Miss MIDAS

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 86, 13 April 1931, Page 15

Miss MIDAS

By NORMAN PENLEY

(Author of •' The Loveless Isle," etc.)

CHAPTER X

The Doorstep of the Continent.

For the experienced traveller, the Continent of Europe does not begin on the other side of the English Channel. You cross the frontier in London, in the S.W.I district, to be precise. Platform 1 at Victoria station is an epitome of Europe. Here the cosmopolitan meets those sights and sounds—and smells—which speak of Paris, of Berlin, of Bucharest, of Milan, Constantinople, and of a hundred other cities. The smart but slightly flamboyant attire of the French matron, the guttural accents of the Teuton, the hiccupping diction of the Scandinavian, the aiiuring perfumes of Budapest, and the exotic odour of the cigarettes of the Near East. Here the train attendants., although English, speak fluently in French. You may buy French and German newspapers, and, when the train starts, you may procure your aperitif or fine champagne, regardless of the hour and of acidulated views of licensing justices. Here, indeed, is the doorstep of England, here you enter the world's traffic stream and begin to see the faults and virtues of the inhospitable island.

Here are Americans, too, but, somehow, they are submerged. Americans must be in a mass to make an impression. Here they line up with the world at large, and are measured by standards with which they are 'not familiar, and of which they are just a little afraid. Now and again the insistent tones of the Middle West rise superior to the babel of other tongues, like a trombone among violins. It was so oh that November morning when the Golden Arrow, glittering with light and gilt, awaited its remaining passengers. A voice that penetrated an entire Pullman car and travelled to its intended target on the platform, exclaimed: "Have you found that American Express man yet, Edna. We don't have to see him, but I guess we'd best have him check the baggage." From the entrance to the Pullman came the reply: "Say, forget it, Flo. I've got Charley Beaucourt here. You don't want an express man when Mr. Beaucourt's around." "You don't say," was the observation which preceded the appearance of Flo Miami. She hastened from the car and joined her sister and Beaucourt on the platform. The two Avere dressed identically, even to the ermine coats. They always dressed alike. Nature did not intend them to dress identically, for in the colour of hair, eyes and complexion they differed; but it was good publicity. Everyone stared and inquired about them. But it was not because of this Siamese twin appearance that Beaucourt brought two bunches of roses, long stemmed, forced to untimely maturity by expensive processes. It waß just Beaucourt's tactfulness, plus, perhaps, the subtle pleasure he found in keeping them guessing concerning which sister he preferred.

"Well, now, that's real kind of you, Charley," said Flo. "Aren't they just too cute. Roses in November." As she spoke, by straining one eye she was able to count the number of blooms contained in her sister's bunch. Finding that Beaucourt had treated them both alike, she was relieved, and her mind reverted to business again. "Tell me, Charley, don't you think we'd best go along to the freight car and see what those hotel guys have done about the baggage. American Express is servicing us, and the baggage will sure be right; but I'll be uneasy all the way to Paris if I haven't satisfied myself." "Certainly, Flo," replied the obliging Mr. Beaucourt. "Shall we all go?" "Sure," assented Edna, "Flo'll get kinda het up if she ain't O.K.ed the baggage." So they went forward to the luggage van, and, as expected, they were assured that the baggage had all been carefully checked and stowed away. But Flo insisted upon seeing it, and counting up the trunks which bore the distinctive labels of the Miami sisters. By the time this operation was complete, only five minutes remained before the train was due to depart. As they walked sharply lack to their car, Beaucourt saw something that made him stop abruptly. Talking to her father at the door of one of the cars was Heather Melbourn. ' The Miami sisters stopped, too. "Say, what's hit you, Charley?" "Nothing," he said with a forced laugh. "But I just wanted to ask you to take a note of that old boy there. Just take an 'eyeful' as you say sometimes." "Got him," replied Flo. "So've I," said Edna. , "Fine. Now let's go on. .. . Having seen that old bird, I want to ask you to do me a very big favour." "Sure we'll do it if we can, Charley." Flo spoke for both. She usually did. "See, now. You'd do me a big service if you'd keep that old lad in sight when you get to Calais, and let me know what becomes of him. Nothing criminal, you know. He's just a business rival, and I'd like to get a clue to what he's likely to be doing—where he's going. Then I might be able to find out, by deduction, how long he's likely to be away."

I "That's as good as done," promised } Edna. "I'll trail him, and if he's going to Paris, maybe we'll see him at the Alhambra, where we're doing our stuff. It's a great place for tired business men." They wanted to know more about Melbourn, but Beaucourt had no intention of enlightening them. So the train steamed out, leaving many lonely people waving their hands. At the barrier, Beaucourt hung about until Heather came up. When she arrived, looking juet a little tearful, he beamed on her. "This is an unexpected pleasure Miss Melbourn. You remember me—Beaucourt. We met at the Hautmont. Can I give you a lift to the city? My car is outside?"

CHAPTER XI. Luella the Rebel. Mr. Petter was the chief clerk of Melbourn and Son, "formerly Melbourn and Loanes," as the stationery announced in very small type. But Mr. Petter, when he looked over the general office from the glass fronted partition of his room, was not, by any means, monarch of all he surveyed. The staff was not wholly amenable to this little man with the fair weedy moustache. He knew his job, in the sense that a railway porter knows all the stations within a hundred miles of his own and can recite them in their proper sequence. Mr. Petter had been with Melbourn's from his youth up, and, as a consequence, he had become thoroughly familiar with the routine of the business. But of the intricacies of high finance or the opportunities for making money on the Stock Exchange he was ignorant. Men who travelled up with him from the city—if they did not know him well — sometimes asked him about rumours on the Stock Exchange or about the prospects of a reduction in the bank rate. They might as well have asked the charwoman in their offices. He could recite the ups and downs of the bank rate for the past ten years, and ho could tell of the fluctuations of shares in which old James was particularly interested, but, to him, they meant about as much as a multiplication table means to a child who has learned it parrot-fashion. This combination of efficiency in routine matters and obtuseness of operative finance commended the man to James. It was exactly the reason why he had promoted Petter and had allowed smarter men to learn his employment when Petter reported that they v-ere getting to know too much. James had been bitten once or twice by smart young men who had learned a lot about his business going over to competitive concerns. Latterly, such aspirants to | high places had been quietly frozen out before their knowledge was of much value. Ony the girls and Mr. Petter remained any length of time in James' service, and the feminine side of the staff changed from time to time as the result of marriage. The girls took Mr. Petter with good-humoured toleration —ail except one, Miss Luella Scheer. Luella was a clever girl and, deeming a career much preferabe to marriage (some said it was a matter of sour grapes), she soon decided that if she made herself | efficient in those subjects in which Mr. Petter was deficient, she might, in time, pass over the head of Mr. Petter simply because what he did not know about the business was so much more important than what he knew. So for several years she had pursued courses of training in finance, economics, i accountancy, broking and kindred topics. She studied the markets and, at boom times, she had actually speculated with the little money she had saved; and, on the whole, she had done well.

Had she been a man, Mr. Petter would have levered her out of the office leng ago, but the thought that any woman could seriously compete with Mr. Petter was something that never entered his head. His own wife regarded him as a person of quite unparalleled genius, and, as a consequence, he imagined that every woman did the same. Moreover/he knew that Mr. Melbourn thought nothing of women in business. In this last view he was wrong. Up to the time of Douglas' death it was true, although even before that tragic event, Old James had remarked to his son that Miss Scheer might be tha exception to the rule. After Douglas' death, and James' sudden resolve to make Heather midircss of the business, he had begun to appreciate, in increasing measure, Miss Scheer'* trained mind. Once or twice she had found an opportunity of displaying her knowledge to her chief and he had been impressed by its soundness. It was Miss Scheer whom James had in mind when, rebuking Heather, he had remarked that there were girls in Irs office who would give up everything for Heather's chance. That, of course, was an exaggeration, but it had a perfectly truthful basis in Miss Scheer.

I As she remarked to one of the other | girls over mid-morning cup of coffee in an adjacent tea shop: "Heather Melbourn is a lucky girl and just doesn't seem to realise it." "Well," said the other, "it isn't everyone who can marry an officer of the Guards, though personally I can't say that I care for him much from what I've seen of him." "Oh; I didn't mean that," retorted Miss Scheer, "men are five a penny if you want them. I was thinking about the business. Old Mr. Melbourn can't last much longer. Mr. Douglas' death has aged him more than most people realise. And when he goes there's no one, 60 far as I can see, who can inherit the show except that girl. That's why she's in the office now." "She's not in there at this minute." "No, but she ought to be, and she would be if her father were there. You can see her heart isn't in it." Luella Scheer glanced at herself in a mirror on the wall above her table and patted her hair preparatory to returning to the office. She was not unattractive. Blonde; late twenties; inclined to plumpness; cold, bluish eyes that spoke of intelligence rather than emotion, and a rather straight nose that expressed distinct strength of will; Luella had German blood in her, not a long way back in her ancestry, the blood of one of those poor but ambitions Teutons who found it easier to make a living among what he called the "lazy English" than in his native Berlin. And although that Germanic strain had been diluted by English marriages, it certainly asserted itself in Luella. As, with her companion she returned from the tea-shop to the office, she noticed a big Daimler saloon draw up outside the building and what she saw seemed to interest her so very much that she paid no heed to the other girl's j attempt to direct her attention to the) very chic coat worn by a woman on the j other side of the street. j The episode was over in a moment. '■ Each girl had seen something that interested her vastly; but they had not seen the same thing. Back at her desk, Luella found it difficult to concentrate. Presently came Mr. Petter to tell her that Heather

wished to see her. The interview was brief. Heather asked her a question which, to the financially-expert Luella, was ludicrous. She might have laughed if she had hated Heather just a little more. As it was, she contented herself by the barest kind of answer and retired without volunteering the information which she might easily have given. Later, Luella wondered whether she was pursuing the right line of action in treating Heather in that way. Perhaps it would be better to "make up" to her. Perhaps, in time, Heather would come to trust her and give her a more important part in the business. For Mr. Douglas, she admitted to herself, she would have done anything, she would have helped him all she knew. But, for his sister, emphatically no. Why, she did not pretend to understand.

It was just one woman's envy of another. As she saw it, however, it was righteous indignation at the usurpation bv Heather of the job which she (Luella*) was far better qualified to fill. Here wag this fortune spoiled girl with wealth and a man's affection at her command. Obviously she was suited to the role of wife of an army officer, or of one of those men who just shot birds and hunted foxes in the country. Why didn't she fulfil her destiny and leave the work she didn't understand to those fitted to do it. That evening she stayed until the others had gone. Then she went to another office in the building and returned with a piece of plain paper and a private envelope. She could have found these things in the Melbourn suite of rooms but Melbourn's stationery, even the plain stuff, would not suit her purpose. She was not long at the typewriter, arid when she left the office there was in her bag a letter addressed to "Captain G. Huntingdon, The Guards Regiment, Wellington Barracks." She wished she knew to -which Guards he belonged, but she was confident it would find him. If it didn't, then there was no address to which it could be returned, for the letter was anonymous. (To be continued daily.)