THE GREEN GHOST

Auckland Star, Volume LXV, Issue 37, 13 February 1934, Page 17

THE GREEN GHOST

By STUART MARTIN (Author of "The Fifteen Cells," "Bale Jar dine," "The Surf Queen," etcJ

CHAPTER VIII. Introducing Elsie Monteith. + Foster saw again the glimmer among the branches high up. It moved slowly, jerkily at times, then with a gliding movement. It had the same greenish hue about it that lie had noticed previously; but just as lie was about to throw his stono it moved away and was lost in the black foliage. And then, a few moments later, while Foster stood staring at the spot where it had disappeared, lie was conscious of a movement to his right. He peered in the direction. A form was moving there, gliding across tlie grass. This time lie shouted. "Hullo! Who's there?" Tlie form stood still. Foster bounded forward. He had almost reached the figure when a cry broke out, a short, surprised, startled cry. It was a woman's cry. "Who's there?" roared the doctor; and a moment later ho reached the figure. "Oh, I'm sorry," lie burst out jerkily. "I'm sorry." "Ye gods above*"' came the reply in short, startled gasps. "I believe it is you, doctor. My goodness, you did give mo a fright." "You know me?" he said, breathing heavily. "Who are you?" Before sho answered lie knew who she was. The perfume of lier dress came to him and revealed her. "Why, I'm Elsie Monteith. I came out for a stroll just before going to bed —what a fright you gave me." She gave a tremulous little laugh and steadied herself against the tree, holding her 6ide. "I'm awfully sorry, Miss Monteith. I thought you were —something else." "Something else? Might i ask, doctor, what you are doing out at this time of night roaming in the jvoods and giving people shocks?" She laughed, but there was a gasp in her merriment. "I thought I saw something. Did you see it, Miss Monteith? Something up there among the branches?" "Something,? Good Lord, no. My thoughts never soar above the ground level. Oh, give me a little breathing space before we discuss this dread adventure. Are you going to see me to the houso now that you have not killed me with fright?" "Of course," he said, "I'll see you home."

"Fancy meeting out here like this,"' 6he cried, as they pickcd their way among the bushes. "And I had expected to be introduced to you properly in the drawing room. Do you often come- out for evening strolls like this? I do. The' woodf* fascinate me. I love to wander about."

"Alone?" "Why not? I'm not' afraid—at least not until pe pie jump out at me." She laughed in a low tone. "Whatever did you think you were chasing?" "Well, I wasn't sure. I just thought I saw something among the trees." "Oh, I knovv. I'll bet it was that ghost I have hoard so much about. It I has fairly got on Maud's nerves, hasn't it? I wish I could see the thing, and then I'd be convinced." "I was afraid you had seen it night—"You mean you thought I was it. Ah me, why does the thrill of life pass 6ome and give too much anxiety to others? No, I'm like Bill Hughes, I don't believe it, and won't until I see it. I saw you before you saw me. Of course, I didn't know it was you." "Don't you think you are taking a risk in going out alone at night?" "A risk? Good lord, no. Where is the risk? If any tramp spoke to me I wouldn't be scared; and if any man of the other sort came along I'd soon let him know who lie was talking to." "Yes, I suppose you can take care of yourself." agreed Foster quietly. "Oh, I've been on my own for long enough. One doesn't tour with the profession without learning how to look after one's self."

"Do you tour, then ?" "Of course T did. I was touring when Bill Hughes invited me to come here. I've known him for some time, you know. He's a little domineering, but at the bottom he's a good sort. You and he are a bit at loggerheads, aren't you?" "Oh, we arc not in agreement over the apparition." She laughed once more, a merry, sil-very-laugh that revealed the quality of her voice. It was a singer's voice, full, curved and rich, containing a breadth and depth that appealed to him. "You sing?" he asked, hardly knowing that he asked the question. "I've been in musical comedy for a good bit now. Ever since my husband died out iii South America. I was out jthere With him, on one of his scientific journeys, you know." "I did not know him; he was before my time, I expect." He looked at her as he spoke and she took up his thought and answered it. "A dear old thing, he was. I called him 'the old man.' He was twenty years older than me. He died in Para from fever, and I wrote to his brother, Maud's father, and got a brief acknowledgment of my letter. Then, when I came home, I called, hut felt that I wasn't to get any help, so I went on the stage. I had been on the stage before I married. Once or twice I got a letter from Maud's father, but I didn't know he was dead and had remembered me in his will until Hughes wrote me. Funny that I should have met Hughes, wasn't it?" They were near the house now, and she becoming playful and youthful. She was gifted with a boundless youthfulness and spiritual elasticity. "Come in and let us have some music," she cried. "Do you play?" "A little. I wish I could play better." "Then I'll teach you to accompany me. I'll make you play well." She pointed towards the drawing room window, the blinds of which were up, so that the interior could be seen. "There is old Mrs. Gibbs dozing by the piano. Let's give her a regular concert. It will do Maud good, also. She'll hear it, and forget the ghost that doesn't exist. What do you say?" "I'll come, but only after I have asked about my patient." - They entered the house together, and Mrs. Gibbs woke up as the drawing room door opened. It was Miss Monteith who explained that they had met outside, and had come back together. Where was Hughes? He wasn't in, said Mrs. Gibbs; lie had not been back, and she didn't know when he would come. And how was Maud? It was Foster who asked this. Maud had taken the sleeping draught, and it had settled her, but she was restless, tossing and muttering in her sleep. Mrs. Gibbs thought that she might, awaken at any minute. Mrs. Gibbs offered to go up and see.

While she was away, Miss Monteith arranged some music from "Madame Pompadour," and was humming it over softly. She was in great form, and Foster saw that she was even more attractive than lie had previously observed. "I'll just run up and see if JTautl prefers to sleep rather than listen to our row," she said, aiul swept out of the room. The moment ehe had gone Foster was conscious of the loss of her presence. This was the very type of girl to be a companion to Maud Barron. She had the brightness, the energy and the freedom that his patient required. The door flew open, and in came Elsie Monteith, her face glowing and her eyes sparkling. "Come on," she said, "Maud says she would love to hear us. It may soothe her to sleep." "Then she wasn't sleeping?" "She had awakened when Mrs. Gibbs went into her room—you know, she's •still drowsy, eo we'll give her a lullaby. Can you play this, medical man without soul of romance ?" Ho advanced to the piano and sat down while she stood by his side and watched, his lingers move slowly over the keys. It was a haunting tune, and after he had played it once she tapped him on the shoulder with her forefinger and frowned in mock severity. "Don't you ever tell me again that you can't play. Now, go! Stage clear, please. Heady, ladies. One, two —" Sirs. Gibbs slipped into the room as the first bar struck up and the ringing, trained voice gave life and meaning to the words.

If I were a I>lossom blown On (he snmimer wind, forlorn ; If I were the wind, so free, Flowing 'twixt you and me ; If I were a drop of dew, I'd drop, dear heart, on you; Softly I'd touch your liair And linger, perfumed, there Before I dared to seek The smoothness of your check, And glide towards your lips To snatch, as lice that sips From flower, (lie honeyed bliss, The nectar of your kiss; Oil, would that I were blown Kike bloom, to you alone, Or the wind, or drop of dew, Wafted, ruy dear, to you. Dr. Foster dropped his hands from the keyboard and turned back the page of music until he saw the title. There was deep silence in the room. He raised his face to the singer. "You wrote this?" he asked quietly. She nodded without a word.

"And composed it, too?" Again she nodded, but this time her hands were 011 the song, and sho was plaein ganother book before him. "I congratulate you." "Let's have some of 'Pompadour,'" she answered, with a smile that may have meant much or nothing. They went over most of the important numbers, and when they had finished, Mrs. Gibbs' voice came from the other end of the room. "With a voice like yours, Miss Monteith, you ought to make a fortune. But 1 like the first one better than any of the others." "My dear Mrs. Gibbs, I'll have to look long before that fortune comes to me." She turned to Foster and added a trifle irritably, "You know, it isn't voice that counts now. I've little liope-s of getting a leading part with singing alone. Not like it was in George Edwardes' time, when appearance and voice counted. They want dancers now—you know, the high kick and splits. Something like this."

She strutted into the centre of the floor and began to throw her feet about in grotesque and staccato movements. Mrs. Gibbs gave a scream of aghast horror, but next moment she was laughing heartily, and Foster was holding his sides. "You've got it down to the last ounce," lie said, as lie rose from the piano. Then he added gravely, "As for dancing, you could beat many who are in the revues now."

"Oh, that was merely a single effort," replied the girl breathlessly, patting and shaking her skirt. "Jt is difficult when one is all laced up with corsets and things, and the strain is doing it every night for hours. Besides, I'm putting on flesh, and tlicy want the skinny type nowadays—the kind like faded lilies and drooping bananas. I hope we haven't upset Maud. I'd better go and see.' And off she went, humming a tune. The clock on the mantelpiece chimed ten. A- gong beat lugubriously in the hall. Supper had been laid. (To be continued daily.)