THE CORNER HOUSE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLII, Issue 12885, 6 June 1905, Page 3

THE CORNER HOUSE.

[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.]

BY FRED, i: M. • WHITE, Author of "The Slave of Silence," " Lady Bountiful." "The Weight of The Crown," Craven For- ■■;;.-■ tune," etc, etc. CHAPTER XVII., THE GAMBLERS. The lights were flaring at No. 1, Lyttoa Avenue, as they seemed to flare almost day and night. The red carpet crossed the pavement; inside tho banks of flowers nodded thoir brilliant heads, there was a rustle of silken .drapery and a ripple of laughter from the drawing-room. It was all typical of a life of pleasure. In one corner was an oblong table, surrounded by an eager, silent group. A baldheaded man with a matted black beard and a great curved nose was taking the place of banker. The great financier Isaac Isidore was as keen over the. banknotes here as he was over the millions he gambled in tho city. No servants were present; they had been sent away long ago. Tempting things were set out on a side table, and whoever wanted anything helped himself. The players were so intent upon their game that nothing could be heard beyond their laboured breath-

lhg. They were gambling in earnest there were hundreds of pounds in notes and gold on the dull green cloth. A handsome youth, who was ruining himself and his estate as speedily as possible, sat easy and collected next to a young society lady, whose husband would have been shot rather than see her in such company. A pretty marchioness, the daughter of an American millionaire, was plunging greedily and losing as steadily. Countess Lalage smiled with perfect equanimity as she saw her own counters vanishing. She pushed over two small notes' with a little sigh. She did not look as if they were the last she had in the world, but they were.

The whole brilliant house oi cards must topple down soon unless help came from somewhere. Already capitalists in the city were asking questions about the securities they held and the hearts of certain tradesmen were beginning to grow anxious. "Lend me £500, Lady Longmere," the countess asked gaily. "Not a.cent, Lady Longmere cried in a high nasal voice. " I guess my luck's just in, and I'm going to make the most of it. I'm £8000 to the bad, and once I make that up you don't catch meat this game again. , If Longmere knew that I had broken my word like this he would kill me."

"Who'll lend me a few hundreds?" Leona. Lalage cried with a red spot on her' cheeks. Nobody replied. They were all under her, own roof, they had all enjoyed her hospitality times - out of mind, but not one of them was prepared to lend her money. And Leona Lalago had had a fearful run of luck lately. Out of all those dainty, smiling friends of hers seated round that table there was not one who did not hold her lOU for considerable sums of money. ' She was beginning to be talked about. That very morning in the park, a well-known society leader had ignored her until recognition was forced upon her by sheer audacity. "No one to help me at all?" she pleaded. Her voice was low, but she shook with passion. The big financier growled out that he would trust her to £50. In two minutes this was gone, and the banker made no further sign. She must go on; it was absolutely necessary. Audacity would carry her far, but even she had need of ready money. And luck must turn now; if she had a hundred or two she was certain of it. It was madness to sit there, and watch that golden stream change hands and not share it. She could have risen up and smitten her guests, and turned them furiously out of the house, but she had to sit there and smile. The gambler's fever was upon her, and there was dire necessity for some ready money on the morrow. She rose from the table with a sudden resolution. As she turned, she saw Lawrence looking critically ToniKf- him. " You don t play,'' she said. " What interest is there to you?" "It is a fine study in human nature," Lawrence replied. "All the evil emotions are here nicely chained up. I like to watch and study for myself. Let me sit down and smoke a cigarette and study." Leona. Lalage flew up into her own room. She was going to do a desperate tiling. She had always recognised the fact that at some time or other it might be necessary to disappear suddenly and mysteriously from the brilliant field, and that is not possible even to the cleverest without money. Desperately needy as she had been more than once lately, she had never broken into the little reserve that she kept for emergencies. " Our hostess has gone to rob a bank," the gentlemanly youth suggested. " Or to pawn her jewels," Lady Longmere laughed. " Isidore, why didn't you offer to lend her money on her tiara?" " Because it is probably paste," the banker said, coolly. " Hein, I have seen enough of society women to know something of the | value of their gems." I The spiteful little ripple of laughter was hushed as Leona Lalage returned. There was a flush on her face and a glitter in her eyes that Lawrence did not fail to notice. A little sheaf of banknotes fluttered in her ! hands. ( "Give me gold for these," she cried. "Gold, red gold, two hundred sovereigns. ! Now, we will see whether fortune is still going to spite me."

For an hour they played on steadily with varying fortune. The clocks were striking two as three of the party dropped out, having lost everything. A_great"pile of gold stood before Leona Lalage, a large pile of notes opposite Lady Longmere. There were only five in the game now, and the banker was losing in a. manner that caused the beads to stand out on his bald head. He shovelled out the last of his notes and his remaining gold and shook his head.

" I have gone to my limit," he said. "Gordon, give me a brandy and soda. Would you like to take my place, Lady Long, mere?" J b

The American beauty shook her head and smiled.

"Not I!" she said. "I've got all my season's losings back, and I've done with this kind of thing, right here. I'm very fond of Longmere in my funny way, and I'm not going to deceive him any more. But I shall be afraid to go home with all these notes on me."

"I'll take them off your hands and give you a cheque,' said Isidore. "I shall want a. lot of notes in the morning." He scribbled out a cheque, and then, with the custom of his class, went through the whole pile of notes down to the last ono. There was a puzzled frown on his face. "Are they bad?" Lady Longmere asked quizzically. "It isn't that," said Isidore. "I've got a fine head for figures, and some of the num.-. hers of these notes strike me as familiar. They are identified in my mind with some sensation or tragedy. It'seems to me— got it!" "What is it now you have got?" Leona asked. "Why, the- corner hou.se," Isidore cried. "Forty of these notes form part of the money taken from the body of that poor murdered fellow in the corner house. Here they are—190,793 to 190,832. Now which of you was it who came here to-night with these particular notes in your pocket?" The gamblers looked at one another uneasily, but not one word was said. ■ CHAPTER XVIII. LAWRENCE IS MYSTERIOUS. Despite his vast wealth and the manner in which he was courted and flattered by society, Mr. Isaac. Isidore had contrived to remain single. He had only one passion, and that was the making of money by ingenious schemes; in fact, had he not been a capitalist he would have made a wonderfully good novelist, as Lawrence often said. Mystery and intrigue were the very air he breathed, and for recreation he asked for nothing better than a romance by Gaboriau or Du Boisgobey He was breakfasting rather late, but quite modestly, in his chambers when Lawrence called on him the next morning. There were a good many points in common between the two men despite their different dispositions. "Funny thing, over those notes last night,'' said the man,of money. "I suppose that is what you" came to talk to me about."

"What a luminous mind yours is," Law\renco replied. "That's just why I did come. As you know, lam deeply interested in clearing up the corner house mys- t tery. I've got nearer to it than anybody imagines. Do you happen to have any idea who came with those particular notes last night''" ."> "Not the ghost of one," Isidore admitted, "I can read men and minds, but motives are sometimes beyond an amateur like me. Do you know "Yes," said Lawrence, "I do." "Which means that you are not going to tell me?"-

" Not for the present, my boy. Without boasting, I do know, but I could not prove it yet; at least, not to the legal mind. Have you got those notes?" Isidore intimated that they were in his safe. Ho took out the whole roll, and asked Lawrence to sort out the particular ones for himself.

"I only want one," Lawrence explained, "and this one will do admirably. I aim going to take it away, if you don't mind. You will bo able to recognise it by this queer yellow stain. Why didn't you decline to take them last night?" "Why should I?" Isidore asked coolly. "They came to me through a third party for value received, so that they are quite good. When these notes are presented the bank is.bound to cash them. I'd give sixpence to know what is behind that queer, clever, ingenious brain of yours." Lawrence laughed and departed with 1 the assurance that Isidore should know soon, enough. He spent the rest of the morning at the club, and after luncheon took his way gaily in the direction of Lytton Avenue. The countess was at homo, and. glad 1 to. see her visitor. The back drawing-room was cool and secluded and opened on. to the garden. Leona Lalage lounged back in a deep chair and indicated the cigarettes on a table. ~

" I have told Saunders not to admit any more visitors," she said. " Positively I shall break down if I don't get a rest soon. Does Mamie make too much noise for you ! If so, call to Miss Lawrence.''

Mamie and Hetty were playing together in the garden. The* child was shouting merrily. Fond of children, Lawrence disclaimed any feeling of annoyance. " Children and dogs never boro me," he said. "I wish I had a garden like yours. Pleasant perfumes always stimulate the] imagination. Did you ever notice how the' smell of certain flowers recalls vivid recollections?''

A sudden pallor came over the listener's face: it was gone in an instant, and a deep carmine flush succeeded it.

"Sometimes horrible recollections,*'' she said in a low voice. " A certain flower you love gets mixed up with a tragedy, and you never care for it afterwards."

" Of course, I've noticed that," said Lawrence thoughtfully. "For instance, I once was exceedingly fond of the smell of tuberose, but—" \ ; ' '

. A -little ornament fell from the table by Countess Lalage's side and a cry escaped her. Lawrence looked up in mild surprise. "Nothing the matter, I hope?" he asked. " Oh, nothing," came the reply. "Only I was so silly ;is to place the wrong end of my cigarette" in my mouth and burnt my lips. What's tuberose?" Lawrence gave the necessary information. He was a little surprised to hear that his hostess had never heard of the tuberose. Nor, fond of flowers as .she seemed, did she appear in the least interested. That child's noise makes my head ache," she. said. •?';■'*

Lawrence stepped into the garden,' Mamie welcomed him eagerly. No books of hers were half so popular as the novelist's impromptu stories. "Tell me a tale," she demanded, imperi-

ously. Lawrence complied with resignation." It was all about a. beautiful, bad woman who guarded a precious treasure locked away in a box covered with paintings of exquisite flowers. Mamie clapped her hands with delight. "Like mother's Antoinette cabinet in the drawing-room," she said. "That's it," Lawrence said gravely, but with a glance at Hetty that caused her to flush a little. "And the key is like this 'one. We'll give it to Hetty, and some time when the wicked woman is out of the way she may get the tiny little phial that is in the cabinet so that we. can do all kinds of' wonderful things with it." " Perhaps Ave could get it. now." Hetty smiled.

Mamie clapped her hands again. A significant look passed between the two conspirator*. A small key changed hands. Before the story proper was finished Countess Lalage came down the slops into the gar-' den. Admiration was necessary to her, and tho idea of a man's preferring Mamie's.conversation to hers was absurd.

flow you spoil that child," she said. " Hetty, take her away." But Lawrence would not hear of anything of the kind. He would like to l>"vc b'«i tea out in the garden if Hetty would fetch it for him. Hetty came back presently, and handed the lea to her uncle. He hardly dared to look at her, but a smile on her lips told him she had succeeded. As he left the house presently Hetty followed him out. She nodded significantly. "What does it all mean?" she asked.

"That you shall know all in good time," Lawrence replied. " It's a pleasure to have you to do anything for one. Hetty. How quickly you took in my parable. It was rather paltry to talk over a child's head like that, but if ever there was a case when, the end justifies the means this is one. Of course, you got it?" "Of course I did. A tiny glass bottlo with a tiny glass stopper." She took it from her pocket and held it, out. . There were a few drops of amberhued liquid inside. . Hetty would have removed the stopper, but Lawrence grabbed it. \ " Don't touch it," ho exclaimed, "keep as far from it as possible. There is real danger here if you only knew it. And whatever you do, don't, you go near a soul in the house till you have washed your hands with sanitas or some pungent disinfectant of that kind. You must be very careful about this."

Hetty promised, wondering. "Where did you got that key from?" she asked. " Well, I borrowed the original and had a copy made," Lawrence confessed. " You see I was 'bound to have a copy, as I am going to return the little bottle as soon as I have more or less verified its history. Now I want you to get away after dinner and come as far as my chambers to meet Bruce."'

Hetty promised, and went her way homeward. * She was sorely puzzled, bub on Ihe whole she felt r wonderfully bright and happy. The mystery was still as dark as ever, but she had faith in Lawrence. 'But there was much to be done before one good man's name was cleared.

(To bo continued daily.)