THE PURPLE MASK.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XL, Issue 12401, 24 October 1903, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE PURPLE MASK.

BY ADELAIDE STERLING. Author of " Neriue's Second Choice," "Above All Things," etc. CHAPTER XVl.—(Continued.)' " On, my God!" Phyllida, said sharply, under her breath.

There was someone tearing up the stone stairs, three at a time. Another minute and she would hear the key turn in the lock; another still, and her barricade would break down ; one more, —she saw the blade of her kuiie glittering bare !

" God forgive me if 1 have to do it," came through her white, steady lips.

It was for Rosalind's sake, not her own.

She braced herself hard against the chair ; the steps were on the last stair j were, with another bound, at the door.

Breathless, she waited to hear tho key grate in the lock. Through the corrugated glass of the door she could see the shadow of a man against the hall window outside ; he stooped and shook the. locked door with a Land of iron so that it trembled on its hinges. Perfectly silent Phyllida sat and watched her knife ; the door would not stand very long. She wondered, her thoughts quick with terror, if that little knife would hurt much!

With a wild scream the sprang to her feet. Was she mad—r\vas the dreaming V A voice .she knew was calling to her through the door. "Phil, Phil! Are you there'? Answer me, for heaven's ;;uke! It's Anthony." "Anthony!" For a moment she could not speak." " The door's locked," she cried, moistening her dry lips till they obeyed her. " Can't you get a key''" " Key !" Stanhope said, shortly. " No. Get out of the way, Phil, as far as ever you can." She threw the chair from the door, and stood waiting. "Oh, be quick!' she cried, sick with terror, lest Martin should be even now on the stair.

But even as she spoke the door,flew in, as the lock snapped like a thread. " Where are you?" Anthony Stanhope cried, looking into the dark hall. " What devil's work is this?"

He caught her to his breast passionately as she came out of the doorway of the little room where they had tied her ; his face was dark and stern as she had never seen it; his/ arms felt like iron as they went round her. " How did you get here? Who locked you in?" His eyes fell on the cut cords on the sofa. " What! You've been tied! Are you hurt?"

His eyes were lit with a look that frightened her ; she could not meet them. Pale as death, she leaned against his shoulder, where she had never meant to* lean again ; never would if Martin came up and told his true, ghastly story. " Take me away," she whispered, her little hands pushing him frantically to the door. " Take me home. Oh, quick, be quick! They might come back agaiu." " Who are they?" he sternly asked. He wished they would come back; he would make them pretty sick of this day's work. " My heart," he said thickly, " tell me what they've done to you," and he lifted her .face with a strong, brown hand. "Nothing, oh, nothing!" He could feel her shiver in his arms. "Oh! take me home."

Stanhope looked her straight in the eyes as she clung to him., ...•'.. " Tell me all, or nothing— you like, my Phil!" he whispered, for Phyllida Blake's sapphire eyes were pure and true still. " And come away, out of this." Ho shut the flat door behind them as best he could, and waited, for her to go downstairs before him. But she made him go first. If they met Martin, she thought as she followed him down, he would not dare stop Anthonyand he would stop her. But the staircase was empty. Not a- soul met them, to wonder at Phyllida' 5 lovely torn gown, and the crushed wreck of her smart toque. Anne took one look at the girl when she stumbled at last over the threshold of her own flat; it had been all she could do to get upstairs, in spite of Stanhope's arm. The woman picked her up bodily and laid her down on the parlour sofa. "Don't talk to her now, sir," she said " wait till.she has had a drop of wine. Oh, I wonder how that black villain next door decoyed her into his rooms? I knew there'd be" trouble when he was always looking in here with them divilish blue goggles." "What man?" asked Anthony, roughly. " Has there been anyone troubling her? Do you mean that a man got her in there and tied her?"

"Tied her!" Anne faltered. "I said he was a murderer."

" Tell me what he's like; I must go and set the police to work," Stanhope repeated impatiently. They were standing in the little kitchen, Anne pouring out some wine, and Stanhope spoke more loudly than he knew. Phyllida heard the words where she lay on the sofa exhausted and ready to faint. Police! Oh, there must not be any police told, unless she wanted to hang! " Anthony!" Her voice rang desperately as she sat up. . " Anthony!" Stanhope came in, the wine in his hand. "Yes? What is it?" he said. ."Drink this, and then tell me all you can. I must go and put'the police on the brute's track." White as death, wide black circles under her eyes, she sat staring at him; she tried to speak, but her lips only moved voicelessly; mechanically she stretched out her hand for the glass of wine and drank it. Stanhope knelt beside her and would have put his arm under her head, but she clutched it with frantic lingers. " You can't tell the police!" she cried, and the desolate ring of her young voice made his heart sick. " You can't. There's nothing to tell. I made a mistake in the door; I went in there of my own accord." "Who locked you up? Who tied you?" contemptuously. " Did you also do that? For God's sake, Phil, tell me!"

"I can't." She shivered, but she never took her eyes from his face. " I can't. It was a man I know," beating about for words that might satisfy him and yet be safe. "He had a perfect right to keep me there. He tied me because I refused to—-stay." A sound came from his lips that was between a curse and a groan. " Do you mean to say that you expect me to let you go on living this life," he said, harshly, " exposed to any and every outrage from a brute who trades on your fears— and not set the police on him? Because I won't do it." "My fears! I'm past fears," she returned quietly. "So far past them that if you go to the police I will kill myself to-night. I haven't lived a life that is'hell for nearly a year to turn coward now. And I won't have Rosalind s life spoiled " Rosalind!" He stopped himself from swearing. "What has she to do with it? She never even waited to find out what had become of youshe went away without knowing whether you were dead or alive." Phyllida's eyes burned dark as she looked at him. " She did what I told her to do," she retorted. "It was between her and mo; it is nothing to you,"an outsider." The cruelty of the word made him turn white.

"That's enough," he said, thickly; " don't go on—there's no need. But you know whose fault it is that I am an outsider. What do you suppose I care for all your mysterious secrets? I'd take them all on my back tomorrow, but instead you tell me to stand out of the way and see you half murdered without lifting a finger. I won't do it." His vehemence made her tremble at thought of the possible outcome of his determination. "I. suppose you mean he's your husband when you say he had a right to keep you,"

recklessly patting hid pain into words, "and I suppose you and your sister hid from him,. and he has tracked you ! but even your being his wife won't keep me from protecting you irom him." Her husband! Phyllida's heart turned over. Her husband, when she had never so much as kissed any man but Anthony! It was all she could do to keep back a wild cry of denial, when her eyes fell on Rosalind's waterproof lying on the floor where Stanhope had dropped it. The words died on her lips. Rosalind was Lady Ravelston, with no past at all;, she could not tell her own secret and not Rosalind's,

" Well,'' she drew one long breath as her thoughts flew through her brain; "let him think it was her husband who had dona this thing to her ; she could never be anything to Anthony Stanhopehe might as well think for one reason as another."

•' He tracked me," she faltered, assentingly ; "hut i hate the man; —I never loved anyone but you." She- spoke tho shameless truth, in her agony. Stanhope caught her to his heart in a, passion of pity. "Oh, Phil, and yet yon put all this coil between you and me !" His kisses rained un--forbidden on her agonised face. " Leave him —come with me—let me take cans of you."' his voice low and full of love in her ear* "I'll take you where he'll never find you;', X don't you know how I love you, my Phil?"For a moment she wavered, her heart beats clamouring loud in her ears. Life with. Anthony somewhere, saie, out of reach I With her last strength she tore herself away, him.

"I can't," she sobbed, I'm wot reckless enough wicked enough. '1 made my own bed, and I must lie on it. And I must take care of Rosalind ; I promised mummy." Rosalind! A suspicion trashed up lull grown in Stanhope's head. "I don't believe," he sabl, slowly, "than it's your secret at all ! 1 'oelieve it's Rosalind's, and you're doing all this to shield her."

The danger in his checked her tears like a sudden dash of iced water.

Rosalind She laughed as Phyllida. Blake had never laughed in her life; wickedly, ruthlessly; us the Purple Mask might have laughed. " Rosalind's secret■?" she said composedly.! " No, it is mine!" After all, she was speaking the truth; i/j was not Rosalind who had killed Warwick,.

Rut Stanhope hod turned away from lict and walked over to the window.

"Rave it y.s you like," he said, shortly;' "if you won't trust- me I can't help it. Only I am going, to make you move out of here. I can't go home and think that man is able to abuse you any day." "It's s'o use to move. He can always follow rae home from the theatre, always find out where I live."

"Stop dancirg!" he curtly suggested. But she only shook her head. Stop now, when the must slave and get every penny; she could to buy Martin off! Impossible. *' I've got to earn my living," she re-! turned, wearily. " What's this, Anne':" '"It's your 'lunch; you'll be needing it' instead of talking.' Anne put down her tiray with a withering look at Stanhope. _ Phyllida turned away; she was too tired to eat. "What a brute I've been," Stanhope said'., " I might have thought you had eaten nothing." "I don't want any," she returned, forlornly. "Please," said Stanhope, quietly, "because I ask you to. I've had no lunch! either; won't you give me some of yours?" He put some chicken on a plate as he* spoke, and cut it up for her. "I'll eat it," feverishly, "if you'll promise not to do anything about what happened this morning; nor tell auyone." "I will do whatever you like, if you'll only let me take care, of you a litle," thinking all the same that lie would find that brute who had tied her like a dog and break his head for him. "And you'll have some too?" sho went'

Anthony nodded; he could see it was all she could do to swallow. He ate something, to please her, and then he rose to go"Will you promise Hie to go to sleep till it is time to go to the theatre? I'm coming here to take you, and I'm going to bring you home again. You're not fit to be alone."

Phyllida caught his hand as iho was going. " You won't go up to Number 18 and have a row," she cried, anxiously, "promise me!"Anthony turned a guilty red; it was jusfe what he was longing to do. " No, if you say not, he answered, loyally;.? She drew a long breath of relief. " All right, then, I'll sleep," she said- , After all, the man would Keep, StanhopGl reflected as he went down stairs. He mighJl. have better chance at him than this.

But when he came back in the evening Anne met him with a startling piece of news* The tenants of' Number 18 had moved on** bag and baggage night watchman bad}; just told her so. "Moved out! Why!" Stanhope thoughts as he waited for Phyllida. It looked as! though her assailant were terrified in hi* turn. He was sick of mysteries, and hem was another one. "I wish I'd stayed to punch 'his keadtf* he reflected, ruefully. CHAPTER XVII. V LADY lIAVELSTON'S NEW BEXA^ICrtrS, "« Lady Muirdale came discontentedly intoi the breakfast-room of her town house, and stood at the window, looking into the sireew It was a dull street poky," Alix Muirdalfll called it — there was nothing to be seejK there, but she was waiting for Lord Muaw dale to come in from his early ride. ''-"•»'"■'-' There was no sign of him, and she turneti crossly to her breakfast and her lettered There were only three, all bilk, and she did not open them; the end of the season brought them in shoals, and they would only destroy her appetite. She walked round to her husband's end of the table* and inspected his correspondence; if there was anything that looked interesting shfll would open it. "Pooh!" she said, indifferently, "notEing there but more bills, and a letter from Cosmo. I suppose it's to say ho won't lead! us that money." She was back in her place when her husband came in, giving her a curt nod as htt sat down.

"Why on earth don't you dress like_ a Christian in the morning, Alix?" he said, looking distastefully at her old tea-gown and at her face, where last night's rouge had left ugly marks. '"Too expensive," flippantly. "There's a letter for you from Ravelston; I suppose it's some lies about being as hard up as we are."

"He couldn't be that, as he does not rejoice in a wife," her lord returned drily,; opening his brother's note. " Give me some tea, will you?" But she held out the cup to him a long minute before he looked up ,and then Jw only motioned to her to put it down. " What's the matter?" she cried, sharply i". "is he dying?" "Dying? Good Lord, no! It's) irracM worse. He's married. Alix!" "Married!" Lady Muirdale flew to hia side and read over his shoulder. "It can't behe would have told us," snatching the letter. " It's true, though; he was married yesterday." Lord Muirdale leaned back in his chair,, his fair, weak face, that was like and yet unlike Ravelston's, black with anger. K&velston's marriage meant their . ruin; his debts, Alix's debts, were legion; and the news that they were out of the successions would bring every creditor they had down on them. '" Miss May—brought up by her governess, and now dead— not tell you because I wanted it kept quiet—St. Stephen's —write to Paris"—Lady Muirdale jerked out snatches from the short note/and then threw, it down and stood staring at her husband, her round, piquante face quite ashy. "What shall we do? We're ruined I Madame Flora will want her money the moment she hears it," she said. "Julian, it can't be true."

"It must be," irritably ; " all we'd have to do if ib were not would be. to look in thfl register at St. Stephen's." "If it is true, there's something wrong; about it,'' stamping her foot. "There must be something not right about the girl, or he'd have told us. ' Wanted it kept quiet,'" with derision. "Did he suppose, if he told us, we would have sent the news to Truth* and the World! , Miss May—why; she might be anybody! I never knew any Mays*! He had no'right to sneak off and get mar- ; ried without telling us!" pausing for sheerwant of breath. (To fee continued on Wednesday next.)!