A SENSATIONAL CASE.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9167, 15 August 1908, Page 2

A SENSATIONAL CASE.

By FLORENCE WARDEN. Author of " The Lady in Black," "An Infamous Fraud," "For Love of Jack," ■* "\ Terrible Family," "The House on the Marsh," etc. etc.

CHAPTER IX.—Continued. The baccarat-tatle had been rein iVed She stood still, s'ar\ng at the place it liad occupied, with doubt in her ey «». Where was the table now? Where were the cards? j As she asked herself these questions, and as thoughts o><he scene in the dining-room, and of her still more recent talk with Harrington Moseley cowded into her mind, an overwhtlming sense of her utter powerlessness, of the ease with which they could laugh at her little outbursts of pretended authority and go their own way in spite of her, rushed into her mind. She uttered a long, quivering sigh; her lips began to tremble, and, crossing the room quickly to a low chair that stood besue a revolving bookcase, she laid her head uncomfortably down upon it and began to cry. CHAPTER X. A SHEEP IN WOLF'S CLOTHING. "Oh, don't, don't! Now leave off, leave off at once, I say ! I should never have thought it of you, and you a queen, too! For shame, for shame!" Netelka started violently, and, instead of looking round at the disturber of her peace, turned her head hastily away from him, and began to dry her eyes hastily on the flimsiest nothing of a pocket-handkerchief—a piece of finest cambric four inches square, with an imposing border of old Mechlin. She knew that the voice was Gerard Waller's, and her first thought was mainly to escape from him. But there was a kindly tone of warm humanity in the words and an indescribably comforting cheeriness in the voice which made her pause. She was awkward in her confusion—for it is undaubtedly confusing to be caught, not red-handed, but red-eyed; and tb.3 flimsiest of pocket-handker-chiefs slipped out of her fingers and fell on toe floor. She put down her hand to pick it up, but Gerard was too quick for her. Before her fingers touched the carpet he had snatched up the pocket-handkerchief and was regarding it wich bewilderment and admiration. Netelka held her nther

hand over her eyes, but she peeped through them and could watch him at her eaße. "Do you often cry!" he asked, watching her keenly. "No. Why?" "Because, if you do, you ought to "wide yourself with some thicker t at-handkerchiefs," said Gerard jvely. "I don't believe you've .ied more than two tears (there's always so much more fuss than real <ry about a woman's crying), and yet oe handkerchief (if you call it a ndkerchief), is wet through." letelka put out her hand. Well, at any rate, you can give it to me." hink," said he very deliberate"tuat I'll keep the handkerchief ji.- tr.e present as a ple-'ge of your good behaviour." "But you have no right to. It's mine!" "Well, perhaps it is. But just look at the situation you place yourself in by having such a ridiculou3 thing for a pocket-handkerchief. If you wanted to ay any mure, you would have to borrow mine—almost a stranger's! Fancy that!" "But I'm not going to cry any more," said Netelka. "Then why don't you take your hand away from your face 7 I knew you were not crying. You've been watching me through your fingers, to see that I didn't hurt the pockethandkerchief by brea.hing on it too hard. But why pretend? It's no nse. I've given you all the sympathy I had to spare, and now I've used it all up. I say again, why pretend?" "I'm not pretending. I'm keeping my hand up because my eyes ate red."

Gerard chuckled. "I knew that," said he softly. "If IJweie a fellow wno paid compliments, if I were Major Collingham, next door there or' any one but my own manly and honost self, in face, I might be tempted to remark that you could afford to be seen even with ynur eyes red. But never mind. I promise faithfully to turn my head away while you go over to the glass and see if you're all right." But Netelka sat up, uncovered her eyes, and turned to face him with an expression in which there was a little dignified astonishment at his presumption. "Do you know," said she, "that you are taking a very great liberty in talkingto ma like this?" Gerard's face changed, and he hastily said: "I hope you don't mean that—really?" sail he. Tin-re was a moment's siU'nce, and he went on: "I don't think you dj. Hut if so, then I can only bug your pardon, and —and take myself off." He backed a few sti ps n his way to the door, r>n 1 Netclica looked up. If there was in har mind o ie lingering doubt aa ta the tort of reply she should maku to him, this glance decided her. She saw a beardless young facenot a handsome one certainly, but attractive beyond measure with eyes able to read the indications given there of the mind within. Gerar.l's light-blue eyes wore shrewd as well as kindly, and the expression in them as he waited for the lady's answer was one of pity mingled with respect. Netelka shivered and turned ner head sharply away. Then, as she heard him taka another step toward the door, she rai3ed her hand to detain him. "That's a threat, I sinpose," said she, trying to keep up th-j lignt tone of their previous talk.

But there was an unmistakable tremor in her voice. Gerard came back again.

"No," said he, with affected gravity. "I'm not so conceited as you think. I can conceive the possibility of yi.ur fi iding me an insufferable nuisance, I assure you." Netelka looked at him frankly and laughed

"Well. I can't." He gave utterance to a preposterous sigh of relief. "That's all right."

Netelka got up and crossed the room to a great square looking-glass, which rilled an immense space of the wall opposite to one of the latticed windows.

"You see you were right, after all. Jt is really no disgrace to be found out by a person of so much penetration. lam going to see how I look."

Gerard watched her from the middle of the the room, with great interest as she rearranged her hair with a few deft touches, and unfastened a diamond crescent brooch in the front of her dress to replace it more effectively. "That does look better," said he reflectively, with his head on one side. "I thought it was just right before, but it is decidedly better now. Here is your fan. You dropped it near the door when you came in." He took it out of one of his pockets as he spoke. Netelka looked at the fan and then at him, with a blush.

"Were you in the room when I came in, watching me?" "I must confess that I was." Netelka frowned a little. "What did I do? I don't like to be watched when I think I'm alone."

"Of course not. Nobody does. Nobody's conscience is clear 'enough. I will show you what you did; I will copy you exactly. You stand there, in that window recess, just up the one step, and peep through the curtain. That's what I did. I have no sense of honour. J watch and I listen whenever there's anything interesting to see or to hear; so I warn you to be on the look out. Now, are you

ready?" "Quite," said Netelka, taking her place behind the curtain.

Gerard went out of the room and returned in a moment, entering the room with a tragedy-stride and an expression of exaggerated anxiety. He stopped short, just where Netelka had stopped, dropped the fan, clasped his hands, and looked up at the ceilirg. Netelka came forward, shaking her head. "I didn't do that," she said decidedly. " You have read in books that women do thac, but they don't." "Well, the action is expressive, it" conventional; and I didn't see my way to getting enough intensity of expression into my face to make the clasped hands and the upturned eyes unnecessary." Netelka suddenly grew serious. "You ought not to laugh, however ridiculous I looked," she said gravely, "for what I felt was on your account mora than on anybody else's." Gerard raised his eyebrows, looked down on the ground, and gave a little mocking bow. "You're very kind, I'm sure," said he. (To be continued.)