THE RED GRIP.

Auckland Star, Volume LVIII, Issue 134, 9 June 1927, Page 22

THE RED GRIP.

By COLONEL HENRY CTJRTIES

Author of "The Carnation Club," "Love and the Law," "Sybil's Tryst," etc. ! CHAPTER XXXVni. ' The yacht had turned for home and j heir delightful cruise was coming to an j end. Raymond grew more devoted to her every hour; she lived in a kind of daydream, wondering, wondering, wonder ing. How would it all end? Lady Barstone. it was evident to Maris. was beginning to realise the situation between her and Raymond. The other two ladies of the party seemed also to be taking a keen interest in their movements, and the secretary, Mr. Chichester. was obviously anxious. Lady Barstone was as kind as ever to Maris, a little more tender even in her manner, perhaps. She appeared divided between sympathy for her son and her duty. Her duty, of" course, in this case being a due guarding of her son's social position. . Lord Barstone had thought long and earnestly over the visit of the Egyptian policeman to the yacht at Alexandria, and he had decided to put Maria ashore long before they reached Southampton. He°would. of course, accompany her to her destination, wherever that Blight be. He did not know that turn the Egyptian episode might take; it might even take the form of a complaint to his own office.

"And so you have made up your mind to go to London. Maris?" he said on a dull, grey morning as they were entering the English Channel. She had told him indifferently that she intended to go to London when they reached England, but he had asked her no further questions. "Yes. I have not altered my mind," she answered with a smile. Hβ smiled at her lovingly, and they stood side by side, looking over the rail at the distant grey shores. "Maris," he said presently, '"I am going to take a somewhat unusual course. I am going to put you ashore before we reach Southampton." She was alert in a moment, with eyes fixed on his. What did this mean? Did he suspect? Did he know? Her bosom rose and fell, but she maintained an outward calmness. "But I am coming with you," he added, seeing her distress. She gave him a little weak sniilo. "But why is ( it necessary to put me ashore before you reach Southampton?" she asked. "I have my passport." Then in a moment she saw the mistake she had made; the passport she now had was not in the name of the Princess de Calvario. but in that of a business woman. The Calvario passport had been thrown out of the window of a rail way carriage in Ireland by the German woman Brun. "You ask me, Maris." Barstone replied, "why it is necessary to put you

ashore before you reach Southampton. 1 , cannot tell you that; you must trust ' me. Will you trust me?"' he added after a pause. She looked at him with steady eyes for a moment or two, and he looked particularly handsome and steadfast that morning. "'ies," she answered, as her lips trembled. "I will trust you. I will ask nothing more." Her hand was in his and he pressed it. "I have arranged that we shall go ashore together at Ventnor," he said, "it is a convenient little out-of-the-way place. Take no baggage with you. That will be sent on by the first train when we reach Southampton, to the cloakroom at Waterloo Station to wait your orders. -. For a moment there was another question on her lips: she would have asked the reason of this but she stifled it. '"You and I will go ashore in the launch." he continued. "We will stroll about the town a little, and then go to the station and take the first train for Ryde. That will do away with all Custom House trouble, your baggage will be examined at Southampton before it is sent to London. You had better give me you kevs. Mv valet will see to it all."'

She took tlie key 3 from her bag and handed them to him without a word. He knew that she was trusting him implicitly. "And now." he added finally, "we must get ready. In half-an-hour we shall be at Ventnor. Long after we are on our way to London the yacht will be standing by here, as if, waiting to pick us up again." "And Lady Barstone," Maris asked, •what will she think?" He smiled back at her. "She will think nothing."' he said. "She is a very obedient mother. Go and say good-bye to her, dear." Maris went obediently to the old peeress' deckhouse and found her alone. She looked up and smiled as Maris entered. "Lord Barstone has told you 1 am going ashore *" the latter asked. "Yes, he has told me," was the answer. "And don't you think it strange V The old lady smiled and shook her head.

'"No," she said; "I am too used to the ways of diplomacy. But come," she added, "I will ask no rude questions. Give me a kiss. I hope we shall soon meet again, for believe me. Maris. I am getting very fond of you."'

With tears in he eyes, Mars bent down and kissed her:, then, with a wave of her hand, was gone. She could not trust herself to stay there. But in a fenminutes the launch was waiting for them, and Barstone handed her down the acfommodation ladder into it.

They pushed off for the shore, avoiding all show of saying goodbye. Without luggage. * they looked as if they were merely landing for a stroll.

Maris looked back at the beautiful yacht and wondered whether she would ever sec it ajfain. It had been her home, her home of great luxury and refinement for over a month; that month had beyond question been the happiest of her life.

And now she was. to go back to her old life of degradation in Gosvenor Place!

§ As the launch puffed away towards I the pier a figure of a lady appeaed on I the deck waving a white hand to her. It j was Lady. Barstone, a figure ever after I associated with the yacht in her memory. I The launch was making for Ventnor § pier; thee were very few people npon g it. Here and there some person examin- | ing the yacht through glasses, for it was H unusual for big steam yachts to come in H so close. Maris watched the figures on § the pier with little iterest. = Lord ■Baritone, sitting by her side, was s sad at their approaching parting. H They reached the pier and ascended H the slippery steps. p At the head of them stood a figure ;- which Maris knew only too well.. The sight shocked her.

"How do you do, Princess?" a voice asked in tones she hated. "Thi« is indeed a pleasant meeting.*' Professor de Vasseur stood before them, hat in liand. CHAPTER XXXIX. The last person -Maris wished to see was Professor de Vasseur. j "Who would have thought of seeing you here on the pier at Ventnor?"' he ; "asked with surprise. "And, can I be- I ' lieve my eyes, here also is Lord BarI stone." j To Maris' great relief Barstone j laughed. "I did not expect to meet you here, De Vasseur," the latter said. "What fortunate circumstance has given us this pleasure?" j De Vasseur shrugged his shoulders and [tapped his chest. • "Weakness here."' lie explained, '"has, brought me to Ventnor. The air of London does not always agree with me." I ".Sometimes too hot?' , Barelone suggested, with a smileIt amazed Maris to find that Lord Barstone and this forger, De Vasseur, were on friendly terms. But they strolled together in amity to the end of j the pier, where, having paid their landin o toll, they were let through. "I will not so far presume," said Dc Vasseur meekly, "as to ask where you are going. Lord Barstone." The latter laughed again. De Vasseur seemed to amuse him. 1 "Oh. just for a stroll,' , he answered. I J De Yasseur was shrewd enough —it'was his forte—to know that he was not wanted; he extended his hand to Maris I I and removed his hat.

"Madame." he said, "this lias been a most delightful meeting for me. I humbly hope that we may soou meet again."

There seemed to be a look of malevolence iw-his eyes as he bent and kissed her hand in the foreign style- To Maris it seemed, in spite of his soft woords. like the kiss of a reptile. "And now. Lord Barstone," De Vasseur continued, "I will continue my little constitutional along the parade." He shook hands impressively with the peer, bowed low, replaced his hat, and was gone along the parade, to the great admiration of two nursemaids who had wiitnessed the whole scene.*

"The little De Vaseeur episode being finished." commented Lord Barstone, "we will make for the station. We have just time to catch the train without hurrv."

Maris was longing to ask her companion what his relations with De Vasseur were, but she had not the courage to do it. Her mind was occupied in wondering what Raymond thought of her acquaintanceship with the same person. Talking of the most ordinary things, the last tilings in their thoughts under the circuni.»tances, they reached the station. There, as Raymond had told her, they were in time for the train to Rvde.

Shut in a compartment by themselves l>y an assiduous guard, they had . the long journey before them in which to discuss their affairs- Maris expected *ome reference by Raymond to De Vasseur. He never once mentioned his name. Certainly he was a little thoughtful at first, but, seeming to thrust whatever troubled him from his mind, he was ae devoted and affectionate as ever. He would talk of nothing but their next meeting. ,- I do not understand how I am to communicate with you, Maris," he said, "when I have something to tell you." That thought had also been troubling Maris. too; Raymond evidently understood that for some reason she was to be lost to him, but he did not press her with questions. What she chose to tell him w*s sufficient.

"When the time ha* arrived." she answered slowly, "for you to tell me what has been the result of your researches concerning the validity of vour marriage with Madame Gonzalez, pu't an advertisement in the front page of the "Times" addressed to "Maris.'" "But supjiosing you don't see it?" he asked.

"But I shall sec it," she answered softly. "I shall look for it. But. at any rate, let the advertisement appear three times."

"Very well." he answered. "I will do as you direct me to do. But "

"But, what V "What am I to do in the meantime ?' : She laid her hand on his. "Work at the problem which concerns us both so much." He had to be satisfied with this.

They crossed from Hyde to Portsmouth and took the train for London. Xo reserved carria£t this time, for the train was full, but Raymond was quite satisfied to be with her, even if they could not talk unreservedly. But ,at Waterloo, this difficulty arose in Maris' mind:

Would he not hear her destination from the direction of the taxi-driver? But in a moment she recollected that her baggage was following her. Could she make that an excuse? But she was not inclined to make excuses to Raymond; it grated on their friendship. Xo; she quickly resolved to ask him to trust her. So when the train drew into Waterloo station she let all the people leave the carriage, and then she spoke to Raymond. "1 want you to trust me implicitly, as I trust you," she asked. "I do trust you," he answered, with a steady look in his eyes. "I want you. Raymond," she continued, "to say good-bye to me here in this carriage." For a few moments he looked at he' rather puzzled, but there was a great pity in his eyes. "Very well." he said quietly, "if you wish it, 1 will say good-bye here." She put out her hand, and he took it; then, bending, put his arm round her and gave her one long passionate kiss. Then he let her go. She stepped out of the carriage, and he did not follow her; she dared not look behind: she could not trust 'herself. A porter had taken her bag, and he led her to the waiting taxi. She got in and gave the Grosveuor Place address. She knew she must go there whether she would or not. (To be continued daily.)