GIRL WITH BLUE EYES,

Lake County Press, Issue 2788, 5 June 1919, Page 2

GIRL WITH BLUE EYES,

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BY LADY TROUBRIDGE,

Author of "The Cheat," "The Soul of Honour," "The Millionaire," "Paul's Step- mother," "The Woman Thou Gavest," &c. &c.

[C OP r EI G H T.]

hind her. Do you understand?" "Perfectly, Madam." Cheviot was aroused to a vague amusement by the sternness of her I look, although he could not classify . , it or understand it. j "Why is the door to be so carele fl shut upon her? " he asked. "Are you afraid she will run off " with my umbrella?" rt "I do my good works in secret," eg she replied. "It is a poor work-girl I am trying to help, and I don't * want to embarrass her by the sighf of my visitors." "Is it a sad case?" said Cheviot. >d "Very, she has not a friend in the " world, and is lone in London." .£ They were the first words that had .. come into her mind, and as soon as she had said them she regretted having done so, for his eyes lighj tened and he was evidently thinking of a similar case. "My dear lady, I too, am rather er fond, of doing good by stealth. Let me join you in your charitable en- • j terprise ? Shall we go and see your protegee and relieve her at once ?" He looked 'eager and animated _ for the first time, and was already searching for his sovereign purse. , lfc "Nonsense," said Mrs. Morton e irritably. "You cannot throw ie money to those kind qf people as ;t i you would alms to a beg^r." "Certainly not, I quite agree ire Let's go to her and hear her story. Sympathy first and then cash, ie There are few things in the world f. that these two remedies cannot at meet." "Not at all," she said laughing, "you are far too handsome to play iw the part of knight errant. My little )u protegee would be struck dumb at )u the sight of you. Give me the in money if you like and I will give it to her." 0. He laid a bank-note in her hand. y- "Perhaps you are right, goodbye." if A warm pressure of the hand and ce a smile full of approbation. It it was more than she had won from II him for a long time. She stood " looking down at the money in her •d hand while an ironical thought curved her lips. It would, indeed, be an ironical jest to make him him--11 self provide the means of an eternal ai separation from the upstart who I evidently so engrossed his thoughts. 3- "Wait a moment," she said. He followed the glance of her d eyes. y "What, haven't I given enough ?" y he said. "Well, then, what do you e want?" "There is not the slightest occar siou for you to give anything," she ' u remarked, "but if you do feel so! 0 generously inclined I must tell you p tb.it a hundred pounds would start ( her in life." "Then something more substanf tial, I see," and he laid another a crackling sheet in her hand. tively. r "You are good," she said gratec fully. "Fancy going about with all i that money in your pocket. Sup- ' , pose you were robbed?" i i He smiled. "I never suppose, those kind ol j , things, they are so unlikely to hap- ' • pen." • When he had finally gone, she ; laughed quietly. } "Not so unlikely as you suppose, 1. Lord Cheviot, in fact it has just 1 happened! 1 could not remember at the moment the price of a first i class ticket to Australia, but I think i this will cover it." She rang the bell sharply. "Show the young person in," she i said imperatively, "and see that 1 i am not disturbed while she's here." ' A moment later Vyvian Desmond J was shown into the room. She looked round her as she en- f teredj then crossed to the fire-place and stood bfore Mrs. Merton, and the sunlight that came through the 1 lowered blinds and curtains of tinted lace fell on her golden head i and made it glisten and glow as if i it were surrounded by the nimbus of s a saint or martyr. j As Adele took her hand she could , have started at the terrible change j j that had come over the triumphant c

OHAPTEH XVJII --(Continued j It was fortunate for her hope that she could not see into the mini of the man whose dark piercing eye met hers occasionally, or they wouli have shrunk, withered and scattere before the fire of a passion sh could never have grasped. A tern pest of feeling had beat 1 like a cage thing against the bars of his hear when he thought of those sweet eye that he would in all probabilit never see again, and of that tren bling form that he had held in hi arms, and, like a fool, let go. "I suppose you are very engrosse with this wedding?" she said, tentc "Oh, I don't know; Evie sees to i -+ " he answered, "and I hope i will go off very well." "She's a dear girl," said Mrs Merton. "I don't know when have taken such a fancy to anyon as I have to her." Cheviot lifted heavy eyes to he face for a moment. "She's a good little soul," he sai with an indifference that was aj: parent. "Have you heard anything ofthe other?" she ventured, timidly. He stared at her for a momen like a mourner in a fresh bereave ment, who hears a beloved nam mentioned ; then deliberately ignore the question. "What a charming room you hav here," he said. "Never mind my room," sb answered. "Tell me of yourseli The season is nearly over now; wha are your summer plans?" "I have none." "No plans!" she echoed. "Ho l absolutely extraordinary! Yo don't expect me to believe that yo are going to stay in London i August?" "Why not? I have work to dc and I may as well be there as any where else now." The last word that dropped as i unconsciously from his lips spok volumes to the jealous ears tha heard it. "If he sees her he wil forgive her, he will have her back,' ran her inward thought, and hari upon it came another : "He must never find her !" ' y "I, too, am not going away til late in August," she said, "so if yoi really have to stay on in London hope you will come and see me some times." "You are very kind," he sah warmly, "and I shall certainly come. You have been exceedingly kind," he repeated with a litth hesitation. She was emboldened to lay hei hand upon his arm, and the room ii: the warm afternoon light seemed tc grow bright to her as she looked up into his face. "I have been so sorry for you," she murmured on the gentlest note of sympathy, "brit things will come right, I know they will." His hand closed over hers. For the first time he seemed to look upon her as though she had come • into the scope of his mental horizon, as though he realised her presence as well as saw her. "One must hope so," he said, "it's the only way to make life bearable." As she stood thus looking up at him with her heart beating, and her hand trembling in his, she started violently, for a servant came in, and she moved quickly from him. "What is it?" she said with a look of annoyance that made the man realise his mistake. Mrs. Merton's servants had not an easy time of it for she was apt to be vindictive if thwarted. "A young person has called, madam, and she has written down name." With a horrible s*:nse of impending danger she snatched the paper from the man's hand, and as she glanced at it she whitened to the lips, and the hard lines about her mouth became more apparent. "Listen to me," she said slowly and anxiously, "and attend to what I say. You are to show this young person to my sitting-room off the hall, at once, and close the door be-

beauty she had known. Her face, lier figure, the position in which she stood, all expressed a hopeless dejection. She was very simply dressed ,her hair twisted in a great knot in the nape of her neck. She looked at Mrs. Merton almost with terror. Perhaps she had expected to see someone widely different from her old enemy: for her first look round the room had been an anxious seeking one. "My dear child," said Mrs. Merton, gently. "I know you have never liked me, but I want you to trust me now; for at all events the trouble I have taken to see you proves the interest that I have in | you. It is only when we are in diffi- j culties that we can tell our real j friends, is it not?" j She bent her head in acknowledg- • ment of the words, but did not speak. "I told you I had a message from Cecil Cheviot," continued Mrs. Mer- ' ton, "and that is why you have come." Vyvian still said nothing, she only grew very cold and trembled excessively. "I have a message, but my dear, I grieve to say it is not what I hoped it might have been. He sends you his best wishes for your future, and lie implores yon to lose no time in returning to your father and mother in "Melbourne." She saw Vyvian tremble violently, and it reminded her of the death quiver of a wounded thing, wounded unto death. A look of desperate agony passed across the pallid face, and then the girl looked up and for the first time she spoke. "Did he really send me that message?" "He really did. Do you think I would deceive you?" "And nothing else?" faltered Vyvian with dry white lips. "He said other things, but you would not like to hear thorn. Now, my dear child, don't let this spoil your life. You can't go on as you are, homeless in London; it is out of the question ,and I hardly think you would care to receive any help from them.'' A shudder answered her. "It would comfort you, would it not, to be with your mother?" ! A faint softening of the pale face answered her. "Yes, oh, yes!" "Then let me pay your passage, dear, or rather give you the means to do so. Believe me it would be a pleasure to be able to feel that I had helped you, and it would be no inconvenience whatever." Vyvian shook her head despairingly, but it was evident that she could hardly bring herself to refuse the only help that had been offered to her, and finally she accepted it as a loan; listening in a dull stupor to the directions that Mrs. Merton poured into her ears, and taking the address of the shipping office where she was to engage her berth. Then finally, as she was turning to go, she made an effort to shake off the spell of misery that held her. "I think I have misjudged you very much," she said to Mrs. Merton, "and I beg you to forgive me. I shall never forget what you have done for me to-day. God bless you!" She took Adele's hand and kissed it, and the grace of the gesture added fuel to the flame of hatred burning | in the other woman's heart. "There, there, that will do. The Ortona sails to-morrow, I hope you will be able to get a berth. I wish you a pleasant voyage, good-bye." Vyvian took her way to the shipping office in Piccadilly with the first gleam of hope that had arisenjn the Miightmare of her despair, and with the vision of her father's face to cheer her in the darkness. She went up to the counter and made a few inquiries, and the young man in charge of the department gradually thawed and became interested, as was the wont of men before that sweet face. Yes, it was fortunate one berth had been returned, and it would be available. It was in a very good position, and she would be extremely comfortable. What name? "Miss Smith," faltered Vyvian, with an utter want of originality. \ 'Miss Smith. Very good. It will. be necessary to pay half the fare in advance." Vyvian laid a fifty pound note upon the table ,and after turning it over the clerk said : "Would you just mind endorsing this? Merely a little formality, as « do not know you." j She took up the pen and wrote her 1 lame. j "When does the ship sail?" she said. ; "To-morrow; you would have t< . eave for Southampton at twelve so j is to get on board in good time." j After a few more details Vyvian eft the office, and it was fortunate 'or her that she did not hear the vhispered colloquy that followed her 'ootsteps. "One moment, Mr. Harter," said ,he young man who had served her. 'Can I draw your attention to the lame on the back of this note?" ; A whiskered individual took it and ; tared at it uncomprehendingly. ; "Well, what is wrong with it?" , "Excuse me, sir, but is not that he name the inspector told us to \ vatch for? He called yesterday . fternoon and saw Mr. Everard, } nd after that we received some in- j tractions." 1 "Can you refer to them ?" ] "Yes, I have the memo, by mo. . ih ! Here it is. If the young lady v ailed to take a berth for Australia t

we were to communicate at once with her guardian, a certain Lord Cheviot, on the telephone, preferably to lose no time." "Good! I will see Everard about it myself." A hasty consultation followed, and a number was rung up. M Are you 340782 Gerrard. You are. We are Boyd's Shipping News. We have an important communication for his lordship. Can he come to the 'phone? Away from town for the night? Any other responsible person there. No one but the household? Ah! unfortunate. Well, we will ring up to-morrow. Goodbye." "Drawn blank, said Everard, as he noisilv replacod the receiver. "Well, I have no fancy for this Scotland Hard business. I don't see that we can move in the matter any more. Yes, you might ring up tomorrow if you feel inclined and if it does not escape your memory. Yes, perhaps it would be best. We'll do it." I CHAPTER XIX. i L As Cheviot returned he flung himself into a chair utterly discouraged, ' worn out with the ceaseless anxiety . of his useless quest, and racked with the hideous remorse of what he now felt to have been his carelessness. What did her paltry fault matter in the face of the great fact of his allabsorbing love ? In especial he blamed himself for the twenty-four i hours of agony he had allowed her to pass when she knew herself to be under the ban of his suspicion. That was the cruelty that made him writhe in its contemplation. The crime for which he felt he could never forgive himself. Evie had told him how she was suffering, and he had refused to listen; had left her , to herself until the fatal act was a«- j complished because he would not yield up his will to the extent of showing her the greatness of his love, and letting her feel that no fault, no human power on earth could come between them. i Presently he drew out her letter, and read it through again, and the simple pathos of the words melted his heart. She had blamed herself, poor innocent, as if she had com- j mitted the deadliest crime, when all her offence had been that she had been unable to tear herself away from the great love that had come into her life. And he, blind fool, ' who had loved her, who would have shielded her and died for her, had destroyed the whole fabric of their ; lives by his cruelty. ( A knock at the door and the an- } nouncemeut of a visitor drove him from his reverie, and springing from his seat, he started up to forbid the entrance of anyone, when he caught ; sight of the face of the man who had j come to him, and heard the name. J < "Show him in," he said, and as j I the door closed behind the butler • he nodded. I "Ah, Inspector, any news?" ! "Yes, my lord, we have some news for your lordship to-day. The young lady has been seen, traced to a cer- f tain house, and then, I regret to say, lost sight of. I cannot under- j stand how our man could have been so careless, but he says the crush in \ Piccadilly was so great that he lost sight of her cab, and when he got up to it the cabman said she had left him and mixed with the crowd." "Well, but she gave some address. People don't drive to nowhere?" "He says he did not catch the address, and when he asked her for it I again she paid him and left the cab. Very unfortunate, my lord, but at all events I will read you the news we have." He took out his notebook and refreshed his memory. I "As you know, my lord, he visited the woman Ford whom you thought might know of her whereabouts. She had heard from the young lady, but there was no address on the letter. I She had, however, the post-mark as' a guide, and that was Bloomsbury. j Well, he had a job to locate her, and j in fact he pretty well failed, when | he suddenly caught sight of her m ; the Euston Road, and the photo- . graphs Mrs. Ford had shown him enabled him to identify her at once. From that moment he never lost of her. She wandered about in an aimless kind of way, lunching at an A.B.C. shop, and seemed to while away the time till about 3.40, - when she made her way to 100 Park Lane." Cheviot started to his feet, his face ashy white. "There must be some mistake," he said. "Your man is at fault; why. 1 only left that house myself at about four o'clock!" "He is a bit of a fool, my lord, to have lost sight of her aftrewards," concluded the Inspector, "but it is , right enough that she went to 100 Park Lane*. He got a good sight of I her in the doorway, and there was no 1 mistaking her, for he took the photograph out of his pocket and com- ,- wed it with her as she stood; belides which Mrs. Ford had given him t • full description of her colouring, v md had mentioned in particular her vps and hair. Yes, he swears to the t 'act that she went into that house, hat she was there about a quarter of ' m hour, and then came out walking u nore briskly and carrying her purse a n her hand. She hailed a taxi-cab iv the corner of Dean Street and un- j uckily may man could not see one, v nd had to follow her in a four- n rheeler. It is difficult work to keep c( p with them taxis , my lord, and

wants a bit of doing, as you may J say." "Well, if she was there," said Cheviot, "then it's a conspiracy, for the house belongs to a friend of mine who knew of Miss Desmond being j missed, and was perfectly aware of \ my efforts to get her back. How do you account for that, Inspector ? Is it possoble that a lady, a friend of f ours, would stoop to conceal the girl « in her house and deliberately mislead me. Come, say something, man, yon . must have some solution to oiler." I "Well, irfy lord, if I may speak 1 freely, I should like to say that one never knows what a woman will be up to. Perhaps it was the lady's: f game for your lordship to miss the ] other party, that, of course, is not ( l for me to say. It might be a case of \ jealousy, my lord, or possibly the | young lady might have asked her to keep her secret." "I was told that a girl did call, while I was there." "Indeed, my lord, that seems ; 'ineer." 'j "Yes, and I questioned my friend .-.bout her, and she told me that was a deserving work-girl in need of j help. I gave my friend a hundred j pounds to help the case. Good heavens ! What was it used for, and to whom was it given !" "Well, my lord, of couse I don't like to say. You ought to be a better judge of the affair than I am, but it looks as if it might have been given to the young lady in question to get her out of the country. Might I suggest that your lordship comes with me to see this Mrs. Ford. She received a long letter from Miss Desmond, and she would not part with it it might be worth your while j to read it." i i "Yes, I'll order the car and go down to Coombe with you at once, but first I must have a reckoning j with Mrs. Merton. You had better j come with me, Inspector." j "Well, my lord, if I might offer my advice, I should see the lady alone. If she saw me it might j frighten her and upset her, so to i speak, and when a woman gets up- ' set there is no getting a word of truth out of her. If I might suggest it, you should bluff her. Just stroll in and tell her you know all about it." , j j "There is something in that, Ij I think," said Cheviot. "Well, meet ' me at Waterloo—or, no, I will go in the car. I will take you up at the comer here at about seven o'clock; but do not wait for me if I am detained; call again later if you don't mind." i The programme was carried out, and with very different feelinga Cheviot re-entered Mrs. Merton's drawing-room a few moments later. . She sprang up to meet him, the colour leaving her face as she saw his expression. "You have come back," she said. ~ He made no pretence of taking her j hand. { "Yes," he said, "I have come back ; to know what you have done with Vyvian Desmond?" • "Is it a riddle?" she asked, rally-; ing her forces. "If so, I am not good ' at guessing them." "It is no riddle. Your house was; watched during your interview with ! | her this afternoon, and the man who; watched is prepared to swear in a court of law if necessary that Vyvian • Desmond entered your home, and : was in close conversation with you' for a quarter of an hour; so I think she she may well be identified with the little work-girl you were so, anxious to help." "How dare you?" she muttered. "How should I not dare? You have dared to trick me, Heaven j knows with what motive. Mrs. Mer- j ton, I am desperate, and unless you tell me the truth I will have you ex- j posed. I shall easily trace her from] the notes that I am persuaded you J ; have given her; and that little trick j I think we may call getting money |' under false pretences. Come, the '. game is up. You may just as well i show your cards on the table, and if ! you do you shan't find me hard upon | you, only, for heaven's sake, don't 1 lie to me. And before you speak you J must well understand the position. } I love Vyvian Desmond, and no j other woman shall ever be my wife J f as God is my witness! Rightly or \ wrongly, wisely or unwisely, my life { is dedicated to her. So now you i understand the position." J| She covered her face for a moment T with her hands, then looked up at 1 him with wide distended eyes. ' ? "She was here," she said, "I did * give her the money." r < "Why did you not tell me?" ■ "Because she begged and implored | me not to. She took shelter with me, n Lord Cheviot, and I would not go w against her wishes." "Where is she now? Speak!" he jj ulded imperatively as she hesitated. "She's gone clown to my house in en Surrey, and you must not follow n ~ ar ler. Tc "I shall follow her. Give me the be iddress." ! With apparent reluctance she falered it out, and he took it down in ,'iiting. Then, as he turned to go, she clung Sj o his arm. "Can't you forgive me," she said. 'Can't you think of a reason why I light have been glad to keep you part even if she had not wished it?" "No, indeed, I can't." tei "And yet you have forgiven Vv- ] ian who lied and schemed to stay bu oar you, because—because she t«< j » Mi: ired. in (To be Continued.) lig]