The MYSTERY Of No. 13a

Auckland Star, Volume LVIII, Issue 211, 7 September 1927, Page 20

The MYSTERY Of No. 13a

(Bv SHehasl Carmlchasl)

CHAPTER XXVII. "I'm sorry to have been so frightfully long," he said, "tout it was all very painful and unavoidable. Mason is dead." "Dead?" she exclaimed. Hβ nodded and lit a cigarette. "Yes, ■he shot himself. It is probably the best thing that could possibly have happened, as it saves the hideous publicity and horror of a criminal trial—for you, I mean, of course." "I see," she said, slowly, "and the girl?" 'Tym has her in charge and she has just made a statement, but I doubt whether anything will happen to her except de-porting. Well, shall -we lunch somewhere, or shall I drive you back to Regent's Park? , ' She considered both proposals for a moment in eilenee. "I think," she announced softly, "that you had better drive me back to Regent's Park and lunch there with me." He looked ruefully at his clothes. "Perhaps you are right," he agreed. Giving the address to the driver he got in and sat down beside Enid with a feeling to fired relief and happiness. He hardly noticed the throbbing in hie head. It was all over, the danger and the suspense of the past ten days, and now they had the future entirely to themselves. They passed through the upper part of Berkeley Square in sihmce. Dampierre could not trust himself to speak he was suddenly too afraid of spoiling that sense of intimate communion with words. He was too happy. He stole a glance at her delicate profile, dark against the window at her elbow with a feeling of wonder and adoration—for all its gfeyness, its monotonous, bleak sky London seemed a radiant place. The barrel-organ at the corner of a street just above Grosvenor Square seemed to be playing the prelude to spring. The taxi came to a dead stop at Oxford Street, blocked by the steady stream of traffic pouring east and west. Dampierre suddenly bent forward and took Enid's hand, smiling. "Enid, you know that all through these last terrible ten days there has been something dearer to me than anything else in the world," he said tenderly, and there has been something, too, which I have never lost." He nodded gravely, almost wistfully. "Yes, dear. You—and hope." "Do you—do you really care so much?" she whispered. "Absurdly," he assured her and raised her gloved hand to his lips for a moment. "Much, much more than I can possibly say." She shook her head a little. "But you don't mean it," she protested softly. "I do, and you know how much I mean it," declared Dampierre. The taxi lurched ahead as tne police whistle sounded, shrill and exacting-, and the traffic east and west came to "a final standstill, leaving an open lane between. For a moment Dampierre did not continue, but stared in thoughtful silence through his window at the people on the pavements, the shops, the waiting motors at shop doors. There was still something of a shadow for them both, he- felt, lying on London, however, wonderful it might seem. For the present, at any rate, it would be haunted by the unhappy memory of the unhappiness of the last ten days. What did it matter where they were, where they lived? They would have each other and that, to Dampierre at least, was all that mattered, all that counted for .anything. If he could'only persuade her! He turned from the window with the colour stealing back once more into hie drawn cheeks. His eyes were bright. "Enid," he said simply, "it is better that we should go away for a time and forget the dark unhappiness and tragedy which iae overtaken us. Will you come with me?" • She put her hand gently on his knee and looked at him with a smile which mas. a .little anxious. "We are really rather ridiculous people," she replied. "We come together in a strange way and find our strength.and hope in each other, but— would jre always, Tommy dear! I know, "You think so, as I do, Enid!" cried Dampierre. She nodded almost imperceptibly. Perhaps it was the jolting motion of the taxi, but Dampierre masterfully took it otherwise and took her confidently in hie arms. "Yes," she breathed. He kissed her with a marvellous sense of eestacy and exaltation. Enid sighed faintly and half closed her eyes as she surrendered herself. For the moment she had forgotten everything. She was utterly and completely happy. They gazed into each other's eyee without speaking as the taxi rattled away northward out of the Marylebone Road, oblivious of their surroundings, quite oblivious about everything except each other. Dampierre scarcely dared to trust his senses. It all seemed too wonderful to -be believed—too like a beautiful fairy tale come true. And Enid, with her bright hair and the vivid colouring stealing back into her delicately oval cheeks, her eyes soft with happiness, again seemed to Dampierre the very personification of the beautiful princess. "We will go away, dear, you and I," he declared happily, "go away to my estancia out in the Argentine, where you will forget all the cruelty and dread and horror of these last few days. We will , stand outside the house in the deep starlight and listen to the men singing round their camp-fires, and we will get up in the morning and ride off for miles into the dawn." Enid sighed deliriously. . "Oh, my dear, my dear," she whispered, "it is too wonderful to be true. Do you really.mean all that?" yes, and more^—much more— besides, Enid," he rejoined, kissing her again. "I can hardly believe it." Dampierre raised her hands to his lips anil kissed them tenderly. 'It is only too true," he murmured. "I love you. I think I've always loved you, and I know J always will—always and always." -~,., . They were interrupted suddenly by the appearance of a red-faced and rather unshaven head at .the. window, looking in- Uncomprehendingly in their happiness, they regarded it with unconcealed astonishment, without speaking, tul Dampierre tardily recognised the features of Ms. driver. The man grinned sympaheticaliy. • „_ "Well! , * demanded Dampierre. "Is this the way you take us to Regent e ;ttirk?» ifthe man's erin broadened as he touched his cap. '

"Beg pardon, air," he said, "but we're at that 'ere address as wot you gave, and we've bin 'ere for several minutes or so, and I merely wanted to know if you intended a-sittin' 'ere all day or not." Both Enid and Dampierre stared through the window beyond the man's head and laughey joyously. They had been so busily, so happily,* engaged they hadn't even noticed that they'd "stopped. They had been quite unconscious of everything except each other and their own sudden happiness. Dampierre coughed gently.