THE FULHAM MYSTERY

Auckland Star, Volume LVIII, Issue 112, 14 May 1927, Page 32

THE FULHAM MYSTERY

BY HILDA HINE. CHAPTER XVII. Adela Reappears. When Bainbridge dropped on the table the mysterious note signed Adela, he shook for a moment like a man who had received a ' stunning blow. His companion picked up the sheet, looked at it, and went deadly pale. Suddenly Bainbridge's stupor gave place to rage. "You devil!" he hissed, •"what does this mean? Tell me the truth." Without waiting lor a reply, he took a quick step forward, and "seized the other man by the throat. They struggled together and fell to the floor, Bainbridge still maintaining his hold on Rawlings' throat. The latter got clear at last, and the two men stood facing one another, breathing heavily. '•Xow what is the sense of that exhibition?" asked Rawlings, "the doctor will think we have both gone mad." "Don't trifle with me. What is Hip meaning of this note? Why does Adela tell me not to trust you? Where is she now? Tell me that. If she has come to any harm, I'll murder you. I'll break every bone in your body, I'll tear you limb from limb." "I don't know anything about it," said the other. "This note is probably a trap. There is no reason why Adela should send a message like that." "Don't trifle witli me I say. Do you think I don't know Adda's writing? You'\e been up to some monkey tricks, and you've got to tell me the truth. When was that note written, and where is Adela now? Tell me." It was clear that both men were shaken badly, but Rawlings seemed to regain his presence of mind more quickly, and it was he who resumed talking in Italian. They continued an unintelligible exchange for some time, and then Rawlings went to the door, and called the foreigner from downstairs. Dr. Blond gathered that he was being closely questioned about something, but could give no answer. The doctor's existence meanwhile was totally ignored, and niter a while the three men went out of the room, without so much as a look in. his direction, lie heard the front door open and close again, and the footsteps of the two men —doubtless Bainbridge and Rawlings—walking down the street. For himself, he felt at the end of his resources, and lay back listlessly on-his couch, where, very soon, he fell into an tinea *y sleep. As he came" back to consciousness he was vaguely aware of somebody bending over him. A woman's lace was looking down into his. Between sleeping and waking he took a general impression of it, and it was a pleasing one. The face seemed kind and compassionate, ami there were tears very near the surface. The-doctor's eyes were well-nigh closed, so that the woman evidently thought him asleep, and some instinct prevented him from undeceiving her. Gradually the features took on a familiar aspect. Where had he seen that face before? Then recognition came in a flash. The woman whose eye 3 were now looking down-at him was his strange visitor of the previous Saturday night. Abruptly he opened his eyes wide, and made a movement as though to sit up. The face of his visitor underwent a sudden change. The look of compassion which it had worn when she believed herself to be unobserved, gave place to a hard and pitiless expression, with a cynical smile playing around the mouth. The doctor felt an involuntary thrill of admiration for such a command of expression. What a fine actress she was! And yet he felt sure that the look of pitv he had surprised on her face was not all acting, and the thought comforted him. Terhaps it was something warmer and tenderer than mere pitv that he had read in her eyes. Whatever it was it had all gone now. "So you are awake?" she observed. "Yes; what are you doing here?" "For that matter," replied she, with a mirthless laugh, "what are you?" "I only wish I had some idea. I was brought here against my will, and everything connected with the whole allair is veiled in mystery, so far as I am concerned. Perhaps Adela will be kind enough to enlighten me." ■ Tho woman seemed rather amused, than startled bj this mode of address. "So you know my name," she remarked. "I'm afraid my friends were less discreet than they should have been. I fear they were in a. very excited state.J "One is your friend and one is not," 1 replied Blond, "but they were both very excited." „ "You aro an observant person, said Vlela. "Won't you tell me all about it!" '.'I think you have something to tell me first. Why did you come to my consulting room ? And why did you disappear so suddenly?" "Don't ask niiy questions," replied Adela, "and you" won't be told any lies." Dr. Blond looked at her with admiration. The good impression sho had made on him when first he saw her was increased. She was undeniably pretty, but there was something more than prettincss in her face and in her whole bearing. All his brief experience of her up to now had contained nothing that could be expected to create a good opinion, yet, he found himself unmistakeably liking her. -More strongly than Bainbridge she gave him the impression tiiat she was acting an Ull- , congenial part, that it was necessary to believe in her even when her actions j appeared to condemn her beyond the hope of appeal. , The silence which followed her last | remark gave him an opportunity to s study her. Like most observant people j with slow working brains, Dr. Blond ( was capable on occasion of flashes of in- , tuition which surprised himself. Some- i thing about her movement as she walked from the side of his couch to the window % caused him to look attentively at her j face. Then without warning he said. y "Your father is very angry with j Parkyn." t For a fraction of a minute the girl 1; looked mystified. Then she went j scarlet. The actress had now com- u pletely disappared, and it was an agitat- i: ed woman who came swiftly towards s Dr. Blond. I "What do you mean?" she asked rapidly. "Why do you say he is my 1 father? What did they tell you?" The doctor hesitated for a moment, <r wondering how this lucky shot was to n be turned to necount. Something in the c; appearance of the woman beside him, it however, some quite indefinable feel- i( ing, made dissimilation impossible. o "Didn't you tell me that I was an le observant person?" it Sho made no reply to this, but sat si deep in thought in tho chair beside ti his couch. Now and then sho made a j n: remark to herself, which Blond only | partly caught. She seemed to he run- rt ning over events in an attempt to check w then by a new suggestion which Blond pi had put into her mind. So this woman It did not know- she was Bainbridge's tl

daughter? Perhaps she had half consciously -suspected it. The mvsterv went very deep.

Sitting there and working out a problem in her mind she made a powerful appeal to Blond. If hitherto she had awakened his admiration she appealed no less strongly to his pity, and pity is of all emotions the. strongest and most dangerous that a woman can awaken in a man. In the network of mysteries that surrounded him, Dr. Blond felt no doubt that there were scheming and deceit and dark crime. Bainbridge gave him the idea of having been drawn* into the sinister side of it all rather against his will of having been compelled to do things that he, would rather not have done, iiawlings or Parkyn he belived to be a villain by temperament and choice. But this woman, he was sure, was all innocence. She had done nothing which was not honourable and above board. The young doctor would have found it difficult no doubt to explain on what ground he had arrived at these conclusions, but he would have staked his life upon them and quarrelled fiercely with anyono who should have the termerity to question them. There was nobody here now to join issue with him —only this tragic young woman, who sat with her head buried in her hands by the side of his couch. The silence was broken by a very faint sound, then a slightly louder one. The woman was sobbing, and after a brief struggle with herself, she gave way. Her shoulders moved convulsively, her sobs were unrestrained, and her tears ran freely. Few men can sec a pertty woman crv and remain unmoved. In a single man of Dr. Blond's Temperament it was quite impossible. He made an impulsive move to stand by her side, forgetting that he was a 'prisoner. "Adela." he said with a trembling voice. "Adela let me help you. I don't know what all this is about, but I know you are in trouble, and I want to help you." There was no answer and she continued her sobs. "Adela," he continued. "I can't bear to see you crying." "Are you a man." she asked With an attempt at hittiicrness, which was not quite successful.'' and you cannot hear to see tears. These are not the times for soft heartedness. That is the curse of being a woman. Oil, if only I were a man." "If you were a man," said Dr. Blond impulsively, "I should wish to bo a woman." "Are you making love (o me?" she asked in an expressionless voice. "God knows what I am doing." he replied. "I am surrounded by mvsteries. I don't know why I am here "or who you are, but I know you are unhappy, and you are mixed up with thinss aiid people you hate. Let me help vou. Tell mo all about it." She looked at him now with eves in ■which there was neither bitterness nor pity, only a great sorrow. "What you ask me is in:possible," she said. "You are not inv en.Mnv, but vou cannot be my friend. Don't'vou know who brought you here? You 'must forget all about me." "That I shall never do," said Blond "and I bless whoever brought me here tor bringing me near to vou."

CHAPTER XVIII.

My Father and My Husband,

« Silence again followed this remark ii and Blond felt loath to break it. He felt '1 that his beautiful companion was bavin" o a struggle with herself, that in spite ol n her brave manner she felt desperately i. in need of a friend and of friend!v comif sel. With a fiercely palpitating heart he t waited as she sat. there silent, e „v At last she turned towards him, and 0 with eyes brightened by tears said: "Life r is difficult. I wish I knew what I ought t to do." ; - "Why not confide in me?" he pleaded, e "I shall not betray your confidence. I give you my word in advance that no '• harm shall come to you." "And what of my friends and—and my father?" a Blond was about to replv in a flood of earnest rhetoric, giving"her all the s promises and guarantees she could ask • for. He paused, however, for he realised r that there might be great difficulties, i To promise silence on all these strange 1 matters might mean cutting himself off from the world altogether. There was '~ Grierson and the police and his practice, i. his parents living in the country, and .. probably tortured by all this mystery - of his disappearance. He could not come I back into the world of everyday things ' again and keep silent on all that had * happened. Crimes had been committed, ,• great risks had been taken, and at the back of it all there must be something 1 that was proportionate to these things! t How could he in his ignorance pledge himself to a hushing up of all this? The 1 young doctor was in love—lie had no , doubt of that now—but he had not , thrown judgment and honour entirely to the winds. [ Adela divined the trend of his , thoughts. ; "You see yourself," she said, "that our paths lie apart. After what has been done to you how can we expose ourselves ''." "Is it proposed to kill me?" asked ' Blond calmly. An involuntary shudder passed over the woman. "No! No! Xot that," she said. "But some means will be taken to get clear before you are allowed at large again." "But what do you think of all this? You are kind and good, and you want to be my friend. Why not give me your confidence?" "And desert my friends and my father?" Blond was silent. He felt the force of the plea. The Shakespearean lines Hashed across his mind: "My only love sprang from my only hate!" .What cruel fate was it that had brought him face to face with this fascinating woman whom events had made against his will his mortal enemy? "Listen,"' he said. "You can trust me. You know I will not play you false. Will you tell me all the truth, who you are. why I am here? I promise not to betray your confidence. 1 cannot pledge myself to silence always, because I do not know how much that would mean. I promise you, though, that I will take no action upon whatever you tell me. I will behave in every way as though you had not spoken. What I find out independently I shall be free to act upon." Adela seemed to bo pondering this. Then she shook her head. "No," she said, "that is an ideal suggestion. It sounds possible, but it is not. When you have heard a thing you cannot be as though you had not heard it. Your actions will be influenced. If it were not so what would be the good of my talking to you? Mere talk that leads to no action is waste of time. Oh, it is worse than that," she added passionately. "Talk! Talk! Talk! I am tired of talk. It is only action that matters." "But surely," pleaded Blond, "it would relieve you to talk. Perhaps between us we could think of something. In any problem two heads are better than one. It may not all be so helpless as you think. At any rate, let me know." (l

"How could it relieve my mind to tell you what would make you despise me?" she asked fiercely. "Two heads are no better than one; a million heads are no good when a problem is insoluble. Don't seek to pry into this. You will be better and happier without it. You will soon forget me."

"And will you forget me?" "Xever!" said the woman in something little more than a whisper that seemed rather to be addressed to herself than to Blond. Then aloud she added: "Don't torture inc." Even in his misery Blond was comforted by that whispered "Xever" that seemed to be dragged from her against her will, and from the evidence that it mattered deeply to the woman what. opinion ho had of her. "Then why not tell me?" he persisted. "I can do no harm. See, I am fastened to this couch." Adela (lushed as though this reminder of his captivity brought a fresh humiliation with it. "Please don't," she repeated. "You know nothing of me. You have scarcely seen me before, and then in circumstances that could give you no good opinion of me. My face attracts you, but men are easily attracted by a woman's face, and they, quickly forget the' face that attracts them." "It's not true," said Blond hoarsely. "You know it's not! I love you. Love is inore than the attraction of a face, but it acts at once. I might learn many facts about you, but it's all that matters. I could never know you better than I do now." "Words," said the woman bitterly. "Oh, you can make pretty speeches. So they can in Italy, wonderful speeches in a language that is all music but life is hard and cruel, my friend." "You know no more of me than I of you," persisted Blond. "Why do you say you would never forget me?" "I was talking to myself," she replied. "I have wronged you. All my life you will he associated with my shame and degradation. "If there is anything to forgive, 1 forgive you," said the doctor earnestly. "You are kind, my friend, but I do not forgive myself." "Is it only for the reason you mention that you will not forget me." She was silent, and once more Blond felt, happy in the midst of his misery. "Listen," she said. "If I undo those bonds ami let you go, will you promise to keep silent, to say no word of where you have been, and how you got back, and, above all. to make no attempt to find out anything?" Blond paused. "How can I do that?" he asked' at. length. "Even if 1 could resolve not to search you out, how could I refuse to answer the questions that would be asked me oil all hands, by the police, by ray friends." "Then you will not do it," she retorted in an amarii'g transformation of manner. "After all your tine speeches and your protestations vou refuse the first thing f ask vou."

H»r face was crimson with passion, and Blond was dumbfounded. His experience of women was slight, and he knew nothing of the blind complete unreason of which the feminine nature is capable. The thing was so clear to him, so incomprehensible to her, that he found himself magically incapable of speech while the woman hurled at him a torrent of

hitter words. In three minutes she gave him a deeper lesson in feminine psvchology then all the years or" medical training had imparted.

"How like a man," she went on seornfulh'. "You are all line wards and fine phrases, but when it comes to action you always see difficulties. Impossible! what will people say? What about unfriend? Have I cared about my friends and what people would say? The first thing I ask you to do for me."

"But you haven't asked me to do anything for you! You have asked li'.e tu save my own skin and leave you alone.'' "Oh, don't slay there arguing. You talk, and talk, and talk. Men are always talking. It will be too late soon." She rose with a rapid movement from her chair, walked over to a cupboard from which she produced a table knife, and a minute later the ropes binding the doctor to his couch were severed. "Now go," she said. "But 1 can't," he protested. "Are you going to take advantage of me. i have set you l'rje. Do you know what it means if X am found out?" "But what would you do if I left you here now?" "I should leave as soon as you were out of the street. I trust to your honour to make no attempt to follow me." "But what am I to say':'' "You will say nothing." "Surely," he protested, "you see that that is impossible." "Impossible," she repeated wearily. "Always the same word. If you cannot keep silent, you must talk. Say what you like. 1 am at the end oi my tether. But before you have said anything I shall be beyond the power of you or anyone else to hurt me." Something in her expression frightened Blond. "Adda," he protested, "I shall not go and leave you. I am going to stay here." '"I suppose you know," she added, listlessly, "what thai means for both of us?" "I will risk all that," he replied, "at least I shall be with you. I can look after myself. The food I have been given here has been plain certainly, hut it has not been inadequate, and I am in very good condition." "What will you do against two men?" she asked. "And is it your intention to demonstrate all those tine sentiments you have been professing by assaulting my father and my husband?" "My God!" he said hoarsely. "Is it so bad as that?" As for Aileln, she had once more undergone one of those sudden transformations of character which bewildered the inexperienced Blond. He saw before him now a hard sneering face on which it was liard to imagine either the passion or the tenderness that he had read before. "You are not excessively complimentary," she jeered. "Your manner of referring to my husband is not exactly the last word in consideration or refinement." "My God!" he repeated. The conversation was abruptly cut short, by a noise at the front door. .Somebody had admitted himself with a key, and the heavy tread of a man's footsteps was heard coming up the stairs. (To he continued daily.)