THE RED-HAIRED GIRL.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLII, Issue 12853, 29 April 1905, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE RED-HAIRED GIRL.

[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.J

BY F. FRANKFORT MOORE, Author of "The Girls of the Honse," " Sir Roger's Heir," " The Jessamy Bride," " The Original Woman," " Well. After All," etc., etc.

Chapters I. and ll.— story opens at Caracas, the capital of Venezuela. Anthony Gresham goes to the Opera House. He sees there a girl of undoubted beauty, whose dazzling complexion and bronze hair differentiate her strongly from the olive-skinned, black-haired Spaniards who surround her. Of admirers she has not a few—of a type. After the play is over Anthony Gresharn wanders round the streets of Caracas, which are thronged with half-castes anil mongrels. Ere Ion? lie finds himself drawn into an escapade which is both romantic and dangerous. The sound ft wheels and one or two whistles attracts his attention. A stilled cry issues from a closed carriage which pulls up in his vicinity. He sees a woman whose bare head seems to be crowned with gold. Two men endeavour to force, her back into the carriage. Once more lie hears a scream, and the carriage door is banged as if the girl has been forced inside. Anthony fires and springs forward on to the carriage step. A man falls, and the driver allows the horse its head. However, the pointing of Anthony's pistol at his head brings the vehicle once more to a standstill. The lady speaks first in Spanish, and then, seeing her rescuer, she addresses him in English. Sue is the woman lie had seen in the Opera House. He gets into the carriage, and she orders the driver to proceedShe says it must be another of Castro's plots, and warns her protector that they must not get as far as the sentry. Anthong stops the . driver, and the girl redirects him. They once more approach Caracas; the lights of the town are in the distance. When all danger appears to be over the girl breaks down, but only for a few minutes. As they proceed towards the town several shots are fired from behind, lie driver pulls up, and the girl issues an order to him to drive on. More bullets. The Englishman tells her to crouch down on the floor of the carriage. He can see that the driver is reining m the horse, and probably is in collusion with their assailants. Anthony springs on to the driver, hurls him from his seat", and possesses himself of the reins. The horse now goes at a gallop. Suddenly it shies, and at the same moment a bullet sings just past, Anthony's head. Ho fires back at the man. The carriage wheel gets stuck in a bank of earth, and the vehicle is half overturned. Anthony jumps down, takes up an attitude of defence, watching the bend of the road, round which they have just come. CHAPTERS 111. AXI> IV—So fascinated does he get in this watching that lie does not realise for some minutes that all danger is over. He then discovers the girl standing beside him. She has lived in those parts for five years, and is used to seeing dead bodies lying about the street. Anthony tells her that, the steamer leaves I,a Guayra to-morrow afternoon. They walk into Caracas. . ie informs him that her name is Esther Dili; sue mid her father are much bound up in the politic ß of the various Republics that come and go. I hey are adventurers. During their conversation Esther thanks her deliverer for the service, lie lias rendered Iter, lie performs other little services for her, and shortly afterwards hails an empty buggy. In this they finish the rest of the journey, and draw up at the Grand Hotel. eilAi'TKits V. AND Vl.—Miss Dill introduces Mr. Gresham to her father. There is a strancei with him. Karon von Gircnstein. When lie takes his leave Esther tells her father she has hail an adventure. This does not. appear a thing of much moment to her father. After Homo conversation Esther reminds him of the thanks he owes to Mr. Gresham, conducts the stranger to his room for the night.

CHAPTER VII. But oven when he had seen that his door was securely fastened and that it was possible, by opening the door of a wardrobe that encumbered the room, to break the lino of fire between the window and the 'bed, Anthony Gresham did not find l it so easy to fall "asleep as he had fancied he should. He had shot two men, and he only regretted that he had not. made the number three —ho could even have taken 011 four without risking a twinge of conscience. No, what kept him awake was just what lias kept most men awake- since Adam's first sleep was so fraught with consequences—the thought of the Woman. His thoughts were mil of her. The romance of the episode of meeting her was neglected by him; it seemed' as ridiculously commonplace as the first act of a melodrama. The girl—the girl herself—it was of her li * lay awake thinking. There was nothing commonplace about her. ,th®i£ was nothing romanticshe was the most real girl whom he had ever met—the truest woman —the most interesting. She hrul never kissed a man : she had ottered to kiss lym, and he had refused to allow her. Out of the knowledge of his own heart ho had told her the truth—that lie would go away regretting that he had resisted tho temptation. It was the truth: he lay ■awake thinking of what he had missed, and his imagination was supple, enough to make the kiss a miracle manque. He thought of her lips her lips that had never been touched bv the lipn of a man—they were an orchid— mouth had something of (ho mystery of an orchid in its full, passionate curves—ho thought of her soft, hail-closed eyes—more mystery of her crown of hair shining like a disordered nimbus through the night. And ii might all have been his. had he not been a fool and refused it! He could not make out why lie had refused it. He would have been beneath contempt if the thought of a kiss had come to him. He had told her that lie woulr' like to kiss her hand, and that showed how far hif» thoughts had been from the true kiss. No, he had nothing to reproach himself with so fax as his midnight walk was concerned, but . .

After all, was there not «i certain secret feeling of pride dominating his fevered thoughts of the girl's beauty? H.' came to feel with the approach of dawn as if be had given the girl a present. Tie had something of the satisfaction of the philanthropist, and eventually he 'became proud ot his own generosity, his own magnanimity. The virtuous resignation, of the man who has denied himself a pleasure came to him at last, Tie had refused to take advantage of the girl's impulse: and' now be knew why he had done so, though a short time before it had' been a mystery to him ; lie had refused the kib" because he had thought of it at the moment as an attempt on the part of the girl to repay him in .some measure for what she owed to him. It would have been the kiss of gratitude, and he felt that, that would have taken away something of the glory of his achievement on her behalf —glory was not exactly the word that was in his 'mind; he knew that he had done nothing that could bear to be so termed; but he had done something and such as it was. lie did not wish to have it diminished by the expression of her gratitude through the medium of a kiss.

Feeling all this, lie began, at the approach of sanity, to wonder if be had actually fallen in love with this girl? Would he be inclined to ask her to v.rite to himto let him write to Iter?

lie soon found that he did not care to look into the future. But he war sure that lie had been "in love with her when ho had seen her at the opera, and lie was sure that when lie had been by her side, anopied byinfinite starlight, he had been, in love with her.

Ho had 'barely gone to sloop when he was aroused by bis host. A servant stood behind him with a cup of coffee and slices of toast.

"I have got your ba<r from the Hotel Bolivar," said 1 Captain Dill, " and your room is paid forthroe dollars—they wanted to charge two dollars for your dinner last night. Here is the receipt, nine dollars for thing. It was just- as well that you did not insist on going to the Bolivar instead of sleeping here. Garcia, did not reckon on your coming across mo. Clumsy fools: he man whom they poniarded, taking him for you, was a local Jew—not up to your shoulder. But they were in a mortal hurry, besides beintr asses. You will drive to the railway station with the baron. Don't forget your revolver ; you will protect him should he be attacked." In half an hour he had loft the hotel, saying a sane good-bye to Esther in the sitting-room, and receiving an exuberant benediction from her father when he was in the art- of mounting the. buggy. And now that he had come into the light of day out of the mirage of the night, he was conscious of a certain amount of trepidation. He felt as a. fugitive from justice. He wondered if there were inquests in Caracas. He rather thought that the city coroner must be a wealthy man. Surely if that body was discovered—perhaps there were two bodies— what about the poniarded Jew? Once or twice he. felt sure that the buggy would ho stopped. The -street leading to thrt railway terminus is narrow and wretchedly paved, a single lii e of mule tnamwavs takes up half the br< adth of the road, and the open cars were swinging along in rapid succession, coining from the railway laden for the most part with negroes and hall-castes; and from eve y car some passengers shouted something to the buggy driver. He had a suspicion that they were

warning him that the police were awaiting one of his "tares" at the terminus. At the terminus lie saw two of the men who had been with Esther at the opera'. One of: them was certainly Garcia. About a dozen police wera at hand and they had) an aspect of alertnessas if they were awaiting a signal. When the buggy clattered and jingled up they drew together and the two conspirators whom he had seen took a step toward the vehicle. The baron almost leaped into their arms, and they went back a couple of steps, glaringly disconcerted. They took off their hats to the Germap commander, and' he replied very civilly to their civility. Mr. Gresham followed his example, and keeping close to his companion strolled on to the platform and' into one of the cars. And then Anthony pulled himself together. He felt sure that the men whom he had recognised would, on recovering from their surprise at the presence of the captain of the corvette, make an attempt either upon his life or his liberty— they had not very long to make up their minds, for the train was ready to start. He saw them, walk up the platform, chatting together too ostentatiously to be in keeping with the Spanish habit, which is ever dignified and reticent. He stood' up as they approached! his carriage, and with his eyes on an imaginary point above their heads, put his right hand slowly" to his hip pocket. They did not get the length of his window in their stroll; they turned and walked back. The train did not start for auother quarter of an hour, but the men did not return. The line to La. Guayra. is one of the most picturesque in. the worlds The train slides down the. zig-zags of the mountain, for miles at a time along the brink of precipices a thousand feet of sheer descent, and sometimes through narrow parses from valley to valley, and through leagues of rock tunnel. The finances of the company apparently do not admit of the providing of lamps in any of the cars; so that for long minutes at a stretch the passengers are, in complete darkness.

" I always make it- a point to change my .seat, the moment we enter a tunnel 011 this line, and' I take the liberty of advising you to db the same,'' the German naval officer remarked to Anthony, who acquiesced in the suggestion. Whether the precaution was necessary or not, Anthony noticed, on emerging from the darkness of every tunnel, two or three men in the car who had not been there before.

When the port of La Guayra was reached 1 , a couple of his lieutenants, with part of the crew of the Brandenburg's steam launch, met. (he captain, and with much exchanging of salutes Anthony walked with them down to where the boat of his steamer was awaiting his return. With a little extra, punctilio he pushed off from the quay breastwork and cave a sigh of relief when he found himself once more running up the old handrail.

"By lie wav, who is President to-day?" one of the ship's officers inquired of him, as ho had inquired of every visitor to Caracas for the previous five years. "Castro was President this morning, hut it's now eleven o'clock," replied Anthony. "Anyone shot last night?" asked the purser, pursuing the same scheme of humour. Anthony gave a little start, not having previously heard this variant of the subtle sarcasm of the Spanish Main. " I shot two last- night, but they were revenged on me, and slabbed a man in my place this morning, so I'm off for a cocktail. ' said Anthony, and the purser laughed at his readiness of repartee. He had l indeed shown himself to bo very ready, CHAPTER VIII. While Mr. Gresham was refreshing himself with a cocktail Miss Dill was endeavouring to repair the wounds which appeared in her opera wrap, and when she came upon one that taxed her surgery to the utmost sho spoke some home truths respecting Senor Garcia which he would hardly have cared to hear. Her father, sitting in a cane chair in the same room, reading a Spanish newspaper, laughed without looking up from tho page. "Poor devil!" he muttered. "lie has 110 luck. I can hear Castro talking to him when he learns that Alvarez has been shot. He will make frigadilloes of poor Garcia." "Poor Garcia!" said the daughter also without looking up from her work. " I should like to patch the holes in my mantilla with his skin."

"Fie, my dear girl! Yor show a shockingly primeval taste in passementerie," said her father. "By the way, talking of whole skins in connection with dilapidations, I hope your heroic defender has reached the coast all right. I forgot to provide him with a candle for the tunnel. It would be so like Castro and his crew to arrange to give him a stiletto going through a tunnel." Esther raised scared eyes from her work for a moment. Her father watched her and—no, a the last moment he restrained himself from smiling. He tried the experiment of a look of great gravity upon her. " Would they dare—with the German beside him'.''' she asked.

" They would only need to be careful. Lord ! suppose they should stiletto the baron in the dark in mistake lor Gresham!" Captain Dill wa? obviously tickled at the notion. "My word! that would be just like tlife firm of Castro, Garcia and Company. Assassination is about the only remaining industry in Venezuela, and they are bungling that. Fancy stabbing that wretched Jew his morning instead of Gresham ! If they should finish off the baron in «i tunnel going to La Guayra I believe that murder in this neighbourhood would receive its death blowa once thriving tradegavs employment to hundreds of hands, etcetera, etcetera. See (lie leading articles." "Which have not been written," remarked Esther when her father began to laugh loudly in appreciation of his own jocularity. " Those leading articles have not yet been written, father, and are not likely .to be written for some time to come."

" Perhaps von are right," said Captain Dill, thoughtfully. "Anyhow, it shows a nice feeling 011 your part to take an optimistic vi.!vv of the situation. Personally, mind you. I don't think that assassination is on its la ! st legs " " 011 could hardly do that after last night —and this morning. You made the murder of Baron von Gironslein the turning-point. But after all the Baror von Gironstein lias not been murdered. Mr. Gresham showed himself to be a man of resource; he would use up a dozen wax matches going through the tunnels arid all would be well."

"No doubt—no doubt. You have had experience of his resources. I have not. There is a good deal of the Englishman about him—including his luck." "There was some luck on our side, too, last night." "And are we not English, also? But Gresham would have done as much for the plainest-looking half-caste. I wonder does he consider to-day that he was lucky." "hi getting oil clear and leaving Lopez the Jew to assure Castro of the clumsiness of Garcia?"

" I was thinking rather of his midnight' walk. Hang it all, Esther, an Englishman is not wholly without an appreciation of romance."

"They are the greatest novel readers in the world. I wonder what Garcia meant by his attempt tc carry me off?" "He is jike all the rest, in love with you, my dear. Is not that a sufficient motive for that operatic scene enacted on his leaving the opera? It must have been uncommonly like the first act in something by Verdi." "If you could have heard Garcia's phraseology when he found that I had discovered a second door to the carriage you would know more Spanish thar we ijo between us at present. No, no; there is no love in that man's nature. Spitethat I should say is the mainspring of most of his actions; he wanted to carry me off in order to spit/' the revolutionary party, you and Senor Pinzon in particular; you because yon arc my father and Senor Pinzon because he wishes to marry me." "Very likely Garcia is a miserable scoundrel. It is impossible to account for every movement in then intrigues. Well, the first act in the romantic opera has been played. I wonder if you have, thought what the last if? likely to be?" " Possibly some day you will be stabbed not in mistake for someone else, and I shall b*> left to carry on the business single-hand-ed."

"You liavs. omitted the part of the tenor —you are as clumsy ai Garcia." "If you are talking of Mr. Gresham, I think we may assume that we shall never see him again." " Oh, Lord! but why?" " He is not likely ever to return to Venezuela."

"I daresay; but you have heard of the parable of Mahomet and the mountain." " What is its bearing in regard to this particular matter?" Its bearing is that I am sick to dealt of this place, where one can be dead in a moment without being sick. lam sick of seeing. you—you with your beauty and ability wasting jroui time and talents in a God-for-saken, devil-haunted place like Caracas. Dear child, I know how greatly against your grain it went to back me up several times when I needed your help. I had mv own feelings on the subject and 1 made a vow that you should remain 110 longer than I could help in this atmosphere ot deterioration. You are not fitted fo. such ;i life as we have been forced to lead, Esther." The father had left his chaii and come across the room to the side of his daughter. He was now leaning ovci her with a. hand 011 her shoulder. "Is this the recitation in another opera, dear father?" she said. "If so, 1 would advise you to get into the arir. with as little delay as possible." " I am talking in earnest now—deadly earnest, Esther," said he, and he began to walk up and down the room. "We have done nothing strictly dishonourable either here or in Colombia, but we have never done anything that was strictly honourable. 1 have taken the pay of all those wretched bandits who call themselves Presidents for forwarding their interests in certain directions—not always what we could call honourable. And we have also taken the pay of revolutionaries when it suited us, for looking after their interests." " But never when we were receiving the pay of the Presidents," said the girl quickly. "We were never mere paid spies. We were what one might can—what do you call a doctor who is not on the list?— 110, not quite quacks—uncertified— were uncertified diplomatists —diplomatists without a diploma." " We have never been spies, though we have sometimes availed ourselves of the work of spies," said her fathei. "You have been a good daughter to me, though I cannot imagine that you took much pleasure in being made love to by the men whom I wanted to get a hold —in leading men. who, I thought, might be useful to me. You ran many risks, Esther." " l)on't let us talk about all this—let us take it for granted. You are not the chorus in opera—telling the story of the lives of some people to othei people who are fully acquainted with it. It was degrading—my God, I knew for the first time how degrading it was when I was by the side of Mr. Gresham last night." She had bundled tin her opera mantilla while she wan speaking and now she tossed it into a corner; she felt somehow that she was flinging her past life away from her. " Perhaps my meeting Mr. Gresham had something to do with my resolution to shake the dust of Venezuela off my feet and make a try for your sake to get back to a life where meeting a gentleman 011 equal terms will not be a phenomenon." " It is easy to talk about shaking the dust of Venezuela off your feet. But if you were to get back to England and to mingle with men theregentlemenon equal terms you would be for evermore trying to get the better of them—intriguing for your own ends— my ends. Why, the moment you spoke about the possibility of going to England the question, that I asked myself was, 'What coup is lie hoping to carry off now': I cannot think of you apart from some trick —what people like Mr. Gresham would call a trick. You have taught me to do — now have you not?"

(To be continued on Saturday next).