TWO COMMON PEOPLE.

Auckland Star, Volume XLIII, Issue 304, 20 December 1912, Page 10

TWO COMMON PEOPLE.

By REX COLVILLE.

CHAPTER IV. A LUNCHEON" AXD ITS CONSE QUENCES.

Prince Maximilian's valet was sent on to tho "Superb" in a taxi-cab, and Humphrey Chatterton took his seat in the ••laborate landaulette opposite Mrs. van (imp and the enchanting vision with the whit<- owl's feather in her toque. As the electric car siid noiselessly along, Mrs. van Camp kept up a flowing stream of comment and question, and Humphrey had perforce to devote his outward attention to the gracious torrent. His answers were, however, at random, for he was conscious all the time of the puzzied scrutiny of a pair of mysterious grey eyes, and" he felt that Sybil was groping for an answer to the enigma which, doubtless, he presented to her.

"And we have "been so anxious about you. Prince," went on Mrs. van Camp, "and—and so proud."'

Chatierton had just time to catch the swift uplifting of Sybil's eyebrows an_ the coiroemptuous curl of her lip —remembering the Princes escapades, ho could wonder at neither—before he smilingly answered her mother.

"Well, well." he said, offhandedly. "All ___i's over now."

"Is it?" it was Sybil who propounded -he question, and there was more than doubt in her tone.

He turned to her with a smile of pleasure and relief. It was simpiy a joy to look at her.

"We begin a new era to-day," he said, fightly. "You don't know how much 1 am looking forward to this coming week. I have a presentiment that something "will happen."

Mrs. van Camp shivered, but Sybil's cheeks flushed a little, and certainly the -awn of anger showed in her eves.

Tou think," she said slowly and •with emphasis, "that you can close a -took at a given page and say, 'that's over'—and then there Is an end of it?"

He nodded. "Oh, I hope so," he said. "Otherwise one would never begin again —make a new start, you know." """But supposing it is impossible to make a new start?"

"It's never impossible. While there's Jife'there's hope, you know." *_U_, while there is life. Those three reformers whom you had shot out of hand —they can never make a new start."

Chatterton was about to indignantly repudiate the accusation, when he suddenly remembered the part assigned to him to play.

"Confound the Prince." he thought inwardly, whilst saying aloud:—■ "My dear Miss Camp, no one could regret that senseless and cruel act more than myself. She regarded him with obvious wonder. "You regret it?" she repeated. "Why I understood " But Mrs. van Camp intervened. ""Xo doubt it was all for the best,"' she said, comfortably. "The ways or Providence are quite inscrutable." "

'The ways of Providence and of Prince Maximilian are easily differentiated," replied Sybil, coldly and clearly.

"But I assure you " began Chatterton. eagerly, when the car drew up smoothly at the portico of the "Superb." "Ah. here we are," he exclaimed, glad of the diversion: '"let's forget Plestieh-Bres-nor an.J Princes an,l politics, and think only about " his blue eves sought the black-lashed grey ones. "Lunch," Sybil supplied, promptly. "Lunch," he agreed, helping his guests to alight. "I've only had a couple of buns since tea last night."

Mrs. van Camp laughed indulgently. "The simple life," she suggested, sweeping regally into the gorgeous hall. Sybil followed, looking very detached and aloof. The Prince was puzzling her, and she did not like being puzzled; moreover, she had long ago summed up the voun<r aristocrat's character and she now "found herself having to readjust her views.

The two ladies passed into the palatal; waiting room, while Chatterton was ■whisked up in the lift to the Prince's suite of rooms.

"'Clothes," he said to a man whom he found there, and whom he guessed to be the valet. The response was instantaneous, and Chatterton drew a breath of relief at the absence of any show ot surprise on the servant's part; if the Prince's own man could not detect the juggle in identities, it was not likely that anyone else would be able to do so.

Ten minutes later, the maitre d'hotel was leaning deferentially over his shoulder, indicating the masterpieces of the "Superb's" luncheon menu, and on either hand of him were Mrs. van Camp and her beautiful elusive daughter.

Chatterton did frank justice to tho meal: his appetite would have done credit to a schoolboy, and the maitre d'hotel was both pained and gratified at the exhibition—pained at his patron's lack of discrimination, and gratified with tho welcome each new dish received. Mrs. van Camp considered it tactful to ignore this display of hunger, but her daughter was both amused and captivated by it. The austere Prince Maximilian was, indeed, showing a new side to his character—a side that was not without its ingenious charm. A little motherly smile crept tentatively to her scornful lips.

It was while Mrs. van Camp was discoursing plaintively, but with intention, upon the burden of riches, and Chatterton was attacking a meringue glace with boyish gusto, that the tail of bis vivid blue eye —always alert for impressions— caught a curious movement on the part of a guest who was seated at a table not a dozen yards away, and who, apparently, had his back turned to the van Camp party. The man's attitude was cramped and unnatural. His left leg, from the hip to

the foot, formed two sides of a triangle, of which his right leg, from the thigh to the knee, was its base. On this acutely tilted left knee one elbow rested. the folds of his voluminous frock coat forming a complete screen to what his right hand might be doing. He was, one would say. engrossed in the contemplation of the menu. But Chatterton observed at a glance that the man "is shaggy head was bent too low for accurate reading of the bill of fare: moreover, there was a sidetwist to the bull-like neck that was not in keeping with the ostensible direction j of the eyes. Altogether, there was i something more than a little queer about this solitary guest. ! Si ill Mrs. van Camp babbled on. and ! still Chatterton covertly watched. Alt eerie feeling was creeping over him, a : directly associated with—perhaps even the cause of—this peculiar attitude of the bent figure on his right. A pre- i monition of danger, as vet impalpable ' quickened his sense and accelerated hi_, i pulse. |

He put down his fork, and deliberately turned in his seat to face the crouching stranger. Even as he turned, his glance was held by a white-rimmed eye tha. showed just beneath the second _utton of the straight folds of the man's frock coat. Chatterton knew at once the message of that little blue-black circle with its shining border —the hollow steelrimmed eye that stared him in the face; the message was death.

Quick as thought he caught up his plate, while with the other hand he reached out for the water decanter. He was just in time.

The outclass and the crockery had scarcely been brought into position, at arm's length, to guard his face, than the plate was shattered into a dozen pieces, and the heavy decanter, snapped in twain at the juncture of its neck, fell with a clatter ami a shower of water upon tlie immaculate damask-covered table; there had been no sound of an explosion.

The incident barely disturbed the regal solemnity of the august room. On& or two heads were half turned in the direction of the disturbance, and a supercilious eyebrow or two were raised in melancholy deprecation of such a flagrant ''faut pas'' on the part of a

"Superb" waiter. But "good form** demanded no further recognition. Luncheon must continue, even if London were burning.

The expressionless face of the maitre d'hotel had gone very white, and that of his underling very red. But Humphrey Chatterton was laughing. He had twisted his napkin round the fingers of his right hand.

"My fault entirely," he assured the perturbed waiter, over his shoulder; "but the decanter must have been cracked before. Mrs. van Camp, please accept my apologies for such a clumsy piece of sleight-of-hand. Let us move to another table."

The exchange was effected in silence. Mrs. van Camp was breathing a little hard, for the noise had startled her, though she had no idea that anything but quite a little trivial accident had taken place. Sybil was very calm and collected; her mouth was still contemptuous, but her eyes were aglow wit.. some emotional fire. Chatterton caught the light, and for a second felt the grey intensity of her gaze burn into his; he almost thought he could read the message that flared there, but in another moment it was quenched, and only mystery remained.

"You have cut your hand?" she said, as she sank into hefchair before the new table.

Chatterton laughed.

"So I have," he exclaimed. "Perhaps you would excuse mc for a minute?" _-.o saying, he hurried off, cutting short Mrs. van Camp's earnest entreaties to him to summon Sir Frederick Treves, or some other notable surgeon, to atteni to him. In the spacious hall, Chatterton was just in time to observe one of the hall-porters helping the bull-neckeo stranger into a heavy fur-lined coat. He followed him into the vestibule and lightly caught his arm as he was descend ing the steps.

"My friend," he said, "I should lika to speak to you."

| The fellow turned up a grizzled, snarling face; the snarl was caused by the pressure of Chatterton's fingers on the ! nerve that rises near the surface of the arm just where the biceps lie. It was a grip learned as a trooper in the Capo Mounted Police, and had made Fingoes and Basutos squirm before now. "Let go," gTowled the man. "This is an' assault." Chatterton smiled down upon him admiringly. "No, no," he replied wKU amusement, "this is merely a friendly chat, but that** —and here he jerked his head in the direction of the dining-room—"that wad an assault, if you like. Why did you do it? Who are you?"

"I —I don't know what you mean," fenced the other. "What are you talking about?"

Chatterton shrugged his shoulders.

"You deliberately attempted to take my life just now," ac answered. "1 was watching you for quite a minute before you tired off that particularly powerful air-pistol. Come now, I have no time to waste talking here with you; there is quite a quarter of a meringue awaiting my return. Choose quickly — either you tell mc why you shot at mc and hand mc over that dangerous little plaything, or I give you in charge for attempted murder." His grip tightened, and a whimper of pain slid from the other's lips. "Choose," said Chatterton again. "I—l deny everything," was the whining protest.

Chatterton beckoned to a waiting com missionaire, who approached.

"This gentleman," he began, his fingers of steel still biting into the writhing nerve of his companion's arm, but .ie was interrupted by the captive. "No, no," he whispered, "I'll tell." "Ah," continued Chatterton, turning to thepu'zzled officer with a smile, "I shall not require your assistance after all. My friend here was very anxious to feast his eves on the Albert Memorial—and can you wonder?—but I was _"_**__[_" in thinking he did not know the dUMtfOn The commissionaire saluted and returned to the pavement's edge. " Now,*' said Chatterton, "I m wait-

ing." ... from his breast pocket the man withdrew the shining weapon. " Pretty," was the comment as the young man transferred it to his own keeping. . , With a deft twist, the other wriggled free his arm, and with his freedom re-

turned his courage. " You are doomed," he hissed malevolently, clasping his maimed arm with h s other hand. "If it is not 1. it will b2 another." '" Cheery," remarked Chatterton casually. " And why. may 1 ask, do you and your friends object to my living, moving, and having my being?" " You are a despot, a tyrant. You are a dissolute puppet. You are not fit to live. Above all, you are a murderer!" Chatterton gave him a disgusted shove down the steps. '" Oh. go away." he said resignedly. !'" And tell the rest of your reformers to j start reforming themselves.*' | But though his tone was light, there | was a ser.ous purpese in hi; blue eyes as he walked slowly back along the hall. , 'Ibis undertaking of his wa-s not giing to b.-- the sinecure he had imagined. It was. after all. only by the meres: chan.e . that he had been able to frustrate tbi_ I cold-blooded and well-calculated attempt on his life. Would his luck always J stand him in good stead? It was almost , too much to expect-

But no sooner had he re-entered the dining-room than his moment of seriousness passed, and his heart beat high with pleasurable expectation and sanguine hope. The white owl's feather in the little black toque beckoned him onward; the wave of pale gold hair broke over him and captured his senses, the sombre eyes drew him. and the mouth —ah, the mouth was smiling now —not contemptuously, but with a tender curl, as though basking in some happy reminiscence. Sybil! Poof! He would be ehot at 20 times a day if those lips would smile like that for him.

Mrs van Camp was drawing down her gloves when he reached the table. " I wonder if you will think mc too rude. Prince," she.said with a gush, "if I hurry away. I have an appointment with my milliner, and one can keep almost any one waiting except one's milliner." Humphrey Chatterton's eyes flashed blue fire, and his pulses bounded. "A little milliner is a dangerous thing." he said sympathetically. "Perhaps I might have the honour of *' " Taking Sybil back. Oh, would you?" " I would." was the grave answer. Mrs van Camp encompassed them with a benignant smile. Her eyes said, ' Biess you." though her lips merely beamed Then she surged away, with the anxious maitre d'hotel bobbing in her wake.

" This w splendid," said Catterton, boyishly, as he re-seated himself.

Sybil stretched out a hand towards him and rested it, fist clenched, upon the tablecloth.

"It is," she agreed, half reluctantly and half proudly. Then, slowly unclosing her clenched white fin_ers, she showed him what rested uponthe delicate pink palm of her little hand. It was a cone-shaped leaden object, slightly blunted at the nose—the spent messenger of the air-n'stol.

Chatterton drew a ludden breath ol astonishment. She had known all the time, and had not moved a hair. Oh, what a girl!

"You are a darling," he said with conviction.

She did not answer, and he could not be sure if she were angry or not. Certainly the slim dark brows drew themselves together and the lip., ceased to smile. Ort.iinly, also, a splash of red showed itself suddenly high on cither cheek. But the white fingers closed once again over (he tiny. ' m «-rshap-m piece of lead, and the hand'left the table cloth tight .-hut.

A mad feeling of exultation swept over Chatterton and it was all he could do to force his eyes away from th it lovely little hand. But when shp spoke it ra as though an icicle had become vocal.

" I am going," she said

(To be continued daily ,