Miss MIDAS

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 94, 22 April 1931, Page 16

Miss MIDAS

; k' : illil':, NORMAN PENLEY .jllP^il S':"'.'-. ''viSpJiv.. (AUtnor of "The Loveless Isle," etc.) *£■:s*&?■ -rfSxKj

CHAPTER XXII. The Unseen Partner. "Ye'll have to do without coffee." Except when there was present what he called "company." James ilelbourn was not exactly a model of politeness. Courtesy was something lie put on with his dinner jacket, and even then it was ill-fitting. To-night, although Heather had been taking a meal with him, he did not count his daughter as "company" in the ceremonial sense. "That's all right, daddy. But if you'd like some I'll go and make it for you, if the woman wouldn't mind." "No, no, lass. Let her alone. She's best not interfered with." "I daresay I could get a better house - woman," he continued, "one who could make coffee, but likely she'd be more intelligent and show it by being nosey about my affairs. This one's a half-wit, but she cooks well enough for me. I'm James Roberts to her. and she doesna' want to know more than is good for her. That means a lot in a gossiping village like this." It was a bold step for old James, living under his assumed name, in the Sussex village of Gorsley, to invite his daughter to dinner. But Heather had played the part of niece very well in the presence of the dull, middle-aged daily maid. The -woman suspected nothing. She was much more concerned at gaining the visitor's approval of her homely fare, and Heather had taken care to say that she liked it. That little compliment was nectar to llrs. Hobbs, who got neither praise nor censure from the taciturn old gentleman for whom she ''did." Heather's approval of her cooking put new life into her, so that she sang as she clattered the dishes after dinner, and was not in the least interested in what was being said in the little sitting room of the cottage.

'"Let's see, daddy; you have been living here over a month now.'' "Six weeks, lass. And it suits me. i Now and again I feel I want to be up at the office, and I daren't go there. That's the only drawback." '"But I'm perfectly all right, daddy. I'm doing quite well, thanks to your help." "Well enough. But I'd like to see you oftener." In point of fact, he was seeing Heather fairly frequently. They had a rendezvous in an Italian restaurant at .Soho, where she would meet him for lunch twice a week, and to which place he addressed letters for her. "Since that trip to France." he mused, "I'm losing my taste for travelling. I'm not so keen on going up to town."' Here Heather saw a chance of diverting him from the subject of business, and quickly took up the cue. "You promised to tell me some time how you managed to get home from Paris without being suspected." "Maybe I did. But just now I want to talk business." "That can come later. Tell me about the return journey, and we can talk shop afterwards." The old man was not unwilling to tell the story of his return, for, in a quiet way, lie was proud of the ingenuitv and foresight he had shown in that adventure. "Ah, well!" he began, "there's nothing much to it. The great thing was to avoid being noticed, and the best place to hide yourself is in a crowd." "But there are no crowds travelling between France and England at this time of the year." "You're very clever, Lassie, but ye ' don't know everything. The week-end" I came away, there'd been some big Rugby football match in Paris between France and England, and crowds of youmr fellows had come over for it. Seemingly, the railway companies thought it would be a good idea to fill up the Saturdav night boat trains with them. Those late Saturday trains aren't well patronised as a rule and so the boys who'd come over on cheap excursions were obliged to return on the Saturday night train. That suited me. "I went with them. They were a bit noisy, because the English team had won. But they weren't a bad lot, and they treated me nicely. We had a rough crossing, but I found an attentive steward, and he fixed me up. When we were coming into port, I asked him if he would help me down the gangwav and through the Customs. He did. "When it came to inspecting passports the officials, who didn't seem to be overkeen at being on duty before breakfast j on Sunday, saw an old man "leaning on a steward's arm, and they barely glanced j [ at the passport in my hand, To tell the j

truth I was so tired and upset, that I didn't care whether the man looked at it or not."' t "Poor Daddy/' exclaimed Heather, j "Aye, I daresay that I looked as if I needed sympathy, so no one bothered j me, except a railway inspector. Think--3 ing that I didn't want to travel to town r with a lot of noisy laddies, put me in 3 a compartment by myself ar.H marked it ' "Reserved.' When I got to London, I went right over to Euston and stayed I at one of the hotels near the station." , "That's funny. There are plenty of hotels near Victoria."' 3 "Yes, and if you were looking for anyone who'd just come from the Continent, ' that's where you'd £0 first." 1 '"Daddy, how canny you've become! ' " She almost said "cunning." "Canniness, Lassie, is all the same, i whether you show it in dodging people, > or whether you use it to make money in r the city. There's only one brand of it, , and I learned it in business." So the subject was brought back again , to the office, and its affairs, but Heather i fenced and told her father as little as 3 possible, though she noted carefully all I the hints he gave her. ; A strange change had come over the 7 old man's attitude towards Heather. Be- • for his disappearance, his one consuming I desire was that she should learn to be ' mistress of the business. To that end he 5 had thrust responsibility upon her by ■ disappearing, by feigning death. He had ) largely achieved the result he had ■ sought. His gamble (for gamble it was, ; having regard to Heather's inexperience " of affairs) had succeeded. \ Now he itched to interfere. Xot that he distrusted Heather, although he was \ a little uneasy about her unwillingness to tell him things. His trouble was the restlessness common to men who, having piven their lives to business, suddenly '. find themselves cut off from it. He was | out of his element. He wanted somet thing to do. \ Jji France, his need for mental activity, c his desire to be planning and executing, ! 'was satisfied by the gradual working c out of his scheme for disappearance, and c in avoiding detection. Xow, even that : diversion had disappeared. The world c seemed to have assumed that James Mel- : bourn was dead—although the law had [ not yet written him off the ledgers of c the living. And as for the people : locally, they despaired of knowing him. | Even when disinterested people like the t vicar tried to show a little neighbourly ; courtesy, Old James soon snubbed them. : The last hour of Heather's evening ; with her father was spent in desultory \ conversation about share and property j transactions. James sat with a financial I newspaper on his knee, advising, pro- : phesying and instructing, and Heather ; noted carefully all he said. \ To all of his suggestions Heather : returned noncommittal answers, and his I requests for information were evaded in i a manner which irritated the old man. ; The sadness he showed when she left to \ get her train to Guildford was due not : so much to the natural distaste of partf j ing from his only child, as to a painful c feeling that he was no longer wanted, that ' being officially dead, he ought to remain \ I dead so far as business was concerned, t i But he could not see how illogical and • ! selfish he was, nor could he believe that : I Heather herself was opposed to his tak- = Jing a distant hand in the business. He that someone was turning her -1 against him. and, seeking someone on • whom he could turn his resentment, he !! could think only of Gerard Huntingdon. I (To be continued daily.)