“AN EVIL ANGEL”

Waikato Times, Volume 122, Issue 20502, 19 May 1938, Page 4

“AN EVIL ANGEL”

An Exciting Mystery Story.

(By JOHN MIDDLEMASS.)

CHAPTER XIV. Love Turned To Hate The electric (Mirren! had hem turned off. and the only light vouchsafed was from a few oil lamps. Hint had been placed in brackets, in different positions in the salon and hall. With one of these in his hand Hamilton Browne, followed hv A’Gourt, sought, to penetrate into the drawing room from whom*,, the screams hud ! come, and where a collapse of some sort had evidently occurred. To effect an entrance was, however, by no moans easy—fainting women clinging to men, who were vainly seeking to clear the way, impeded all progress, and rendered the attempt to reach Ihe scene of the disaster almost hopeless. It was only by Herculean efforts I hat some sort of passage was at last cleared, and a great number of the frightened people were induced to seek safety in the open air on the lawn. Then in the glimmering half light, obscured as it was by a cloud of dust, the tall figure of a man, somewhat above the usual height, could he distinguished struggling through the mass of frightened people, who were still in the room, some of whom, with the few scattered senses that still remained to them, wore striving to make way, as in a loud voice he repeatedly begged of them to do. Helped in the clearing by Browne and A’Gourt a passage was at last effected, and then even in the dim light it could he seen that a woman in a white dress down which the blood was streaming, was being borne in his arms away from a scene, where she had encountered a fierce struggle with even Death itself. The man and woman that circumstance had thus brought suddenly to-

get her were Philip Morley and Marie Cooper. Comtesse Feodore was lying on the sob, in tier boudoir, where she had received Philip Morley on his first coming to the Grange. | It communicated with her own bed- ! room, and was the only tranquil spot jin Mm house the morning succeed- ™<= rest of the Grange was In'a'state of chaos, workpeople were swarming | around, servants whispering together in groups, callers perpetually ringing the front door hell, and carriage wheels j -rinding along the well gravelled ap- ! pruucli. In the midst of all this [turmoil and domestic disturbance Comtesse Feodore alone appeared to he apathetic and unmoved, although she, as mistress of the house, should have been more on the alert than any one. That a large old plaster ceilingdecoration of rare design had suddenly fallen, smashing a standard electric lamp in its descent, seriously injuring her dear friend Marie Cooper, and slightly wounding several of her other friends, while numbers that morning were suffering severely from shock, did not appear to trouble the hostess of the Grange, who, it would seem, was so selfishly taken up with her own feelings in connection with Hie events, that, there was no place left to consider (lie feelings of others. When order had been somewhat reestablished after the first outbreak of panic on the previous evening, Comtesse Feodore had been found by Emma Lane crouching half unconscious on the divan among the palms and myrtle, where she had been sitting witli Philip Morley when the ceiling fell.

In response to a cry uttered by Emma Lane when she made this dis- ! covery, Hamilton Browne had come to > the rescue, and assisted her by carry- ' big the Comtesse up to her boudoir, ' from which Emma Lane had forthwith ! managed to get her into bed- i The Comtesse was certainly not ; hurt. She only seemed inert and i incapable of exerting herself. Emma ! , Lane and Mr Browne decided that she j was suffering from shock. I Ay, was she, but the shock was not j ! wholly attributable to the fall of the | ! ceiling. j j To see the doctor, who had been ' sent for to attend Marie Cooper, she ; ; distinctly declined, told them to let ; ' her sleep, that was all she wanted, she i would he better in the morning. ! Whether she had. slept or was bet- | ter she did not vouchsafe to say. ' hut contrary to Emma Lane’s sugges- j tion she got up. and about eleven ! j o’clock was in her boudoir, partaking ! with little apparent appetite of a ! dainty breakfast the capable Lane had j I insisted on sending for. j That she had not asked to go and j . see Miss Cooper surprised Lane, that she had not even enquired about her i I astonished her still more, especially | as when Nina Fonblanque came to know how* the Comtesse had slept, the answer had been that she had slept fairly well, but for the present 1 did not wish to see any one. j Even then she did not enquire about j Marie, nor, till Lane was taking away ; the scarcely tasted breakfast, did she ask: ' “Who is in the house? Have all the gentlemen gone to town?” j "Only Mr A’Court, Madame. He ! was obliged to go to his office hut will return this afternoon, and see if he can he of any use. Mr Browne and Lord Yrsey are going by the two o’clock train, unless Madame wishes : "I don't want them—Personne—nobody—only peace.” "And Philip Morley,” Lane mentally added. i She was beginning In see davlight . where till now all had been dark, and . with the sense of dawn she had re- ; frained from mentioning Morley's • name. i Lane was one of those characters ; who know how to wait. Much know- , ledge she believed was attained by silence and drifting. Nor was she wrong in this instance, she had not ‘ made her fTnal exit, by the door communicating with the bedroom, when ! Morlev himself, unannounced, as If he ; had a right to approach the Comtesse ; without permission, appeared suddenly on the scene from the landing. "Oh Comtesse, I am so glad to find you at last.” i "Ah,” in a tone of surprise, mingled | with, dignity. : “I have been asking about you, but could not get much information, and 1 failed to see £.ane. I hear she and Browne came up with you last night.” j "So,” still short and cool, but he ' did not appear to notice, flut went on j talking excitedly, "It was a terrible ending to the pleasant delightful time we have had of late.” “Yes.” Another monosyllable. Tills time he could not fail to notice that something was amiss. She was probably ill, prostracted by shock. "But you at least were not really hurt?” he said sympathetically—“only poor Marie.” "Marie?” she repeated, but whether it was a question as to why he should : call Miss Cooper, Marie, or an enquiry as to whether she was hurt did not ; clearly transpire. Morley took it for i the latter. “You know of course that she is seriously injured—still unconscious— > concussion of the brain—that heavy j piece of plaster fell on her head —A ‘ London specialist had been ‘wired’ ) The Comtesse roused herself from j i her recumbent position, and-sat staring ‘ I blanklv at him. rHie knew as well as he did that ; | Marie had been hurt, though she had ' | not enquired after tier or seemed to j know, hut perhaps she had scarcely ; realised how grave and serious the in- J jury was. Yet Marie was her dearest j friend: but of what avail is friendship I when jealousy steps in to rob it of its | zest. | (To be continued)