Checkmate

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 110, 12 May 1930, Page 17

Checkmate

1 By SYDNEY HORLER

CHAPTER IX—(Continued.)

Thev lunched at the Kitz—Jessie had expensive tastes — and over the meal (which, seemed to Mary to consist of the most delicious food she had ever eaten) the few simple facts were narrated. Jessie became penitent when the brief tale was ended. "And I spoilt it all! If I hadn't butted in he would have asked permission to present his card, you would have exchanged telephone numbers — " '"We should have done no such thing I" protested Jlary indignantly, feeling hot. "Don't lie to me, child! I repeat, you would have exchanged telephone numbers, round about tea time a bouquet of red, red roses, would have arrived at Bloomsburv, and to-night you would have been dining a deux at the Savoy. What about me for a fortune-teller?" "Hopeless!" declared her listener; "you haven't a single fact right. Xothittg of the kind would have happened. The man only did me a simple service—and now, ple'ase." in a tone which caused Jessie to stop her bantering, "let us talk about something else." "All right," said the obliging Jessie, "what show would you like to do this afternoon! As I have sinned, let yours be the choice." "Idiot!" replied llary affectionately. She loved this girl who was so original that she combined good looks, a _ striding appearance and a wonderful gift for clothes with a sense of humour that often bordered on the outrageous. Blessed by the gods, possessing an ample fortune in her own right,_ and a father who could be called upon for any amount, at any time, being allowed perfect freedom of action, Jessie Stevens seemed to her to be the luckiest person in the whole wide world.

After a brief argument they decided on the latest Drury Lane triumph, the enormously successful musical play, •Things of Love." This product of sis authors and seven composers (for sucn is the custom nowadays) was playing to capacity, but the waiter whom Jessie sent to the telephone to inquire _ about seats was successful in engaging a couple of stalls. Jessie, who had an infinite capacity for enjoyment—she loved clothes, food, good wine, expensive cars and could dance throughout the night without tiring—revelled in the show. She had eyes and ears for nothing but the stage. To Mary, however, came a mood which was puzzling —and vagely disturbing. A more incongruous place than that packed auditorium for a feeling of uneasiness, it would have been impossible to imagine, and yet she experienced a distinct' sense of fear. "Why and how it had come she did not know. She told herself at first that her nerves had become unstrung through the incident at Victoria Station that morning, but that reassurance .did not last long. It was not as though she suffered from nerves in the ordinary way; she had always enjoyed perfect health, and tbe usual feminine foibles of temperament had passed her by. She was magnificentlv normal.

It "wa3 certainly very strange, _ this unaccountable feeling of uneasiness which had descended upon her, blotting out the pleasure which otherwise would have been so satisfying. And even more strange, perhaps, was the impression that in some unfathomable way the man in the brown suit was mixed up in what stretched ahead. For this fear which had laid its disturbing hand upon her dealt with the future and not with the present. It was a presentiment, and not a threat of an immediate visitation.

When the first interval arrived, Jessn turned to her. '•Don't vou think Denis Danecourt is really marvellous?" she burbled; "do vou "know he is something like that wonderful man of yours —oh, sorry, I've thrown another brick! I forgot yi-a didn't want to talk about him any more, Marv," she added hastily, "you're not looking at all well! Are you feeling all ri ? ht? " s J * 1 "Of course." She endeavoured to Le her natural self again. But when the theatre darkened tor the =econd,-act. she felt again that dfsturcinz grip of fear. It was as though she had'been vouchsafed a look into the future. , ~ And vet what horror could the iuturc hold for her?

CHAPTER 111. On the Threshold.

Jessie had decided to stay at a small and exclusive hotel in Dover Street rather than go to her father's nouse m Brook Street—"with the old chap away it would resemble a mausoleum too much for mv liking"—and it was there that she took Mary after the matinee. In a corner of the exceptionally comfortable lounae she told her guest over tea of her plans for the immediate future. Lit. "I intend to be in town tor at least a fortnight," she state.!, "and I'm going to spend every minute with you. Isn't that too sweet of me? Say it is! Now, listen, stupid," she went on imperioaslv as Mary was about to speak, "1 shan't be bored and I shan't want anyone else. I wonder what you would sav if I told you what was in my mind?" she continued, looking across the small table. Marv smiled. "Goodness knows; you get such extraordinarv ideas into your mind. alwavs'did as a kid, I remember." "Let me tell you, miss, that this idea deserves to be" patented, it's of such first-rate quality! Well, I won't tease you any more, "Mary, darling, but 111 let it explode straight away." She paused sufficiently for the ensuing words to be dramatic and then launched Tier thunderbolt.

*'T want you to be my companion, Mary," she said. "I recognise the value of the required article and I'm willing to go high—you can fix your own salary, darling." Although the last words were said in a tone of banter, beneath which could have been detected a deep note of sincere affection, Mary coloured. _ In a flash the difference in their positions was revealed and in manner which left her with a pain at her heart. "Oh. but I couldn't," she replied, voicing this hurt. Regardless of the waiter who was bearuW down upon them with a loaded cake-stand, Jessie stood up and waved an admonitory finger. "Now, don't you be a fool," she said, "I have been saving this up for so long that if I hadn't out with it to-day I, should have burst. And why this •'no—no —I cannot! 5 rubbish?"

Mary waited until the waiter had retired.

"I love you awfully, dear, as I hope you know," but I couldn't accept your charity—and what you propose, although it's tremendously sweet of you, would be charity." The auditor flung up both arms. "Sweet, suffering cats!" she _ exclaimed, "did mortal woman ever hear such blither? So long as your aunt was alive I wouldn't have thought of proposing it, but now she's and you are free, the dearest wish of my life is to have you as a constant pal." The speaker's manner was now very serious. "Can I help it, old thing, because I happen to have the money? If it was the other way round, I know vou would have made the same offer. Please don't be silly, Mary. Strange as it may seem. I get terribly lonely at times, and I should like you always around." "It's frightfully decent of you to put it like that, Jess, but—." "Very well, we won't discuss it any more. " Not now, at any rate. If I can't have you always, I intend to have you for the next fortnight. After you've had another cup of tea, you're going to get into a taxi and drive to that wretched boarding house, and then vou will push sufficient togs inco a, bag to last you a fortnight." "And the reason?" asked Mary, pleaded that the subject should be changed. "It" ought to be plain enough; you're going my guest at this hotel for the next 14 days." •'Jess, how lovely!" Her friend viewed her from over the top of a teacup. "Quaint child, aren't you? I offer you a life job and the constant devotion of a doting heart, and you turn it down. Oh, well! Beady for the trek?" "Quite." "Shall I come with you? I will, you know." Mary shook her head. She couldn't allow Jessie to see the spartan simplicity in which she had to live. '•No —you .go and have that bath you're aching for. I shall be back in less than an hour." "I should jolly well think you will; if you're a second longer than 40 minutes I'll ring up the nearest police station." The first thing that Mary saw when she entered her room was the letter propped upon the mantlepiece. Dorothy, she said, was a good soul; she was always doing little acts of kindness likethat —the girl had taken the trouble in order to ensure that the envelope should be seen directly she entered the room. The envelope was of white, thick paper, faintly but very distinctively perfumed. Inside was a small sheet of paper to match. 170 a, Hanover Street, W.l. The Comtesse Zamoyski presents her compliments to Miss Marv- Mallory, and will be pleased if she will make an appointment to call with reference to her application for the post of companion. Mary's heart, after appearing to miss several beats, began to throb rapidly. The Comtesse Zamoyski! How grand it sounded! —too grand, in a way, because she was afraid she would not be able to keep up with such magnificence! What nationality could the woman be? The name sounded either Russian or Hungarian, or perhaps it was Serbian. She pictured an exotic creature lying stretched on a bear skin rug. lazily smoking a perfumed cigarette —the type of woman Elinor Giyn used to write about.

But she must see her! Yes, she must see her! That letter meant that she had at least a good chance of getting the post. 2sd doubt the Cointesse had written other notes of acknowledgment. and it was too early yet to begin counting any chickens —but, still, she had a chance! And the fact that the woman had sent such a quick reply was additionally encouraging.

She sat down on the side of the bea and read the few words again. The writing was interesting to study—with its bold, sweeping capitals and thick downward strokes, it appeared full of character; she found herself becoming fascinated by it. Speculation as to the kind of woman the Comtesse Zamoyski might be again filled her thoughts. The task of packing was forgotten. Assuming that this job was offered her, would she accept it? This was the question she now asked herself. A great deal would depend upon the woman, of course, but the prospect of escaping from London for a while ana sampling the joys of a country that had been called the millionaires' playground, became almost irresistible. And she would be independent: small as her salary must be —she had no illusions about that—she would be earning her living. Jessie was a dear, but, no, sne couldn't accept her charity. However skilfully Jessie might put it, the fact remained that she would be living off the rich girl's friendship. It was stupid, perhaps, but she was sensitive on the point and nothing would shake her.

. . . will be pleased if she will make an early appointment. . . Glancing at the note again, the phrase caused her to jump quickly, and begin onenins drawers at a furious rate.

She could call at Hanover Street on her wav back to the-Beaufort Hotel.

She finished her packing quickly, cramming what she considered necessary into a couple of' suitcases, and then hurried downstairs to where the taxi which had brought her from Dover Street was waiting.

"I want you to go first to 107 a, Hanover Street, Do you know where it

"I should say I do. Miss—off Hanover Square."

T imagined it might be. I shan't be

there long, and then I want to go back to the Beaufort- Hotel in Dover Street." "Verv good. Miss."

It had always fascinated Mary to drive through London in a taxi. To gaze upon the maelstrom of traffic, to hold one's breath as what looked to be certain collisions were avoided through the extraordinary skill of the driver by the narrowest of margins, to watch the multitude of faces that passed, never to be seen again—these things had always filled her with a certain wonder.

This particular evening the ride became invested with an even greater interest—she was going to meet a woman who held in her hand the passport to a zreat adventure!

The journey did not pass without excitement. In turning the corner from Hanover Square, the taxi just escaped a really nasty accident. A car, recklessly

driven, lunged out from Hanover Square, and it was "only the driver's quickness in swerving that avoided what appearedto be an inevitable crash, llary, holding her face with her hands, had resigned herself for the worst, when the driver, with a shake of his head like a growling dog, passed on. '•"Here we are, miss." he said a couple of minutes later. He had stopped the taxi, and now stood holding open the door. "Thank you, driver."' There was nothing distinctive about ; the house, which looked from the out-! side as though it might consist of one or more service-flats on each floor. There was a man in uniform lounging in the doorway. "'"The Countess Zamoyski?'' asked Mary. The hall-porter-cum-liftman, for such he proved to be, glanced at her curiously, llary thought, before he replied briefly: ""First floor—shall I take vou up in the lift?" "If you will, please." At the first floor the lift stopped. "Straight opposite," said the laconic attendant, as Mary stepped out. TVith the disappearance of the man, a feeling of desolation came over her. It was absurd, of course, for the lift had merely descended again to the ground level, and she told herself not to be a fool. To the right of the door to which she walked was a brass-plate with the ; words — HILDA BLAKE inscribed on it. There are few more unsatisfactory sights than a cloudy brass plate, and this particular specimen could not have been cleaned for several days—it might have been weeks. Mary's mouth unconsciously formed itself into an expression of disgust. Then, above the plate, she noticed a visiting-card. This was pushed in the space between the badly-fitting plate (the screws had become loose) and the wail. On the card she read the words-— THE COMTESSE ZAMOYSKI. She stood looking at the card. That feeling of desolation which had attacked her when she stepped out of the lift increased. Curious what powerful impressions the small things of life can make. That neglected brass-plate, for instance, how slovenly, how unclean, how generally unsatisfactory. . . . (To be continued daily.) Modern life demands more leisure hours for our womenfolk, hence the importance of always havingXo Rubbing Laundry Help in the home. Smeeton's, Ltd.—(Ad.)

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