The Mystery Road

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 258, 31 October 1928, Page 20

The Mystery Road

By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM

| CHAPTER XXIII (continued.) Pauline intervened. There was some faint note of courteousness in her manner, nothing whatever of kindliness. "This young gentleman," she explained to her aunt, " —Lord Downe, I believe, is his name—was kind enough to be of assistance to us at Monte Carlo, on the night when Zubin met his unfortunate accident." Madame Poniere inclined her head. "I trust that we tendered our thanks on that occasion," she observed icily. Gerald held his ground. Pauline was paler than ever, and thin, but perhaps he fancied that there was a shade of encouragement in those soft, weary eyes. "Madame," he said, "there was some slight previous acquaintance between your niece and myself, some trifling service I had been able to render which gave me the right to perform this further one. It gives me great pleasure to see you again in my own country." The older woman laughed hardly. "It is difficult to believe," she scoffed, "that the sight of us could give pleasure to anyone, apart from which fact," she added rapidly, "it is not our wish to make or renew acquaintances whilst we are here."

"Madame," Gerald replied, "that was your attitude in Monte Carlo—an attitude which I may say occasioned me the deepest regret. I venture to hope that I may be able to induce you to modify it."

"And why should I?" she asked, almost insolently.

"Because I have the sineerest and most profound admiration for mademoiselle," Gerald declared stoutly, "and because, in my own country, there is the possibility that I may be of service to you."

Madame de Poniere opened a plain pair of lorgnettes and looked for a moment at Gerald.

"For an Englishman," she remarked coolly, "you seem to have some manners. Who is this, Pauline?"

There was the faintest possible indication of a smile on Pauline's lips.

"His name is Lord Downe," she answered demurely. "He is the son of the Earl of Hinterleys."

"Dear me!" Madame de Poniere murmured.

"The Earl of Hinterleys," Pauline continued, "is of the lesser English noblemen."

Notwithstanding his r.nxiety, Gerald's sense of humour was touched. If only his father could have been standing by his side to assist in the conversation with these two shabbily-dressed ladies!

"Our titles are, at any rate, not unduly modern," he pleaded deprccatingly. "Besides, is this of any real consequence ?"

"What precisely do you want of us?" the older lady asked, after a slight hesitation.

"The privilege of renewing my acquaintance with you both," Gerald replied.

"You have done so," Madame Poniere reminded him.

'With permission to ipay my respects at your London residence," he urged. "We do not receive in London," was the curt reply.

"I trust," Gerald persisted, "that you will make an exception in my favour." Pauline suddenly intervened. There was a shade of hauteur in her manner, but some frankness.

"My dear aunt," ehe said, "there are certain things which it is impossible to conceal. My aunt and I," she went on, addressing Gerald, "are living in some impossible rooms in an impossible hotel in South Keneir sfton. I see no reason, however, why we should not receive you there, if you are in earnest in your desire to call. We are without acquaintances in this city." ,

Madame de Poniere closed her lorgnettes with a little snap. "We are staying at No. 28, Erriston Gardens, South Kensington," she said; "I believe they call the place the Erriston Gardens Hotel."

"If you will permit me," Gerald suggested, "I will bring my sister to call upon you when she is in town. In the meantime, may I venture upon a daring suggestion? You are without acquaintances in town, so for these few days, am I. Will you do me the great honour of dining at Ranelagh to-night with me? W? shall escape this insufferable heat and be able to listen to music out of doors."

"I regret that it is impossible, sir," .Madame de-Poniere replied.

Gerald was naturally quick-witted. There were many little things he had already noted.

"Mademoiselle," he said, turning to Pauline, "I beg you to intercede with your aunt. I do not invite you to one of the established restaurants. The great charm of Ranelagh is its informality. The people who have been playing tennis and golf stay on to dine, with some trifling change in their attire. I myself should have to ask you to excuse my remaining in morning dress. It is a convention of the place." "Milord doubts our wardrobe," Pauline remarked, with a faint smile. "No," she went on hastily, "please do not think we are offended. I think your discretion is admirable. And, aunt, I beg of you, let us accept Lord Downe's invitation. Think how much we are suffering from the heat. Think of our etuffy room, our unspeakable dinner! In short, I insist." "If you will allow me, I will call for you at a quarter to eight," Gerald proposed, turing to Madame de Poniere.

Madame de Poniere hesitated for another moment. Perhaps it was something in the almost boyish quality of Gerald's eagerness which decided her. This Englishman was at any rate no boulevardier.

"We will await you at that hour," she replied. "I trust," she added, after a moment's pause, "that you will not consider my hesitation in any way discourteous. There are reasons for my niece and myself to accept hospitality." Gerald bowed low, and, acting on a momentary, impulse, raised madame's finger to his lips. She yielded them naturally enough, hut with a little glance round, almost of fear. Mademoiselle also extended her finger tips. He took his leave, and was received by Christopher, who was waiting for him, with a gaze almost of astonishment. Gerald was holding himself differently, his eyes were filled with a lustre which they had lacked for months, he was smiling again in his old manner.

"My dear fellow," Christopher exclaimed, "what on earth lias happened?"

{ "That old devil has recognised my I existence at laSt," Gerald declared. "I Ihad almost to "force myself upon her. iChris, they're dining with me to-night!" ''Before you say another word," Christopher enjoined, "I want you Jo look

at the man on that seat by the aid© of the tree. Look at him carefully, please."

The two young men slackened their pace. The person whom Christopher had indicated was a man of medium height, dressed, notwithstanding the heat of the day, in sombre black clothes, and wearing a black bowler hat. He was dark, and he was, or affected to be, reading a book. His complexion was sallow and he wore a slight black moustache. His hair was unusally long and even covered a portion of his ears.

"Well, I see him," Gerald admitted. "Not much to look at. Looks like one of the chaps who go in for tub-thump-ing up at the far end."

"He came from that way," Christopher said, "but the reason I am pointing him out to you is because he appeared to recognise your two friends at the same instant that you did. He was walking down between that last row of chairs. Directly he saw them, however, he stood quite still for a moment. He seemed almost knocked over as you were. Then he slunk back into that chair and he has been watching them ever since."

Gerald attached no undue importance to the affair.

"I'll tell them about it this evening, if I can remember," he promised. "Chris, did you ever know such luck! She is n.ore wonderful than ever. No wonder I could never get the feeling of her out of my blocd, the thought of her from my brain! Her eyes—Chris, did you ever know such luck! She is more wonderful than ever. No wonder I could never get the feeling of her out of my blood, the thought of her from my brain! Her eyes—Chris, did you ever see such eyes in your life!"

"Kind of hazel, aren't they?" Christopher hazarded.

"You ass!" Gerald declared contemptuously. "They're brown.—the most glorious shade of brown I ever saw. I'm going to call for them in South Kensington at a quarter to eight, Chris. We're going to dine at Ranelagh."

"So you told me," Christopher observed, smiling. "What about Bourne End?"

Gerald's radiant happiness was not for a moment disturbed. He took Christopher's arm.

"Bourne End," he confided, "has, allegorically speaking, vanished into the blue horizon. Chris, I know now what has been the matter with me all these months. I knew it directly I saw her sitting here, tired and miserable, under the trees. I up against tlio real thing and never knew it. I am in love with Pauline!" (To be continued daily.)