is to give frnm the visitor whom I shall call . tae next room. I have a sugar jv c Prepared, and assure my man *■ the pogrder m arsenic. I throw

it into a glass of water before his eyes and then I call the friend from the next room. The hypnotised subject takes the glass and offers it to the newcomer; you see how he hesitates and perhaps trembles, but finally he overcomes his resistance and offers the sugar-water which he must take for poison. The possibilities of such secret crimes seem to grow, moreover, in an almost unlimited way through the so-called posthypnotic suggestions.” “Fancy a man doing that!” she cried. “Why, no man can count himself safe. He might be hypnotised and made to commit unheard-of crimes. I am going to borrow this book. It is more interesting than a French novel.” “You are welcome to it!” said Paxton, smiling. “Though I should hardly have thought that it was in your line. Do you take cream and sugar?” “Rose Pekoe and sugar! You Goth!” she cried. “Cream—as much as you like. It never spoils the flavour of tea!” He passed her the tea in delicate china, and she sipped it luxuriously. “Cake?” he inquired. “No, thank you . . . this tea is delicious. I wonder where you keep it?” “Why do you wonder that?” he asked laughingly. "Because I feel tempted to burgle your rooms in order to steal it,” she laughed. “A mere man has no business with such a treasure as this in his possession. How did your friend get hold of it?” “It was given him by an important mandarin for service rendered.” “Which being interpreted means for allowing him to smuggle the forbidden opium or something of that kind, I have no doubt.” “I daresay,” agreed her host with a smile. “China’s a queer hole, and queer things are done there—but the tea is no worse for all that." “Better,” laughed the actress. “Yes, I will take a second cup though I shall be breaking a private and personal rule in doing so. It is simply delightful.”

She sipped the tea slowly chattering, between whiles with an aimlessness that was* more apparent than real, then she rose from her chair with almost disconcerting suddenness.

“I really must be going. And I shall take this book with me, I want to read more about that hypnotism.” Dorian Paxton was disappointed that his visitor could stay no longer, but was compelled to accept the situation cheerfully. “You are quite welcome to the book,” he laughed. “I only hope you won’t find it too dull. When you have read it you must come and tell me what you think of it.” “Perhaps I will,” she answered smilingly. “Thanks awfully for the tea.”

She left thp chambers accompanied to the street by her host. From her brougham she waved him adieu, but scarcely had the vehicle started to move when she opened the book and took from it the letter that she had discovered between the pages. She scanned the writing on the envelope with eager eyes. “Isaac Bierstein’s, for a thousand pounds.” Then she gave a little laugh. “I’ve stolen it, and I’m going to read it. After all, I’m the man’s widow! ” Without- more ado she opened the envelope and extracting a sheet of foreign note-paper read the brief message it contained. “My dear P “I shall expect you on the evening of the 27th, and I hope you will bring those plans with you. Our mutual friend grows impatient and is inclined to press for delivery. I need scarcely remind you that, in the event of his doing so, things might prove a trifle awkward for you—a contingency which, needless to say, I should be sorry to see materialise. “Ever yours, “I.B.” “So Dorian Paxton was in Bierstein’s hands!” she whispered to herself. “And he did not scruple to threaten him. That is very interesting.” Her eyes sought the letter again, and read through a postscript at the very foot of the paper. “ 1 think I left a pocket book behind me when I was at your place —a small affair in red Russian leather. It is important to me. Please bring it with you.”

“Ah,* ahe whispered again. “I wonder if he took it? It is important to me also—that pocket book.” And as she sat with the letter in her lap her eyes grew very thoughtful. CHAPTER XVI. For the next few days, Jocelyn Lancaster found life a rather difficult thing, and did nothing to make it easier either for herself or her husband. Her pride made her resentful of the fact that apparently the actress was more in John Lancaster’s confidence than she herself was. And do what she would she could not escape the vile suggestion of the paragraph in “The Whisperer.” Though she did not realise it, and would have laughed the suggestion of it to scorn, she was jealous of her husband, and jealousy made her blind, distorted material facts, and impelled her to put a construction upon things that otherwise must have appeared to her in their native innocence. She did not accept at its face value Miss Vera Vanity’s frank explanation of the friendship between herself and the millionaire. That explanation revealed the fact that the relations between John Lancaster and the actress were very friendly, and “The Whisperer,” with its poisonous suggestion willy-nilly gave an interpretation of those relations which was one that most people would inevitably give. But most of all she resented the secrecy that her husband maintained in regard to her brother Pat, and so cherishing this grievance with the other one, and still obsessed by the terrible suspicion which Dorian Paxton had sown in her mind, she allowed the relations between her and her husband to grow strained almost to breaking point. John Lancaster strove his best to avert what he regarded as a calamity. Entering the drawing-room one afternoon, he found Jocelyn standing by one of the windows, her eyes fixed on the street, and apparently absorbed in thought. Obviously she had not heard the door open, and was unaware of his presence. He quickly crossed the room, his steps making no sound on the rich carpet, and when he was close behind her he spoke softly and tenderly: “Jocelyn, my dear!” She started at the sound of his voice and drew a little away from him. "Well?” she asked coldly.

He noticed the little action of withdrawal and was hurt thereby, while the coldness of her tone cut him to the

heart, but he gave no sign of these things. His eye were still tender as he looked at her, and his voice had lost nothing of its softness as he replied: “My dear, why should we be like this? Why do you build walls of constraint around yourself?” She had been thinking over the events of the last few weeks when he enered the room, and miserable and unhappy through her thoughts, was inclined to deal recklessly.

“You do not like these walls?” she asked coldly. “I hate them,” he cried vehemently. “I cannot hear to watch them growing higher and higher. I cannot think why you raise them.” She did not reply for a moment, and when she did her manner was cold, her voice almost harsh. “Constraint is a woman’s way of protecting herself.” “But why need you protect yourself? Against whom —” “Against you,” she interrupted sharply. “Against me!” he cried hoarsely, his face filled suddenly with manifest emotion. “My God, you don’t mean that, Jocelyn?” “But I do,” she answered quickly, without regard for his manifest suffering, having herself suffered so much in mind that for the moment compunction was dead within her. “I mean it as much as ever I meant anything in my life. Things have gone utterly wrong between us lately, and these last few days I have thought that our marriage has been a bitter mistake.” ENDURANCE AND MARSHALL’S FOSPHERINE All hard workers require endurance, i Too much work wears out the nerve ! tissues and makes you feel blue and | irritable. It is necessary to keep fit mentally as well as physically. Marj shall’s Fospherine is the tonic to do j it. This nerve-food restores vitality and ! energy to both mind and body. It supplies to the nerves those vitalising elements that modern foods lack. It induces sound, refreshing sleep that builds up and rejuvenates the nerve tissues. Get the six-sided carton of “Marshall’s” —100 doses for 2s 6d. from any I chemist or store. If unable to obI tain easily, write the proprietors, A. and W. Baxter, of Baxter s Lung Preserver, Christchurch. 3.

“No,” lie cried, “not that, Jocelyn. Not that!” “Just that!” she said in a low voice. “It has not turned out as I expected. There is no confidence between us. You said the other day that perfect frankness between husband and wife was a good rule, and you are not frank with me. You conceal from me vital things, and then you talk of walls of constraint rising between us.” She laughed bitterly. “Constraint under these conditions is not a wall; it is a hedge of prickly thorns built by no ond’s hands, but having its roots in natural causes, and growing, growing, just growing all the time.” “But we must stop its growth,” he replied quickly. “We must destroy it —kill it!” “You can do that,” Jocelyn replied hurriedly. “You can do that at a stroke.” “How?” he asked, though already he saw the ambuscade to which he had been led. “Tell me, and if it is not among the impossible things, it shall be done--at once. I cannot endure that anything should hold you and me apart ” “Tell me,” was the not unexpected reply, “why did you send Pat hurriedly to Africa?” “Ah!” he said, looking at her with pained eyes, “I was afraid it would be that, afraid that it would be the one impossible thing!” “You will not tell me then?” “I can only tell you that it was in Pat’s interest—for his own good ” “For your’s rather!” The interruption came fiercely, and it was almost a taunt. “No,” he replied, though he flinched at her word= “You misunderstand the situation utterly. I cannot explain, but 1 ask you to trust me, Jocelyn,

There was a knock at the door. He turned round impatiently, clearly much annoyed at the interruption. It was Jocelyn who answered the knock. “Yes!” The door opened, revealing a fo >tman, holding a small silver salver on which lay a buff-coloured envelope. He advanced into the room. “The telegram has come, sir!” Lancaster picked up the telegram, tore open the envelope, and hastily read the two words which constituted ' the message. “Ultimatum sent!” His lean face blanched as he read the message, and a sudden excitement took the place of his impatience. Jocelyn, watching him, knew that the message at which he still stared must be one of tremendous importance, and for a moment her personal grievances gave way before a surging curiosity. Lancaster looked up from the flimsy paper and nodded to the footman. “All right, Johnson. No answer!” The footman withdrew, and the millionaire’s eyes again sought the paper in his hand; when he spoke his voice shook. “Jocelyn,” he said. “I shall have to go out at once, it is imperative. I do not know when I shall be back—certainly not to-night, perhaps not tomorrow, nor even the day after.” She looked at him wonderingly. Apparently he had forgotten their differences, and had banished the discussion of them completely. His face was pale and his hand trembled. “What is it?” she asked coldly, for though she could see that he was greatly moved by the ne*?3 the telegram had brought, she still maintained an unrelenting attitude toward him. “It. is terrible news. The Oovern- ! ment has sent an ultimatum to Ger-

many. We shall be at war by tomorrow morning, perhaps before, and it will be a war such as history has never known. Half the world will be engaged. I have anticipated it for a week, but there is much that I must attend to at once. You must excuse me now, Jocelyn.” He broke off and smiled gravely. “Our little differences are nothing in face of this tremendous calamity.” (To be continued.)