THE SECRET OF THE SANDS

Auckland Star, Volume LII, Issue 168, 16 July 1921, Page 21

THE SECRET OF THE SANDS

By OLIVER zjiYTON. (Author of '• Buried livea," "An ludependent Girl," etc.)

CHAPTER IV. AT THE MARINE THEATRE. Ebenezev Tutt did not return for two days. His tamper when he came back was ten times worse than when he had gone away. '"I've fired that man," he said, "and I've got to take on his job myself. I've wired all over the place for another man, but. I can't lind one. "Whafs he got to do>" «=ked Lanetog- I Tutt told him. "It's an easy euough job," he added, "so long as the man's a man and not a mouee. But he must be somebody 1 [ can trust, ior he's got the handling of a | lot o , money. Last year I had a good Ina.n, but he robbed mc right and left. This year I got an honest man, but he was a fool." ! Paul Lancing stroked hi* chin. "Do you think I could tackle thi? job?" he asked. "Eh?" "\o\x fay it's an easy job. b'lt could' you trust mc not to rob you?" ! "Are you talking serious!" "Dead seriou3. I want a job. As Kichurd Lorimer I'm broke to the wide. The day you left 1 gave away my last fiver." "Who to?" ''A policeman. That reminds mc. Uefore yuu leave we've got to bury these . lin cans you've been throwing about. Policeman's orders." "Darn the tin cans! Do you really want this job?' , "I do. What's the screw?" "Six quid a week." Paul Lmu-ing smiled and shook his head. "Make it ten," he said. "I don't . think I could be lton.esi on six quid a week.' , , "Not a penny niore'ii ncvea pound ten,' , said Tutt. " , "It's a bet." Paul Lancing held out|, his hand. "And when I become myself ; again there's a little widow to whom I'll , send along oiy accumulated screw." j "A little widow! And you gone on this ( Xaney girl, too!" cried Tint. ] '"Quite right," laughed Lunoing. "I'm t gone on the one, but f owe a lot to the 1 other." "I don't get you," said Tutt, testily, , "but that's your business. Seven pound ton a week, and you start on Saturday ( at Saudaiouth. I'll show you the ropee j .Consider yourself manager to , the EbTnezer P. Tutt's Concert Toure." ' "Thank'you. It sounds pretty big for , eevejjj pounds ten a week. I suppose the j namtijeountes in the screw?" "SSjppoete what you like. If yon want to ljabw ,who the real general manager is—fit's And don'i. you forget it." PifoVl Lancing drew himself up. r "Ntoj, sift"Jie eaid. "I hope I shall give a satispictiqn.^' Ebfenezer Tutt laughed. t a lad!" he cried, explosively. t 'You're the. fair limit. What'a your in- t come- as Paul Lancing? Fifteen thou-|} sand a year? And you chuck it up for thi3 business? Gosh! You tickle mc to death. I'm dead keen to see what'e going , to happen out of nil this." . "And so am f," said Paul, gravely. The next day Lancing and Ebenezer Tutt made the journey to Sandmouth. j Their arrival synchronised with the hour of the morning bathing parade, and to | Lancing's unaccustomed eyes the sea seemed full of human beings, bathing machines, and horses. Several bands were playing simultaneously. Up above , adventurous people were having joy-rides I in aeroplanes. In front of the big hotel r waiters wore hastening with refresh- , nients for those who basked in the sun- j shine on thp verandahs. , "There's money here for the asking/ commented Ebenezer Tutt. us thej' drove f to their hotpl. "Wo ought to do record * business hero.' - "People conic liptp for a holiday, I take it?" said Lancing. r "You bet." j "Queer taste.' , murmured Lancing. r "Think so? I don't. I know there's t folk 3 as sneers at plneee like this. But I've made my money out of the Sandmouth? o' this country, and I'm not 1 going to sneer at them. They're crowded ? and vulgar and expensive, an' all that, i but they're alive: Half the people you see here have saved up for fifty weeks to Is have a read good time. It's the kind of i holiday they like, and they've earned it. ( It's them an' not mc as is goin' to pay - you your seven pound ten a week. Have you got mc?" Paul Lancing replied that he had. At the modest hotel at which they I were to stay. Paul found two other mem- t bers of the Ebenezer P. Tutt Touring j Company. These wore Miss Roma Dale. 1 the leading lady, and Mr. Billy Barting, t the principal comedian. 1 Roma Dale was a woman of about 35. with a singularly pale complexion and t rich red hair. Lancing took an iramo- i diate dielike to her. He could not tell I why, just ac he could not explain why he 'liked Billy Barting a short, thickset, i bald Irishman. t The Ebenezer P. Tutt Xo. I Touring Company was to open on Monday even- 1 ing- at the Marine Theatre with the r sparkling revue, "What's Yours?" The town was plastered with the names of ( Roma Dale and Billy Barting. Paul ' Lancing fancied that at last he was find- ' ing himself in most distinguished company. 1 He spent a busy week-end learning his 1 duties, discovering that these comprised : the offices of secretary, business mana- 1 ger. call-boy, and odd job man. 1 "If I've got a few spare moments on ; my hands of an evening," he suggested 3 to Tutt. "you wouldn't mind if I went on ; the stage and did a turn?" : "Don't be funny," said Tutt. ''I pay ' chape to do that. If you dou't fancy ? the job.'you can beat it. I'll carry on by ' meself." '"Sorry!" laughed Lancing. '"I mean to do my beat." < On the opening night rain fell heavily, j driving into the Marine Theatre a vast i audience that might otherwise have i remained out of doors. 1 While the performance was in progress. Paul Lancing peeped from the wings into the auditorium. He had never seen a * crowded theatre from that position . before. The place seemed to bp filled < with half-distinguishable ghosts, from • whom oame occasional bursts of laugh- i ter. The faces of those in the first rows 1 of the stalls were alone recognisable. i But at the end of the second row eat a : girl at the sight of whom Paul Lancing started forward, so that the stage- i manager laid a restraining hand upon ] him. i "Theyll see you from there," said the 1 man. j

I Paul Lancing did not hear him. lie was staring at the girl for whom the police of the country wen , searching, at the girl he loved whom he knew as Nancy Dormant!. DORIAN HALL—MAN OF PARTS. ] Paul Ijancing made his way with all speed from the stage io the stalls. In hi«i ignorance of the pia-n of the theatre lie missed the way. VVh,n lie I reached l.he stalls the seat at the end of the second row was empty. I "Where is the lady who was sitting j here?" he asked, excitedly, of the occupant of the next stall. "How on earth should I know?" I ""She was not with you?" ; j "No." " j Lancing turned to an attendant. "Did j you , spe a lady leave the stalls a few i minutes I i j '"Yes. sir. 1 offered her a pass-out check, but she said she wasn't coming back." ' j With a muttered imprecation. Paul ; latticing hurried Lo the front entrance of jthe theatre, which commanded an uninterrupted view of the esplanade. Rain |-.vaa tailing, and the sea-front was ;ira<- ! tioally deserted (rf the waterproofed iigurc.-; who braved the elements. Nancy Dormans was not one. He had found her only to lose her again. He woudi-rc! whin had been the rauae j ■>f her si.cldcn and precipitate flight, and the com i;-i( n *to uhi.li he came \\;i; that the atngc m;inagor - s warning had not been without justification, and that the girl seated in the stalls had seen and recognised him. If this were the case, then it was pninfully obvious to Paul Lancing that she did not wish to meet him. What was Xanry-Dorinan* doing at! SandmotHliV It was highly improbable j tl-al she was holidav-muking. It was I equally improbable that she was in hiding. The fugitive from justice does not take a front seat in blip stalls o r i ! crowded theatre. It might be that 'v | ■lad found another situation as lady , -I companion aoid was again i,, employ- | ment. If that were so. and she read the newspapers, she must know that the police o-ere searching for her. and that some explanation of her flight from Torland Bay was due from her. Lancing sought out the stalls attendant again. '"I suppose." he said, -trying to conceal his anxiety, "you have not seen that lady I was inquiring about befoie. have ' you ':" ''Well, yes. I have. sir. She was here two nights last week. I remember her ' because she got a transfer from the ■' circle t o the stalls." "What was on last week?" ' Road to Ruin,' sir." 1 Paul Lancing laughed mirthlessly The 1 mystery of Nancy Dortnans grew" more < and more involve.!- j "If she oomes here again you might let ■mc know," he said to the girl attendant, ' slipping a silver coin into her hand. "'I met 'her some weeks ago when I was on holiday. IV. like to see her acuin." "Very good, sir. Thank you.' Paui Lancing made his way slowly to the front of the house, trying to console himself with the fact that Saniimouth wns not. after all. a very larsrc ;i'aw, ' end that, if Nancy Dornians remained there, the oliances were that they would meet. Still, if the sigM of him iltovi , ! her from the theatre, it might drive her from the town as well. He was standing beside the box office when the curtain fell for the interval, and 'the foyer lilled with men eager for ■ cigarettes. Among these came Ebenezer Tutt, talking to a tal'. broad-shouldered, red-faced man of about forty. The lat- ' tcr was in evening dress, and his demeanour suggested that he was of opinion that he presented a very foe specimen of manhood. His motistsirhe was carefully waxed- Tito hand with which he gracefully waved an Egyptian ! cigarette was adorned with a diamond ' ring. Lancing could sen that Rhcnezer ' m 'lutt regarded him with considerable • respect. The Mayor of Snndmouth, thought Lancing. Kt>enezer Tutt beckoned io Lancing ' Let mc introduce to you," he said to his companion, "my geveral manager, Mr. Lorrmer. Mr. Lorimer —Mr. Dorian Ma! , ." "How do you do? You 'have a good show here— c very good show," said Mr. Cor Mii lieJi. "That girl —V. ->ma !>:>ie — ouylit to po a long way. I thiiiU .' ar Jcci'l-diy clever." "Mv lp.tist discovery," sad Eb'ne/.er Tutt. proudly. Paui Lancing knew that even if Mr. Dorian Hall turned out to be the Mayor, he did not like him Remembering liis position as genera] manager to Ebenezer P. Tutt'a fours, he smiled and bowed and accepted the. cigarette which Mr. Dorian Hall offered him. Mr. Dorian Roll talked of things / theatrioa', referring to many well-known I actors and actresses 'by their Christian I names. j "He's not the Mayor," decided Lane- I ing- "More likely he o*w-ne the ! theatre."' The bell rang announcing the rise of ! the curtain and Mr. Dorian Hall throw j away his cigarette. ■'You'll come round to my hotel after the show, then?'" he said to "iyitt "And bring Mr—yaux friend here —ii he cares to come." j "Tbat chap." said Ebenezer Tutt, when | he and Lancing were alone, "is a fair knock-out. I met him about four years ago —when he used to run a moivy- ' htmling business ir Oxford. He got 'Tito ! trouble over lending money to ni'uors, j and I reckoned him as down and out. i 3ut. bless you, no: Here he is as large I as lifs, with a suite at the Majestic. I'm goincr round after the show. You may as well come wit'i mc- I know he's yoin- mark, but in this line you've get to i:ee;> pally with all sorts." "I get you. What does he do now?" | "Anybody he can. I should say." j churcked Tutt. '"He made a pot *o' j money out of some boxing stunte he I ran. ' He's got a man somewhere here-a-bouts in training now. And 1 fancy he does a bit o' book-keeping." "Man of parts, as they say?" "That's him. But he mast be doing well. You can't rent a suite at the Majestic for nothing. Sporty boy, 1 call him. Sort o' chap you've got to watch. I'll bet he's £»H a drop o' good whisky at his place.. Since we've got to be here till the cad of the month, we may as well get introduced to it right away." Neither Mr. Dorian Hall nor his whisky had any attraction for Paul Lancing, but his objections to this newacquaintance were not sufficiently strong to cause him io refuse to fall in with Tutt's arrangements.

Accordingly, when fche revue was over, j lie and Kl>enezer Tutt set off for the : Hotel Majestic, Sandniouth'e most imposing and expensive hotel. ! The rain had stopped, and save for the theatregoers hurrying homo., the esplanade was deserted. To Paul Lancing it was a transformed Sandmouth. Another j day with its sunshine would fill the j bench and the cliffs and the esplanade j with its throng of holiday-makers, but ] this night Nature had claimed SandI mouth for her very own. j Lancing and Kbeiiezer Tutt walked for a lime in silence. It was Paul i who Rpoke first. ° i •*You"re had co many of my eonfi- I deni-es," he said, -that you m&y aR well j have the lot. I told you about Miss '< l>ormans?"' j "You did. And I told you more aboirt lier than you told mc," w;w the reply. "What you eaid i»n"t true—it can - * be true. Mi 9s Dormans was in the Marine Theatre to-nigfht." [ ••.Eli!" '•Yen. 1 saw her from the wings. She sitting i D the end seat of the second ' row ol the stalls. When I got there j she had gone. \\~haf, the meaning of ! jit Jill? " J ••Sure it. was Mi sa Dormans?" ; j 'Dead unrc." j ■Could she have > c ™ you?" "I ye Lhoiljrht of that. " She may ba.ve I S?"'/^* , added 1 *«"-ing. anxiously! 1 m LelHng you all this in confidence." "U/ course. But. don't forget that ! L!ii* gui i, wanted by the police. If I shea her,- nab her. If they do nnil you are round about, don't you forisel Mr. Kirhard f.orimer. that there's ii .hap .ailed Caul Lancing as is wanted, j ton. Here's thp Majeetlc." I A dance was in process, and Lancing i and his companion were led by a diminuljve hoots pasi th e band of perspirins performers to the lift, which shot them up to Mr. Dorian Hall's suite on the second floor. He was awaiting their arrival, having exchanged his dinner-jacket for a velvet smoking coat. On a table were a variety of decanters, bottles, and siphons. To lliesp Dorian Hall invited his gnests to apply themselves, and produced a. box ol cigars. "Not a bud sort of pub. this."' said Dorian Hall of the Majestic. "They do you very well. Expensive, though. These cigars you are smoking cost mc seven bob each." I'aul Lancing immediately took a dislike to his cigar, He had an aversion to consuming any article that was marked in such plain figures! He decided that his first estimate of his host was nol far wrong. The man was a vulgarian. He suspected, from what Ebenezer Tutt had told that he was also something worse—an adventurer. From the depths of his armchair Paul Lancing listened to him. "I told you." Hall said to Tutt, "that I've got a 'pug' in training down here. Tod Lippy is his name. With any luck T reckon he'll be worth a fortune to mc. You must come along and see him at work one of these- mornings.. I've got some photographs of him here." Dorian Hall lifred an attache-case on the table, and, opening it. displnyed a mass of papers, among which he found photographs of the pugilist in various attitudes of offence and defence. He ! passed the bundle over to Paul Lancing. "There's a lot of other rubbish there besides Lippy's photographs, ,, he said. '"Chuck it aside." Paul Lancing had no interest in looking at the pictures of the pugilist, but politeness demanded that he should pretend to some. He was going through the bundle when a sudden sharp ejaeulalion broke from him. Among photographs of pugilists, racehorses, and dogs wa« a picture of Vancy Dormans. Dorian Hall glanced in his direction. mid. seeing the photograph, snatched it a way. "That oughtn't to be among that lot." he said. "Pretty girl." eaid Lancing, as carelessly as he could. '-Who is she?" "Pa! of mine." said Hall curtly. "Put rbo=e nhotographs "away and have a drink." (To be continued next f^aturdav.)