The Nemeth of a Crime

Waikato Times, Volume 124, Issue 20820, 2 June 1939, Page 5

The Nemeth of a Crime

By ACEITUNA THURLOW

NEW SERIAL

Synopsis of Instalment I.—Primrose Cathcart, last descendant of the Cathcart family, suddenly rendered penniless, and forced to seek the shelter offered by Mr and Mr? Larramy, her uncle and aunt. Mrs Larramy tells Primrose the story of their nelfrhoour. Mr Gellender’s matrimonial romance. On leaving the Diplomatic Service Horace Gellender had married and brought his wife home to his country seat in Clayshire (where the opening scenes of the story take place;. It was reported that Mrs Gellender was a countess in her own right, and divinely beautiful, but to the surprise of all. she proved to be a small, plain woman. Sbe, however, possessed wonderful eyes that were fascinating to -n uncanny degree. Odd rumours soon got afloat of strange doings at Hadstcok Hall, and Horace and his wife quarrelled. The reconciliation was signalised by a county ball, at which Mrs Larramy overhead a conversation between Horace and his wire, showing, apparently, that the reconciliation was complete. Shortly afterwards she heard the sound or running rootsteps, and was surprised to see a woman with a bundle running towards the road, where she was driven oir in a trap, in the darkness there was a sound like a child’s cry. Three months later Horace received from his wife a heartless letter, bearing a foreign post mark. He only heard of his wife once after that—through a friend. Primrose Cathcart and Horace meet again, and he invites her to the Hall to see his jewels, which are kept In a strong room specially barricaded. Their friendship grows stronger, and Primrose wishes that she could help him to discover the whereabouts of his lost child.

Primrose obtains an appointment as governess with a Mrs Lemalre, who Is about to start on a yachting cruise to Norway, her charge being Mrs Lemaire’s daughter Molly. Before she leaves her aunt’s Horace Gellender comes to bid her good-bye, and gives her a brooch set with diamonds. Primrose finds her charge to be an “uncanny-looking child,” who is being brougb up on a curious system of Mr Lemalre’s. One day, Primrose mentions Mr Gellender’s romance, when Mrs Lemalre takes the part of Mrs Gellender with some vigour. Every evening, Mrs Leinaire and the men, who all seem to be in love with their hostess, retire to the smoking room, Which Primrose has been Torbldden to • enter under any circumstances. What goes on In that room Is kept a proround secret. Primrose nearly fathoms the mystery one evening, but Mrs Lemalre puts the subject aside by discussing plans of a shore excursion. Next day the men start out on a sporting expedition and Mrs Lemalre and Primrose go Tor a long drive. They stay at a hotel for the night, and when dressing for dinner, Primrose puts on the brooch given her by Horace Gellender, which unaccountably startles Mrs Lemalre when she sees It. Arter retiring Tor the night Primrose Is awakened by the feeling that somebody Is In her room, and jumping up she discovered it to be Mrs Lemalre. She is horrified to find the bed-clothes reeking of chloroform. Mrs Lemaire - retires, excusing on the plea of neuralgia, and then Primrose notices that her jewel case in which she keeps Horace Gellender’s present Is open. Next day she hesitates whether to stay or return home, but decides to stay. Meeting Mr Huntei, she asks him to take care of her brooch, and he agrees to lock it up in his cash box. As he spoke he made straight for a small bay, and as the fog had apparently not increased in the last few minutes, Mr Hunter suggested we should land, and, climbing a little way up a height, see what chances of clearing we could detect from there. Accordingly Roger ran the boat up the shore, and we both scrambled out, and telling the man to wait, started up the slope. “It looks awfully unpromising,” pronounced my companion. “I vote that we make that evil-visaged gentleman row us straight back to the Lily.” As he spoke we turned, and then stopped in sheer surprise. For the beach was devoid of any vestige of a boat, and a dark blur disappearing into the mist was all that we could see of the faithless Roger, who was heading direct for the yacht. Mr Hunter swore below his breath. “What confounded impudence! I*ll let the brute know what I think of him when we meet again. Heaven grant he hasn’t made himself scarce with the provisions, for I expect it will be some time before he gets back.” Picnic on the Shore To our relief we found the basket carefully deposited on the shore, and, in spite of the growing chilliness of the atmosphere, we sat down and began to prepare the meal. We ate heartily, for the air had given us an appetite, and then I seated myself on the tea basket, while Mr Hunter stretched himself at my feet, lazily smoking. In the distance the mountains were still clear, though the fog was rolling slowly towards them like a gigantic curtain. The scene was curious. There was a weird efTect about the dingy-coloured mountains, a brooding silence over the purpleblack crags. Even where the snow Jay softest and the sun still shone there was gloom. This seemed a good moment to introduce a subject that had weighed for some time on my mind. “Mr Hunter,” I began, looking away from him and fidgeting the loose soil with the point of my shoe, “I am afraid you must have thought me very bad mannered that day at Tromso. I am sorry I was rude.” The colour mounted to my face. Tendering graceful apologies was not one of my accomplishments. My companion removed the cigar from his mouth. “No,” he said, slowly, “I didn’t think you were rude. Every lady has a right to show a man that his attentions are a nuisance. The thing that surprised me was your doing it so suddenly: you were so different the night before. It made me wonder if I could have in any way offended you.” “You mean you were so different the night before.” I said hotly, then repented of my haste. “I? What do you mean? What happened the night before?” There was dead silence on my part. A lgrht seemed to illuminate the mind of Mr Hunter. “Do you mean—hut it is too ridiculous. You can’t have minded my sayng that you had better not come into the card-room.” My face told him he was on the right track. “Tell me the truth,” he said, severely. “Have you and I quarrelled for a fortnight because I expressed my opinion when it was asked?” “That wasn’t fhe reason,” I answered, incoherently, “it was because you showed everyone that you preferred me to remain away—that my presence would be a bore. Not one of the others would Ijave been so horrid if Mrs Lemaire had appealed to them directly, though I am sure they did not want me.” My anger rose at the recollection. “U it possible that you thought all that? I prevented you from joining us that evening, not because I didn’t want you. but simuly because I

A story of Thrilling Romance and Exciting Adventure

thought it a pity that you should be mixed up in that sort of thing. It was very officious of me, no doubt; but, you see, you had been good enough to accept me as your friend, and I acted as I should have done if it had been a question of my own sister. It is difficult to explain, but, of course, you know that this is no ordinary yachting party, come for the mere pleasure of travelling?” A Surprise “I know something—” I began, confusedly. “You don’t suppose we are ordinary guests, revelling in the Lemaires’ hospitality?’’ ‘What do you mean?” “Simply this. We each pay our share towards the expenses of running the yacht, which belongs to the Lemaires, and we come here to play. In London the Lemaires keep a gambling-house, very attractive, most comfortable, and extremely exclusive. Besides other delights they own the best cook in town. Our hostess is abnormally clever, and it is on her shoulders that the main part of the work falls. It is her business to collect millionaires and attract them to the house. I can safely say that she is seldom known to fail. Her husband has plenty of brains, and is uncommonly good at ecarte and picquet —in fact he makes both games his specialty. They have a roulette table, and, what with one thing and another, they contrive to make a pretty penny. The admittance fee to their establishment effectually prevents the povertystricken from entering. Altogether the whole thing is conducted on very different lines to an ordinary gamb-ling-house. The whole affair went swimmingly for two years, then —just the other day—the police somehow managed to get wind of the arrangement, and might have made it unpleasant. Scandal says that one of Mrs Lemaire’s victims had a jealous wife, who followed him, and got into the house when the play was in full swing. At any rate, Mrs Lemaire broke up the establishment, collected Sir James, Torriano and myself, and we started for a little gamble on the high seas, beyond the reach of the myrmidons of the law. Someone failed them at the last minute, which was the reason why I was asked. I play comparatively little. The other two are the principals. They love play, they love Mrs Lemaire, and are inclined to part easily with their money. Algy Lemaire refused to leave Molly at home. A big dispute raged, which lasted up to a few days before our departure. Then Mrs Lemaire gave in, and communicated with you, and, I suppose, thinking you young, and therefore more likely to succumb to her influence, engaged you. She was awfully particular about keeping the door of the saloon closed till we had left Bergen. Then. I suppose, she thought that having come so far you would be unlikely to turn hack. I daresay you imagined that your discovery that night was an accident. As a matter of fact, she had opened the door herself, with the intention of you seeing us. She knew it was not practicable to keep it from you much longer, and took that way to avoid the awkwardness of telling you. I had urged her not to conceal it from you longer, for I thought you might consider it your duty to leave the yacht. She said she would do as I wished, hut at the same time exacted a promise that I should leave your enlightenment entirely to her and not speak to you on the subject. What puzzles me is that you did not guess something of the kind before. When she proposed your joining us in the evenings I opposed it. I thought then, and I still think, that this is not a business for a girl to be mixed up with. 1 have given this long explanation in order that I may clear myself in your eyes.” Illusions Shattered Astonishment held me spellbound. I had believed Mrs Lemaire’s story implicitly. “Are you sure,” I gasped, “that you are correct? I thought the trip was arranged to benefit Mr Lemaire.” “It is my turn to ask what you mean. Miss Cathcart.” “But Mrs Lemaire told me,” 1 stammered, “that her husband had a hereditary gambling mania. The doctors held out hopes that a sea voyagemight do him good—that the improvement of his bodily health might react on his mind. Then, because she could not induce him to come away, she got the Count and Sir James to accompany her and pretend to gamble with him; they were to repay her in the end.” “What an ingenious yarn,” cried Mr Hunter, throwing back his head and laughing heartily. “And you believed

I felt very small. How credulous I had been: how incapable of looking after myself, distrustful of my only friend, and the willing tool of an unscrupulous woman. Was it possible that Mrs Lemaire, with her pretty, protecting ways and admirable sentiments. was nothing but a successful adventuress? Was that fascination of manner merely a bait to catch the unwary millionaire? Her graceful tact, her well-expressed views on the <lutv of making young people happy, had proceeded not from a kind heart, but from a lonpr study in the art of pleasing. an art. which she used solely to further her own ends. Many doubts flitted across my mind. Small, halfforgotten incidents rose before me with startling clearness. 1 grew suspicious of that harrowing tale of overnight. Altogether I began to feel as if the ground had opened, disclosing a chasm at my feet. Yet all through this chaos of mind I realised with a rush of gratitude that Mr Hunter and I were friends once more. “Please—please forgive me.” I exclaimed. “Oh. what a fool I’ve been.” At my words he imprisoned both my hands in his. “Then it wasn't because you were tired of my company that you snubbed me so unmercifully at Tromso?” (To be Continued)