THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIII, Issue 56, 15 June 1910, Page 6

THE STORYTELLER.

SOMETHING INTERESTING "Oh! if something interesting would only 'happen! Why doesn't something interesting happen?" "Aren't you going up to Loudon for the day—isn't that interesting? By the way, you 'had better bo getting up, the cheap train goes early." The occupants of the two little white beds looked at each other across the wide, tare 'room. Marion's dark hair showed streaks of grey against the white .pillow—she was the elder by ten years. Jessie's fair head bobbed up to look at her watch. "Plenty of time. Marion " '•Yes ? ,;

''isn't it horrible being so poor? I can only think of one way of improving matters, and that us t'or one of us to marry."

"It's a case of 'earn some money 1 cannot, and to .propose I am ashamed.' " murmured Marion, "and anyhow, there's no one to propose to that I can see. Since I've lived here I have only been able to discover one eligible mail in Woodenham and the outlying districts, and I'm afraid lie's 110 good. . I mean Captain L'Estrange Travel's, of Archdene, whose passion for motoring is only equalled by his utter indifference towards the fair sex. Xo, I'm afraid, Jessie, my child, there's no much hope for us here." "Captain Travers might do," murmured Jessie reflectively; "only, as you say, his is a heart that would have to he taken by storm. I've met him about three times, and he still looks at me as if I were a most interesting and, in fact, rather repulsive beetle, 'humbling crawling the earth : and, as for distinguishing between us, I doubt very much if he so much as remembers our name. We're too insignificant, my dear —that's what's the matter with us."-

"It's rather «. pity, because I had designed him for you, besides having an eye 011 a permanent seat in his motorcar. Perhaps your new coat and skirt may stir the sluggish nature of his affections." "Dear Tom"—this in tribute to the hard-working brother in India whose cheque was -sending liis little sister up to town to the tailor's—"my kind of beauty," she continued rather irrelevantly, beating a tattoo on the counterpane, "my kind of beauty requires a luxurious setting. I'm no good in cheap clothes. If I had lovely, expensive things like Captain Travers' .sister, for instance, 1 might lay the warrior low. Oh, Marion, again I repeat, if something interesting, something out of the way, would only happen!"

"The interesting thing will be that you wall miss your train. Get up, you lazy thing!"

When one lives all the year round in the country, and deadly dull country at that, when a short and narrow income has to >be stretched to bursting point to make its ends meet, when there is all the difference in the world betwpen sixpence and a shilling, and « tip to a servant becomes a matter to be threshed out in all its hearings, then journeys to town, even on cheap days, are not lightly undertaken.

The Gibsons' brother Tom, the sun of the system rournl which his two devoted satellites revolved, had decreed that Jessie was to go to a Bond street tailor for the costume she 'uadlv needed, and "Jessie, whose pleasures were few and far between, was nothing loth. She started off, her .spirits raised iby the first keen edge of frost, her shabby purse containing just enough for the various purchases which a visit to the town entailed, and the sort of feeling that, after all, while one had youth «hd health, in the words of the immortal Micawber,, something was sure to ''turn up." • s , • Jessie's little nose, a decidedly piquant' feature, had set the example. Her face was really charming, with hair that curled seductively round the temples, 'but the hard, unbecoming hat, and the ibartly fitting blue serge coat and skirt disposed of a great deal of her prettiness.

On tile station, as she stepped into-the third-class carriage, Jessie caught sight of the very persons she and her sister 'had been discussing, Captain Travers amd his widowed sister, Mrs. Lovell, and, at Paddington. in spite of her efforts to avoid them, the latter caught sight of her and bowed pleasantly. "How do you do. Miss Gibson, van know my brother I think. We have both come up on different errands. I am staying a. week in town for shopping - , and Harry is taking back a new motor which has iust been made for him. Is your sister quite well?" "Yes, quite, thanks," replied Jessie. The tall man standing beside his sister, after taking off his hat, 'barely glanced at Jessie, and, as'she moved onf towards the exit, she felt once more a certain (bitterness of heart. She had never had a chance like other girls, and never "been anywhere or seen anything: "I shall go on and on and on, getting older'and drier and duller; in a few years I shall think and talk nothing but mothers' meetings, tea fights, and the small gossip of a small village." With such aids to .progress as cubes and 'buses a fiord, Jessie completed her shopping and turned her attention to the really pleasant part of the day, the walk down the more fashionabile thoroughfares to the tailor's and the delights of her new costume. It was a fresh, sparkling day, and the sunshine glinted on the Resent street shops and the cold, wind-swept pavements. The crowds delighted Jessie, she loved to feel herself in the midst of the vivid world, the world where things were happening all, the time, where men and women were playing out the dramas of love and marriage, were facing adventure, risk, .hardship, anything, in fact, hut tfi« stagnation which fell to her lot. She crossed the road presently, and made her way to the tailor's. The interior of Blnnkson's was quit* a new experience for Jessie. A line of beautifully-appointed fitting-rooms. each with two doors, opened, on the one side, on to the corridor and staircase, and on the other, into a waiting-room provided with ensv chairs, a sofia and a table covered with illustrated magazines and fash-

ion papers. Smart French-looking uirls in Mack dresses, with well-il'velnpu/f inures and a sort of roll and g!i,k> in their wal'k, passed at intervals across the spacious floor, while worried, pale-faced titters with necklaces of ta.pe measures flitted from room ts room.

By the entrance a- messenger-boy waited, while a laughing assistant, with deft fingers, knotted the string round a earton evidently urgently needed at its destination.

Jessie removed her coat and hat in one of the fitting rooms, and then, finding she was to be kept waiting, slipped

.:iice more into the waiting room until her turn came to be chalked and .pinned. Her eyes fell 011 ail exquisitely-dressed woman sitting on the soft. She was nursing what appeared at first to be a liar,t>e muff, but on further inspection turned out to be a Pomeranian. This lady was wearing a long coat of Russian

sable, her head was .adorned by a sweeping feathered hat, whose birth-place was obviously Paris; a great bunch of Parma violets was pushed in among the laces at lier lifti"!?.

This lady looked up at Jessie and smiled. As she did so the girl noticed round the dark, sad eyes, lines that indicated the tale of years, but the face was beautiful, nevertheless, with its ivory complexion and the general air of distinction which !.< rarely beheia in denizens of our o-nv. .-onntrv. "Is it net a s ■• 11 a ! that thet make us wait like this, .iad I—l1 —I have all appointment of the inos! importance? Ah, mademoiselle, may I a-k of you a great favor? Yes? It is to hold this little animal while I speak ::iyself with the tailor. C ; est ca," as .-.he placed the woolly bundle in Jessie's arms. "Do not cry, 111011 ange, I return immediately.''

And she placed a kiss somewhere in the direction of the blinking, indiscriminate face of the dog.

Jessie watched her as she walked away,, a graceful, slender figure, then, picking up a fashion .paper, was soon immersed in its contents, occasionally stroking the little creature curled up in her ■lap. People came and went, the little fitting-room doors opened 'and shut. Quite a long time .passed, and Jessie was astonished. 011 looking up at the clock, to find she had been there more than half ail hour.

: Presently she saw the bailor approaching .her, holding her costume in his hand. All else was for the moment forgotten. •She sprang to her feet, placed the dog on the sofa, which seemed just as much inclined for sleep as on her lap, and stepped, at the tailor's request, to the fitting-room once more. When the operation was over and the tailor had bowed himself out of the room, she looked round for her things. They were nowhere to ! be seen, and it occuri'ed.to her that, as all the little rooms | were alike, she must have stepped into the wrong one by mistake. Why, yes, of, course, for there on the chair lay the French lady's garments—the sable coat and the hat with the long feathers. \ j Then ensued a search. Down the line I of little doors she passed; several ofi these were clo:-;e. and those that stood open were empty—quite empty; not aj sign of her own garments could she see. I A passing assistant was called and rieip- j ed in the search. This girl looked at her I at last incredulously.

. "But these are madam's things, are they not?"—pointing to the exquisite garments she' so envied. "Oh, no," replied Jessie; "those belong to someone who was. here just now—a French lady. Look! That k lier little dog 011 the sofa;."'

"A French lady? There is no French lady being; fitted to-day, maaam. I'll just enquire, if'you wait a mimrte."

A search of the most exhaustive kind followed. No Froneh lady was forthcoming, no iblue serge coat or straw hat, and she paused at length to find the eyes of the various assistants upon her, fixed in a stare of ever-increasing surprise. Did they think she was mad or had lost Irer memory, as people were supposed to do sometimes?

Meanwhile the time was getting on. iand she had her tram to catch. If slve missed the 5.30 there was none till quite late, and Marion would be so anxious. Obviously, she, could not go out into the London streets with no .protection against the east wind on a chilly winterday. At last the matter was settled for her by someone in authority, an awe-in-spiring being with a wide smile and arustling .silk dress. It was very unfortunate, of course, 'but there was only one thing to do. She must wear the clothes that the other lady had left 'behind. They had madam's address, and if word reached them during the day, they would communicate with her directly. Indeed, there seemed no other course open to Jessie. As she slipped her arms into the luscious fur coat which retained a distinct odor of violets, and pinned 011 the graceful hat, she had a feeling of being almost criminal, and this was heightened by the respectful manner in which she was <bo\ved towards the door.

The dog, forgotten ! by all, remained peacefully sleeping on the waiting-room sofa. As she stepped into the street Jessie caught sight of her reflection in a full-length mirror, and almost gasped with surprise. Could that be Jessie Gibson! —how, how lawfully nice she looked. But the instinctive .pleasure she felt in these lovely -clothes was soon changed toconsternation, and even terror. When she had .proceeded some ten yards along the .pavement she head a voice accosting her. A quietly-dressed man stood 'before 'her raising his hat. "Madame de Chassis, I believe." 'No. Oh, 110." "Pardon me, [ do not think I am mistaken. I have a ca'b waiting, and shall ibe glad if you will accompany me to the station as quietly as possible." "To the station! What station?" ''Come, madame, it is quite useless to pretend ignorance. You know very well what you are wanted for, and it will save time " "What in the world do you mean?" cried Jessie, now thoroughly frightened. "You must be mistaking me for someone else . My . name is Miss Jesica Gibson, and I live at Woodenham, in Berkshire." A slight smile appeared on the stern face.* of her .persecutor. "It's no use, Madame de Chassis, no use at all, really." He put his hand, as he spoke, inside his coat, and brought out a long piece of

paper. "1 hold a. warrant for your arrest, 011 (lie chaise of receiving stolen jewellery to the value of two thousand .pounds, -aid to be in your 'possession. We have been following you since you left your house,- early in the afternoon. T V\ lien you -went into the tailor's we waited, knowing there was only one exit." Jessie felt as if all the blood in her body luid flown to her head and then retreated, leaving her pale and gasping for .breath. What 011 earth was she to do?

A cab had drawn up close to the pavement, and the man—a detective, she supposed—was edging nearer, with the intention, 110 doubt, of taking her arm. She glanced wildly round her, at the people 011 the .pavement, moving leisurely along as if nothing had happened. She noticed a laughing conpie—& young man and a very pretty girl—just ■passing through the swing doors of a tea-shop on the opposite side, a beggar holding; out a box of matches, and a tall man coming towards her and walking raipidly. Suddenly ,?ho d'-ii'U'd forward and gl'ASped the arm of the tall man as he passed.. "Oh, Caiptain Travers!" she cried—"Captain Travers!" The tall man stopped and looked down in unmitigated astonishment. What he saw was a little soft, flashed face with grey eyes swimming in tears, and bearing a vague likeness to somebody—he could not think whom—that he had recently seen. Evidently she knew him, however.

"Oh, Ca.pt.ai-n Travers, you do know me, you must know me, I am Jessie Gibson. 1 saw you with your sister on the .platform at Paddington this morn-ing-'i "Xo. I'm afraid"—and then — "Miss Gibson, of course."

Now he -understood that faint resemblance, and remembered the very uninteresting young woman they had met at the station. But how, why—this girl was beautiful.

Turning to the plain-clothes man, he spoke sharply, decidedly. "You must be making some very foolish mistake. This young lady is Miss Jessie Gibson; she lives at Woodenham, three miles from my own .place, 1 can easily satisfy you as to her identity. My name is Travers,Captain Travers, R.-H.A. Here is mv card."

The detective looked puzzled, but held , his ground. The lady was dressed fn exactly the same clothes as the person they were seeking, and had just emerged from the very place she had been seen to enter an hour previously. He and his men had 'been following her all the afternoon. He was sorry to inconvenience them, 'but he must trouble them to accompany him to the station, where enquiries 1 would >be made, and where, if what they si id was true, there would be no difficulty in establishing the lady's identity. Finding there was nothing else to be j done, they accompanied the officer, and, I ■ incredible as it sounded, .Jessie's story j | was easilv verified. Madame de Chases, ; it appeared, was one of a gang of French 'jewel thie.ves. She had ibeen "wanted" I before, and would be 'again, for. by a j clever trick, the woman, suspecting. 110 1 <loubt, that .she was being followed, had j once more eluded the police. By this time she wonld have got clear away, if not abroad, at. lease into hiding. Before ' very long. Jessie and her cavalier were dismissed with polite a.polog.ies for their unavoidable detention. "Whatever shall T do?" cried Jessie, catching sight of a. clock a.< she stood once more upon the wind-swept pavement. '"I have missed my train." She nestled her little chin, as she ■spoke, into .the doimv fur of the coat, and glanced .shyly at'the tall man who was regarding her cntli a twinkle of amusement in, his eyes. "Let nie, take' yotr ba<?k in tm- new car." '•Oh!" "Don't you like motoring?" "Yes—no —[ don't know; I have never done any." "Never ibeen in a motor? What a piece of luck; von are the victim I have ibeen seeking for many a long day. Come along, little lady of' the borrowed (plumes." As he tucked the rug round her a few minutes later, before taking his place at her side, he looked at her gravely, and ■meeting her smiling glance, laughed softly, happily. "It was the first time." she told him Jong after, when she was the captain's wife, "that you looked at me as if you knew who 1 really was." "It wan the first time I knew that you were you," he answered; which utterance, if somewli-at cryptic in form, at least conveyed its meaning to its hearer, which is, after all. the chief merit in a remark of any kind.