THE SPLENDID SILENCE.

Clutha Leader, Volume XXXIX, Issue 55, 21 February 1913, Page 7

THE SPLENDID SILENCE.

MAUD MEADOWS. "j

. rtnr of "A Million of Money," ' 1 The Thikedom of Portsea," "The House at the Corner," "I Charge You Both,.'''' One Life Between," Etc. CHAPTER \ 11 - Continued. ■ x waiter entered with some papers jn a salver. , "Bring 1116 501116 sandwiches, i'auswn said, "any kind, I don't care, but to quick about it. What is that you i.ve there?" "The English papers, madame—just stretched out her hand. "Give them to me," she said. "No, hand them to monsieur. Wilfred, these are the first English papers we have had rjjtce we came here. L wonder-r-is there onv news about ■me ? '•Ah!'' lie said. "There is something which concerns us in' a way, and i«ts my nose i° int or the EarlL,!, and makes your coronet a matter of impossibility, I should think, listen, Fausteen: "The marriage arranged between Mr Douglas Davener ind Miss Vera Meriwither, which was to have taken place in six months' L e , when Miss Vera Meriwither tomes of age,, in order to conform wish the conditions of the will of the late ladv Angela Fortescue, will now, by tj,e "express wish of the Earl of, Northborough, whose heir Mr Davener is, he solemnised within the next month, , later will having come to light in ff hich the fortunate young lady is left the same large fortune, but which places no restrictions as to the time of her marriage." . Fausteen s color had risen; she looted angry. "What luck some people h&ve! Go on. I suppose there is something in the paper about me—something nasty, of course. Well, consider me cast iron, please, and read it out." ffilfred looked down at the newspaper once more, and read: "The invest upon the late Lady Golister, y liose death took place under rather mysterious circumstances at Monte Carlo early last week, as already reported, will take place in the Principalitv on Wednesday next. Miss Fausteen O'Neil, her ladyship's late companion, who left Monte Carlo almost immediately after the regrettable affair was discovered, returned to Monte carlo and will be called at the inquest. Mr Wilfred Davener a nephew of the Earl of Northborough, but not his beir, who it is said is engaged to be married to the lady, accompanied Fausteen had turned rather pale. "What a hateful paragraph!" sjw said. "I certainly did not return by the advice of my 'friends." "Dearest, no," he said; "but by the advice of one friend. Surely lam that. Fausteen, as well as your lover vour husband to be." "Go on,'' she said. "The paper seems to teem with news which concerns us. What next, I wonder?" A smothered "Oh, by Jove!' escaped his lips. "What is it?" Fausteen asked. "Anything more that is pleasant? He gave the paper a little shake. "Oil it- does not concern us really, he said. "Still, we both knew the mail, and at one time he was an admirer of yours and a rival. By Jove. I was fool enough to think a successful rival of mine. I ' l "Read it," she interrupted, there was a hard note in her voice, and a tense expression on her face. "Frank Lascelles," Wilfred read, "who was sentenced some years ago to seven years' penal servitude, was released yesterday. The case, in some ways, was a remarkable one., the opinion being generally held that the prisoner, who refused to give any evidence on his own behalf, or call any witnesses, was keeping material evidence back which might have told in his favor, and shielding someone else. He looked up at Fausteen. She was_ not white, she was grey, and a trembling hand was stretched our towards the decanter. He sprang to his feet. My dealest girl," he said, "what on earth .is the matter? V\ hv should thi* ne>ii affect you so? He was nothing to you." She tried to speak, and for a moment could not. Then she said the one word "Nothing," noured out some brandv, and drank it off neat. "Go on," she said. "I had forgot- ; tpn he—be had been in prison, and would be released. on. i "There is no more." "Another paragraph, surely* surely there is something more that concerns us. Don't stare at me. Go on. "Fausteen, you are drinking neat brandy." . „ aT j 'x if T ;sm Cm Oil I

His eves travelled back to the P®P el ■ ( then lie, too, grew pale. '.'Yes, lie , said, but slie did not hear him. theie e is something more which concerns us. ( Listen, Fausteen: 'lt is feared that in the fire which took place on Iriday i last at—we heard nothing of it, tau- < ste^n—2o, Gray's Inn, entirely de- ■, stroying the premises, has also lecluc- , ed to ashes the world-renowned collec- ■ tion of stamps of Mr Wilfred Davener. This loss will be felt by all collectors. ] A curious phase of the happening is ; that on the night in question a cat and a dog belonging to residents in the house deserteS it, and could not be in-d-iced t(- return.'" , . , „ AVilfred burst out laughing loudly, almost hysterically. "They doiwt ; mention the mice," lie said. Wli-u can they be- about not to mention the l mice?" " . ~ f She looked at liirn strangely. 01 the \ last paragraph she evidently had not ! lizard a word. "I wonder where 1 lank Lascellcs has gone?'' , "What on earth does that matter to us? He was a bad egg." Her eyes, which had grown dull, flashed. ' "Was he," she sawl m a jeering tone, "a bad egg. Well giving her shoulders another shrug— we ; are all, of course, permitted to have oiir own opinions. I should say m youi picturesque language that he was a < verv good egg, very sound through anil through. Anyway, he was at one time our friend." , , . , , ' "Yours, not mine. I hated the tel- ■ . v "Because you were ( jealous. *ou tad no other reason." _ "No. that was sufficient. At one time I thought you cared him; thank Heaven you did not. S She looked at him strangely. : "Why?" she said. ''He was as good as you until he got into trouble. . "I daresay. Still, he did get into very serious trouble. If.-yp?.na« carea foi 4 " him if you tail married him i I know he wanted you . to, you would be

wife:now ofa man who for the rest* of his life will be looked upon, as a gaol-bird.". ' - j She shuddered. "Don't, she said. ■"Poor fellow. Poor, true, faithful felt low." * | His grip, on her shoulders tightened. "Fausteen, 'what on earth do you mean? You seem half asleep. I snail put this beastly stuff"—laying his band on" the decanter—"away." "You'll do nothing of the sort," she said, putting her. hand on his, and seeming with an effort to pull herself together. "Do you think Ido not know when I have had enough.? Why, you ought- to have sense enough to know that half a bottle of brandy would not hurt me while my nerves are in their present state* ana it does not seem enough that I should have had to go 'through what I have beon through to-day. 1 get blow upon blow." His expression changed, he stooped and kissed her. "My poor darling," he said, "then you did hear about the fire and my stamp collection. It is. indeed hard that I shall not now have the little fortune I thought I should to settle upon you." ' She turned upon him quickly, caught his hand in an almost painful grasp. One would hardly have given her ere- i lit for so much strength. "You ' not have .the money to settle upon me now?'' she questioned. -"Why 1 not? What is the matter with your < stamp collection? Are they only fakes j after all?" , nn 1 He drew his hand from Iters. 'Then 1 you did not hear?" lie said; and there > ivas a hopeless note in his voice now. "The house in which I had chambers ' lias been burnt to the ground, and my collection of stamps with it. Only the : inhabitants and the dog and cat and > the mice seem to have been saved or • to have saved themselves. I read you the paragraph. I thought that was what upset you. It seems," his tone hardening, "I was mistaken; your interest was centred on the some-time :onviet." She turned on him like a tigress. "Leave him out of our discussions, conversations!" she cried. He moved to his seat and sat down. 'How hot you get about him," he said. "What does it matter to us what the world will think of him, how >t will receive him. He has gone out jf vour life and mine, thank Heaven/ "How do you know?" Fausteen ask- . s d, "We are almost sure to come across one another. Why," laughing lervously, '"probably the first ivill do will be to search for me. You seem to forget that when he went to prison he loved me." "He will do well not to love you low. When we reach we will jet married as soon A I can get a special license." "Get married? How can we? 1 thought you said your collection or stamps was destroyed by nre. "I can still settle five hundred a ,*ear on vou." "Poof! It would not keep me m •tocks, and we should just have the iva hundred or so that you make by rour scribbling to live on. lour marmot like anyone else's market-—mine, for instance," with a short laugh, 'may fail at any time. No my dear Wilfred, there ; s nothing like looking 'acts and the truth in the face, and ,he fact and the truth is that as things , ire we cannot marry. No, don t ar<ue ik:w. Say good-night. I wsmt to J6 tilone. I have borne just about as I nuch as I can. Come at 12 to-morrow if vou like." , , , There was nothing to be done but leave her. and Wilfred walked deject-1 sdlv back to his hotel. All night long he could not sleep, ( v ; i early morning found him wanderiiiii miserably m the gardens looking ut~tlio sea, climbing up into the olive rroveS. , , i Twelve o'clock came at last and found him in the vestibule of the Hotel Prince de Gaul. Ihe n™™g ev himself 'met him there. Wilfred thought lie -looked at him strangely. "I shall find Miss O'Neil in hei. salon, shall I not?" Wilfred asked. The manager shook his head. mclemoiselle O'Neil left quite early this morning," he answered.

CHAPTER VIII. Bio- Ben had boomed out the hour of eight o'clock in the evening. Almost like echoes near to and more and . more distant, innumerable clocks, struck the same time. In London, at all events, there was no excuse toi | tho watchless pedestrian not knowing or asking the hour, and for the time being, like Othello, m that particulai respect a policeman's occupation had S °All round about the Houses of Par- ( liament humanity swarmed like a hive ■ of bees. Suffragettes were therein their hundreds, bent on militant J with the help of anything from a bftck- j bat to a volley of vehement oratory j and a padlock and chain. Policemen j horse and foot—were there, keeping, or endeavoring to keep, order; soldiers j ivere not very far off, in case the weak-1 sr sex got beyond ordinary masculine j C °Members of Parliament hurried to the House in terror of life and limb. Some drove up and left their vehicles with the velocity of a stone from a catapult, and dived into the Hoiise with the agile swiftness of a rabbit into its burrow; some were under police protection, and' looked about them anxiously in abject terror, fearful of missiles which might for ever spoil their masculine beauty. For .the time being, at all events, the hand that, metaphorically speaking, rocked the cradle ruled the world; or perhaps it would be better to transpose some of the words, and let it read. The hand that ruled the cradle rocked the world. —shook its centre to its foundations. One almost wondered that St. Stephen's Tower and the spire of St. Margaret's did not fall to the ground _ in indignation that the Holy of Holies, so long dedicated' almost wholly and solely to the nobler, superior sex, should be inundated by a herd of the inferior. Every vehicle which came along was keenly scrutinised by the gentlemen in blue. Furniture vans were held up—to all intents and purposes the words "Stand and deliver" were uttered." The closed doors were unfastened and thrown wide, and*if nothing less innocent than washstands that stood on their heads, the mere skeletons of wardrobes* and- a few anaemic plants were disclosed, the vans were allowed with a stately wave from an inspector's hand to proceed on their way, am:d the laughing jeers of the attendant ladies, and the gentle suggestion that it was just as well to lock, the door when the horse was stolen. Omnibuses, carriages, "and cabs were allowed to proceed l but slowly on their way, in spite of vexed remonstrances. The eagle eye of the law, which often sees things at a distance so much more

A -taxi-cab containing a single occupant rather heavily veiled came along smartly from the direction of Victoria Station. Robert's hand—in fact, several Roberts' hands—were held up,, a horse policeman wheeled his mount round sideways across the road, the chauffeur slowed down, drew up, an inspector nodded to him, went to the sido of the vehicle, and opened the door. "I beg your pardon," he said, quite coolly, "'but I am afraid I cannot allow you to proceed. have orders, which we must obey, and our orders are not to permit your presence' in the vicinity of the House.'' As the inspector had Opened the door, the occunant had shrunk back seemingly iu terror. Something in the man's words appeared to reassure her. She sat forward again, but she did not lift her veil. "I don't understand 1 ," she said, and licr voice was just a ■ trifle unsteady. "Your orders are not to permit my presence in the vicinity of the House? What house? And why on earth should you have orders with regard to me at all? I'm afraid, lam very much afraid, as usual in your profession, you aro on a false scent."

He bowed. "I think not, madame," lie said. "As a matter of fact, we were expecting you in a taxi-cab and heavily veiled. Wo know when you left Oaxton Hall. We know you were driven here by -a circular route, and, as I« told you before, our orders are not to allow you anywhere in the vicinity of tire House. 'We know a raid and serious disturbance is organised for to-night, and we have no intention that it shall take place." The veiled woman was evidently mystified. "Caxton Hall? A raid'?" she repeated. "I really do not understand you. I have driven straight from Victoria Station. If you do not believe me you can ask the chauffeur; but who is it you think I am?" "Madame, we klo not think —we know."

The veiled woman laughed quietly. "Very well. Then who is it that ycu know I amp" He leant forward and uttered l a woman's name softly. The veiled woman made no sound for a moment, tnen she laughed. The inspector had mentioned the name of a very prominent suffragette leader. "You do me too much honor," she said. "I should be proud enough to be the lady whose name you have mentioned, but I am riot. As-1 tell you, I have driven straight from Victoria. Why do you not interrogate the chauffeur?"

The inspector smiled. ''There STe no doubt chauffeurs who are in sympathy with the movement of which I believe you to bo one of the leaders; but the question as to your identity can soon be settled. Madame is heavily veiled, very heavily, veiled, I know by sight well the lady whom I believe you to be. Have you any objection to lifting your veil? If I am mistaken you can proceed at once, and I shall most humbly apologise." The veiled woman hesitated. "It is an outrage," she said. The inspector smiled and shrugged l his shoulders. "Surely not," he said. "We are not in Turkey, or any other Oriental land, and an Englishwoman, as a rule, has no objection to lifting her veil. Madame, I am sure, in any case, need have no objection to'lifting hers. I am sorry to have to say it, but it must either be that or madame must turn back."

A sharp, impatient sound left the lips .of the veiled woman, then two small gloved hands went up and the heavy black veil,was thrown back." "There," she said, speaking angrily, almost vulgarly. "Now, am loram I not a liar?"

The inspector drew back, evidently . surprised and disappointed. "I apologise," ho said. "Madame is not the lady whom I supposed her to be; At the same time," scrutinising the- pale, beautiful features of the woman keenly "I seem to know madame's face well, and yet I cannot place it. Will you give me your word of honor that vou are not here with any intention of breaking the law?" The woman dragged down her veil. I She could not conceal her anger and ; impatience. "Surely," she said, rude- i ly, "you are the biggest fool of the force! I am driving westward when vou allow me to proceed. Whv do you not send one of your mounted en to follow my cab? There are enough and to spare.'' "Will ma-dame give me her na-ne and address?" t "No" —sharply— madame ''II not! It is outrageous! And if <<}\i keep me any longer it is I who will take your name or number. Tell the man to | drive on. for I am in a hurry and you waste my time." _ | The Inspector hesitated again, then I li<* shut the door and intimated to the ' chauffeur by a gesture that he coi.il 1 proceed. <- 1 The veiled woman sank back. How unfortunate,'' she said, half-aloud. "And yet it does not matter. He thought ho knew my face; wobihly ho does. That is one of ;he Ue.-sinus bestowed upon us by the halfue.iny illustrated pres;/. No one's features are and the worst of it ; s thatphotography in most cases is onlv bhck and white. Well, well, nothing '(-n----t'lro, nothing win, and Heaven knows I arv poing to venture much." As the taxicab moved away the inspector looked after it, a puzzled expression in his face. "I know that woman's face as well as I know my own," he said to himself, "and yet I cannot place her. She's been befo-e the public; her picture has been in the illustrated papers, but for the life of me I cannot remember in what capacity. She's not a suffragette, and! bhe's not an actress. Then, in Heaven's name, who and what can she be? Ah',, well, I shall remember. Slie's a pretty woman, at all events, and for some reason or other she was afraid of r.ie, # I wonder why?" (To be continued.)