STRANGE ABSENCE

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 259, 3 November 1933, Page 15

STRANGE ABSENCE

______ Author of - — "The Dividing Years," and ALLYN SLOAN, "Guarded Watch."

I CHAPTER XVI. i Perichon's Picnic. It was soon after ten next morning when Jerry Grant arrived at the Villa Marguerite. He was carefully dressed and in rather a haughty mood, for he had come intending to propose again to Jean Graham and this time to extract some definite answer from her. The starch was taken out of him at the outset, however, for Helen informed him that Jean was staying in bed until lunch time. All the grand sentiments which he had prepared to voice suddenly seemed rather silly, and he looked at Helen appealingly. "D'you think she'd lunch with me?" She shook her head,. "I'm afraid she's lunching out." "Oh 1" Ho glanced at her sharply, hesitated, then as if unable to help himself, blurted' out: "Not with that fellow 1" Helen nodded. "Hell!" Grant's smooth brown forehead gathered into puckers as he stared moodily at her. "Look here, Mrs. Gorst, what does she 6ee in that fellow ? I mean —Oh, I suppose I've no real right to —to say anything, but I can't understand it."

Helen nodded. She too was sorely puzzled and not a little worried. There was one thing of which lately she had become conscious, and that was that Jean ki.ew something which she had not divulged. She had no absolutely definite reason for this belief, excepting the girl's own nervousness, which sometimes amounted to apprehension, and a curious sudden reticence which sometimes descended upon her when they were discussing tho affair. She sighed, however, and 6aid: "I don't understand it, either, Jerry. It's odd, I agree, but I shouldn't worry about it too much."

"I don't like the man. Can't you do anything? Couldn't you—well, suggest to her that —"

Helen laughed. "That we don't like her baron? I have, tentatively, but it doesn't seem much use."

"I see," he nodded gloomily, standing with, liis hands thrust into his pockets and staring out of the window. "What d'you think of M. Rivaux'e clues?" "Not much. In fact, I don't believe that any of these people know anything. They're just a lot of mutts." The entrance of the butler put an end to this tirade. "M. Grant, you are wanted to the telephone by M. Washburn." "Oh, I say, I'm sorry." "That's all right. The telephone is in the hall." Whilst Grant -went out, Helen continued to arrange the flowers, a duty which she always performed herself, first cutting the bloome in the garden, then arranging them in their vases. It was a work which she loved, and her rooms were always beautified by gay colours and sweet scents. It was only a moment before Grant returned, looking somewhat more cheerful.

"I say, Dan has just rung up to eay that old Perichon wante us to take him somewhere, so it's just as well that Jean isn't free after all. Only I wish she was lunching with someone else." "So do I. The only thing for you to do is to hurry up and annex her yourself," smiled Helen. "Gosh, don't I want to," he cried. "But—oh, well—by the way, Dan's sister, Mrs. Van Dyke, is arriving tomorrow night," he volunteered. Reluctantly Grant left the villa, stopping to look back at Jean's window, which was wide open; then he walked down the road until he met a fiacre, which he hailed, and drove to the Hotel de Paris. There he discovered M. Perichon, looking melodramatic in a long black coat and wearing a broad-brimmed felt hat pressed down on his head. Washburn -was also there, _ stowing some peculiar-looking parcels into the car. Both men hailed him with satisfac--I''What's it all about?" asked Grant. M. Perichon smiled at him mildly. "To-day, my friend, I am going to show you some of the most beautiful places along the Riviera. Allons, en voiture! "Oh, look here, sir," lie burst out. Is this thing ever going to work out? We don't seem a jot further than we were. "To-day, inon ami, to-day we shall procress. I feel it." "But have you any reason for saying it? We don't seem any further than we were two weeks ago." The Frenchman eyed the troubled face humorously, then he turned back to the Ca "You yi maV not be any further, but I

ai rranfc eyed the ex-detective coldly, inS o' S but climbed into the car and sat down in the back seat, gazing gloomily at the beautiful country which unfolded itself before his eyes as the ear climbed the Grande Cormche What did this expedition mean? What bee was buzzing in Perichon's bonnet now? Washburn was a fast though steady driver, and the Mercedes ate up the white roads as they passed through one Tfter another of many of the most famous resorts of the French Riviera. Nice, Cannes and finally St. Raphael e behind them, until they came to the small sea coast town of St. Tropez, when M. Perichon, who had heen almost entirely silent, seemed suddenly to awake and drew from his pocket a papei upon which certain hieroglyphics were scrawled. Grant's thought had been mainly upon the problem which was absorbing them all, and upon the mystery of Jean's apparent liking for de Laurier. Also, etaring at the back of Perichon's nodding head, he had wondered whether the old fellow knew anything at all, or whether he was after some mare's nest. As far _as lie could see only time had moved since the day of the fateful accident; Euan Graham was still lost and Mrs. Winton s pearls were unrecovered. There had. been the clue of the petrol lighter, of course— "Gosh!" That was where they were -oiir*—to the place where the lighter had been picked up. Anyway,, the very sense of rushing through the air as they were doing gave him a feeling of activity, and Grant'# spirits lightened appreciably. 1 , It was one o'clock when they passed. La Croix, and again M. Perichon began to study the paper in his hand. Then at at once he cried "Stop! Stop!" Washburn drew in to the side of the road. "Now what?" he asked. "Descendez. "We will .have our lunch by the sea." Suiting the words, M. Perichon got out, left the road, and began to slither down the steep pine-clad incline which led to a small white-sanded beach. _ , "What the devil—" exclaimed Washburn, watching the old detective swinging from tree to tree to keep 'himself from falling. -■ _ «I fi.inir its the place where Graham's wws Graai jffoponndtd-

Carrying the lunch, which M. Periehon had supplied from his hotel, they followed him to the beach. When they reached the sands, they discovered him standing staring up tho hill at a white villa which gleamed through the trees high above their heads. "Is this where the lighter was found?" asked Grant.

"Yes, on that slope," Periehon nodded. "That's odd, isn't it?" The slope was not that which led down from the road, but was a further one between the semiconcealed villa and the sea. "Perhaps it is peculiar—perhaps it is not. Come, let us lunch." The Frenchmail sat himself down oil a rock and ben-an to open one of the parcels. As lie°munched a great sandwich of bread and cheese, the old man waxed lyrical about the surrounding beauties of Nature. "Those red rocks —that amethystine sea—the lovely sun—the air sweet with the breath of the forest, it is marvellous!" Grant agreed, but thought it would more nearly resemble heaven if Jean were lying in a bathing suit beside him on the hot sand, instead of being seated, as he supposed she 'then was, across a small table from that unnecessary addition to the world's store of beastliness Baron Max de Laurier.

Perichon's voice rolled on: "Nature is superb, but I often ask myself, when I meet myself in the glass, 'Why is it that you are so ugly, mon vieux? You are yellow, your hair is a dirty white, you have pig's eyes.'" The two young men laughed, then for a while they munched silently. Suddenly Washburn mentioned his sister's advent.

"M'me van Dyke you say ? Is she not the lady who owns the pink diamond 1" Washburn nodded: "Sure. She has it set in a ring. But how did you know?" "Such stones are famous. It belonged at one time to the Grand Duke Ivanovitch." "That's so. My brother-in-law bought it at the Russian Bale in New York." "And will madame bring that stone here?" _ _ ■ "Why, I guess so. She wears it quite, frequently." Periehon nodded and raised his eyes to the gleam of white plaster through the trees. "You're a mysterious old fellow," thought Grant, lying on his back on tho sand, "but I don't believe you know a thing." But he forgot about Periehon and reverted to thinking about Jean and her host at lunch. The memory acted like an irritant and he sat up.

"M. Perichon, who is Baron de Laurier? D'you know anything about him?" For a moment the Frenchman was pensive, then he remarked quietly: "You are jealous, yes?" Grant hesitated, then blurted out: "Damn it, yes, I am. He's always with Miss Graham now and I —I " "You think she should be with you?" "N—not exactly, but " Perichon nodded. "I understand perfectly, mon ami, but as far as is known there is nothing against M. the boron. As far as is known " he repeated slowly. Then with a suddenness which startled the other two, he got up. "Allons! We must work! Now, messieurs, I want to know about that villa. To whom it belongs and if they are there. You will go and ask. You will eay—say anything you like, but describe to me the owner of the villa. Allez!"

Glad to be doing something definite at last, Grant set off with Washburn. They made for the road, so as to approach the villa by the drive which evidently must be a long one, for the house stood out on a promontory surrounded on three sides by the sea, and ae they went they discussed the possible meaning of this latest of M. Perichon's whims. "D'you think that Graham is shut up in that villa?" asked Grant. "Golly, what a brain!" grinned the American. "I never thought of that." "Well, how did the lighter get on that hill?" "You're right. Wouldn't it be great if we found and took him back to Miss Graham ?" A thrill of excitement passed through Grant and he quickeued 'his pace. This was really doing something. Walking up to the great iron doors, they pulled the rusty old bell and,- scarcely knowing what to expect, waited. (To be continued daily.)