THE KNIGHTSBRIDGE MYSTERY.

Auckland Star, Volume LVII, Issue 25, 30 January 1926, Page 34

THE KNIGHTSBRIDGE MYSTERY.

BY CAB.LTGN DAWE. Author of "Desperate Love," "Euryale In London," "Virginia," etc.

CHAPTER VII. Serious Intentions. ! During the days that followed, Mr. ' Frankford at first found much comfort in the friendship of Constantino Levita. Penbury had failed to call a second time, I and Quincey P. Brookham wae well on j liis way to his own country, never to return it was fondly hoped. But even iin his most intimate talks with the ! Greek Eustace Frankford never betrayed ! his knowledge of the negro. What had passed between them was one of those intimate secrets which we occasionally fail to share with our friends. About this time Levita often dined in Esselton Gardens, much to the disgust of Christine, who greatly marvelled that her father should choose such a friend. : Brian tried to explain the anomaly with I vague suggestions of pending business, and so forth; weak arguments doomed to failure. For ehe had seen that in Levita's eyes which at first annoyed, then frightened her. His extraordinary politene&s was an offence, his effusive suavity revolting. Whenever she looked hie way she found hia eyes crawling over her, suggesting , .black 'beetles and other unpleasant vermin. But the truth is Levita was very good just then; a .converted and regenerate Levita. He frlnkly admitted that the awful fate of Poppy Wilton had ecared him. One never knew whose turn it would be next. It waa all very -well to laugh through life and make light of serioue things; but they had. a way of coming back on one, of twisting the laugh into something like a cry of pain. For himself he had done with the frivolous."' 2Co more of the co-called bohemian gatherings, no more loose friends, male or female. He was going to settle down, to get married to some nice, fresh, fair English girl. He could give her a, good home and the devotion of a heart sound to the core. After all, there was nothing like married life. Though regretting that he 'had let 60 many precious years slip by, it was not too late to make amends. ! With much more of the same sort, not greatly interesting to hia listener, though naturally meeting with approval. j For one thing, it might rid him of Mr. j Levita's society, which waa gradually beginning to pall; he might even have rid himself of it had he been in better health or courage. For, to be candid, the more he saw of the Greek the less was he enamoured by that worthy. In a moment of weakness he had succumbed, and wae now paying the penalty. Personally he would like to banish Mr. Levita to the Levant, or wherever it was that delectable person hailed from; bury him beneftth the ancient ruins of his ancient state; wipe him out utterly. But destiny has a perverse way of asserting its claims to recognition; it is like a woman ' who will not be denied the last word. Oddly enough Mrs. Frankford. liked him, called him a "nice little man;" found a mournful tenderness in his long nose, unusual sympathy in his dark eyes. Pie was solicitude itself; made the j kindest inquiries concerning her health; seemed to understand her ailments; would have helped her to bear her cross ; had that been possible. j To her he spoke much of matrimony: land its manifold blessings; spoke of it in ! the old fashioned way, eeriously, in measured and solemn tones. There was none of your modern flippancy about j Constantine; here was a eerious man who took life seriously, who believed in hoj>y things. And in his eyes the holiest of all was the sacrament of marriage. ■Some sweet, fresh English girl, now; fair, very fair, with violet eyes and hair like ripe corn. His little eyes brightened as lie conjured up the dream. Mrs. Frankford, so happily married herself, felt sorry for the lonely little man; hoped he might meet such a girl; was almost certain that her own daughter was the fugitive dream so ardently pursued by the melancholy alien. "An expedingly nice little man," she said to her husband, "and I'm really sorry for him." "Why?" she was asked. "I believe he's in love with Christine." She might always have been proud of Christine's conquest; but the father pondered it long and dubiously. Levita's half-remembered rhapsodies of fresh Knglish girls with yellow hair and blue eyes assumed a serious meaning. The fellow couldn't drenm. . . lie wouldn't dare. . . . Indignation swelled the veins on his forehead; those eye?, so like his daughter's, took on a hard look. His white dove in the grip of that black vulture! C hristine, too, was not a little embarrassed by the gleam in those vulture eyes; -uas terrified almost by the cruel bend in that vulture beak. All night at dinner lie had watched her. It was a quiet dinner, a family gathering, with Constantine as the only outsider. Brian was away on business, and Levita filled his chair. Shortly after dinner Mrs. Frankford, as usual, excused herself, and was escorted from the drawing-room by her husband. Constantine seized his opportunity, perhaps a little recklessly; but the divine vision in white, bobbed hair shining like gold, banished discretion. Amazed she looked at him ; at first she could not believe her ears. This little black rat! Then the blue eyes blazed, the fair face flushed. Very lovely she looked, so thought Constantine LevHa; more and more desirable. He did not shrink beneath her contemptuous glance. On the contrary, he grew many inches taller; seemed' to swell in importance. This embarrassment of hers, it was charming; added a glory to the glorious. Her amazing whiteness, like a statue flushed with the morninn , sun! She said coldly: "You seem to be unconscious of this amazing impertinence." [ For to her thinking Constantine Levita iwas no more than an insignificant little alien whom one tolerated, though without knowing why. ! "Impertinence?" he echoed, looking gravely concerned, and not a little surprised. '"Have I been so unfortunate ac to convey that impression? I assure you ;such was not my intention; my respect !is too sincere, too profound. You are I the very last person in the world whom jl would anger or annoy; indeed I would I rather anger all the world than you. ITo mc nothing matters but you, Christine." ! Very humble was Constantine Levita: I a modest little man who would asjsuredly efface himself if lie could, but who apparently found destiny too strong for him. A deeper flush spread over her face at the familiar use of her name, and had she not suddenly remembered that this was her father's friend she might have given vent to the rage and disgust that were consuming her. "I am sorry," she eaid. "but you must please never epeak of this again,"

He called to her but ehe woTild not stay. Like one transfixed he etood watching the blank door through which she had vanished. Then his nose twitched curiously as though it were trying to smile. When Mr. Levit&'s nose worked in that extraorfiinary manner its owner was always profoundly agitated. From the tip of the Emiling nose to the eniiling mouth was no very great distance. A significant shrug followed, accompanied by an. expressive play of hands. Then he lit one of hie famous cigarettes, and was joyously inhaling the odorous smoke, when Frankford, eyes hard and shining, returned to the room. "My daughter," he began. "A very charming young lady," said Constantine. "I have just asked her to marry mc." "Marry you!" "My dear fellow, a time comes to every man when he positively yearns for the shackles of matrimony. Folly, I admit; inconceivable lunacy, but there it is. These things are part of our nature. A wife, now; children, home; there mustbe something in it, some amazing secret which I am eager to explore." He smiled urbanely, his nose twinkled as though very pleased with itself. Certainly it was a self-possessed Constantine that crossed its legs and daintily fingered its cigarette. Frankford began to explain; his daughter was already engaged. The explanation, though expressed in terms of astonishment at Mr. LpVita's unparalelled presumption, seemed to have little effect on that worthy. "Girls have been known to change their minds," he said. "Though obstinate as a rule, they are occasionally swayed by sound advice, especially when it comes from a devoted father. My dear fellow, I should be a proud and happy man." Frankford felt himself bursting with rage. Though he might cower before the shadow which threatened his respectability, he had sufficient courage to face graver contingencies. "Let's hear no more of this nonsense," he said; "it's too absurd, ridiculous." "Why?" asked Constantine in that smooth voice of his. "Such a question should be quite unnecessary." "The point of view," the Greek murmured, as if to himself; "so much depends on the point of view. Don't be angry, my dear fellow; rather be merciful and sympathise with what you conceive to be my hopeless plight. I could no more avoid succumbing to the charms of your captivating daughter than you could to . . ." His shoulders went up to his ears, but under his lids he saw the man start and change colour. "I only beg your permission to take ray chance. Failure may reward my efforts; success is not alwaye assured to the worthy. I can but try. Sincerity, at any rate, should claim some consideration and of my sincerity in this, there can be no doubt. You do not know Constantine Levita, the real Constantine. There are many of him, as ther are of most men—a fact "I am sure you can appreciate—yet only one, one that is very leal. No, my dear fellow, don't say anything more now. This has come as a surprise to you? Rather singular in its way, if you consider that 1 have seen Miss Christine. Before I had that honour, now; but since! Ah!" He blew a cloud of smoke ceilingwards, and -with a rapt gaze saw it take many singular shapes, which in all probability, ultimately assumed one shape, one face; a delicately rare, white face; amazing contrast to his own dull swarthiness. But there was something beyond this protestation of affection, which caused hte father much uneasiness. A new Constantine was peeping through the old shell, provokingly suave and sinister; something that suggested the cat with its claws hidden in the pad. Even if there were no Brian Cranbourn in the foreground, the thought of Christine and Constantine Levita would bo too absurd to contemplate for a single instant; but with that strenuous and very determined young man stepping in • between the Levantine's chances 01 success were indisputably remote. Which, in its way, was relief of a sort, but not wholly satisfying. (To be continued daily.)