A LOST WITNESS, OR THE MYSTERY OP LEAH PAGET

Auckland Star, Volume XXVIII, Issue 247, 25 October 1897, Page 6

A LOST WITNESS, OR THE MYSTERY OP LEAH PAGET

By LAWRENCE L. LYNCH, Author of "Shadowed by Three," ".A Slender Clue,"' " Dangerous Cround, "Madeline Payne/' "A Mountain Mystery," "The Diamond Coterie," " Romance of a Bomb Thrower,1'"Out of a Labyrinth."

CHAPTER V. A CALL ON THE CHIEF OF POLICE. The Chief of Police aud Polly Cousm returned together to the ollice of the ■former and held a brief conference, after which Cousin took leave. Then the Chief busied himself issuing orders to several trusty men, sending them out upon their missions, and hastily dispatching half a dozen telegrams or more. This done he mat.c sundry entries in a small book which he took from a drawer marked private, and returned to it as soon as done, locking the drawer and pocketing the key. Then he began to write letters, and was thus engaged when Max Talfourd's card was placed before him. 'Bring him in,' he said, promptly, and there was agleam of satisfaction in his shrewd eyes. Max Talfourd, in the presence of the Chief of Police, was not the surprised, vaguely alarmed, tenderly respectful young man who had bidden farewell to Mrs Paget a few moments before. He came forward quickly and confidently and wasted no words. He was very grave and Connors could see that he was anxious ; but- he liked the frank greeting* and straightforward look that responded to his own. 'Captain Connors,' Max began, T can't expect to be as well known to you as you are to me. I have not come to detain you, but to ask for a little information, which I hope you will give me. I learned fvom Mrs Paget that your companion this morning was a Mr Cousin.' Connors nodded. 'And that he is to be your assistant in this search for—for Miss Paget. Is that true?' 'He will be one of my assistants.' 'Thanks. I hope that when we have had an opportunity to talk matters over that you will accept me for another. Just now I am anxious upon one point. This Mr Cousin, is he one of the reporters for the 'Call?' Connors nodded again. 'Have you any reason for thinking that Mr Cousin intends to make use of this piece of news —of Miss Paget's unaccountable disappearance—in his reportorial capacity?' 'Do you mean will Cousin make an item of it? I should be very much surprised if he has not already done, so.' The young* man's face darkened. 'I want to prevent this if possible,' he said.'First of all,, lot* the young lady's sake and for the sake- of her friends, her mother —' He stopped abruptly. The Chief of Police had moved nearer and had placed a hand upon his arm. 'Young man,' the Chief began in a kindly tone, 'just let me say a word before you go on. Miss Paget is missing* from her home, and her parents, after making inquiries in various directions, have called upon me for fIM. Now when a matter comes into the hands of the police it is past the point where it. may be handled with gloves, and people's feelings made the first consideration. I sanctioned Cousin's desire to be first in the field with this bit of news. And, 1 assure you, there will be nothing printed, but the bare facts —no flights of fancy indulged in, no prophesies, nothing sensational. I have a strong reason, for wishing* Miss Paget's friends— the very people from whom you are anxious to keep this news—to know that she has disappeared.' 'May I ask —' began Max, but the Chief stopped him with a gesture. 'And unless you have information. that shall nullify that reason, as, for instance, where she is—' 'I know literally nothing about it.' 'Or unless you know of something that will furnish a probable motive —■ something that had better be kept dark for the young lady's sake—•' Max Talfourd shook the Chief's hand from his arm, and stepped foack. There was a flush upon his cheek, and an angry gleam in his eyes. 'Understand this,' he said sternly, -'The cause of Miss Paget's disappearance I neither know nor can I guess; !I cannot even imagine a possible cause. But when the truth is learned •—if it ever will be —it will prove her innocent of any wrong in intent or deed.' 'There !' exclaimed the Chief, seeming* in no way disturbed by his | •visitor's manner. T like to bear you say that. Now, hear me finish. I ■wanted Miss Paget's disai-pearance announced in the "Call," because that Js the quickest way of informing her .friends and acquaintances of the fact. I mean to visit some, perhaps many, of the society people who know her; and what you have just said convinces me that I am right in thinking that unless they were prepared for my questions I would get but short answers. I want thes- people to know why my men or myself come to interview them, without, having to ■waste time in explanations.' 'Still,' said Max, looking only half convinced, T would be glad this were kept out of the papers until toinorroAv, at least. I know the people of the "Call" slightly, and I intended ,to visit the office.' 'Very well,' said the Chief; 'but you ■will fail. . Can I see you again tonight —say, at. seven o'clock ?' 'Yes, I'll be punctual. Thank' you.' He had the door open before he had ceased speaking*, and was g*one in a ■moment. As the Chief of Police resumed his *seat before the desk, a smile hovered around his lips. 'I'm -afraid he won't be in time,' he muttered, looking not in the least afraid. 'But it pleased him, and establishes a sort of confidence between *us.' His hands were moving about the desk as he soliloquized, and presently he laughed, as if among his scattered letters and papers he had unearthed* a good joke. . Meanwhile, Max Talfourd was being driven rapidly to the office of the j 'Evening Call,' and the result of his •visit, of its lack of result, has already [been told.

CHAPTER VI. FATHER AND SON. When Max Talfourd re-entered his cab, lie gave the driver a number upon Irving Place, and added as he shut Ihe door, 'Drive fast.' This order was obeyed, and he was soon set down ■ before a stately dwelling. He entered the hbuse with a latch-key, and as he was about to cross the hall, a maid servant came tripping down the stairs. Ah, Annette,' he said as she approached him, 'we're very quiet here.' 'Yes, sir. Mrs Talfourd has sent William out on some errand, and 1 think the other servants are downstairs.' 'Where is Mrs Talfourd?' 'In her little sitting-room, sir.' 'And my father?' 'tie is 'there.., too, Mr Max. He hasn't been downstairs to-day." 'Not worse?' 'lie says not; he thinks tha stairs tire him too much.' M dare say. Annette, you can. go back and tell them that I'm coming to them.' 'They'll be glad of that, sir.' The girl ran lightly up stairs again, and the young man followed more slowly. Mrs Talfourd, seated in her dainty sewing-chair near a low window tilled with blooming' plants, received her son's message with a little ejaculation of delight, and looked for sympathy over at her husband. He lay stretched upon a couch near the flowerburdened window and opposite the litle sewing chair. The. little, sitfing-voom was a favourite with the mistress of the house, and was connected with her dressingroom, and through that with her sleeping-room beyond. And so far from modern was the fine old house, that Max Talfourd, in recalling his happiest childhood days and his calmest and most rest fid hours of later youth, connected them all with these I rooms, and chief est of all with 'mother's little sitting-room.' 'All, you runaway boy.' It was Mrs Tsll'olird's soft voice that first greeted her son. and she half rose from her low seat, gathering up some fleecy lace-work with one little thin hand. Bhit in one quick stride Max was beside her. 'Sit still, mother,' he said, putting her back in her chair with & caressing movement, and stooping- to kiss her forehead. 'And how are you, sir,' crossing to the couch and taking the outstretched hand of the invalid. 'Did you think .1 had turned prodigal son'.1' The invalid laughed the cheery laugh of a strong and happy man. 'Clad, you are growing a dissipated fellow,' he said, smiling lovingly at. his handsome son. 'Away ,let me see; four, no, live, six—how many days, little mother?' 'Three days and a half, just' smiled the little woman. 'Well, three days and a half, then. That comes of putting him into apartments down town. Apartments will be the ruin yet of this country, or rather this city. I shall not be surprised to hear some of our city belles setting* themselves up in apartments next, and making it the fashion.' 'Horrible !' ejaculated Mrs Talfourd. And then, as her eyes sought her sou's face, her light speech was hushed, and a look of anxiety spread over her countenance. 'Max, dear,' she said, anxiously, 'you look pale and worn. Are, yon not well ?' M am quite well, mother.' the son answered, in a low tone. 'But I am in serious trouble.' Mrs Talfourd, a small, fair-haired, sweet-f.aced woman, had been an invalid so long that she had ceased to be numbered among the Queens of society. Although, when upon some rare occasion she opened her home to the friends to whom she still clung, they came gladly, and went away regretting anew the loss of so much gentle, sweetness, nnd old-time courtesy, from their midst. Thirty years ago. when Max Talfourd, senior, led Helen Rossiter to the altar, people said, 'What a contrast, and how did they ever come to make choice of each other i' For Max Talfourd was big and robust and jovial, fond of good dinners, good society, good horses; not in the least a lady's man, although he was boyishly fond of the dance, and his keen wit and unflagging spirits were much in demand where gaiety reigned. But Mrs Talfourd began ber married life with tbe love that begets understanding, and the. tact to seize and to use in the right way such knowledge as daily contact brought. And her husband had a generous nature,'a profound respect for good women, and an innate love of home, its comfort and repose. ! Two children, two de.icate balryi girls, had come, and gone back to the home of the seraphs. Now. in this sturdy young Max, growing up in the image of his father, they centred all their hopes and love. And lie was in trouble, serious trouble. Instantly, the light bantering tone of the father was changed, and the humorous twinkle faded from his eyes. He put out his hand and rested it upon his son's knee, but remained silent. For a moment the mother was also silent. Then she leaned forward, and, looking earnestly into his eyes, asked : 'What is it, Max ? Can't you tell us ?' A. great sigh escaped his lips. 'Thank heaven ! I can tell you everything, little, mother —you and ray father.' Again he was silent. Then he turned toward the father. 'Sometimes,' he began, 'during the past winter, yon have rallied rue' on what you call my evident penchant for Leah Paget, and charged me to beware of her "cruel parent." ' 'Yes,' assented Talfourd, seriously. 'Perhaps, I should have told you before this, that for a month past I have been engaged to Leah. But we preferred to keep it a pleasant secret between ourselves, partly for reasons which you might call sentimental, and partly because Leah, knowing her father's prejudices, wished to manage the announcement in her own way. It remained our secret until to-day.' Mr Talfourd listened to Max with increasing interest; then slowly raised himself upon one arm until he came to a sitting* posture. 'Do you mean to tell me that old Abner Paget has refused his daughter to you, and for no better reason than that he had quarrelled with your father somewhere in the middle ages ?' 'Mr Paget did that, sir, a month ago, when I wrote asking his sanction to our engagement; or rather, he chose to misunderstand my letter, and commanded me not to offer myself to Miss Paget.' 'Which you had already done ?' 'Which"" I had already done. We were both of age, social equals, and I. had no fear of "being considered a fortune hunter.' ■Umpb, I should think not, indeed.

But to-day—if all this happened a month ago, what was the cause of this morning's outbreak?' And now Max Talfourd turned from his indignant father to the sympathetic face of his mother. 'Something has happened to Leah Paget. Mother, she is missing from her home.' And before they could voice their surprise, he clashed into the story of the morning, telling it in detail, from the moment when he entered Mrs Paget's presence, to the time he had turned his back upon the editor of the 'Call.' When he had done there was a moment of silence. Then .Mrs Talfourd drew her chair close to her son, and put her band upon his. The touch was a caress, and Max took the, small thin hand between his own. 'Max,' she whispered, 'have you perfect coniidence in Leah Paget?' He started and loosened his grasp from her hand. '1 have perfect coniidence in Leah. Mother, you know her—haven't you'?' 'Yes, my son. Leah. Paget seems to me the last young* lady to attempt an escapade' 'Thank you, mother.' He lifted her small hand lo his lips. '1. can't believe that Leah has left her home of her own will. I. would as soon think it of ' 'Sara?' put, in bet* husband. 'Yes, of Sara; or of myself.' '....it think, mother, you who know your own sex so well, is there anything, any reason, sufficient to justify a young girl in leaving* her home clandestinely?' '.My son, That is a difficult question to answer. Leah has a good mother.' 'Oh, yes. Mrs Paget told me that she had her daughter's confidence. She was aware of our engagement.' 'Mrs Paget is a good woman,' his mother said thoughtfully. 'I have ! always regretted the cause of our estrangement,' glancing' quickly at the half-recumbent form of her husband, and as quickly away. 'The cause, my dear,' he said. 'Well, the fact, then. I confess, I hardly recall the cause.' 'Gad!' sitting erect again, 'no more do I—in detail, A business difference began it.' • 'And a difference in temperament has helped to keej. it alive?' Mrs Talfourd smiled as she completed her husband's sentence, and sighed as her glance came back to the grave face of her son. Max turned toward his father. 'Was the hostile feeling on your part, sir, so strong as to have caused you to look unfavourably upon my engagement with .Miss Paget?' 'Hostile fiddlestrings. AVould I turn my back upon the prettiest girl in town because her father happens to be an obstinate old pig?' 'Thank you, sir.' The voice of the elder was cheery, and his eyes smiled into those of his son. But the face and the voice of the latter were grave. 'Then there is no question of that. You and my mother will accept Leah when—when I bring* her to you?' Instantly, the face of the elder Talfourd became grave. 'Max,' he said, slowly, 'is that just the question to ask of us now ?' 'Yes. It is just the question. It is the only question.' Hi^ brow darkened. He arose, and stood midway between the two, looking* from one to the other. Then, in the momentary silence that followed his firmly-spoken words, and with his eyes upon them, he made a. backward movement toward the door. 'Max !' cried Mrs Talfourd, rising hastily and putting* out her slender arms imploringly, as a look she knew well—a look of fixed determination—■ settled upon his handsome features. '.Max, my son, what is it ? Tell us —tell us the worst ?' 'Max !' began his father. There was a tone of sternness in his voice, and a sudden gravity overspread his face, bringing out and emphasising the strong* resemblance between father and son. '.Max, are you keeping something back ? —something that—' lie checked his speech suddenly, for Ihe girl Annette opened the door, and coming forward presented a card to her mistress. Mrs Talfourd took it mechanically, glanced at the name upon it, and then, with a look of surprise and uncertainty, turned toward her husband. 'It is Mrs Paget,' she said. (To be Continued.)