FORBIDDEN GROUND.

Auckland Star, Volume XLV, Issue 152, 27 June 1914, Page 22

FORBIDDEN GROUND.

Or THE HOUSE OF MYSTERY.

CHAPTER I. THE JOY OF YOUTH. Tiie girl's eyes were radiant, tliey seemed to shine with blue fire like .-litis in a trnjiic sky. Her whole strong. slender young frame .seemed instinct with vitality, throbbing with excitement, pulsating with the fires of anient life kindling afresh from some unseen source. But. upon the face of her meek spinster companion, a gentle lady of the governess class, who had promised the '.Mother Superior of the Convent {"School outside Genoa to escort Miss Wyon •rifely to an address in London, there was nothing to be read save an absolute bewilderment, an overwhelming astonishment. ".My dear Miss Wyon—T don't understand in the least. This is not the house of a friend—as I understood—where you begged of mc to let you stop (unknown lo the Mother Superior) just, for one night. This is a great fashionable expensive hotel. O, my dear child, what does it mean? And why have you •lirought mc here? Why <lid you tell "That tarrididdle in the train? Ah. lhat is bo easily explained; Dour Miss Conway—do listen! And if you had been four years in a Convent School -,i ith only the dear,-pious sisters to talk ;o. you would not wonder that my first net of freedom is to assert myself—and .Let my own way by the exercise of a little harmless diplomacy'" "My dear, I don't understand!*' "I know you don't. You expected to take mc to-night to some horrid little sleeping place in iAlarseilles, and.then by a fearsome slow train to J'aris and i Dieppe, and so to London, to some! ghastly boardinghouse for impecunious jrirls. where another virtuous ogress— ibis time of the Protestant persuasion— like my humble self—will endeavour 1o .secure for mc an appointment to teach French to awful children, or play read-ing-and-wriling-tabby to some ancient dame in need of a companion! Well, and so I probably shall one of these days. That exhilarating programme will lie carried out all in due time I do not doubt. But for the moment 1 am free. The girl stretched her splendid young figure upwards, holding out her arms as though she would embrace the glory of the sunshine, the flowers, the iridescent sheen of the dimpling sea. all of which could be seen from the windows of the magnificent room to which their modest lnggage had been carried. "The moment I have been longing for all my life—its I fee] now —has come! For two fllorious days 1 am going to drink the wine of life in great draughts! (), don't look so scared. You shall drink it with mc. I will not outrage the convenances of which I have heard so much. But lam ol* age —[ am no longer <[ititc jenne fille! Just for two splendid .lays I am going to revpl in life—real, throbbing, delicious life! After that the triste skies of England, the tabby i-.i:s of the old ladies, the prunes and prisms of the young ones! Do I not see ii all mapped out before mc? But no matter —1 cshall have had mv glorvday!*' ' ' " ".My dear child—you talk so wildly! You take my breath away. Do you know what these great hotels charge— even for a day—in a room like this':" "Of course I know—or guess! Do you think I expect this glory-day to come out of that little bag of yours? Not I! Listen and I will tell you something. All these years since my mother died, when I have been living as a pensionnaire iv tiie Convent School, I have been hugging a little secret of my own. Do you know that I ought to "be—an heiress?" "An .heiress, my dear? Are you serious?" '■•I ought 'to 'be. I say; "jut mofirar did not heliere I ever should. My -old grandfather is—or was;— a terror. My father ram away t-o be married, and waia die-inherited. They lived on love, and he died in time of the meagre diet. T only remember my mother very distinctly. tSJie was beautiful. niifc we ■were always poor. She did many things exquisitely; but it was hard' work, for (dip was saving .for mc the pittance ujion which I have lived) sirtce. and the Teeidue of which you carry in that mystery bag of yours. But she had a few' beautiful things. lAnd at tihe last ehe sold them. •'She put tne money in a. little leather bag, and hung it round my neck. ''Keep it, rmy child,' she raid, 'till the day of necessity comes.' And I have kept it always, il have it still. And I ■have a.lso the hrautiful white lace and t-atin dress which my father thought for her in Paris, where she appeared as a bride. Eb ihad l some money of .his own at liret; .but it went And' I have the dress. And I have kept it. treasured it, sat up at night remodelling it. The Bisters show us how to work—but such work! To-night you shall wee! We dress —Aye dino—we go forth into the garden-?! And to-moTrow. we visit, the splendid Casino—we live the throbbing: life of this wonderful, wicked, magnificent place. . ." "0 my dear child! What would the "Mother Superior say?" Hilda's golden laugh rang through the room. "Ah. what would she say! But dear creature!—she will never know. See now I unpack my trunk. I show you my treasure! , It has two bodies: one for this evening's, wear. I reaTly have very pretty shoulders—you shall testify to that directly, you dear, prudish creature! And for to-morrow look—this altogether charming little lace and chiffon coat, smart beyond words! How I have stared into shop windows! How I have simijrcrled English fashion papers into my bare little room! How I have cut and contrived and fitted! And now behold! It it. not ravishing? And shall 1 not look perfectly bewitching in it? Yes, I will do my hair afresh, and take a bath in that delightful bathroom we were shown close by. Tben 1 will dress you—and myself—And we shall see!" That evening, in the great salle-a-manger. many heads were turned to watch the progress down tbe room of an astonishingly handsome and attractive girl, exquisitely frowned in filmy lace and satin; a girl who wore no jewels upon bur white neck and arms, yet who 1 carried herself with a regal grace, and j dignity, and though, evidently quite 1 young, looked forth upon life with eves ■ bewitchingly radiant, yet proudly alert and self-reliant also-, her personality im■prcssing itself upon those who watched her as at once ioxceful and exultant. Two men at a table near to which was that where Hie. beautiful girl and her prim spinster diienna -were presently seated, exchanged glances of approval and admiration. One of these men was elderly, and his crisp, snow-white hair

By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN. J&Autlior of 'Married in Haste," "The Last of the Dacres," etc.)]

rising in a crest from his brow gave him the air of benignant antiquity which he found it useful to cultivate. His companion, who bo-re a strong likeness to him, was of the generation below — his nephew, in fact. His eyes were dark and keen, like those of his kinsman; but his hair was dark and sleek, and there were lines traced in his face which should not have shown- up so clearly at his less mature age. Handsome men both, ■well-dressed, well-groomed. English at a glance. Hilda noted thorn: at once: and the face of the older man attracted lier. She wondered whether her unknown grandfather would look at all like that. She was half-pleased and distinvtly flattered tn observe that she was being admired by this pair: she was sure that they spoke of her tog<rt:her. Now and then her eyes crossed those of the elder man. Onee —he was just raising his glass to his lips—she was almost sure | that he made her a little bow: and instinctively she smiled. Why should she not? For the first time. she was spreading her wings to the sunshine: she was sipping of the wine of I life. The great, beautiful, dazzling world, | of whose glamour she had sipped in her I child' life, was seething and throbbing 'about her. The swaddling bunds of her I convent home had fallen away. She felt [.excited, exultant, infinitely curious. | What had the World in store for her? What would be the sequel of this wild phantasy of hers, of which she had dreamt, over the details of which she had pondered torso long? To the young the world holds out alluring hands, her smiles are kind. They tread the flowers fearless of hidden yiorns. of lurking pitfalls. To them life will surely be proIpilious. Strength and desire make alike for a glad confidence. Hilda smiled. Sinraised her own glass. The strong, old lacc-wliich'knew this world to which she was a stranger attracted her as a magnet draws steel filings. She would like to speak with him. He knew this glittering place—knew life—knew the ropes. _\s she followed her prim companion out of the great, diningroom her laccedged handkerchief slipped from her corsage where she had tucked it—fell almost | at the feet of the old man with the crest of white hair. Did she know? She gave no sign, nor did he—till after she had passed on her way. Then he .picked it up. and with a simile he turned towards his companion. "That young lady is here —lo do a bust " "She has luck in her face," was the eager response of his companion. Tt" it be her first experience at the tables — she should break the bank!" (ramblers -are proverbially Ruperstitious ias to the luck which attends upon t he first coup of the ingenue. 'Each iface in its way was eager, calculating, resolved. '• We will make, her acquaintance after dinner. 1 heard the waiter tell them that their coffee should be served on the terrace. If you have done —we will have ours there also." A quarter of an hour later, and Hilda, with the mystery of moonlight in her eyes, the throb of music about her, the glamour of a new world .pulsating alike within and without, sat listening to entrancing tales told her by the genial, casy-manercd -man of the world, whose snow-white hair disarmed the suspicions of her duenna. The nephew amused the prim spinster, and played his part with skill and judgment. They secured to that worthy woman just a pair of quiet respectable and well connected iEnglish gentlemen — birds of passage like themselves, enjoying a (few days of Riviera sunshine before returning to the gloomier skies of their native land. After all. men were not all ogres, and how happy Hilda was looking—how young, how eager, and how surpassingly beautiful! And one can only be young like that once! Hilda felt the magic of her youth and beauty as she had never felt it before. '• I will not live like a. slave or a drudge!" so she spoke in the depths of her spirit; "H was not born 'for that. It ought not to be any lot! fWhat can I do? I have 6omewhere a rich grandfather, whose heiress by Tight I am. -Mother said so. If I bad money—if I were rich, and went to him not as a supplicant but as an equal—what then Ah, but how can I? Uovr can I? When these ifew pounds are spent, what have I •left save the prospect of penury, drudgery—bitter dependence. . . ." A voice beside her spoke in kindly, friendly accents. "Mademoiselle should try her fate tomorrow. Fortune favours the young and fair. You say this is your .first visit here. Let rae then show you the ropes, as our countrymen call it. To-morrow 'afternoon —you will come to hear the music. X/ct mc take you to the table. You have the face -which should luring you good fortune. Will you try it?" Tiie {rirl's <>yes flashed and plowed. Was this the answer fate had fox her. The delicate crimson flooded her (face; the light of stars was in her eyes. " T will come," she said, and the throb in her voice betrayed to the man how much this decision meant for her. CHATTER IT. IN TIIE CASINO. Hilda slept late upon the morning following. She had remained wakeful with excitement for many hours after seeking her bed. And when at length her eyes opened to the golden sunshine of her south room, the dancing shadows on the closed green shutters, the glint of blue and gold through tho one window she bad left open, it was to find Miss Conway standing beside her bed, a. piteous figure, dissolved in tears, with woe and anxiety stamped upon every swollen feature. In a moment Hilda started up wide awake, alert, wondering, filled with sympathetic curiosity. O Miss Conwav —whatever is the matter?" "Ah, my dear, such terrible news! It is in the papers here; and I am so terribly upset and alarmed. A great fire in Algiers where my only brother lives— and in the very quarter where his house is situated. So many injured amd some killed. And details are so meagre; and I am distracted!" Hilda was out of bed at once, her wits were all alive. "Dear Miss Conway, there must be ways of getting at news. See, here is money. Go with it to the proprietor. Tel] him to telegraph—there must be ways which he will know. Tell him 1o yet news- at all cost, I will pay for it-

"Sever mind mc. I can take care of myself. There are lots of English' ladies here who will let mc walk in the Casino gardens with them and listen to tne music, which is what I am longing to do when I have had dejeuner. Don't trouble the least about mc. Do just what you are told, and wait for the answer to your telegram at the office, or wherever you will soonest get it. I shall be quite safe and happy. I know how to take care of myself. Have no fear. . . .*' Hilda was possessed of a will which carried all before, it. The litle half-dis-tracted spinster, absorbed in her own anxious distress, was only too eager to follow up any suggestion, which might relieve her from her pressing cruel au-

xietv. Early in the afternoon the two Englishmen with whom Hilda had been conversing upon the hotel terrace the previous evening, watched her approach towards the seat where they awaited her coming, with a covert eagerness and excitement in their eyes—that light which often shines in the face of the confirmed gambler when some splendid coup, or some unwonted run of luck seems about to come his way. "Gad! What a splendid creature she is!" This was the exclamation of the younger man as they watched the approach of a group of charmingly dressed English ladies, of whom Hilda was one. And in truth there was something very splendid and unique in the aspect of the tall, slender girl, who moved like a young princess, and gazed out at the world from a pair of star-like eyes darkly blue and filled to the brim with the glory and mystery of youth. Her white lace and satin dress, with its smart little coat and spray of flowers fitted her graceful figure to perfection, and set off the clear tints of her delicate beauti-

ful face. Her rippliug brown hair was crowneil by a charming toque of silver lace and violets. She was talking with -a gay animal ion as she moved; and when her eyes met those of the white-headed Englishman and his companion, she smiled and bowed with self-possession and cordiality. The two men rose to return her bow; but made no attempt to join her- It was only when the magnificent music was in full sway that they presently manoeuvred their way into the seats immediately behind those where she and her hotel acquaintances sat, and by and by between the items of the programme entered into amicable conversation with her. and learnt the reason why she was here without her chartered companion, though not altogether alone. When the music ceased, the great room emptied out upon the terrace, and Hilda found herself (not altogether to lier surprise) separated from the ladies of the party, and walking between these two acqtraintances of the evening before. "Shall we come and watch the play?" asked the eider of the pair, smiling down into her Hushed and eager face. "It would never do io come here without a peep into those wonderful salons, and the tables with their everlasting crowds' You will not be afraid to trust yourscli there with mc? 1 am an old fogey, and, after all, are we not compatriots and birds of passage? Will you come?" "I should love to! T long to see it all. I don't understand anything about roulette—it is roulette they play, is it not? Bui 1 have read about it. and when I was a little girl I heard people talk! 1 once saw quite a little girl who had broken the bank the only time she was ever there. Her parents were made quite (rich!" "Yes. that does happen sometimes. It is quite wonderful how often it will happen to one who is young, quite inexperienced, and knows nothing of the game." He looked down again at her and smiled in a paternal sort of way. "If you like to stake a gold piece yourself, you may have some luck on your own account pe.rha ps!" A hot wave of wild desire and expectation ran through Hilda's frame. It seemed to her as though the stars in their courses were fighting for her. Here she was, released without contrivance on her own part, of the restraining influence of her companion, in the charge (temporarily) of a 'kindly elderly guardian who had no silly ideas of Mrs. Grundyism; but understood twentieth century methods, and wa3 amiably willing to show her one of the sights of the great world which she might never have the chance to see again. And perhaps —perhaps —something would come of it! Who could tell? Wonderful strokes of luck befell others —why should not one come her way? Fortunes changed hands every day and hour in this magical place! Why should not some marvel of luck change for h*r in one hour the whole course of her fife? Now slie was within the precincts of that great wonderful room, hot with the teeming human life, sweet with the scent of flowers, palpitating with electric tension of passions kept under intense repression, ringing to strange sounds and hoarse strident crie3 of the croupiers as they presided over the gaane, directed the players, and pushed out or raked in those heaps of shining coin upon which the eyes of the players were intently fixed. 0 those faces! That flying wheel! Those rapidly shifting, changing piles of money, pushed this way and that! How mysterious, entrancing, thrilling it all was!—even though Hilda had not the least idea what was being done, nor the rules which regulated the game. "Will you try your luck?" asked her companion presently. "Shall I? But I don't know what to do. It is all so strange! You must tell mc." She had a gold coin in her fingers; she was flushing and paling by turns. They had reached the front rank of the spectators, and at this moment a young man rose quickly from one of the chairs, and by a dexterous movement Hilda's companion manoeuvred her into the vacant seat, placing himself immediately behind. '•Now put your gold piece on one of these numbers," he whispered, as the croupier's voice called loudly, "Faites vos jeux. Messieurs et Madames, faites vos jeux!" Mechanically Hilda did as she was told; the wheel spun round; when it paused her companion's voice said over her head, "Bravo—very good—excellent!" At once a little heap of gold was pushed her way. The voice above her made suggestions —leaving her always the choice of the number. As in a dream she moved coins here and there. At every turn of the wheel more gold was swept her way. Her pile grew and grew and grew. Presently she was aware that people were watching her; they followed her lead. It was to her as though she walked in the mares of a dream. There was great excitement; she knew herself to be the object of an immense amount of staring and curiosity. For a time the excitement and wonder of it held her enthralled. Then site began to feel a little alarmed—a little uneasy. She felt so fearfully alone, though she knew that behind her chair

two guardians stood, who would keep watch and ward over her so long as she cared to remain. And -the money pile grew and grew and grew. At last she had had enough. She lifted' her face, flushing and paling •by turns. "'1 should like to go now," she said, "What am if to do with all—this?" •'You will mot continue then?" for there seemed 1 no break to this continuous run of luck, aaid excitement was running high, though all was very quiet and orderly, as always in that great .room. ''So? "Very good. then. We will make ourselves the custodians of your winnings, if you wiill so far honour us; and etscort you to your hotel. Certainly you must not go alone carrying all that. iYou will permit us tiie honour? Thank you. Yes, we. will go straight talk. That will be safest and best." Hilda, with beating heart and throbbing temples and a strange wild l exultation at heart like nothing before experienced, made her way fourth from that heated, throbbing room, followed by the eyes of the crowd of splendidly dressed people who all pressed forward to gaze at her. And she seemed to be treading the mazes of a dream, knowing that the awakening would come, yet longing for the dream to last. For was she not rich—rich—rich —with a fortune made in an hour? And with that suddenly acquired' wealth, what might she not be able to accomplish'—what a life might she not presently lead? IShe ex- | perlenced the sensation of seeing the j world at her feet—of feeling the throb of triumph ami .victory in her veins. I "Now she was out once again in the frr di pure air—.Uie glamour of the sunset wjs bathing land and- sea. The. girl looked round her and! drew in a great deep breath, passing her hand across her eyes. i 'Then she looked up into the kindly .smiling face of the .white-haired man who had been her guide, philosopher and friend' all through this strange experience

"Irt it really true?" "Did I really win all that .money? And' .ought I to take it? fan it really .be mine.?" : "TotiUs without, a doubt, ray dear young lady, and we -will take it irtraight to the office of M. le Proprietor, who will ootmr. it, over Jor you, pack it safely up for easy transit: a.nd you can Gertie with him -or -with your companion how you transport it to England. Did you not say you were going to Eng- 1 l.uul? What bank do you cnrploy? ilf I can be of any assistance to you. . ." "You see I have no bank. I am leaving my pension-school, and going to England) to .find something to do. I am not rich, though I have come to this place jimt to see it. . . .'" "A fortunate venture, as it has turned 1 out. If you did not come here a. rii-h lady, you will leave with a very prelty little fortune.. .If you will let ore see to things for you 'I can have 'this, gold changed to portable pupe.r—English •bank notes a great dieal of it —and foreign paper equally ■negotiable. Do you mean that you would prefer to carry it with yon to England, and there: open an ai-count with a ibaitk. who will advise you <as to investment?" not. that be 'best?" "I think so decidedly. If you are going to England at once there should be no difficulty about it. i ami my nephe-w are alto on our way there. We could' give the police a hint. Person* known to have won large sums are sometimes rather too closely watched: but we can easily safeguard you on your journey through. "So one will know that you carry a fortune with you " Hilda smiled with Uie courage of youth. "0. I am not afraid. I would like te take it to England' with mc. I could. if it were mostly paper. How kind' you are! And if you are travelling by the same train. . . ." '"That is easily managed. Yes; it ought to be quite simple to settle all thai. Well, did wo not say that you had luck in your face? "What will your companion say when she hears how you have sp-ent your afternoon?" "Oh, poor little 'Miss Conway! I had forgotten her. I -must tind out what she has been doing, and whether she has any news, Oh, yes. let us take this money somewhere first. And let mc have some of the gold! and notes for her. I believe I shall 6end her straight ofT to Algiers to see for herself how things are with her brother. We could go to Marseilles, could we not, and find) a boat for her: and! then take train straight, for England? I have got ■a Cook's ticket, and they have interpreters who look after travellers, haven't they? And if you are going home too " When Hilda found Miss Conway half an hour later, it was plain that she was in deep and dire distress. "Oh, my dear, I don't know what to think or do! I got my answer after a long, long wait; and my dear brother is hurt, and his wife too; and they are burned out of house and home, and I am so terribly afraid for them, and lie begged mc to come to him, and, of course, I cannot. I liave to take you to London ""You have to do nothing of the sort!" cried Hilda. "Sco here, you poor dear creature! Look what I have for you! Yes, yes, you shall take it—you must. I won, Oh such a lot of money at the tables this afternoon! Xo, no, don't look so shocked. Everybody does it here; and it. doesn't take it out of the pockets of the poor, but out of the maw of those fat croupiers, who rake it all in. You should see them! Dear Miss Conway, you must let mc do this. We'll go to Marseilles to-night. I've got it all planned. We'll find a vessel for Algiers tomorrow and put you aboard. Cook will look after mc; and Mr. Musgrave and his nephew are travelling through to "London, and they will be on the same train. And lots of people—Enalish people—always travel home this time of year. I can go firstclass now—in a sleeping carriage. I'm rich, rich, rich! I can pay a gendarme to look after me—or an English lady—or anything. Don't worry about mc. I'm all riffht. I'll see you off for Algiers first—then I will co straight to London myself. I'm not afraid. When T was little."mother and I went everywhere together."' Again Hilda's strong will .prevailed. She settled everything. "Mr. Musgrave appeared with kindly practical counsel and assistance. Miss Conway with tears in her eyes delivered over (her charge to the white-haired old man, who assumed so paternal an air. "Have no fear, my dear lady; Miss Wyon will be perfectly safe. In these days young ladies are used to co much independence. Have no fear." She had no fear —nor had Hilda either. How were they to guess at the words which had passed between the two men when safely beyond sight or hearing? '■'Upon the train—to-night. It will be absolutely safe. The moncv sj, a u be ours—it" we have to kill the girl to get it!" c j {To he continued Saturday next.) I