“AN EVIL ANGEL”

Waikato Times, Volume 122, Issue 20506, 24 May 1938, Page 10

“AN EVIL ANGEL”

(By JOHN MIDDLEMASS.)

CHAPTER XVII Stolen “You will not forget to take my ring to be made smaller, will you, Philip dear?” It is such a quaint ring, and I do want to wear It.” For answer he leant over her and kissed her. He dared not tell her the truth, fortunately she accepted the kiss as a promise and, clinging to him, asked — When are you coming back? Don’t be away long?” “I almost hope, love, we shall meet next in London,” he replied. She uttered a little cry. “Why? What has happened?” ‘ Nothing dear, only Mrs Cooper wants to get you home, and 1 have promised her I will s*e Dr Randall today and try to arrange it.” ‘"But I am very comfortable and happy here. I love Feo.” 'The Comtesse seems to think she will soon be returning to Paris." “Dear Feo, I shall join her, that is a promise. 1 will get my trousseau there —but I am not going to be married yet Philip—not for a long time —1 am going to enjoy myself thoroughly in Paris.” “So you shall darling. As my wife you can go to numbers of places where la Jeune fllle is taboo. “You horrid tempter” and she laughed, then suddenly she became grave. “I could not marry yet awhile—” she said 'it would be scarcely decent—after—after—Oh, it was a terrible time.” He took her in his arms. There were so many things connected with his relation to Marie, which would not bear to be put into words. “I must be off,” he said, changing the subject. ‘ Jacob wants to go by the 12.30 train, and I must say au revolr to the Comtesse. I wonder Where I shill And her-” “In the bondoir probably—lf she Is not there, ask Lane where she is.” Lane, however, was the last person Morley wanted to see at that particular moment. So he made straight for the boudoir, where during the last few weeks he had so often been a welcome visitor, but where to-day he was by no means sure how he would be received. Notwithstanding the angry flash from her dark eyes, which would at times reveal something of her inmost feelings, Comtesse Feodore had always a wealth of smiles at command, nor did they fall when she saw Philip Morley standing on the threshold, as though half afraid whether he dare penetrate into the sanctum. She did not tell him he was welcome, only pointed to a chair, and looked at him as though waiting to know why he had come. This reception made the task that lay before him, even more difficult than he had expected—but Philip Morley was no coward, and being brave, he went straight to the point. “I have come, Cofntesse” he said, I “partly to say au revoir, as 1 am off ! to town, though our meetings are so ‘ frequent that is scarcely a serious matter, the other half of the 'partly' Is, I fear, much more serious." “Ah! What has happened? It seems to me there is always an evenement In this house—Mrs Cooper is right, it is haunted.” She tried to laugh as she spoke, but, : notwithstanding the stereotyped smile, she scarcely looked at her ease. “I am sorry, Comtesse, to be com- , pelled to add to any trouble the house i possesses, but I am compelled to bring 1 a circumstance to your notice which—” “Go on man—out with it. Don’t . beat about the bush.” Her tone was so irritable, so far more outspoken and English, than Comtesse Feodore’s usually languid utterances, that Morley was thoroughly astonished. He spoke out, however, as he was bidden. “The ring you gave Marie, has been stolen.” “Stolen? What do you mean? Have you gone mad? Stolen! from whom?” “From my Gladstone bag where I locked it, keeping the key. I intended to take it to town, that it might be made to fit Marie’s Anger—but it is gone.” The Comtesse laughed. “Put on your lunettes mon ami. and j look again. Impossible it can be out t of your bag. if you locked the bag • “But I assure you. Comtesse, it is not there. Jacob and I have carefully examined it three times over.” “So —and what do you suspect?” “What can I suspect but that someone fancied it, and appropriated it ? It seems as if all your household was not. immaculately honest, my dear lady.” ”Que sais je. moi”? she said, shrug- ! (ring her shoulders. *T must back to Paris. I have enough of these English worries. Find out the delin- ’ quent, and punish as you will. I have no energy, no will to play agent de police.” “Still if my suspicions prove cor- * rect, you yourself may suffer a severe loss.” “Comment—how so? Who is this i daring thief?” “I can say nothing with authority, but why is Lane prowling in the cor- I ridor among the guests’ sleeping • rooms—they arc far removed from j your apartments, or even those of the ‘ oth*r ladies.” “Pamre Lane. I thought she was a ! trustworthy sinless treasure! Ah ine. f can I believe in no one?” i “I do not say sire is guilty—all I j

An Exciting Mystery Story.

tell you is the ring is missing, and I j recommend watchfulness.” ’’Mere!—mon ami—you are a true friend. I will open my dark eyes, and ! try not to close them even to* sleep” so saying she held out her hand, as though to testify that the interview * was at an end. Morley felt ‘riled.’ it seemed as if she were making fun of him. He, however, took her hand and said—"shall I send down a plain clothes officer to help you in keeping your eyes open?” "Grand ciel, no! I wil have no police in my maison de femme seule—not if ery it contains is stolen. A few days, and I shall be in Paris, away from this treacherous England.” Her tone scarcely impressed him with conildence, or gave him pleasure, . there 'Aas no time for further argument, or he would lose his train, moreover he knew that Jacob was • l amping the bit of impatience in the hall. so after a few civil speeches they parted—mere surface comments they were, tiiat were in such strong contrast to tiie impassioned utterances of a few weeks back that —the lady’s antecedents being recognised—were most too terrifying to bear consideration. At least so Jacob, or even Hamilton Browne, would have decided, but Philip Morley was a man of a far more reckless type. He went down into the hall, whistling as if life did not possess a care. The Comtesse’s motor was at the door, and Jacob was waiting for him, irritation writ large in every gesture. Yet it was not Morlev’s delay that was fretting Jacob to fever hea*t, but the absence of Nina Foublanque, nor did Morley mend matters when he said—"l can’t think where the deuce Nina is. I wanted to speak to her before 1 left. Seen her Jacob?” "No—no—come on. We shall be late.” If he could have known where Nina was, perhaps he would have been far less disturbed. In an upper gallery was one of the numerous nooks, in which the Grange abounded. In this nook, watching through a tiny Judashole the proceedings in the hail below, Marie Cooper's mysterious companion had concealed herself. Both these men interested her, though of course the greater amount of interest was bestowed on the new Lord Vesey, still, pronounced though his attentions were, she never allowed him to think he was likely to win any place in her esteem. Alone, however, in that nook, she dared let herself go, since there was no eye to see her, and while she watched Jacob's fretful exasperation, and finally saw him and Philip depart, the tears were streaming down her cheeks in a despairing gush, which would have sur- : prised even Marie, could she have : witnessed Nina’s bitter misery. For some half hour she stayed there, * safe from all observation in that sheltered spot—at last when she did emerge, she stood for a minute or two gazing from a large window, which commanded extensive views of the park that lay around the Grange, and where the trees in their autumn col- * ouring were not yet bereft of foliage. Someone was moving among the bushes, that lay at the bottom of the hill, on which the Grange had been | built. i “A gardener probably—no, a woman i —the Comtesse herself!” Nina was somewhat surprised, as Comtesse Feo’s eastern idleness and languor were well known. She had ' never ebfore seen her trotting along at such a pace. Where could she be going? The flow of her own meditations ( being turned into another channel by this unexpected incident, she herself went downstairs. In the lower corridor she met French, who was still in office at the Grange, though, like Mrs Cooper, whom he regarded as his real mistress, he was longing to get back to Jielgrave Street. He had to an extent imbibed Mrs Cooper’s opinion that the Grange was an uncanny spot. ’ Please, Miss Nina, will you kindly tell my mistress that the Comtesse has gone to town, and luncheon is to be 1 served without her.” “Gone to town. French!” This was an unprecedented occurrence. one so little in accordance with Comtesse Feo’s habits, that Nina could net forego an exclamation. • Yes Miss—to town- She has j walked down to the station—Will be back by the eight o’clock train. The Comtesse did no go with the gentlemen.” (To be Continued.) Woods’ Great Peppermint Cure For Influenza Colds.