THIS WOMAN TO THIS MAN

Cromwell Argus, Volume LXI, Issue 3168, 22 June 1931, Page 8

THIS WOMAN TO THIS MAN

hy C. N. and A. M. WIILLIAMSON Anther of "The Lightning Conductor. "The Car of Destiny/" "The Golden Silence," "The Princess Passes," Etc.

(Published by Special Arrangement.* [COPYRIGHT.]

CHAPTER X. The Series Goes On.

You. know how reticent he is about bis affairs, and how he never says any thing concerning business? One might think that to us he would show some ot the beautiful jewels he is suppose*! to buy for Max Grayle. But no. Ho never so much as mentions them. We should not have known wby he came over to England this time, after a shorter interval than usual, or that he tiad any valuables in his possession, if it had not been for this burglary. As he was obliged to talk to the po lice, and describe to them what had been stolen from him (I forgot to men tion that he, as well as Mrs. Ellsworth, waa robbed, but you would already hare guessed that, from my beginning, even It you haven't read the moraine papers before taking «ip mv inter), there was no reason why, to* once, he should not speak freely to us. He has been lunching here, and bas Just gone, as T write, but Is going to transfer himself later in the day tc cur house, as It has now become un bearable for him at Mrs. Ellsworth's I fancy that arrangement has been brought permanently to an end! Your presence in the dreary menage was the sole alleviation. "Poor James, it appears, came over ti London this time on an unexpected mission, differing from his ordinary business trips. You may remember seeing In the papers some weeks ago that an agent of the Grayle firm was robbed on shipboard of a lot of pearls and things he was bringing over to show to an Important client in England, some Indian potentate. James now tells us that he procured the finest collection for the Grayles. and as he is such a great expert, and can recog* nlse Jewels he has once seen, even when disguised or cut up. or placed in different settings, he was asked to go to London. In the hope that he might help the police in finding and Identifying some of the lost valuables. Also he was instructed to buy more pearls, to be sold to the Indian customer, In stead of those stolen from the agent on shipboard. James had not found any of the lost things, but he had bought some pearls' the very day before the burglary at Mrs. Ellsworth's. Wasn't it too unlucky. I have tried to give consolation by reminding him how fortunate it is he hadn't bought moTe. and that the loss will be the GTayles'. or that of some insurance company, not his personally., But he cannot be comforted. He says that the fact of his not having ten thousand pounds worth of pearls doesn't console him for being robbed of eight thousand pounds' worth. And certainly it is an appalling sum! James has little hope that the thieves will be found, for he feels that the Grayles I are in for a run of bad luck, after the uninterrupted good fortune of many years. They have lost the head of the firm, who has definitely retired, and occupies himself so exclusively with his wonderful collection that he takes no further interest In the business. Then there was the robbery on the ship, which in James' opinion must have been the work of a masterly combination. And now, another theft' The poor fellow has quite lost his nerve, which, as you know, has for years not been that of a young man. His deafness no doubt partly accounts for the timidity with which he has been afflicted since the first (and only other) time he was robbed. And now be blames It for what happened last night. He's trained himself to be a light sleeper, and If he could hear as well as other people, he thinks the thief would have waked him up, coming Into bis room. Once in. the wretch must have drugged him. because the pearls were in a parcel under his pillow. But how the man—or men—got Into the house Is a mystery, unless one of the new servants was an accomplice. Nothing was broken open. In the morning every door and window was as usual. Of course the servants are under suspicion: but they seem quite stupid, ordinary people, according to James. As for Mrs. Ellsworth, he says she Is making a great fuss over the few wretched bits of jewellery she lost, things of no importance. She. too. slept through the affair, and only knew what had happened when she waked up to see a safe she haß in the wall of her bedroom wide open. It seems that in place of her jewel box and some money she kept there, waa an Insulting note announcing that for the first time something belonging to her would be used for a good purpose. To James, this is the one bright Bpot in the darkness." When Mary had read this long letter with its many italics, she passed It on to Knight who. In exchange, handed her a London newspaper, with a page folded so as to give prominence to a certain column. It was an account of the burglary at Mrs. Ellsworth's house, which he had just been reading.

After all, Mary had not written to ber friends, Archdeacon Smith and his wife, on leaving Mrs. Ellsworth's, to tell them the surprising news of her engagement. She had asked Mr. RuthTen Smith not to speak of it to his cousins, because she would prefer to write. But then the putting of the news on paper in a way not to offend them, after all their kindness In the past, had been difficult, terribly difficult. Besides, there had been little time to think out the difficulties and And a way of surmounting them. There had been only one whole day before the wedding, and that day she bad spent with Knight, buying her trousseau. It had been a wonderful day, never to be forgotten, but its end had found her tired; and when Knight bad said good-bye and left 1 her, she had not been equal to the task of composing a letter. Nevertheless, she had tried, for it had seemed a dreadful thing to marry and go away from London .without letting her only friends know what had happened, what she was doing, and why she had not invited them to her wedding. Ah, why! In explaining that she confronted the great obstacle. She had not known how to exonerate herself without hurting their feelings, or telling some direct lie. The girl hated lying. She could not remember that in her life she had ever spoken or written a lie in so many words, though, like most people who are not saints she had prevaricated a little occasionally to save herself or others from some unpleasantness. In this case, no comparatively innocent prevarication would serve, She did begin a letter. It was a feeble effort. She tore It np and essayed another. The second was worse than the first, and the third was scarcely an improvement. Discouraged, and so nerveracked that she was on the point of tears, the girl gave up the attempt, or rather, put it off. But days passed, and when no inspiration came, and she fas still haunted by the thought of such a duty undone, at last she compromised by telegraphing from Devonshire:— Dear friends (her message began).—l beg you to forgive me for seeming neglect, but it was not really that. I'm married to a man I love. It had to be sudden. 1 could not let you know in time though I wanted to. I shall not be quite happy till I've seen you and Intro-, duced my husband. Say to your cousin he may explain as far as he can. When we meet will tell you more. Coming back to London in fortnight to take house in Portman Square and settle down. Love and gratitude always. My new name Is same as yours.—Mary Smith.

To this she added her address in Devonshire feeling sure that unless the Archdeacon and his wife were hopelessly offended by her neglect and horrified at Ruthven Smith's story, they would write to her. She cared for them both very much, and it would always be a grief, she thought, that she and Knight had not been married by her kind old friend. Every night she prayed for a letter, and waking up with the hope that the postman might bring one. Five days after the sending of her telegram her heart leaped at sight of an extremely fat envelope, addressed in Mrs. Smith's familiar handwriting. They forgave her! That was the principal thing. And they rejoiced in her happiness. All explanations—if "dear Mary wished to make any"— could wait until they met. "Cousin James Ruthven Smith was loyal to his promise to you, and gave us no hint of your news," the letter went on. "We did not, of course, even know of the promise till after your telegram came, and we showed it to him. Then he confessed that he was In your secret, that he had been witness of a scene in which poor Mrs. Ellsworth made herself more than usually unpleasant, and that you had asked him to let you be the one to tell us the glad tiding of your engagement and hasty wedding. I say *poor Mrs. Ellsworth' because it seems she has been ill since you left, and has had several other misfortunes. The illness is probably not serious, and I imagine, now I have heard fuller details olf her treatment of you, that it is merely u liver and nerve attack, the result of bad temper. If she had not been confined to bed, and very sorry for ber> self, I am sure nothing could have prevented her from writing to us a garbled account of the quarrel and your departure. As it turned out, I hear she rang up the household after you went that night, had hysterics, and sent a servant flying for the doctor. He—a most inferior person, according to Cousin James —having a Bister who ft) a trained ndrse, put her in charge of the patient at once, where she has remained ever since. Tn consequence of this nurse's tyrannical ways, the servants gave a day's notice and left In a body. Three temporary ones were got In as soon as possible from some agency or other, and last night, just ffur days, I believe, after they were Installed, a burglary was committed in the house. Only fancy, poor James? He was afraid to stay oven with us, in our quiet house, when he came to London just because once, years ago, we were robbed by sneak thieves! i

Generous, and free with money as "Nelson Smith" was, he was not a man who would allow himself to be "done," and in some ways the Annesley-Setons were disappointed In the bargain they arrived at with him. In some mysterious way, without appearing to bargain or haggle, Nelson Smith made his bride's relatives understand that he was prepared to pay so much, and no more. That they could take him on liis own terms —or let him go. Terrified, therefore, lest he and his money

should slip out of their hands, they snapped at his carelessly made otter without venturing an objection. And they realised at the same time in a way equally mysterious, and to their own surprise, that not they but Mr. and Mrs. Nelson Smith would be master and mistress of the house in Portman Square; if there were ever a clash between wills, Nelson Smith's would prevail over theirs. Yet how this impression was conveyed to their intelligence they could hardly have explained even to each other. The man was so pleasant, so smiling and calm and careless of finances or conventionalities, that no one word or look could be treasured up against him. "The fellow's a genius!" AnnesleySeton said to when they were talking over the latest phase of the game together. And they respected him. Lady Annesley-Seton wished to bring back to town the servants she had had there, who had been transferred for economy's sake, to Valley House. This proposal, however, Nelson Smith dismissed with a few goodnatured words. "It wouldn't be fair to Mary,' he explained. "They'd scorn to take orders from her, and I want her to learn all the dignity of a young married woman with responsibilities of her own. That's the first step towards being the perfect hostess. She's the sweetest girl in the world now, but she's timid as a fawn, and distrustful of herself. I want her to know her own worth, and then it won't be long before everyone around her knows it." There was no answer suited to this, except smiling acquiescence, which Dick and Constance had to give. They did give it, all the more readily, because they were inclined to suspect a bidden hint, like a pill between two layers of jam. If Mary had been transferred from Earth to Mars the new conditions of ber life could scarcely have been more different from the old, than was life in Portman Square, married to Nelson Smith, and under the auspices of Lady Annesley-Seton, from the dull treadmill as Mrs. Ellsworth's slave-com-panion. What the Portman Square experiences of the bride would hav> been. If Knight had allowed the Annes-ley-Setons to begin by ruling as .they had hoped, it would be dangerous to say. But he had taken his stand (Irmly; and without guessing that she owed her delicious freedom of action to her husband's. foresight and strength of will, she revelled in it with a joy so intense that sometimes it came .close to pain. At these times, if he were within reach she ran to find Knight, and hugged him suddenly, almost fiercely, with a passion that surprised herself and him. "I'm so happy, that's all!" she would explain. If he asked: "What had happened?" or "What had come over the child?" "My soul was buried. You've brought it back to life." When she said such things to him. Knight smiled, and seemed glad. He would hold her tightly to him for a minute, or kiss her hand, like a humble squire with a princess. But now and then he looked at her with a wistfulness that was like a question she could not hear because she was deaf. She never got any satisfaction, though, if she asked him what the look meant. "Oh, i don't know. I was only thinking of you," he would answer, or some other words of loverlanguage. The Annesley-Seton's first move on the social chessboard was to make use of a pawn or two in the shape of "society reporters." They knew a few men and women of good birth and no money who lived by writing anonymously for newspapers. These people were always delighted to get the material for a paragraph, or photographs which their editors might like to publish. Connie took her new cousin to a woman photographer, who was the success of the moment; and, as she said to Knight, "the rest managed itself." Meanwhile, an application was made for Mrs. Nelson Smith's presentation by her cousin, Lady AnnesleySeton, to the King and Queen, at the first Court of the season. It was granted, and the bride in white and silver made her bow to their Majesties. As for Knight, he laughingly refused Dick's good offices for himself. "No levees for me!" he said. "I've lived too long in America, and roughed iv. in too many queer places, to take myself seriously in knee breeches. Besides, they have to know all about your ancestors away back in the dark ages, don't they, or else they 'cancel' you, or something uncomfortable. My father was a good man, and a gentleman, but who his father was I couldn't tell to save my head. My mother was by way of being a swell; but she was a foreigner, so I can't make use of any of her 'quarterings,' even if I could count them." Mary was presented in February. and had by that time been settled in Portman Square long enough to have met a good many of her cousin's friends. After the Court which launched her in society, she and Knight (with a list supplied by Dick and Connie) gave a dinner-dance. The Countess de Santiago was not asked to this: but soon afterwards there was a luncheon for women, in American fashion at which the Countess was present. When luncheon was over, she gave a short —a very short—lecture on "The Science of Palmistry" and the "cultivation of clairvoyant powers." Then there was tea, and the Countess allowed herself to be consulted by the guests—the dozen most important women of Connie's acquaintance. Mary, though she was not able to like the Countess, was pleased with praise lavished upon her both for her looks and her accomplishments, that afternoon. She had guessed, from the beautiful woman's constrained manner when they had met at a shop the

day after the dinner-dance, that she was hurt because she had not been invited, though why she should ex pect to be asked to every entertainment, large or small, which the Nelson Smiths gave, Mary could not quite see. Vaguely distressed, however, by the offended flash in the handsome eyes, and the curt, "How do you do?" the girl appealed to Knight. "Ought we to have had the Countess de Santiago last evening?" she asked, perching on his knee in the room at the back of the house which he ha l annexed as a "den."

"Certainly not," he reassured her promptly. "If I'd thought so, I should have suggested her name. All the people were howling swells. The An-nesley-Setons had skimmed off the topmost layer of the cream for our benefit, and the Countess would have been 'out' of it in such a set, unless she's been telling their fortunes. You can ask her some day when you've a crowd of women on hand. She'll amuse them, and get kudos for herself. But I'm not going to have her encouraged to think we belong to her, and that she's free to stick her finger in your pie every time you have one. We've set her on her feet now, by what we've done for her already. Now let her learn to stand alone." The ladies' luncheon was the direct consequence of this speech. Complete as was the countess's success, Mary felt that she was not yet satisfied; that It would take a great deal more than a luncheon party of which she was the heroine, to content the countess, now that Nelson Smith and his bride had a house and a circle of their own in London. Now and then, when she was giving an "at home," or a dinner, Mary consulted Knight. "Shall we ask the countess?*' and the first time she did this he answered abruptly with another question: "Do you want her for your own pleasure? Do you like her better than you did?" Mary had to say "no" to this catechising, whereupon Knight briefly disposed of the subject. "That settled it. We won't have her." And so, during the next few weeks, the. Countess de Santiago (who had moved from the Savoy Hotel into a charming furnished flat in Cadogan Gardens) J came to Portman Square only for one more luncheon, and two or three re- ; ceptions.

By this time, however, she had made planty of friends of her own, and if she had cared to accept money and a professional status, she might have raked in a small fortune from her seances. She would'not take money, however, apparently preferring social recognition on a footing of equality with her clients; but often gifts were pressed upon her by those who, though grateful and admiring, did not care for the obligation to admit the countess into their intimacy. She took the rings and bracelets and pendants, and flowers and fruit, and bon-bons and books, because they were given in such a way that it would have been ungracious to refuse. But the givers were the very women o whose bosom friend she would have liked to seem, in the sight of the world: a duchess, a countess, or a woman distinguished above her slsterß for one reason or other. She worked to gain favor with them, and whenever she had any little personal triumph without direct aid from Portman Square, she put on an air of superiority over Mary when they next met. If she suffered a gentle snub, she hid the smart of it from everyone except herself, but secretly brooded, and blamed Mrs. Nelson Smith because she was asked to their house only for big parties, or when she was wanted to amuse their friends. She blamed Nelson too; but, womanlike, blamed Mary more. Sometimes she determined to put out a claw and draw blood from both, but changed her mind, remembering that to do them harm she must almost surely harm herself. Once, it occurred to her to try and form a separate, secret alliance with Constance Annesley-Seton. There were several reasons why that might have suited her, and she began one day to feel her ground, when Connie had telephoned, and had come to her flat for a little advice from the crystal. She had "seen things" which she thought Lady Annesley-Seton would like her to see, and when the seance was ending in a friendly talk, the Countess de Santiago begged Constance to call her Madeiena. "You are my first real friend in England!" she Bald.

"Except my cousin Mary," Connie amended, with rather a sharp glance from the green-grey eyas, to see whether "Madelena" were "working up to anything." "Oh, I can't count her!" said the countess. "She doesn't like me. She wouldn't have me come near her, if it weren't for her husband. I am quick to feel these things. Now you, I believe, really do like me a little, so I can speak freely to you. And you know you can to me." But Constance, in the slang of her girlhood days, "wasn't taking any." She was afraid that Madelena was trying to draw her into finding fault with her host and hostess, in order to repeat what she said, with embroideries, to Nelson Smith or Mary. She was not a woman to be caught by the subtleties of another; and in dread of compromising herself, did the Countess de Santiago an injustice. If she had ventured any disparaging remarks they would not have been repeated. The season began early and brilliantly that year, for the weather was springlike, even in February; and people were ready to enjoy everything. The one dark blot on the general brightness was a series of robberies. Something happened on an average of once every ten or twelve days, and always in an unexpected quarter, where the police were not looking. Among the first to suffer were Mr. and Mrs. Nelson Smith. The

Portman Square house was broken into, the thief entering a window of the "don," on the ground floor, and making a clean sweep of all the Jewellery Knight and Mary owned, except her engagement ring, the string of pearls which had been her lover's wedding gift, and the wonderful blue diamond on its thin gold chain. These things she always wore, night as well as day; but a gold chain bag, a magnificent double rope of pearls, a diamond uog-collar, several rings, brooches and bangles which Knight had given her since their marriage, all went. His pearl studs, his watch (a present out of Mary's allowance, hoarded for the purpose) and a collection of, jewelled scarf pins, shared the fate of his wife's treasures. Unfortunately, a great deal of the AnnesleySeton family silver went at the same time, regretted by Knight far beyond liis own losses. Dick was inclined to be somewhat solemn over such a haul, but Constance laughed. "Who cares?" she said, "We've no children, and for my part I'm as pleased as Punch that your horrid old third cousins will come into so much less when we're swept off the board. Meanwhile, we get the insurance money for 'los« of use,' again. It's simply splendid. And that dear Nelson Smith actually insists on buying the best Sheffield plate to replace what's gone. It's handsomer than the real." Neither she nor Dick lost any jewellery, though they still possessed a little with which they had not had the courage to part. And this seemed mysterious to Constance. She wondered over it a good deal; and remembering bow the Countess de Santiago had prophesied another robbery for them, telephoned her to ask if she would be "a darling, and look again in her crystal." Madelene telephoned back, "Corns this afternoon at four o'clock," (To be Continued.)