TWO MEN AND MARY

Wairarapa Times-Age, 21 May 1938, Page 10

TWO MEN AND MARY

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT.

By

HOLLOWAY HORN.

(Author of “George,” “That Man at Claverton Mansions,” etc.)

CHAPTER Xl—Continued. Behind the grill was the young man who had spoken to her in the Casino the previous evening. “Hello!” she said. “Good morning! Come to feed the animals?” “How?” “Here I am in my little cage.” “You’ll soon be back in London. I want some money.” “The universal want! How much?” “Ten pounds in francs.’ “By the. way,” she went on, “About this evening. Do you mind if I bring another girl with me?” “I don’t mind,” he said in a disappointed tone. “She’s very pretty. An American. And very wealthy.” “All the virtues,” he smiled. “A positive paragon.” “I met her in Avignon and she’s coming here on my heels, as it were, leaving here people in Marseilles. In a way I’m responsible. You don’t really mind?” “No. I shall be delighted, although I should have been equally pleased if you had come alone.” “That sounds rather involved. But I mustn’t keep you.” “Don’t worry, the rush is over. The morning’s the busy time. Has your friend been here before?” “No.” “Then we shall have to take her to the Casino.” “I’m afraid so,” Mary smiled. “Wei shall probably meet at the hotel later?” “Thank you,” he said simply. Mary liked him. He had crisp brown hair and frank eyes set wide apart. It seemed a pity that he was shut up in a bank on such a day, and with something of a shock she remembered that nineteen out of twenty people were shut up somewhere in something—in factories, mills, offices, banks, shops houses. And, as a rule, they seemed happier than the bored crowd outside the Cafe de Paris, and the still more bored crowd she had seen sitting round the roulette table the previous evening. The train which brought Laurette was late, and it was nearly dark when the trimly-clad American girl arrived. “This is lovely of you,” she cried, . when she saw that Mary was there to ' meet her. “The Couronne is a very modest kind of hotel. I hope you don’t mind,” Mary , said as the taxi turned out of the sta- ’ tion. “Of course I shan’t. So this is , Monte! All my life I’ve read of it. I It’s one of the few places I really wanted to see. Don’t you get tired of places?” “Of the same place?” “No. Places. I do. When you’ve ' seen a dozen you’ve seen them all. People are different. I don’t get tired of people. Who’s that? The Lord Mayor?” Mary smiled. No. “He’s a policeman.” “Heard from the boy friend?” “No. Talking of .boy friends, I’ve . met one —quite a nice one —here in Monte.” “Good for you. He’ll know someone else and there’s a foursome. Honest, though, I’m tired of being a family party. Day after day, place after place, but the same old faces. London, Paris . . still the same faces and the same voices.” “This is it,” said Mary, as the taxi pulled up outside the Couronne. “I feel quite excited,” said Laurette, as she signed the book in the office. 1 “Getting away from that solemn procession around Europe and starting a real holiday.” “Number nineteen is next to mine,” said Mary. “Fine.” “And dinner’s ready when we are.” ‘I am.” The American girl’s enthusiasm amused Mary. There was a zest in her. “Pep" was her own word for it. “What do we know now?” she demanded, when the meal was over. “We have coffee in the lounge, my dear.” “Not a very exciting crowd. I like that boy at the far end of the room, though.” “Do you? He’s a Scot.” “You know him?” “I met him last night. He’ll join us in the lounge.” “Come on, honey. Do we go to the Casino?” “We’ll see what he says. He talked about going up into the mountains.” “That sounds good to me.” He did join them —about thirty seconds after they had reached the lounge. “Mr Murdock, I want you to meet Miss Costairs.” He bowed: “How d’you do?” he said. “May I join you?” he went on to Mary. “Please do,” she said. “Say, you talk just like the radio announcers,” Laurette said. “You flatter me,” Murdock smiled. “This your first visit to Monte?” “Yes. I’m thrilled.” “I'm sick of it. I’ve been here two years. Working.” “That’s different.” The waiter brought their coffee: “Have a liqueur?” Murdock suggested. “No, thanks,” said Mary.

“Then do have one.” “Nor me,’ said the American. “Those queer little drinks start me talking.” But she shook her head. “Cognac for me,” he said to the waiter. “I suggested to Miss Rossiter going up to La Turbie by the Funicular. There are wonderful views up there, especially at night.” “Look here, I don’t want to butt in.” “But Miss Rossiter said you were coming with us. Perhaps wou’d rather go to the Casino though?’ “Whatever you two say.” “Why not both?” suggested Mary. “Go up to La Turbie and then to the Casino.” “We will,” said Murdock. The American girl proved more susceptible to the fascination of roulette than Mary Rossiter. “Gee! This is swell!” she said, after she had watched the game for a few turns. “Be an angel and get me some chips,” she went on to Murdock, and gave him a mille franc note. “You’ll almost certainly lose,” he warned her. “Who said so? I’ve never lost yet.” “Right ho! It’s your money.” For awhile she lost steadily, but she was a good gambler, and showed no trace of disappointment. The sixth turn brought her luck. She had backup. “Now you’re in—even a little —chuck it,” Murdock advised. “Think of boasting in New York that you had gambled in Monte Carlo and actually ! won.” (To be Continued.)