STRANGE ABSENCE

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 261, 4 November 1933, Page 12 (Supplement)

STRANGE ABSENCE

By ALLYN SLOAN,

________ Author of _____ "The Dividing Years," and "Guarded Watch."

- CHAPTER XVII. Jean Refuses. The bell clanged lustily, but they rang in vain. "Nobody home," remarked Washburn. .'Let's walk to the end of the wall. There may be another gate,'' suggested Grant. This took them some time, for the wall was long, but it remained blank and impenetrable until at the far end it dropped down again to the sea. Thus the small promontory was completely shut off from the land, the only way of circumventing the wall being by boat, and there was no boat handy. Grant took off his hat and fanned his face with it. "We're stuck again," he grumbled. "We'd better go back." That was the trouble with the confounded mystery, no path seemed to lead out of the maze. When they reached the beach again M. Perichon was at iirst nowhere to be seen, but suddenly Grant clutched the American's shoulder and pointed. "Look at that!" It was certainly a strange spectacle which met their eyes. M. Perichon, with his trousers wet above the knees, his coat off, his tie awry and his short half hanging out behind, was approaching (hem over the rocks. There was a satistied grin on his face nevertheless as lie waved to them and called: "Papa has been paddling." Coming up, he asked: "Well, and what have you discovered V "Nothing," jerked Grant, rather grimly. "We couldn't get into the villa. We rang and rang, but—" Before lie could finish the Prenchman waved him to silence.

"I know, I know; it is the villa of Mme. Duslikin." Grant stared. An idea had come to him that Perichon had known that they could not get into the villa, but had wanted to be rid of them. He had deliberately sent them on a wild goose chase. And why ? "How' did you find out?" ho asked curiously. "I have been up there," Perichon nodded at the hillside. "That is why I am so wet. But now—come. We will go." "But what did you find out? Is Gra'.am there?"

The Frenchman's eyes flashed. "So that is what you think?" His head shook doubtfully. "Ale, I thmk he is dead." Grant grabbed his arm. "You know that? You have proof?" "Proof? No, but I fear it. Still, who knows? Come." He gathered up his discarded coat and adjusted his tie and shirt.

But all tliis talk of knowing things without proof exasperated Grant. Here they had been wandering about all day, and as far as he could see, nothing dciinite had been arrived at.

"Oh, look here, how much longer is all this going on? What are you doing? What is Vivaux doing? Or anyone, for a matter of that. If you do know anything, why don't you tell me?" "VJfith his head slightly cocked to one side, the Frenchman looked at him. ''What impatience."

"Impatience!" cried Grant, exasperatedly. "I like that! Anyhow, do you think it's fun for Miss Graham to be suspected of being connected with a theft—is it fun for her to lose her brother like this? Hang it all!"

"I know, I know, it is hard, but que voulez-vous? One cannot run out into the streets and arrest the wrong person. I tell you that we progress. That is all I can say. Now come, du courage, mon ami. I am doing my best."

"But damn it, can't you tell us anything at all? Don't you trust us?" the young man exploded.

"Yes, yes, I trust you, but—you don't understand. It is something very dangerous that I do because it is necessary. I am jumping to conclusions—using guess work—but I must not speak about it. Only have patience. Soon—soon I will know something."

"It's all very well to say 'soon, soon,'" thought Jerry Grant. In the meanwhile Jean was feeling the strain badly, and they were all bound by an intolerable weight of mystery and suspicion.

Driving back towards Nice, tho sun low behind them, the colouring was superb. The Mediterranean lay like a great stretch of pale blue grass, and everywhere along the coast the masts and russet sails of the fishing fleet were reflected in it as in a mirror. But Grant surveyed it all gloomily. Tilings •were bad—bad; he felt it, despite old Perichon's ridiculous optimism. He thought sourly of de Laurier and of Jean's apparent prefereiiee for him. That really was the iron searing his heart. She seemed to care for him at times, and. yet she could go out with that French bounder. The determination to see her that night grew in him; he must. It was impossible for him to go on like this.

When they dropped M. Perichon at his hotel, the old man placed a hand on Grant's shoulder. "Have patience, raon pauvre, have patience," lie said. "I have progressed to-day, even if you have not." Grant replied with a dour grunt which made the Frenchman smile. In spite of the lovely night and open windows a fire of pine cones crackled brightly on Mrs. Gorst's pleasant hearth. Before it Jean sat with a book open on her knee, but with her eyes gazing penthe flames. Helen flung her a puzzled and anxious glance, for she simply could not make her out. From being a calm, direct young person, she had become reserved and restless, aimlessly moving about the place, picking things up and putting them down again, always with an air of abstract anxiety in her lovely brown eyes. Of course she was worrying over her brother, and the mystery which involved her, l>ut there was more in it than that. At least it seemed so to Helen. There was, for instance, her association with Max do Laurier which she considered most unnatural, and it distressed her very much. What seemed so strange about it too was that although Jean persisted in seeing him, she always seemed in a miserable and silent mood when she came back. That afternoon, for example, she had returned soon after five, ■ but when questioned about the tennis she was supposed to have watched, she/ seemed astonishingly vague about it, so much so that Helen found herself doubting that the girl had ever been to the courts. And now there she sat with her book open and her thoughts—heaven knew where.

Had she known it, the girl's thoughts were not so far away, hovering as they were between Grant and Max de Laurier. She had hurt Jerry. She knew it and it worried her terribly. But what eould she do? That she loved him she knew without a shadow of a doubt, yet as things were she could not accept him. Some day —fioon even, she hoped—when this- mjs-

tery was cleared tip,, then—yes! But meanwhile there was the baron. Her dislike of him had turned to dread. He knew so much; how much she did noi know, but certainly too much. And besides, there was Lis attitude to her. The memory of the covetous look which she saw so often in his eyes sent a cold shiver up her spine. Naturally restrained and fastidious, the very thought of it was repulsive. > "Hullo!" Grant's voice broke in upon her thought and she, looked up as he came in from the garden. In his buttonhole was a camellia" which he had picked on the way over, and he flung the girl an eager smile as he crossed to the lireplace. Helen smiled a welcome: "Well, Jerry. Where have you been all day?" He grinned. "Ivc been for a picnic." "Sight-seeing?" Jean repeated curiously. Helen laughed, and gathering up some papers moved towards tho door: "Tell Jean about it whilst 1 write a letter for the mail," she said, going out. Finding themselves alone, an awkward silence fell. Each remembered their angry parting of the night before and felt uncomfortable. But at length Jean asked: "Have you really been for a picnic?" "Yes. The purpose of the picnic, though, was to trace your brother." "Oh!" .lean leaned towards him eagerly. "Tell me." He shrugged: "t don't think there's much to tell. Perichon wanted to sec the place where Graham's lighter was found, f don't think we discovered much. At least T didn't." "Who is Perichon?" Grant explained how he had met the cx-deteetive and engaged his assistance. "Can't he help . at all, Jerry?" she asked.

The misery in tho girl's faee tore the young man's heart and he wished most sincerely that he could give her some kind of hope, something oven faintly definite.

"My dear, lie says he's doing some thing, 'but he won't tell me a thing."

"Oh!" »Slie seemed bitterly disappointed, and making a helpless gesture, said: "1 feel as if 1 couldn't go on."

What d'you mean, Jean?"

"I don't know, but —everything is so indefinite. I don't like staying 011 here

and worrying Helen, yet 1 can't go. 1 don't know whether poor Kuan is dead, or whether —whether something has happened to him. Doreen's pearls are still missing; some people think that I know where they arc." Grant made a gesture of denial, but she broke in: "Oh, yes, they do. I know it. I can tell by the way they look at me and whisper. Then—" But she could not mention do Laurier then, though he was the greatest trouble of all. "It's just all awful!" she turned away and stared into the tire. "I'm so tired, too, of going over and over it."

It was more than Grant could bear to see her so miserable. Leaning over, he took her hand and kissed it. "Jean, my dear, won't you say you'll marry me? I do care so much and I could r —"

She broke in hastily: "Oh, don't Jerry —not now. Don't ask me now."

. "But I am asking you now. I'm asking you to be my w—" "Xn, no, don't, please! Wait," she gasped, freeing her hand and moving awa v.

"But, Jean, why wait? I want to pull you out of this horror, to make you happy." "0, if you could —" she sighed, walking restlessly about the room. It was difficult to propose satisfactorily to anyone who would not keep still, and a little self-pity, a little anger, crept into Grant's heart. "I suppose you'd be grateful to anyone who would help you out," he said. Too distrait to notice the bitterness in his voice, she answered unthinkingly: "Very." "Your friend dc Laurier would do as well, then?" She stood still suddenly and stared at him: "De Laurier. What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

"Well, it seems to me that you'd rather have him about you than me."

She continued to stare at him, opening her lips to speak, then shutting them again. It was all so hopeless, so abominable. She gazed at the young man's troubled face, well knowing that by just saying three words she could transform it; longing to utter those words for her own as well as his happiness, yet knowing that as things were it was impossible to voice them. At last she stammered:

"0, Jerry, won't you wait a little longer V

Ho saw that she was troubled; worried almost beyond enduring; everything about Jier told him so, iier nervous hands, her restlessness, the misery of her strained face, yet jealousy roused by the thought of dc Laurier made him faintly suspicious. If she cared for him, there was only one thing for her to do —to say yes, and resign herself to him. "Jean," lie said rather stubbornly, "either you care for me or you don't. If you do —" "•Oh, Jerry, you know that I do, but it's not so simple as that." She gazed at him hopefully, but when he said nothing went on: "I can't say anything more just now."

She saw him hesitate. Evidently he was not convinced, and was, she saw, swayed by emotions of frustration, doubt and love, but she felt that if he failed her then she would not know what to do. "Jerry," she appealed, "if you care for me, d'don't fail me. Trust me!" "I do trust you," he cried in a choked voice. "I'll never fail you. But.—" "You don't." A sudden impulse to confide in him possessed her. It would be such a relief and if he loved her he must keep her secret. "Listen, Jerry. You are jealous of Baron de Laurier, I know, but you need not be. iSTo, really—l'm seeing him so often because I think —he knows something about Euan." "Oh." Grant looked at her attentively. "Well, if he doe 3, why doesn't he tell the police? Look here, Jean, let me tackle this. I'll see the fellow, or get Rivaux on to him." "Xo, no." She shook her head. It was just what she feared. Her confidential impulse died a speedy death. Grant watched her with exasperation. His love, which should have made him understanding, filled him instead with an unreasoning fear and jealousy; "Jean," he repeated obstinately, "will you marry me? I must know, please." The girl felt stunned and a little angry. For a moment she stared at him, trying to marshal her panicking thought, then in a tense voice she said: "I'm sorry—l can't." Turning away abruptly, she hurried from the room. (To be continued daily.),