AUTOCRATS ISLAND

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 83, 8 April 1933, Page 10 (Supplement)

AUTOCRATS ISLAND

By MARY HOWARD.

ruthor of "Windier Skies."

CHAPTER IX. They went back to the cars and drove to his hotel, where luncheon was set in a private sitting room above the sea. Mr. Paul became quite gay—he was like a man who has had a great worry taken out of his life and at last sees his way clear. ■. He proposed toasts and was quite his old self, his broad Yorkshire vowels becoming more and more pronounced as ho talked about "his little girl." . Monica and Gregory talked a great deal and very brightly, and Roma hardly spoke at ail. She just sat there looking at Jaime occasionally, and answering his smile with a smile. After a,while she said: "I must get a few things together.' Monica, will you come with mo to the 'Ladybird' while I pack a bag? I have some clothes bn the Island, but not enough." Jaime rose with them: "I'll go straight to the 'Kittiwake," he said. "Will you meet me there? On the jetty." "In about half an hour," she said, and gave him her hand shyly, "Au-voir." They drove down to the harbour almost in silence, and in her stateroom Roma began to open drawers ■ and put things into a small wardrobe travelling trunk. Monica eat on the bed and lit a cigarette. "The champagne seems to have gone to my head," she said amiably. "I hardly touched it," said Roma, "but I'm drunk with happiness. You know I've never really lived before. . . I don't suppose. I ever should have lived if I hadn't met Jamie. I could never love anyone else, ever. "Well, you certainly worked things splendidly ," said Monica easily. "I thought at first; it was a wee bit rough on Jaime, but then he shouldn't have got himself into such a compromising situation. Still it's lucky for your father though, that he decided to be sensible and fix up this marriage at such an opportune moment." Roma's busy hands put down the dress she was folding. "What do you mean ?" . Monica looked at her astonished expression and burst into a loud laugh.. "My dear, you're a marvellous actress, but you don't take me in the least little bit. It was awfully clever of you to fix up your future in such a way. An honourable man couldn't do anything else but marry you .. .with your father practically bankrupt and the whole English colony here talking of your pleasant sojourn at Paradiso." Roma went white. She went swiftly across to Monica and seized the older woman by the shoulder. "Tell me .. . tell me what people are saying. And what you are thinking in your horrible mind ?" The Truant Bride.. Monica's yellow eyes narrowed, as she looked into Roma's white face, and a little hot feeling of triumph welled up within her. Roma had been so clever, flaunting her conquest in front of her. •If it had been any other man she would not have cared —why should she? But Jaime. There had always been something about him that attracted her in a much deeper way than she was usually attracted, or than she cared to admit. It may have been that'he obviously disliked and avoided her and her predatory instincts were aroused—or it may have been that she really loved him. But the knowledge that another woman, and Roma of all women, Roma who was so young and fundamentally unspoiled, should be her rival, filled her with chagrin. She wanted to hit back at Roma, to hurt her badly. "Why, my dear," she said slowly, and her face softened into lines of sympathy, 'T thought you knew. I would not have dreamed of saying anything otherwise." "Monica," said Roma impatiently, "don't beat about the bush. Tell me what has happened—and tell me what people are saying."

"Well, your father has lost most, if not all, of his money in the Paul's Electricity collapse."

Roma turned away and went to the porthole, looking out across the water with suddenly frightened eyes. Her lips were trembling, childishly. Site had not seen a newspaper since she had first gone to Paradiso, and she had not bothered to listen in. She remembered her father's' altered manner during the voyage home from the island—and thought that this thing must have been with him all the time, and she had not known, nor even cared to ask him what the matter was, so absorbed had she been in her own happiness. Poor dear o]d daddy.

"But Jaime did not know of this?" she questioned.

"My dear," Monica said with raised, sarcastic eyebrows, "why do you think that he married you? It was a most convenient way of squaring an indignant father." "Monica, what are you trying to say? Jaime loves mo, I'm sure." "Has he told you so?" "No—no—but . . ." "His decision to marry you was very sudden, surely?" ,' "Yes," Roma said falteringly. "He went up to meet daddy at the harbour, and he didn't come back to see me again, but started back for Mont Allasso in the Kittiwake. Daddy told me he had gone to arrange about our wedding." "Well, there you are. He met your father, who told him of the scandal that was going around and the position he was in, and asked him to marry you. After all, Roma, you can't blame your father for wanting to see you settled— it took one big responsibility off his shoulders. Besides, Avith your name allied to'Jaime's in the newspapers, confidence will.be restored in his concerns; with Jaime's financial backing there is no reason why, with a very great effort, even Paul's Electricity Corporation might he saved."

Roma was silent. It was true what Monica said. It,must be true. He had not asked her to marry-him. He had not even said, "I_love you." That one ki*s on the island.- Perhaps he had not really wanted to kiss her then, for how could he have, refused her raised, expectant lips? And that kiss to-day, after the weddins, so coldly formal. Surely Jaime, so passionate and Latin, would not ki«s the woman he loved like that? Her father, too, had been in this—made her part of a bargain. Oh, she would have rather srone away to some little place with him; she would not have minded being poor. She had been betrayed by the two people in the world whom she really loved. .. .

She began to pace up and down the cabin, trying vainly to get hold of her life and -thrash it into some kind of form or plan. Monica sat smoking, watching her shrewdly with half-closed eves.

"Monica, what am I to do? What am I "to doT What" would ■you'rdot*"

''Well, in your position, I should do as I was told," said the older woman cynically. ''After all, you've got no money. Whether or not this handsome husband of yours loves you, with him you will at least have comfort, luxury and a home. I can't imagine you earning your own living, Roma."

This casual, hard advice might have meant something to a girl who had battled with life, and knew just how hard that seemingly easy thing—to earn one's own living—could be. But Roma did not understand this. She just could not imagine it. "No?" 6he answered incredulously. "Am Iso very helpless then ? But I can't live with him. How can I, Monica? If he doesn't really love me, if he has only married me to sort of . . . well, quiet his conscience . . . don't you see what a dreadful position I shall be in? It would be selling myself." Monica smiled her usual hard, lazy smile, and tapped the ash of her cigarette into the crystal tray on Roma's dressing table. " Beggars can't be choosers, my dear," she said, watching her cigarette smoke curl upwards. " Your former autocratic attitude will not go down so well now, I'm afraid, without the Paul millions behind it. No, Roma, don't be silly. Don't be an enemy to yourself. You may bo selling yourself, as you so dramatically put it—but what else have you got to sell? What do you think I married Quorne for? Certainly not to look at. You will, anyway, have the advantage of having a decorative as well as a useful husband. You've got to face life. You've only one thing to help you—one asset. Your looks. Well, find the highest bidder. You've been luckier than most pretty women—you can sell by private treaty instead of going to auction."

" But it's —it's horrible. I've always loathed and despised that sort of woman."

" There are only two sorts of women. The women who can afford to be independent and the women who can't. Unfortunately you've graduated into the latter class. Oh, Roma, be sensible. Realise on which side your bread is buttered. It will be of infinite advantage to both your father and yourself." " Yes," Roma answered dully. " Yes, perhaps you're right." "Of course I'm right," said Monica briskly. "Now, finish packing. I'll go up on deck and see if they've arrived from the hotel yet. Don't look so despondent, darling; after all, as the old song has it, ' 'E might learn to luv you later on.'"

With which mocking comfort Monica left the cabin and went up on deck, leaving Roma among the melee of pretty clothes. She went on automatically pushing things into the wardrobe trunk and the big hat box, delicate chiffon and satin underwear, beautifully cut little dresses, expensive shoes and hats, folding them without thinking, and pushing them in anywhere.

"Know which side your bread is buttered," that was all right for Monica. Or it would not be so bad, perhaps, if she did.not care for Jaime. If she just regarded him as an obliging stranger. But she loved him; she could not go to him knowing that he did not want her. That he was just doing the "right thing " as a gentleman should, saving her reputation and his own, and extending a helping hand to a fellow business man. Her hand went out mechanically, and she rang the bell.

The white-coated steward appeared at the door.

" Simpson—where is Mrs. Quorne ? "

"Mr. Paul and Mr. Graham have just arrived, madame, and Mi's. Quorne has gone ashore to meet them in the dinghy." That formal " Madame " —she had always been " Miss Roma " before. She glanced at her left hand, the slim silvercoloured ring was still there —she was actually married.

Quickly her mind went over the position of the yacht—it was anchored far out in the harbour, because of the tide. A boat could easily make the opposite stone pier without being observed from the other side.

"Oh, Simpson," she said hurriedly, "I —I want you to help me. I'm playing a little joke on them—at least Mr. Graham and I are. We have decided not to go to Paradiso at all, because we have found Mrs. Quorne has decided to take a house party there to surprise us. I want to slip away if I can, and Mr. Graham will meet me later. You must not say anything."

The man hesitated, obviously taken back and rather unconvinced. Roma herself felt her story was rather weak, and desperately she hurried on. " Get a man to put these two bags into another boat and to row me over to the other pier. Quickly now, before they arrive." She held out a hundred franc note, and after a moment of hesitation the man took it, and calling another man they took up her bags and carried them on to the deck. Roma picked up her mink coat and her handbag, then with a sudden recollection, searched for her passport, and followed them. Far across the-shimmering harbour water she could see Jaime's car, and the dab yellow that was Monica's dress. The grey short figure was her father, and the tall whiteclad one Jaime. The boat was waiting for her, and soon the faint stutter of the engine was taking her across the harbour. Her mind moved quickly, every decision she made bringing back to her the knowledge of her utter uselessncss. She must go away—catch a train—but where to? She must book and see about her luggage—she had never seen to these sort of things in her life before. Always someone had done the worrying and arranging, and she had come along, as serene as royalty, with the way made smooth in front of her. The sailor, a big brown. Frenchman who had been with her father for years, heaved.her trunks up on to the pier for her, called her a fiacre and packed the luggage in. The ancient vehicle shook and clattered over the stones, driving up to the station with a flourish and a cloud of dust. She stepped out of her carriage and paid the man, and turning found a porter already at her elbow. It was useful anyhow to look rich. She asked about a train to . . . her mind hesitated, flung about wildly for a destination. A label on a bag caught her eyes. "To Paris ... I want to go to Paris." "Paris! Vite, mademoiselle, allez vite She was rushed towards a booking office and found herself handing over notes, receiving a ticket and change,

being bundled into a compartment with her luggage —and then the train was running smoothly round the base of the olive-clad hills —and she was free.

She looked round the compartment, sank back in her seat, and.gave a sigh of relief. She felt suddenly very proud and capable. For the first time in her whole existence she had done something from her own initiative—made up her mind to a decision and carried it out herself.

The only other occupants of the carriage were two middle-aged Englishwomen, evidently experienced travellers (or tourists) for they were settled down, one with a novel and the other with some embroidery, as though most of their lives were spent in Continental railway carriages. They glanced suspiciously at Roma as she made her somewhat hurried entrance, glanced at her white crepe-de-cliine, eminently unsuitable for travelling, glanced at the mink coat "thrown over her arm, and glanced away from her, through her and out the window.

Roma sat still, collecting her thoughts, or trying to do so. She dropped the window down, gratefully drinking the sea air into her lungs and the cool wind on to her flushed cheeks, until one of her travelling companions leaned across and said politely:

"Do you mind having the window just a little higher?"

Roma started, then pulled the window up obediently. Then taking an onyx case from her bag, she extracted and lit a cigarette. She rarely smoked, but she felt her nerves needed some sort of quietening. The other lady, a faded soul in an absolutely indescribable hat, leaned over and pointed oV in quiet but forceful tones that it was not a smoking carriage Roma threw her cigarette away. ,»

"«I am so sorry," she apologised hurriedly. "I'm afraid I'm a little distrait. I had to leave Mont Allasso in rather a hurry and very nearly missed the train."

The two ladies nodded, and the one in the odd hat said pelitely: "It is awkward having to rush away." The question in the simple reply was obvious—they were dying to know why Roma should leap on to the Paris express, clad festively in white. They scented either crime or romance. In fact the two Miss Marchmonts had spent their Uvea travelling in search of adventure... but however romantic a land they decided upon for their travels, adventure never seemed to wait upon them. It always seemed to hover in the most tantalising manner, just around the corner.

Roma looked at them curiously. She had never met anyone like them. They were obviously well-to-do and refined— but the people she was used to were more than well-to-do . . . and not always as refined as these two gentle ladies. To her the Miss Marchmonts were just a couple of old dears, with hats that were evidently from some obscure shop in Kensington, neat cotton gloves and bits of lace . . . antique brooches and amber beads . . . they were curiosities in any case. Roma felt she must talk to someone. She felt she must get rid of this 6pate of confession that was bursting to come

forth. The two old ladies would probably give her advice that she would not take . . . they might be disapproving or they might be sympathetic . . . but she just had to talk. "You see, I've run away," she began breathlessly. , • A little pink colour suffused the checks of the elder Miss Marchmont (the one with the hat), and Miss Julia nodded triumphantly across to her as though to sav, "I told vou 60." ■ "My name is Paul, Roma Paul . . . ana I was married to-day, but I ran away. "Not the Eoma Paul?" asked the Misses Marchmont. r "The Roma Paul?" inquired Roma. "Yes," gabbled Miss Julia, "the Miss Paul we're always reading about. One of the bright young people. . . " Roma shuddered at this: description ol herself. . ■ ' , . "Yes,". added Miss Marchmont, the Miss Paul whose father lost all his money." .■ "I'm afraid so," said Roma, smiling, "but I didn't know I was notorious. "Why . . . why did you run away? asked Miss Julia. . "I married someone because I thought he loved me, and then I found he was only trying to oblige my father ana save a "scandal," ,mid Roma all in a breath. ■ . (To be continued Saturday next.)