"CHRISTABEL"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 21 July 1939, Page 10

"CHRISTABEL"

Published by Special Arrangement, Copyright.

By

PEARL BELLAIRS.

(Author of “Velvet and Steel,” “The Prisoner’s Sister,” etc.)

CHAPTER XXIX (Continued).

‘‘You seem to have worked a revolution in Miss Collet. Schluster! When I last saw her she wouldn’t have admitted that except when driven by the direct extremity of moral compulsion!” The Professor looked at her in a puzzled way and yet, it seemed, with increased respect and interest. He shook his head. “I should have guessed that you’d seen a good deal of life one way and another,” he said. "I can't say that you’d ever give me the impression, Miss Collet of having been 1 through that particular mill!" ‘■What you say about the difficulty of of any court fixing the extent of moral guilt is perfectly true," Cristabel went on, with a mixture of shyness and courage. "I was sentenced for something of which I wasn't morally guilty —something of which 1 was morally incapable, in fact! I thought I had been wrongfully convicted. And yet when I came out of prison I attempted to do something which was morally much more vile —!” she glanced at .Hewitson, “than anything they had sentenced me for!" Hewitson made a slight, emphatic gesture with his hand and shook his head.

“I suppose you think it strange that I should talk like this to a stranger," Christabel went on, still addressing Schluster. “But I'm not ashamed. What has happened to me, has happened. One must accept it, include it in one's life, which is what I mean to do in future. And if there's any work I could do for this Association of yours at any time I would like to do it!”

Her manner was so sincere and her candour seemed to spring from such a

real conviction that both men were moved beyond anything that might have been embarrasing in the situation. After a moment’s silence Schluster said earnestly: “If at any time you feel free to give your assistance to the movement, Miss Collet, then just write to me.” Hewitson broke in abruptly, in a tone of determination:

“Since Miss Collet insists on making this confession, Harry, I’m bound to add one of my own. Miss Collett was a victim of one of my most spectacular victories in the days of my youth at the Bar! In fact, since she insists on confession that she’s been to prison, it’s absolutely necessary for'me. to explain that it was I who prosecuted her, and sent her there!” Professor Schluster was used to acting as father confessor in the course of his work, but he could not for the moment find anything to say. The whole situation left him somewhat in the air. lie had asked them, severally, to the Cafe International, merely for coffee, and found himself the recipient of the most dramatic confidences. He was startled, and embarrassed, but flattered —and intensely curious. “Well!” he said, looking from one to the other. “That’s most interesting!” "Yes,” said Hewitson, breaking into a smile. “It is, isn’t it?” They were both so obsessed by the | subtle pleasure that this mutual confession gave them, that neither of them cared very much how staggered Professor Schluster might be by it. He hesitated and said at last: “What seems to me most interesting of al], most remarkable," he glanced at Christabel's faintly flushed face and thoughtfully bent his head. “Is that you’re both able to sit here as calm as maybe and discuss the matter! It seems to me to show a great spirit of rationality.” “I hope it does,” said Hewitson.

After that there was no more to bo said. The Professor was obviously supernumerary, and no longer needed at his own party. He looked at his watch and remembered an appointment he had at his hotel. He advanced the time of it by half an hour, and said it was just too bad. but he would have to hurry away. “But don’t let me hurry you." he said, his kind intention rather awkwardly obvious in the words. "You stay right here!” He was going to settle his bill when Hewitson interposed firmly: “No, Harry, this is on me!"

Schluster protested but wisely did not delay. He took up his hat. shook hands with Christabel, hoped he might meet her again, and that he would hear from her about the Criminal Law Reform Association and left them. They watched him put on his hat and go out of the doors.

“Do you suppose poor old Schluster thinks that we’re quite mad?" said. Hewitson. thoughtfully. “Perhaps." returned Christabel. “Il was a frightful breach of good taste. And I began it!"

"Many of the best things in life," said Hewitson. "are not exactly in the best of' taste!"

They wore talking casually, in the tone of intimates who have met after half an hour’s parting.

“Perhaps." said Christabel. She locked round the cafe, but her eyes came back finally and met his.

“You're still with Cavanagh?" h< said. “Yes."

She explained, rather carefully, how ill Cavanagh had been: how he had a seizure a week before they were to have been married—“only a day or two after I last saw you." "We came here, then went to Algiers for the winter and came back. Im staying at the chalet now, with his sister, and a doctor and nurse. He can't walk, you know, or do anything for himself. I don't leave him, except for an hour or two —like this." The query, said with a smile, signified himself, her sitting there with him, the general situation. "Always like thi.-.: “‘

Christabel stared at him, and shool her head with a curious emphasis. "No. never like this."

And inwardly she said to herself, her heart swelling: "Never like this before —nothing like this in my whole life!"

Perhaps he saw that utter certainty in her eyes,' for the blood suddenly flooded into his face: after a moment he put cut his cigarette in the ash tray on the table; then looked up at her to say with a smile: "Shall we go out for a walk, and admire the fountains —I’eau vivre—the pride of the town?” "Yes!”

She rose, with the ready responsiveness which characterised her new attitude to him. If he had suggested a visit to the local rubbish dump she would have gone with the same meek, exalting pleasure. There was a woolliness about the floor underfoot as she walked in front of him to the door. "Walking on air!” she 'thought, marvelling that such a well-worn phrase should really have a substratum of truth in it.

On the pavement he slipped his hand under her elbow as they walked along, and his touch sent a shiver through to her feet. She leaned on his hand, looking up at the sunlit sky. He walked silently beside her .for twenty yards or so, then:

"You know, don't you,” he said, “that I love you very much?" “Forever and forever,” said Christabel, “I shall always love you. You're part of my life, mixed up with everything that’s happened to me. I shall never be able to love anyone else.” His hand gripped her elbow convulsively: “So that diagnosis I once made of your case which enraged you so much,” said he, and his voice, though it held a note of laughter, was curiously broken. "That was true after all, was it?"

“Yes, I suppose it was true,” said Christabel; she gazed at the nearest fountain, at the glittering shafts of water rising against the background of the lake, then looked up at Hewitson to ask in a tone which was unsteady with 'emotion for all its playfulness: “Must I give in as much as that to you?” ■ "All the way!” He pressed her arm against his side. They loitered and stood still, oblivious of passers-by. looking at the fountains, seeing them with only half an eye.

Hewitson said after a moment: “Cavanagh ?” “Wants me to marry a novelist friend of his called Paul Sylvester.” One doubt, chased out of his face by relief, was followed by another: "You’re not going to, though?" "No, I’m not going to." He smiled. "Why did you come to Geneva?" she asked. "Why do you think?” “To the conference.” “It was an excuse. But of course, I thought I might see you in the street, or in a cafe. I even looked forward merely to getting a glimpse of that chalet in the distance. When I heard that Schluster had an invitation to go over to it I came as near hating him as I've ever come to hating anybody. “Well, you see. you did see me in a cafe.”

"Yes; you may not believe it, but everything blacked out for a moment when I looked up and saw you standing beside me.”

“Perhaps I meant to have some such effect on you.”

“You meant to have some such effect on me, Christabel, the first time you came into the clinic at Bering Street. And you did. "No.” "Yes!”

He gripped her hand emphatically then suddenly released it. “I was forgetting!" "What?”

“I have no money in these days. I have to earn it, like other people, by the sweat of my brow!”

She slipped her hand into his again and they moved on.

I m not sorry,” she said. “Perhaps I'm glad. I'm tired of the world I've been living in. I want to go back to the real world of the prison and the clinic, where I met you!”

He said thoughtfully. “Perhaps Without all that bitter preliminary we should never have experienced anything quite like this!" “Payment in advance," Christabel smiled raptly. "Was it too much?’ "I’ve forgotten what I paid.” The wind was cold, but they did not notice it. They walked on slowly, their clasped hands powerless to lot go. I'hal evening ■ Professor .Schluster was working alone in his hotel bedroom. Hewitson had come in hurried-

ly earlier to say that he was going over to have dinner at Cavanagh's chalet. Turning over the pages of Hewitson's "Criminal Psychology" to find some passages he had marked for reference. Professor Schluster happened to notice the dedication. He had wondered about it before: now he looked at it with even greater curiosity. "To C.C. for sparing this effort." The Professor suddenly tumbled to the fact that "C.C." might very well stand for Christabel Collet. All sorts of strange theories, complicated by the fact that Hewitson had gone over to the chalet to dine with Cavanagh, when that morning he had said that he did not know Cavanagh, rose in Professor Schluster’s mind.

It was no surprise to him when Hewitsen came in at midnight, humming a tune, and with a quite unprecedented glovr in his eye. Professor Schluster was a little saddened by a sense of the academic drabness of own life,

‘■Congratulate me, Harry !" "1 certainly do,” said Professor Schluster, promptly. So that was how it had been settled. They were to marry. “But you don't know- ” "Yes. I do,” said the Professor. “J guess I know nearly everything about it.” It was a strange story. The papers before him sounded terribly dry as he shuffled them. He was glad when Ilewitson said they would have to share a bottle of champagne. THE END.

ESCAPADE IN A LINER NEW STORY COMMENCES TOMORROW. More than one novelist has used a cosmopolitan hotel as the background of a story. Bid what of the floating hotel, the great liner, with, all its fascinating possibilities? There is a rich field for the novelist, | but few have the knowledge to work in it. Kaye Fox is one of them. She knows great liners from two points of view. She knows the ship as the passenger knows it. but what gives exception interest to her background is her- actual personal experience of the life of the staff of a great liner —the officers, the stewards, stewardesses, and the whole varied assembly of seagoing folk of whom so little is known ashore.

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