AN OPEN VERDICT

Auckland Star, Volume 55, Issue 212, 6 September 1924, Page 28

AN OPEN VERDICT

srxorsis of previous chavters. Gerard Elston, goldminiiif; in partnership with Frank Haddon, in California, is sum.moned home to England. t His father is dangerously ill, and lie is obliged to leave without bidding good-bye to Haddon, who has gone for a short holiday, lie leaves :'. message for Haddon, and writes on arriving at Queenstown, but receives no reply. ■ Gerard succeeds to Klston auil great wealth. He contracts .1 friendship With the Wendover family, and Slarcia 'Wentlover quickly becomes very infatuated witli him. CHAPTER IV. Madeleine Maxwell. It was a feature of Mrs. Wcndover's At Homes —and one of the causes of their popularity—that they were never overcrowded. "Rather too few than too many," was her doctrines. "There are certain to bo sufficient to'make things go." In the result the "too few" hardly ever happened. One knew, that there would be plenty of attractive ana agreeable people, arid ample room to move about. Mrs. Wendover, also, was an admirable hostess, and her daughters charming girls, Lettie being a special favourite; so that the Wendover invitation At Homes were really pleasant functions. "I am curious to see Kliss Maxwell, mother, remarked * Marcia, surveying herself in a long mirror in the drawing* room, though she had already gone through the same operations again and again in her dressing-room. "I heard yesterday that she was so beautiful." 'Wous Verrons." replied Mrs. Wendover, who looked very handsome in black and white—"l have heard that 'before; and it may or may not 'be true." Marcia, she thought, looked pretty enough to challenge comparison with most "of the girls who would be present, and Lettie, when she came in in her simple but smart cream frock, looked so bright, fresh and happy, that ehe might safely vie in attractions ■v&b many a. beatity—though she. was not beautiful. Four o'clock was' the .time on the cards, but, of course, no one came until half-past four, and' then the rooms filled rapidly. "I suppose Mr. Erlston will come," eaid Marcia to her sister a little after five o'clock. Lettie laughed rather wickedly. "It is early yet," eaid she. "Ah I there is Mr. Stangram," and she turned to greet a tall, good-looking man with a fine intellectual face. "Have you only just comet" eaia Lettie, holding out her hand. "This minute. I couldn't get away earlier." "Some horrid brief to read, I suppose, or case, or something of that sort." "No," said he, laughing, "a consultation." IPoor clients!" "You may well say co. Law is a rich man's luxury." . • 'Bo it seems. I haven't seen you, have I, since you got the verdict in that dreadfully complicated forgery case. I must congratulate you. I can't think how you lawyers and people even manage to unravel such cases." . "The chief credit here," said Stangram, " is due to a member of your sex." "A woman? Why, howl No woman appeared at 'the trial." "No, and I nave m>t seen this woman. She is not even in England, but a private detective who 'was working in my client's interest told mc that she was employed by the French police, and it' was she who traced the crime home in the most extraordinary way." "I shouldn't like that work!" said Lettie. "A police agent is a sort of spy." s "Well, yes, generally. But this woman must be of good * class, for she had to appear in society and any sign of 'underbreeding would be detected." A drifting towards the door, and questioning glances in the same direction, here attracted Lettie's notice, and her companion followed her gaze. "Who is it!" Standram asked. "I don't know," Lettie replied,, and then someone eaid: "Mine- Maxwell," and someone else: "What a beautiful woman." Lettie pressed forward, and saw her mother shaking hands with a lady who had just .come in—a tall, slight woman of perhaps five or six and twenty, or looking no more, whatever her'age.. / She was a brilliant brunette with a faultless complexion that obviously owed nothing to art, a wealth of dark brown hair and, "in curious contrast to her brunette tints, large hazel eyes that looked darker than they were under the shade of long -lashes. _ The full scarlet lips and voluptuously rounded chin might suggest doubtful questioning to the physiognomist,* but only if the physiognomist were a woman, or an old for • what man. could criticise such alluring beauty or pause to ask' how much of soul looked out of the hazel eyes? "Oh, she is lovely!" said generous Lettie, but.Marcia drew in her breath with a sharp pang of envy and something like fear. If she had known Madeline Maxwell was like this! "It is so good of you to aalc mc, lire. Wendover," the newcomer was saying in clear, slightly languid tones,' and Marcia heard in the .voice as she had seen in the tout ensemble and manner, that Miss Maxwell was a lady. It she had only been underbred—a.'little "off colour," her beauty would have been neutralised, ■ but, she was neither. Marcia found herself thinking if her own fairy tints would prove more attractive—to someone—than the olive skin and dark locks of Madeline Maxwell. The light hazel of .the stranger's eyes had an % almost startling effect, when she raised them. Mrs. Wendover replied to Miss Maxwell that she was "dnly. too pleased," and, ' turning, saw .Marcia. "Ah! Marcia,": she said, 'let mc introduce you to Miss Maxwell." The introduction was gone through, and then.Lettie was introduced, and others, and Miss Maxwell was soon-chatting away with a little court" around her. . Mrs. Wendover was delighted with the new acquisition, and -thanked 'Lady Jameson for bringing her. She was about to ask Miss Maxwell, to recite, when Mr. Erlston was announced, and again there was a stir and" flutter, as in came tall Gerard Erlston, graceful, easy,-free of movement, bringing-with him a sort of breath and vision, of the picturesque, and, out of the way, a vision of southern lands and light and colour, though he must needs wear the regulation garb proper for sober London when it makes morning calls, or goes to At Homes. . •• - "Hotf late you are!" said Mrs. Wendover; reproachfully, as she shook hands with .-the new arrival, i .

■ : '"I am so sorry—l punish myself, you know—" the soft voice and crisp accent that had 'spoken to-Frank Haddon at Sahanna Gulch ne'ai-jy four years ago. "You are very good to reproach mc! Ah! Miss TTendovcr—: — " He turned to Marcia, but even as he greeted her, his eyes went beyond her to another face, and he caught his breath. Whose was that beautiful face? . "What have you got to say .for yourself?"i said Marcia, shaking her finger at him. "Nothing—-but to say that you flatter mc in scolding mc for being late." "Then I won't scold you," said she. "You are just in time to hear Mies Maxwell recite." Lettie came up to shake liands -with Erlston, and suggested that where they were now was the best place for hearing the recitation. The two girls sat down,- 'Erlston remained standing. Madeline 'Maxwell walked quickly to the head of the room and, taking her place, waited until the buzz of clatter died down, as the news of an approaching recitation spread, and the guests foregathered to listen. Miss Maxwell's attitude was good. She. looked superb with the yellow draperies behind her throwing her figure in its white and blue-grey into relief. She had removed her gloves, and her white fingers were loosely interlaced before her. When there was silence, she began. -She had chosen a rather curious subject for an «i verage audience — Tennyson's . gloomy and powerful "Rizpah." Gerald Erlston feasting his eyes on her beauty, was not carried away by admiration into losing his artistic judgment, which was fastidi-1 ous and critical. The reciter had overtaxed her -powers. She had obviously I had some training, but acquired by a certain experience rather than by any more definite method. She spoke well, but did not know how to use her voice. Erlston would have said, judging by many things that she had acted, either . as an amateur, or in companies wherein ! there is no high standard of artistic merit, and personal beauty makes up for all deficiencies. * j In the buzz of congratulation Marcia asked Erlston what he thought. He pulled his moustache and looked quizzical. "Didn't you like it?" laid Marcia. "I must plead guilty." "But the imitation was good, don't you think?" said Marcia, secretly pleased by his disapproval. /'Too good—that is, too literal." "What do you mean 7" | "I know what you mean," said Lettie. her quick intelligence passing by Marcia. "It made mc laugh, and one oughtn't to laugh at 'Rizpah'." j "Exactly," said Erlston. "And is that the only fault you find?" asked Marcia. "OH, no! But she is coming this way." ■ ■ . j "I must introduce- you. What will you say?" *I must leave it to the inspiration of the moment." • Marcia rose and stopped Miss Maxwell ... "Mr. Erlston wants to be introduced to you, Miss Maxwell," she said. Madeline paused and smiled, and the Hext moment the ceremony was performed, and Gerard Erlston turned tor— his Fate! .". Yet, he was so little or a courtier that, instead of thanking her for her recitation and expressing the hope that" she would favour them with another, he began to talk about something else, but whatever she felt Madeline showed no chagrin at the omission of compliments, but replied brightly to Erlston's remarks. In a minute a lady came up, and. congratulated Miss Maxwell "I could not get at you before," said she. "It was so charming! I hope you a.-c going to give iis something else!" , % do,l ' fc know/ , replied Madeline. laughingly. ' . "I shall aik Mrs. Wendover," said the lady, and bustled away. Madeline : turned to Erlstbn. "You wouldn't j second, that request, would you?' , eaid she. '?Oh! I am not offended. I don't! I suppose I did that piece really well, but most people are no judges—l am not fishing for compliments. I'm afraid you wouldn't pay one if I were. I suppose I have as good a chance of getting one as some people? It isn't merit that wine the day, is it?" "Miss Maxwell," Ehlston said, "you heap coals of fire on my head, but I have not—even mentally—disputed j merit. If I thought—and it is only my own experience, for as much as it is worth—"Rizp'ah" out of-your line, that assumes nothing as to other : work." "No," she said, "you are very kind to say so much, for I daresay you think I can't do anything at alj: . However, as you say, that is your opinion. Luckily most people are not so critical." "I have not claimed all'you attribute to mc. Miss Maxwell, let mc find you a chair—All! here is one—and try and make my peace—if that is possible." "There has "been iio quarrel, has there?" said Madeline/ laughing, as she .seated herself- " ' ' '*' "Because you have been merciful, but you must think mc a barbarian/ "Not a bit; you are original, and perhaps I am not as conceited as I ought to be, so, there is nothing to make peace about." . "Thank you for your goodness." "Thank mc, then, for what, on the present occasion, is very easy indeed. You have been a great deal abroad, Mr. Erlston! I don't mean Europe'only, but iii countries where things are not all cut and dried, as they are in Euiropg. . "I have been all over the world; ,, said Erlston. ■ "In America?" "Among other places—yes. <>. So have '■ you?'? ;■ s , "What makes ypu thjnk so?" "Pardon! An intonation now and there—a something in' tlie pronunciation of certain words." "Yes? Well, you are right. I , have toured in the States. I liave been on the stage. You know." He bowed. "You guessed that, too?" • "It is not difficult" i "I suppose not. I'was not long on the professional stage, but I have played'a good deal with amateurs.. The stage is so overcrowded, t thought I would try reciting, and Mrs. Wendoyer was kind enough to ask mc here. I am a 'new* chum,' and have to make my way. , '. "I hope you will have every success;" "I dqp't know about hope, but I must try for it. Here comes Mrs. Wendover; I-shall have to recite "again. Mr." Erlston, you had better go into the other room. . • But Mr. Erlston didn't If Madeline Maxwell did not enchant him by her reciting, she did by hex beautyj if his

..ear was strained, ms eye was -leasiea; and his senses captivated—his heart, as he believed. i Madeline Maxwell was more piqued and even angered by his reticence as to her dramatic powers than she chose to admit to him, although she had a coinjxensation in his—to her—evident" ad- | miration of herself personally, and that ; was, after all, by far the most- valui able factor. Still, she liked men to j worship, her without any reserves, and Gerard Eflston was the first who had not .done so, but professionally she had no particular reason for dissatisfaction, nor would havtf if all the world agreed with Gerard Erlston. The reciting .fas a success to an end, and that end was not professib-al success. I "I fancy I scored with Erlston," ' Madeline said to herself, and she was certainly not alluding to his appreciaI tion of her artistic efforts. I • "1 hope I shall have the pleasure of meeting you again," Erlston said, when he was taking leave, and Madeline-gave him a brilliant smile. There was no triumph in it, but there was in her heart. She was a success; everybody was talking about her, the' women envied her, and Gerard Erlston, of Erlston Regis, was certainly captivated. Alas! for him, that the outside of the jcup and plater was so passing fair! . CHAPTER V. Nora Guise. "Mr. Watklns Dale, Private Inquiry Agent," was'the legend on the door of a house in Cecil Street, Strand, and in his office one morning sat Mr. Dale himself, looking over some letters which the clerk in the outer office had just brought in. The famous agent—for he was famous in his way—was a man of middle height, about fifty, with a well-knit figure, and a thin, cleanshaved, keen-looking, but not unkindly face. There was nothing remarkable about the man either in feature or general- personnel, which, considering his business, was a distinct advantage, rendering disguise easy. A knock at the door made him lift his head from a letter. "Come in," he J said, and the clerk appeared. "A lady asks to see you, sir." | Dale glanced at the clock. "Did she say it was an appointment?" he said. He knew he had none at _ this particular time. J "No, sir." j Dale/ paused a moment; then, "Ask her in, Elliott." ». I Elliott _ retired, and immediately ushered in 'a lady,' whom Dale,' as he rose and bowed, surveyed keenly but j covertly. She was quite young—apparently not more than twenty-one or two; in figure tall and slender, her I movements were graceful. Her face— was it beautiful? It was fyll of character, and of a singular charm, and the eyes were certainly beautiful, large, very dark grey or brown—one could not be sure which until the light shone upon them, shaded by long lashes,' get under straight black'brows; the complexion pale and clear, and betwixt dark and fair; the hair a rich chestnut brown,, worn in short curls, but Dale j thought she was not beautiful, yet more j interesting than if she were. And she I was a lady—not merely in the technical sense, but a lady by right of inheritance . and fine breeding. No one could detect •the hallmark more quickly and more accurately than Watkins Dale. Dale never remembered to have had so young a client, and wondered what her business might be. - She seemed perfectly self-possessed, too, as though, despite her youth, she was quite a citizen of the world. '*Good morning," she said in a sweet, clear voice, answering the detectivebow, and she took the chair he politely indicated, a half-smile hovering on lips that indicated the sense of humour. "I ventured to call, Mr. Dale, not as a client, but to ask if you could give mc work." , f "Give ybu work?" he repeated, surprised. "Pardon mc, you know—'* '■Who you are? Perfectly," she answered quickly. "You have lately been concerned in a case with which I have.had something to do. Can you read French?" ••With ease." "Then will you read this letter? -You can, of course, verify it by writing to Mr. Marmontier." She took out a pocketbook, and from it a letter, which she handed to the inwardly astonished detective. IU was from the Chief of the Paris Secret Police, highly eulogising the invaluable service rendered by Mile. Nora Teresa. Guise in Taffaire Duquesne-Hammond" (the great forgery case mentioned by Stangram to Lettie Wendover).' Most heartily did the writer commend Mile. Guise for any intricate and important detective work. He only wished it were possible to retain her services, but she did not care for the service of the Secret Police, and would only undertake certain cases, so

Ithat she was not generally available; and this was a difficulty which could hardly be overcome, even were Mile. Guise, willing to remain an agent of the Paris police. M. Marmontier concluded by a testimony to "the irreproachable private character" of Mile. Guise, and her absolute integrity in-all her deal-, ings. Dale read the letter to the:end, then he looked up. It was not often that he permitted himself to show excitement, but now his eyes were sparkling, his whole face expressed the pleasure. he felt. "Miss Guise," he said, '1 am delighted to have met you. I heard of the work you did in that extremely difficult case, though your name was not mentioned. You are evidently afborn detective, and it. is more than possible that I may be glad tp employ you. It is a great advantage that you are obviou_ly a lady—it is, as you no doubt know, one of our greatest difficulties that we can hardly ever get really well-bred people. But, pardon mc, you seem very young." "I am twenty-five, Mr. Dale." - The detective smiled. "You don't look it by four or five years," he said. "That is a gain to mc, isn't; it. I'm a born detective, as sou say, but I cannot live entirely by the work, because I must pick and choose my cases. What I mean is, that I would not enter upon any service to be employed in whatever case you chose tp give mc. In mo3~ cases I have no objections, but, as a private detective, I suppose you have a j good deal of divorce work. I will do nothing in a divorce case." "I can understand that objection," said Dale, "and a woman of your ability would hardly be needed in those cases. ' Will you give mc fuller particulars I about yourself?" \ "That is only fair, and I am ready, to answer any questions you choose to put to mc. Guise is my own name. My father was an officer in the army. lam an only child, and both my parents died when I wa3 almost a baby. I was born in Italy, and was brought up by an artist uncle, who was always wandering from place to place. That is how I learned to speak the European, languages just as the natives speak them. When my uncle died, nearly seven years ago, he left mc about £50 a year. I supplement that sometimes by writing for papers, but a good detective case is worth more than two years' writing to mc, and X love the work." . "I shall be very glad to enrol you in - my service," said Dale, "and we may as well enter upon the matter of terms -at once; as the matter—so far as lam concerned —is practically settled." The terms were soon arranged. Dale was liberal, his doctrine being that good work was worth paying—for,. and could not be got for less than its value, and Nora Guise was of altogether unique value. The necessary business concluded, the girl rose; she was evidently thoroughly business-like, and understood the. value of time. j "There is my address,'-' she said, handing her new employer a card. "Thank yon, Miss Guise. I will write to you in a few days." He opened the i. door for her, shook hands, and said he thought himself very fortunate. The clerk, supposing the stylish looking young lady was a client, bowed, her to the outer door with extra politeness, and Nora smiled to herself as she walked up the street to the Strand, wondering what would be her first experience in the employment of Watkins Dale. He had evidently nothing on hand at the moment I for which her services would be needed, or were available. Unconsciously, Nora' Guise, that day, threw the first thread across the web of her destiny. - (To be continued -Saturday next.)