"The Uttermost Farthing,,

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 242, 12 October 1929, Page 14 (Supplement)

"The Uttermost Farthing ,,

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTER. LAURENCE VANDERLYN, an unpaid attache at the American Embassy in Paris, has for seven years loved with selfless devotion MARGARET PARGETER, the neglected ■wife of TOM PARGETER, the well known sportsman who has established his great racing stable at Chantilly. One day Laurence buys an old country house and, when telling Margaret of his purchase, expresses the wish that she were going there with him. "Would you like me to come with you ? I will it' you like, Laurence," she replies, her hands trembling, her eyes brimming with tears. In the demirapide in which they leave Paris together one night for a brief holiday together, Laurence and Margaret fall asleep. Oil waking he discovers, to his horror, that Margaret has died in her sleep. In order not to compromise her he quietly leaves the train at the next station arid, unobserved, catches a train back to Paris, and after changing, goes to his club. On the following day Vanderlyn, still concealing all knowledge of Margaret's death, calls on one of her friends with a message from her husband.

By MRS. BELLOC LOWNDES.

CHAPTER IX.

An expression of deep bewilderment crossed Madame de Lera's face. For the first time since she had glanced at A andeilyn she became aware that 'she Avas in tha presence of a man who was suffering under some keen stress of feeling. She became oppressed with a great misgiving. ' What did his presence here this morning, his strange tmreal words, signify? What was the inward meaning of this sinister comedy? It was, of course, clear that the secret elopement had not taken place. Biit then, where was Mrs. Pargeter? She cast a long searching look at Laurence Vanderlyn. The American's face had become expressionless. . He seemed tired, like a man who had not slept, but the look she thought she hud surprised —that look telling of the suppression of deep feeling, of hidden anguish—had gone. The fact that she did not know how much Vanderlyn knew she knew added to Madame de Lera's perplexity. She was determined at all costs not to betray her friend. "I regret to inform you," she said quietly, "that Mrs. Pargeter is not here. It is true that I was expecting her to come yesterday. But she disappointed me—she did not come. Does no one know where she is?" She threw as great an emphasis as was possible in the impassive French language into her question. Vanderlyn avoided her perplexed, questioning glance. "Since yesterday evening," lie' answered, "all trace of Margaret Pargeter . has been lost. She eeems to have left, her house about six o'clock, and then to have disappeared— utterly. The servants believed," he added, after a pause, "that she was coming straight to you; she had, it seems, taken some luggage to the station the day before, and seen personally to its dispatch.". : There was a pause; neither spoke for some moments, and Madame de Lera noticed that Vanderlyn had not asked her if Peggy's luggage had arrived at her house. "Then, Monsieur, it is surely clear," she exclaimed a*t last, "that there has been an accident, a terrible accident to our poor friend! I mean on her way. to—to the'station. But doubtless that thought has also occurred to you—if not to Mr. Pargeter—and you have already made all necessary inquiries?" Vanderlyn, from being pale, flushed deeply. "No," he said, "I am afraid ' nothing of the kind has been done—yet. You see, Pargeter believes her to be here." ' . The words, "But you—you knew she was not here," trembled on Madame de Lera's lips, but ehe did not utter them. She ielt as if she were walking amid quicksands; she told herself that there was far more danger in saying a word too" much than a word too little. "I regret," she said, "that you have made a useless journey, Mr. Vanderlyn. I must request you to go back and , tell Mr. Pargeter that his wife is not here, and I beg, I entreat, you to inform the police that she is missing. For all we know"—she looked at him with indignant severity —"she. may be.lying ill, mortally injured, in one, of our terrible Paris hospitals." As he made no assent to her imploring words, a look of anger came into Madame de Lera's eyes. >". "I will ask you to allow me to return with -you to Paris," she said quickly. "I cannot rest inactive here in the face of the possibility, nay, the propability, I have indicated. If you, Mr. Vanderlyn, do not feel justified in making the inquiries I have suggested,

no such scruple need restrain me." She turned away, making no effort to mask her, displeasure, almost her contempt, for the man who seemed to be so little moved by the mysterious disappearance of the wdman he loved. A few moments later Madame de Lera came back dressed for the drive. As they walked through into the hall of the villa she suddenly turned, and with a strange gentleness asked her silent companion a question,'"Mr. Vanderlyn, you look 'very tired; have you had any breakfast?" J He looked at hen without an!wering, and she repeated her words. "Yes," said Vanderlyn—"that is, no 1 have not. I was up late last nightthere was no time this morniii"-" he spoke hurriedly, confusedly; the sudden kindness in her tone had brought scalding tears to his eyes, and he felt a nervous fear that he was about to break down. Madame de Lera took his armshe opened a door and pushed him through into the kitchen, just now the one bright, warm, cheerful' room in the house. "My good Catherine," she said, "give this gentleman'a cup of coffee—quickly!" The presence of the old servant steadied Vanderlyn's nerves; with a muttered word of thanks he drank what was put before him, and then they went out, across the dewy lawn, to the "ate, Vanderlyn placed his companion in tie back of the car. and himself took the vacant seat next to Pargeter's phlegmatic chauffeur, for he wished to ten am sil en :. Madame A a Lera's alterat.o., of marker, her gentleness, her implied sympathy, frightened him. He Mould rather have endured her cold air of protest, of dislike tolSnf tw/ 11 ! 7 drove swiftl y back on til \ g -' however 'rather longer on the return journey, for the country roads were now full o f animation and ] ovemcnt, Vanderlyn felt himself leaning, as against a wall, on Madame de Lera s strong, upright nature. Sh e him 1 I" . disa PP rove > even despfse him—but in this matter they would be one ,„ their desire to shield Pelw air name. He would have given much to be able to still her evident anxiety but that course was, so he felt, forbidden to him; he had no right to share with another human being the burden

of his knowledge, of his awful grief. With a pang he reminded himself that even Madame de Lera's state of suspense was preferable- to a, knowledge of the truth. At last they turned into the Bois de Boulogne, rushing through the .leafy roads at a high speed, a few moments more would see them in the beautiful avenue where stood, isolated from its neighbours, ths Villa Pargeter, instinct with flamboyant luxury and that perfection only achieved by the lavish use of money. Tom Pargeter had a supreme contempt for the careless way in which the French of his acquaint* ance conducted their lives. He liked to get the hill value of his money, and was proud of boasting to his intimates that he kept the people who worked for him up to the top mark. So it was that the sanded garden, even now blazing with flowers, which surrounded the square marble villa, and separated it from the carriage road and the tan gallop, looked like a set piece, a vivid bit of scene painting in the bright morning sunlight. When they came within sight of the wrought .bronze gates of the villa Madame de Lera stood up in the car and leant over the front. She touched Vanderlyn on the shoulder. "Then, if we find that Mr. Pargeter is still without any knowledge of his wife, I am to say that I know nothing—that I was expecting her yesterday evening, and that she never arrived?"

- "Yes," he answered, "that is, Madame, what I expect to hear you say. It "will then be for Mr. Pargeter to take what steps he judges proper." As the powerful car swung through the gates, Vanderlyn saw that the front door was wide open, and that the English butler was waiting to receive them; when the man saw that his mistress was not in the car, a look of perplexity came over his impassive face. "Mr. Pargeter has been awaiting you, sir, for the last half-hour," he said, "he is very anxious to catch, the twelve o'clock express. The luggage has already gone on to the station. Mr. Pargeter wished the car to wait —but— but is it'to wait, sir?" he asked, helplessly. "Yes," said Vanderlyn, shortly, "the car had better wait. Where is Mr. Pargeter ?" "He's not down yet, sir; he is breakfasting in his dressing-room. All the arrangements were made last nighi,, but I will let him know you have arrived, sir." He looked doubtfully at Madame de Lera, too well trained to ask any question, and yet sufficiently human not to be able to conceal his astonishment at Mrs. Pargeter's non-appearance. Then, preceding the two visitors upstairs, he led them through tthe suite of large reception rooms into a small octagon boudoir which was habitually used by Margaret Pargeter as her sitting-room. There he left them, and standing amid surroundings which all spoke to them, to the Avoman of her friend, to the man of his love —from the hooded chair where Peggy generally sat to the little writ-ing-table where she had written so many notes to them both —Madame de Lera and Laurence Vanderlyn felt overwhelmed with a common feeling of shame, of guilt. In silence they waited for Tom Pargeter, avoiding each other's eyes; and the Frenchwoman's fine austere face grew rigid—this was the first time in her long life that .she had been connected with an intrigue. She felt humiliated, horrified at the part she now found herself compelled to play. In spite of its costly luxury, and its wonderful beduty -of decoration —an exquisite, nattier was let into a panel above the fireplace, and a row of eighteenth-century pastels liung on the light grey walls—the octagon apartment lacked the restful charm 4 which belongs to many a shabby little sitting room. The architect of the villa had sacrificed everything to the great reception rooms, and in the boudoir were far too many doors.

One of these, which Vanderlyn had never noticed before, was now suddenly flung open, and, outlined against a narrow winding staircase, stood a figure which appeared at once grotesque and menacing to the man and woman who stood staring at the unexpected apparition. ' It was Tom Pargeter, clad in a bright yellow dressing-gown, and holding a fork in; his left hand. "I say, Peggy, look sharp—there's no time to be lost! I told Plimmer to pack, some of your things—not that there's any reason why you should come if you don't want to —for there's nothing much the matter with the boy, and he'll probably get. well all the quiqker if you '■" The speaker suddenly broke short the quick sentences; he stared round the little room, and then, catching sight of Madame de tera, w.lio had been partly concealed by a screen, "Damn!" he said, and turning, scampered heavily up the staircase, leaving the, door behind him open. , '

CHAPTER X. Vanderlyn and his companion looked at each i other uncomfortably. Madame de Lera was not perhaps quite; so shocked, either by Pargeter's appearance or. by Ms one exclamation apparently addressed to hersfelf, as the punctilious American supposed her to. be. She knew no word of the English language, and in her heart regarded all foreigners as barbarians. They waited —it seemed a long, long time, but as a matter of fact it was. but a very few minutes after Pargeter's abrupt entrance and exit, when his short, quick steps were heard resounding down the long suite of reception rooms. As he~ walked into the boudoir, the master of the house —this time dressed in a suit of the large checks he generally wore— bowed awkwardly to Madame de Lera, and then went out and shut the door giving access to the winding staircase, that which in his hurry he had omitted to close behind him. Then, and not till then, he turned to Laurence Vanderlyn. "Well?" he said, "what's happened to Peggy? I'm told she's not here. Is she ill?" "Peggy never arrived at Marly-le-Roi," said Vanderlyn. To himself his very voice seemed changed, his words charged with terrible significance; but to Pargeter, the answer given to his question sounded disagreeably indifferent and matter of fact. "Nevev arrived?" be echoed. "Where is she then? You don't mean to say she's lost?" ..... '•Madame de Leda," said Vanderlyn, "fl ■ T « e f^ e uiet ' motionless voice, t unks that she's met with an accident"

Mr. Pargeter," he said to her in French, "that you fear she has met with an accident."

"Yes!" she exclaimed, eagerly turning to Pargeter, "how can it be otherwise, monsieur?" She hesitated; looked at a Vanderlyn, then quickly withdrew her eyes from his face. His eyes were full of agony. She felt as if she had peered through a secret window of another's soul. "That is .why I have come back to Paris," she went on, addressing Pejrsr v husband, "for I feel that not a moment should be lost in making inquiries. There are certain places where they take those who meet with accidents in our streets; —accidents, alas! more and more frequent every day. Let us start at once and make inquiries." Tom Pargeter heard her out with obvious impatience. But still his varnish of good breeding so far lasted that he muttered a word or two of gratitude for the trouble she had taken. Then he turned to Laurence Vanderlyn. "Surely you don't think anything has happened to her, Grid?" he asked, nervously. "Now I come to think of it, she was a. fool not to take one of the. cars. Then we should have had none of this worry. I've always said the Paris cabs weren't safe. What d'ye think we had better do ? We can't start out and make a round of all the hospitals—the idea's absurd!" Waiting a moment, he added dismally, "It's clear I can't take that 12.20 train." He walked over to one of the windows, and drummed with his fingers on the pane. Although Madame de Lera did not understand a word he said, Pargeter's attitude was eloquent of how he had taken the astounding news, and 3he looked at him with angry perplexity and pain. She said something in a low voice to Vanderlyn; as a result he walked up to Pargeter and touched him on the shoulder. "Tom, he said, "I'm afraid something ought to be done, and done quickly Madame de Lera suggests that .we go to the Prefecture of Police; every serious accident is, of course, always reported there at once." The other turned. "All riglit," he sdid, sullenly, "just as you like!' But I bet you anything that after we have' taken all that trouble, we shall come back to find Peggy, or news of her, here, You don't know her as well as I do! I don't believe she's had an accident; I daresay you'll laugh at me, Grid, but all I can say is that I don't feel she's had an accident. Take my word for it, old man, there's nothing to be frightened about. Why, you look quite pale." There came the distant sound of a telephone bell. "There!" he cried, "I expect that is Peggy, or news of her. What a bore it is having three tele-

phones in a house!" He left the room, and a moment later they heard him shouting to his butler. Vanderlyn turned to Madame de Lera. "He doesn't believe that Mrs. Pargeter has had an accident," he said, quietly, "you must not judge him too harshly." He added after a moment, "I think you must know, Madame de Lera, that Mrs. Pargeter's husband has always been lacking in imagination." Her. only answer was a shrug of her shoulders. Once a year the newspapers of each great capital publish, among other statistics, a record of the disappearances which have occurred in their midst during the preceding twelve months. These disappearances are not counted by tens or by hundreds, but by thousands; and what is true of every great city is in a. very special sense true of Paris, the human Cloaca Maxima of the world. There, the sudden vanishing, the obliteration as it were, of a human being— especially of a foreigner —arouses comparatively little surprise or interest among those whose weary duty it is to try and find what has become of the lost one.

To Madame de Lera—-even to Tom Pargeter—the beginning of what was to be.so singular arid perplexing a quest had about it something, awe-inspiring and absorbing. So it was that during the few minutes', which elapsed between their leaving the Avenue du Bois de Bologne and their reaching the ancient building where the Paris police still has its headquarters, not a word was spoken by either of the two ill-assorted companions who sat together in the rear of the car, for Vanderlyn, the only one of the three who knew where the Prefecture of Police is situated, had been placed next to the chauffeur in order that he might direct him as to the way thither.

By such men as Tom Pargeter and their like, the possibility of material misfortune attacking themselves and those who form what may be called their appanage, is never envisaged; and therefore, when such misfortune comes to them, as it does sooner or later to all human beings, the grim guest's presence is never accepted without au amazed sense of struggle and revolt. The news of the accident to his little son had angered Pargeter, arid made him feel ill-used, , but that it should have been followed by this 'mystery concerning his wife's whereabouts seemea to add insult to injury. So it was an ill-tempered, rather than an anxious man who joined Vanderlyn on the worn steps of the huge frowning building wherein is housed that which remains the most permanent and the most aweinspiring of Parisian institutions. As they passed through the great portals Tom Pargeter emiled. for the first time. "We shall soon have news of her, Grid," he murmured, confidently. Valderlyn winced as he nodded a* dubious assent. ■■■!.■ ■ But, at first everything went ill with them. Pargeter insisted on sending for the police interpreter and stating his business in English; then, irritated at the man's lack of comprehension, he broke out —to Vanderlyn's surprise—into voluble French. But as the two foreigners were sent from room to room in the old-fashioned, evil-smelling building, as endless forms were placed before them to be filled tip, it became increasingly clear that the disappearance of a human being, especially of an Englishwoman, did not strike the listless employees as being particularly remarkable. . * ' The more angry Pargeter grew and the mo-re violent in his language,. the more politely, listlessly indifferent became those to whom he addressed his questions and indignant complaints. The cosmopolitan millionaire-sports-man, accustomed to receive a constant, stream of adulation and consideration from all those with whom life brought him in contact, was. first amazed, and then angered, by the -lack of interest shown in him and in.his affairs at the Prefecture of Police. ' i ' Then, to his surprise and only-half-concealed mortification, a, reference

made by Laurence Vanderlyn to an incident which, had taken place the year before —that is, to the disappearance of an American citizen —followed by th<> production of the diplomatist's card, brought about a magic change. Immediately the two friends were introduced into the presence of an important official; and a moment later Tom Pargeter's outraged dignity and sense of importance were soothed by an outpouring of respectful sympathy, while in an incredibly short time the full particulars of every accident which had

occurred in the streets of Paris during the last twenty-four hours were laid before the anxious husband. But it soon became clear that in none of these had Mrs. Pargeter been concerned. The official left the room a moment; then he returned for a colleague. This man, the chief of the detective force, proceeded with considerable tact to examine and cross-examine both Pargeter and Vanderlyn concerning the way in which Mrs; Pargeter had spent the earlier part of the previous day—that is, the day on which she had dieappeared. The man's manner —that of scenting a secret, of suspecting that more lay behind the matter than was admitted by the husband and friend of the woman they were seeking—produced a disagreeable impression on Vanderlyn. For the first time he felt himself faced by a vague, but none the less real, danger, and the feeling braced him. "Then monsieur did not sea this lady ■yesterday at all?" "No," said Vanderlyn, shortly; "the last time* I saw Mrs. Pargeter in her house was the day before yesterday, when I called on her about five o'clock." "Monsieur is not related to the lady?" asked the detective quietly. "No," said Vanderlyn again. ''But I am an old friend of both Mr. and Mrs Pargeter, and that is why he asked me to accompany him here to-day." "Then when and how did you yourself first learn of Madame Pargeter's disappearance?" asked the other suddenly. (To be continued Saturday next.)