AN OPEN VERDICT

Auckland Star, Volume LV, Issue 248, 18 October 1924, Page 64 (Supplement)

AN OPEN VERDICT

By INA LEON CASSILIS

CHAPTER XVI. Garfield't Story. In a week Nora Guise liad learned how the pendulum swung in the household in Artington Street. There was no community of feeling or pursuits between husband and wife. They lived their separate lives as much apart as if seaa divided them, save that Erlston paid to his wife all due external attention, and she seemed to desire no more, nor to care overmuch for that. She was not a woman capable of giving love; and she did not require it, of man or woman; she was not even—in a certain limited sense —vicious; but on the other hand she had not, in Nora's opinion, many scruples, and would reach her ends by crooked means if straight means failed. Those ends were money and all that money bestows—dress, gaiety, display, personal luxury. Sho was utterly selfish, selfindulgent and indolent, but could be energetic if energy were needed for the furtherance of her own wishes; clever, cunning, capable of great self-control, able to "hit the truth ; Madeleine Erlaton, waa all these, but Nora saw no flash of nobler qualities. All her beauty seemed to be in the body, and her very considerable powers of dissimulation aided her beauty in answering when she chose a manner which deceived most people, and captivated men; so that, no doubt, many of the latter wondered (ierard Erlston "was not her slave. But she was not dramatic. Nora heard her recite—she waa proud of what she considered her gift in this direction, and quite willing to display it, even to an audience of one. But that particular one agreed with Gerard Erlston in finding a great power of imitation, which had ev : dently been cultivated by care and practice, but an entire absence of dramatic feeling or capacity. Uncritical audiences would readily have mistaken clever imitations for dramatic intuition, and a woman so beautiful as Madeleine might act as badly as possible and yet be successful. But she was at heart perfectly cold. "If that woman stepped aside," Nora said to herself, "it would be for money—not for love or passion. Erlston being rich, ihis honour is as safe in her hands as if she were virtue's self. She haa no temptation to risk what she loves for more than she could lovo any man. But if he were not rich—e'eet antre these." During this week Erlston was rarely at home, and Nora, though s.ho did some real work, and purported to do more,' had plenty of leisure time. Madeleine who continued her friendliness—did not fail to utilise the services of the secretary, asking her to write letters for her, and so on. She also seemed to like talking to her (for she did almost all the talking), and very freely she gave her opinion about her friends, and sometimes even her husband. "We get on very well," she said one day. "I am not a bit romantic. He is; but then he can go where he likes, and do as he likes. He nv.ght go yachting now, if it were not for a nonsensical business he has in his head." They were sitting beside a superb fire in the drawing room. Madeleine had come in from a shopping expedition, and asked Miss Vernon to have tea with her and, sipping that grateful beverage, Madeleine chattered in a manner which suggested a great deal of insouciance, not to say impudence; but Nora waa under no illusion, and held that Mrs Erlston never "let out" anything .he meant to hide. The remark just uttered was apropos of a careless question from her as to where her husband was, to which Nora replied, "I don't know. I haven't seen him since the morning." The girl did not answer Madeleine's list words It was not for her to ask questions, though she knew very well she was expected to say something. Mrs. Erlston went on after a pause: "Oh! 1 don't suppose he has told you. He is so reserved; but it s about that case of Frank Haddon —you must have seen it in the papers." t Oh '■ yes." Nora said. ■ W f\ \ **l^ 6 m ? husband has set told' a ou?" ° a the track ~ ha » he \SL N ?- T& l aid: " but the Scotland Yard detectives have the matter in hand of course." ' «*w, course!" exclaimed Madeleine; thats just what I say. But my husband isn t satisfied; he must go to some private detective—l don't know who— and set him to work as well. It's absurd! Don't you think so?" "How can I judge, Mrs. Erlston?" Oh, well, I don't know. I thought j lie might have chanced to say something 'to you about the matter. He hasn't t% me—after just telling mc what he was going to do." I "He wouldn't be likely to tell mc " j said Nora, half smiling. ' ! "No—he's so 'close'—l am too much the other way, perhaps; too frank—l ! blurt things out. ,, I "Do you?" said her listener, mentally. I "I never could keep a secret," Made--1 leine added, laughing. I "Couldn't you?" again inwardly, commented the detective, but aloud. "Then perhaps that is why Mr. Erlston tells you nothing about this affair." j "But what harm could it do ? I shouldn't talk about that—and if I did, who would be any the wiser?" J "Oh, you cannot tell—it depends how ( much you talk." j "As to what was done—and so on, :you mean? It would be wisest to say nothing; still it isn't, likely that what I told in a West End drawing-room, I would warn some East End ruffian." ' "It might. Besides, you don't know that an East End ruffian is the culprit." "Who elee?" eaid Madsleine, opening her eyes wide. "Don't you?" "My opinion isn't worth much, Mrs. Erlston—at anyrate, in a matter of that ; kind, it isn't my metier. But still, there is not proof that the murderer was an ' East End ruffian." "No proof, but strong presumptive evidence." "Was there? I forget." "I mean as to place, and all that," said Madeline. "Besides, what should anyone of better class be doing in such a district, late at night, too?" "One can travel from place to place, quite easily," said Nora, laughingly. "But, of course, the murder may turn out to be quite commonplace. I suppose the connection of Mr. Erleton'e name with it has thrown a halo of romance over it."' "That's it," said Madeleine. "And I don't believe the truth will ever be reached, however many detectives you put on the track." "Very likely not, but I can quite understand Mr. Erlston trying all means to avenge his friend." "I don't believe in those private detectives," eaid Madeleine. "They'll cook up caees, and spin them out—no wended whea tlus ax* paid w> vaU."

{Author of "Bed Down," Poieon of the Atp," "The Rift in the Lut*.")

"I suppose there arc a few honest ones —the thing is to find them," said Nora. "Blue roses are more easily found," returned Mr? Erlston, drily. "I call it sheer waste of money." "It might not be, Mre. Erlston. Do you know who Mr. Erlston has consulted?" "Do I know anything about anything he does 1" said Madeleine, with a short, hard laugh. "I am the last person of whom he would make ft confidante. If it were any other man I should say he might have abandoned the ideal, only he is more a man of action than of words. What he says he'll do, he does." "So I should imaglnr, from what little I have seen of him," said Nora smiling. "I suppose it doesn't matter!" said Madeleine, with a .shrug. "Naturally, I can't feel particularly interested in Frank Haddon—he wasn't my chum!" And she began to talk about something else. But the careless and abrupt abandonment of the subject scarcely agreed with her evidently great annoyance over her husband's proceedings. Madeleine went out that evening to a ball; she was out almost every evening; and if at home, entertained. Nora was called upon to admire her costume, which was cortainly handsome; but she pitied the poor maid, who would not get to bed before the small hours were well advanced; for Mrs. Erlston kept Garfield up. j Left alone, Nora went to the library, and sat down by the fire with a book; but her thoughts were more busy than her eyes, and the pages were turned but slowly. The gentle opening of the door made her look up, to see Erlston's tall figure. Nora rose, as he advanced. "Don't run away," he said, smiling, "Please sit down again. Is my wife out?" "Yes—she went to a ball—at Lady Lagden's, I understand." "Don't you find it dull here?" tiiid Erlston pausing by the mantelpiece, and leaning his arm upon it. Nora had resumed her seat. "Dull? Do you mean altogether?" "Well, yes, but mostly in the evenings ■ —I am afraid you are a good deal alone." "I am never lonely where I can get books," ehe answered, "besides " "Besides what?" "Well," returned the girl smiling, "I am on business, you see. Dullness or the reverse, must not come into the question." Erlston bit his lip. He winced inwardly at the reminder that his"secretary ,, was not a gue-st, not even a bonafide secretary—except in so far as she actually did work; but he could have done without her, though she saved him a good deal of work for which he had little liking. He looked down at her with a curious, indefinable feeling of reaching out to something that he had always wanted—and that had corns too late. "His life was swept so clean —so passion dry," that it was ready for the touch of sympathy, conscious, or unconscious; he was so hungry for love, and i love was denied him; he was cist back entirely on himself; homeless, with all his wealth. He would have given it all up and gone back, even to the mines, to meet, in hie rough cabin, the smile of lips that sought his own, the look in soft eyes that gave love for love. Such dreams were useless now; he had staked his whole life on one mad throw and had lost, and he must pay the penalty. But somehow the vision of what might have been would rise up before him with that girlish figure in the low chair for its centre; and for a minute it banished what he was going to 6ay —for here was an opportunity; there could hardly be a better, for she had herself given him a lead. He pulled himself up, however, and said gently. "I can't look at things in that light, Miss Vernon. But what you say reminds mc of something I want to say to you—about that same secretaryship—" "Yes?" said Nora as he paused. She was not without some apprehension as to what he had to say. He went on "You are not here really "as my secretary, but you have done, and do work for me— work which is a genuine assistance. You must allow mc, therefore, to treat it as a matter of business." Nora's pale cheek flushed a little. "You are very good, Mr. Erlston," she said, "but indeed I cannot allow any such thing. I am only following my usual plan of being as much what I seem to he as is consistent with doing my special work, and I would far rather do something than be idle. I am not used to idleness, you know, so please" —she smiled a little now—"let matters rest where they are." "I am not content," he said. Whatever your motive, I am in effect, profiting by your gratuitous services—so far as the secretarial work is concerned." "Incidentally—that's all. You didn't need a secretary —at least, I suppose not." "But still, I have one —for a time, and to some extent." "To a very limited extent Mr. Erlston —for, of coure, I must be free, and I shouldn't feel so free if I were in any degree, employed by you." "If you put it that way," said Erlston, "I must yield the position. I quite understand your point of view. All the same I feel something like an imposter." "I should feel a worse one if I did ns you wished," said Nora. "But thank you all the same for the wish." It crossed her that he might think she had another motive in her refusal of any remuneration for her secretarial oervices—a repugnance to taking money from a possible murderer. His continued reticence as to asking her any questions looked as if he thought she suspected him; but he showed no other sign—if indeed that were one—of any such idea, and Nora, though she was pained to I think he felt so, thought best not to 1 enlighten him, nor would she do anything towards dissipating another possible conjecture of his—namely, that ehe found her quarters in Artington Street very comfortable, and was in no hurry to quit them, even though there was no genuine reason for her remaining. Ha must think that, too—if he liked. For as to what he thought of ber, that mattered little. She. was a detective's agent, not a friend. Erlston began to talk of other things, still standing by the mantlepiece, and Nora presently found that he could be a very delightful companion. He thonglit the same of her. He thought, moreover— but not till afterwards—that perhaps he ought not to have lingered so long en tete a tete with his secretary--hie wife not even being in the house. But truth to say, Nora herself disarmed the usual conventions. She was so absolutely selfreliant, and free from a woman's" selfconsciousness; and yet that independence, which was both mental nnd material, had in it nothing repellant, but VMfc OB tie contrary, curiously attrao-

tive, at anyrate to a man like Erlston, of fine fibre and subtle perceptions. Ordinary man would be nettled because there was no flattery, no incense burning, not a shadow of dependence upon masculine intellect and strength. The ordinary man would be forced to see— despite his vanity—that this woman was his superior; could do without him, spoke to him on equal terms, had no more thought of coquetry than if she were a man or he a woman. But Erlston was not an ordinary man, and Nora's independence had no hardness in it; it was not in any way blatent, or self assertive, as if always fighting opposition. It was simple, natural, inevitable, as natural as breathing; difficult all but impossible, to define, yet felt and understood all the same. What marvel, then that, himself unconventional, Erlston should be unconsciously beguiled by the unconventionality of his companion, and forget— not that she was a woman —there was no danger of that—but one of the unwritten canons of les convenances. He started when a chance movement brought him face to face with a clork, quaintly enshrined among vhe carvings of the mantelpiece, and he saw that it was past ten. "Miss Vernon," he said. "Why didn't you remind mc of the time? l"had no idea of it." "Nor had I," she replied, getting up. and looking at the clock now—from her chair she could not see it. "But it isn't late. T will say good-night, Mr Erleton." "But don't quit the library unless you wiah to do so. I am going to my study. I have some letters to write." "Thank you. I think I will go to my room now." "Then, good-night." He shook hands, opened the door for her to go out and, returning to the hearth, stood for a long time staring into the fire. He did not go to hie study, nor did he write any letters. Nora went up to her room, and passing as she had to do, Madeline's dressing room, she heard sounds of heavy I breathing from within. The door stood open, and she glanced in, and saw the maid nodding in her chair. Just at that moment the girl woke with a start, and uttered a little frightened cry, as she sprang to her feet. "Don't be afraid!" said Nora, pausing. "It is only I—Miss Vernon!" "I beg your pardon, miss," said Garfield. "I've been dreaming, and I thought Mrs. Erlston was borne. She would scold mc if she caught mc asleep." "It is hardly eleven o'clock," said Nora. '-She will not be home for a long time yet." "Oh, dear!" said the maid. "I am so tired. I've sat up till past two these three nights. It's too bad, and I can't be abed of a morning, as she does." "You must be tired," said Nora, sympathetically. "But I shall not be going to bed for more than an hour. If you like to lie down, ad have a rest, I will wake you before Mrs. Erlston comes home." "Lord, miss, I wouldn't give you the truble! And suppose she found out?" said Garfield, with the instinctive deceitfulness of her class, which always imagines the intention to deceive." " ; "There's no question of finding out," ' said Nora, quietly. "Why shouldn't Mrs Erlston kow all about it?" j "She's a queer one, you know, miss," said Garfield. "I shall have to leave ' her, I'm sure I shall. I can't stand such late hours; and she does go on if she catches mc napping. I nearly dropped oIT last night when I was undressing her. She's a hard one to serve, miss." "Is she?" said Nora. The question I was strictly non-commital. "But I suppose its a good place on the whole?" "Well, yes, miss—" replied Garfield, and there was a touch of significance in her tone and in her look spoke. "I'm well paid, I don't deny—at least, I am now." "Weren't you always," said Nora, smiling. "Nothing out of the way," returned Garfield, who despite her fatigue, seemed more disposed to talk than to sleep. "But Mrs. Erlston raised my wages a month or two ago." "She evidently valued you." "Oh, well, that's as it may be, miss," said the maid, with again the significant look, but more pronounced this time. "There's more than one reason for being appreciated sometimes." "Certainly—" "And good money isn't everything," continued Garfield. "There's consideration too, and things aren't always just what they look, are they, miss?" To this general proposition Nora wae fain to give general assent. Miss Garfield was approaching the main position in the fashion characteristic of her kind —by hints, innuendoes, and suggestions, provocative of questions; but these Nora was far too clever to make directly. She only gave such replies as drew the maid on to the point the latter desired to reach, but in such a way that Garfield could not have paid she was questioned or in any way induced to speak. "The things I've heard about ladies that are thought to be everything that's right and proper, miss," continued the maid. "I could tell some pretty things." "I daresay; but then some of the stories are probably scandals," said Nora. "X don't know, miss; but there's a deal that's true —only those that should know don't, and when people don't want you to say too much, they should make things as pleasant for you as they can." "It's the wisest way, anyhow," eaid Nora, smiling again.

"And not scold and go on when you're doing your best," said Garfield, evidently smarting under some recent grievance. "And keep you up night after night, and then no thanks. I'm not one to make mischief, miss, and I wouldn't say a word to the servants—not that I've been told to hold my tongue; but

I can see through a ladder, and people that are not over generous don't give you money for nothing—do they, miss? and as for Mr. Erleton —he's got enough to bear without mc saying anything." "But what are you talking about?*' said Nora, with an air of bewilderment. "You surely don't mean to imply " "No, miss," said Garfleld; '•! don't imply anything, but I can't help having my ideas. I've seen that sort of thing before—going out when somebody's out of the way, to see 'an old friend'—'an old friend,' indeed!" Here the lady's maid gave a slight toss of her head. "And headaches, and going to bed early, and nearly got mc into a nice mess, too!" "You can't be talking of your mistress, Garfield?" ' "But I am, miss. I don't say it hanpened. more than once; there hasn't been the chance for one thing, and she had a good fright besides, so she may manage things other ways. But there I was one night Mr. Erlston was gone to a club dinner, and, of course, nobody thought he'd come home till the email hours; and Mrs. Erlston went to bed at nine o'clock, so ehe said, with a headache. That was a sham, miss, for presently she rang for mc, and there she was—-dressed very plain, with a long coat, and said she was going out to sec an old friend, who was ill, and I was to sit up and let her in. She did say | it was a person—not quite a lady—| that Mr. Erlston wouldn't care for her to know, but I had my own opinion; only it wasn't my place to say anything. Well, it was near one when she came home, and I let her in. She'd only just got round the turn of the stair, when I heard a latch key in the door, and before I could get clear away Mr. Erlston came in. He saw mc, and called mc down, and I had to come. j "I said just what I could think of, for I was ready to faint with terror. I said I thought there was a burglar, but, of course, he didn't believe mc; you can't deceive the master that way— he's too quick; he as good as said he thought I was up to tricks, but he let mc go. You see, he wasn't expected so soon, but I heard next day that one of the gentlemen's father died sudden, and so the dinner broke up." I "But, Garfield," Nora said, "it is per- i fectly possible that your mistress went to ccc an old friend, as she said. You jump to the worst conclusions on any slight grounds; and you admit this only happened once, and that there had been nothing else to bear it company." ; "No, miss, not that I've seen or | heard; I'll allow that. But all the same, miss, I've seen so much queer ■ doings; and then Mrs. Erlston isn't the ; sort to bother about friends—not ; enough to run any risk. She'd know i what I must think, and I might talk; [ and then just what Mr. Erlston would . say to her running about at night by herself. Of course, as I said, I don't

know; but I have my opinion. She ain't so fond of giving, neither." "How do you meant" "She said the old woman—woman, indeed!—had been kind to her, and was very poor, and she was taking her things." "But did ehe?" "How can I tell, miss?" She had a bag with her. I didn't pack it—that's all I know." "Well, don't talk of this to other people," said Nora. "It is not my concern, or yours, and there's no good in making mischief." "I wouldn't do Mr. Erlston an ill turn, miss; we're all fond of him. I wish she wae anywhere like him. To be sure, I should think he'd be glad to get rid of her, but I daresay she'd make things out her own way. I won't take too much from her, though. She makes out she wouldn't care what I said, but she would, or why did she raise my wages? I can see as far as most people?" said Miss Garfield, with a downward curve of a. somewhat illtempered mouth. "Well, I must get to my room now," said Nora. "You haven't much time for eleep, if you want to have any." "No, miss, thank you. I'll make myself Borne tea—that'll help to keep mc awake. Good-night, miss." "Good-night," and Nora passed on to her own apartment, but she did not sleep at all that night. She had a great deal too much to think about.

(To be continued Saturday next.)