“AN EVIL ANGEL”

Waikato Times, Volume 122, Issue 20500, 17 May 1938, Page 11

“AN EVIL ANGEL”

An Exciting Mystery Story.

(By JOHN MIDDLEMASS.)

CHAPTER XII. Edge Tools “Wine, women, weeds against our life, combine. But what is life without weeds, women, wine I” So saying, Philip Morley lighted a fresh cigar, and lay back in his chair stretching out his long legs after a manner to which he was prone. “Women in this instance being represented by the Comtesse Feodore,” suggested Hamilton Browne. "Exactly!” was the short answer between whiffs. The two friends had been dining together at the Club, and were now sitting tete-a-tete in Browne's rooms. "Then you mean to go to the Grange for these theatricals?” "Why not? I must fill up my time while the lawyers are squabbling over poor Aunt Harrogate’s will.” "Why not?” echoed Browne, as though he had not heard the last part of the sentence. "What the devil do you mean? Is there any reason why I should not go ? You and Jacob and A’Court all seem to be taken up with this fascinating Comtesse. Why should I be left out in the cold?” "For no mortal reason as far as the Comtesse is concerned, only—” "Only what? Speak out then —no enigmas.” Hamilton Browne, however, paused just for a second before he answered. He WB6 considering whether lie should or Should not, tell Morley who the ladies of the house party were. He decided to let events run their course without his interference—perhaps after all if left to a natural sequence the coming together of Philip Morley and Marie Cooper might be effected. "Only,” he repeated, and burst out laughing, "there is nothing enigmatical in the world ‘only.’ I merely intended to convey that I thought you hated society functions—that you gave them all up when you came to Labrador.”

"In Rome one must do as Rome does,” said Morley; "being bored by doing nothing won't produce the life of the Wild West, to which I hope shortly to return —pro tern then I’ll make love to Comtesse Feodore in ‘A Life’s Surrender,’ or whatever it is called. Sport, eh, Browne, or perhaps not a minor sffrt, either—her Orientalism being considered.” "That remains to be proved. Her d&lly behaviour is that of a perambulating iceberg.” “So—then there will be more kudos and more fun In waking her up.” “When do you go to the Grange?” "To-morrow, two-thirty—in time for a rehearsal before dinner—and you?” "Oh, I’m not in the show. Rehearsals and all thifc chat about acting is not in my line, but I have a standing invitation, so I’ll look you up in a day or two.” "I wonder who she has got there—whether I shall End any pals?” "Well, there Is always Jacob and A’Court.” "Womenfolk, I mean?” "Should he speak—or should he not speak?” He did not. Morley had never acknowledged his own position in Marie Cooper’s life, friendship then did not necessitate the words being uttered, which Hamilton Browne felt very sure would at once induce the sending of a wire, to the effect that Captain Morley was very sorry, but pressing and unforeseen business prevented him from joining the party at the Grange. "Nice little girl, and five thousand a year—l’ll risk silence,” and Browne poured himself out a whisky and soda and said nothing. Thus it came about that Philip Morley went to the Grange—arriving about four o’clock —the jCointesse's motor having met him at the station. He was just a little surprised to see French at the hall door, but he asked no questions, "Merely left the Coopers for some reason,” he supposed. French showed him, according to instructions, into the boudoir, where Uomtesse Feodore was sitting alone— HI citing letters.

She received him effusively, and thanked him repeatedly for his kindness in helping them through a difficulty. "All my young people have gone to a garden party," she said. "I let them go because 1 thought we could run through our parts with more abandon when alone—but you will have tea?” "No —no—I am no tea drinker,” he objected, "let us get to work while we can. I am not a novice at amateaur theatricals, and I know what a hindrance to a good rehearsal is chatter.” "Rehearse? But do you know your part?” "Every word. Have played Maurice three times.” "A la bonne heure! you are indeed a bon enfant trouve,” cried the Comtesse. Philip Morley laughed at the somewhat dubious suggestion, and then they fell to work. The love scenes were dramatic. "A life’s surrender” was in very truth what the French call a drame passional—the Comtesse being cold, as Hamilton Brown had averred, it had somewhat puzzled Morley that she should have chosen this play. That she should act with passion and intensity surprised him still more —tills, added to the little Frencli inflexion in her voice, made her playing of the character most captivating to a man. endowed not only with artistic proclivities, but with a Eery ardent temperament as was Philip Morley.

"Iceberg” he thought "she’s Hecla personified. If ever I met a volcanic woman—here she is—not good looking—ugly, rather —of the Princess Eboli type, but ugly women before now have committed ravages. Excitement to the fore! 1 am glad I These reflections during a halt, both being somewhat, overcome by their own emotions. A few exaggerated rhapsodical mutual encomiums followed this short breathing space, and the mere, entente cordiale which had existed at meeting between Morley and his hostess developed into an embryo passion. The lady, while she resumed her cold manner, nevertheless did not attempt wholly to conceal tlie volcano he had already discovered beneath the ice. while he—well, he was a man of the world, an ex-guardsman who was on amusement bent, and decided that he had not lost his way in coming to the Grange. For half an hour they talked—not of the play—she lisping pleasant sentences in her pretty French-English till his brain fairly reeled- Never,

never in all his career had he before met a woman so unlike every other femininity who had crossed his path than this semi-Oriental, semi-French Peri. Love her already, of course he did not, yet she fascinated him to bewilderment, while only with her eyes ! d,ci slle accept his somewhat chalorous advances— her mien and words, . expressive though they were of ini terest, were most decorously correct. | By the end of the half hour of tete- ! a-tete lien had been formed, which would not easily be broken, that is, not if Comtesse Feodore could help it. | 1 hey were dizzy moments through ! which they were passing—one of those short hapturous epochs that come so i seldom in a life-time, and pass all too : quickly. Merry voices approaching, gay laughter welling up the stairs, and sending a soft echo through the silent passages. The colour that had been hot and strong on Philip Morley’s tanned face faded to a sickly pallor, and it was only hy an effort, feeling that Comtesse Feodore’s scrutinising eyes were fixed on him, that he managed to steady himself into composure. Marie Cooper! Among ten thousand he would recognise her magic laugh—llirt—jilt that she was—and he had been fool enough to come to the Grange to meet her. But love her though lie still did from the very depths of his heart, he had done with her wiles—had found another siren who would take the place from which she had so wantonly ejected him.” But had Philip Morley sufficient strength of mind to fight his own heart with murderous weapons—he almost feared that he had not. Even as Marie turned the handle of the door, and came into the room like a sunbeam, he wished he was away in Icebound Labrador, and decided that that very night under some quickly invented protest he would take flight. "Ah, Captain Morley I” She shook hands with him in the most careless way as with a mere acquaintance—only by the twitching about her lips could it have been noticed that she was nevertheless stirred by a deep emotion, which she was bravely and successfully seeking to conceal. Having finished her little off-hand greeting, and left Morley free to speak to Nina, she tossed herself into a chair saying "I am so tired I can scarcely speak —nothing tires me like being bored. Why on earth did you send us to that stupid party, my dear Feo? It was unkind.” The Comtesse laughed. "Etiquette chez moi demands sacrifices—ls it not always the case in England? but never mind, Marie, cherie, the drama will repay you—” Ay would it, Marie thought—by the look of Morley’s face It seemed likely to become a tragedy. "She had forgiven him that nasty cruel letter, why could he not forgive her—but vindictiveness was evidently strong in him, and she would not make the first advances—she would be gay, Indifferent, uncaring to the bitter end, unless he showed some signs of tenderness. "He did not know we were here,”

whispered Nina a few moments later, while the others were talking. "Or he would not have come?” "I think not.” "Mercy, what a fiasco—how stupid of Jacob, but never mindl I am game. I will fight the situation, and let him see he is free as air.” The slightest sign of feeling from Marie, and the excuse why he must forthwith return to town would have been concocted—but she was indifferent. callous. Her coldness stimulated him. He -elected to remain. In the play he came not at all into close contact with Marie. The love scenes were with Comtesse Feodore. Marie should see that she was not the only woman on earth, who could inspire a deep and burning passion. For two or three days the temperature of feeling ran high, and Marie looked on in intense surprise. Thai Philip Morley should suddenly develop this ardent devotion for another woman before her very eyes was the last whase she had anticipated; that he would be surly—disagreeable and ill at ease she had expected, but not this. Nevertheless she was equal to the occasion. Not one of the assembled guests had the slightest suspicion that Marie Cooper cared for Philip Morley. She acted the gay careless, heartwhole ingenue in private life, as she acted with simple grace in the stage play. Philip Morley was not less amazed at her conduct than she was at his. Yet, teeming over with happiness and joy as they both appeared to be, there were not two more miserable beings in all the country side, than • these two parted lovers. Not even Nina dare during intimate moments with Marie to allude to the subject of Morley’s presence. There was a look in the girl’s eyes, notwithstanding her gay insouciance that advised silence, while the game that Philip Morley was playing, the almost contemptuous indifference he showed to Marie made her tremble, while of her own feelings she dared not think. Hamilton Browne’s eyes followed, her about, and Jacob's attentions were’under the circumstances a penance and an agony. Gervase A’Court was the only one of the house party, who was totally at his ease, engrossed and amused by the business of theatrical management, he gave his attention to nothing else. Of the storm that was lurking among the laughter and merry talk, he apparently saw no traces. That the evening of the great representation had arrived, and that the working of the machinery of success depended on his own efforts was all absorbing. Of what the issues would be when the pl;fy was over, I lie rnad, ecstatic love-making was at end for a moment, lie had no time to consider nor I hat probably in a few hours he would scarcely be a calm onlooker at the ravages and devastation unfettered emotion can produce. (To be continued)