HIS FINAL CHOICE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXI, Issue 18896, 19 December 1924, Page 7

HIS FINAL CHOICE.

BY ARTHUR APPLIN.. Author of "The Greater Claim," "The Woman Who Doubted," "The Face on the Screen," etc., etc.

(Copyright.) CHAPTER VI. " What about Mrs. Mansfold ? AH the newspapers have reported your arrival in London, questions are bound to be asked, people arc sure to talk if she stops at Southampton."

Mansfold nodded. " I know. I expect Dysart told you wef have taken a house in Belgrave Square for the season. Solely for Lala s marriage, of course. It's the Duke of Partington's house. Wo have taken over the staff of servants with it. We must move in during the week. If I get no news by to-morrow I shall go down to Southampton and fetch my wife—" "Yes? " Carfax said. " When I take her to Belgrave Square, Lala will ac'companv her." 't But-" " She will still bo suffering from the effects of the voyage. Sho will be carried to her room and put to bed." Carfax frowned uneasily: "I really don't understand."

Mansfold stared at him across the tabic. "I am going to find my daughter if it costs mo half my fortune. Money can do anything. I must find her. I shall find her. It is only a matter of time. Meanwhile.—the world must believe she io safe in London with us. At t'.c worst tlv> weduing can bo postponed.' Carfax shook his head.

" It's a danger-

ous game to play." Mansfoid's eyes shone. I'vo always played a dangerous game, Color.i l Carl'ax. That is why lam what I am! You havo promised «.o help me —for young Dysa't's sake. You .viH not go back on your word ? "

Carfax said: "I have always kept my wnrd. Tha', is tvhv I am—what 1 .v.n. - ' He rose: " Now, I'll hunt for this fellow, Paul Lamotte. If I find him, and, through him, tho girl, you'll be ready to come instantly I send for you ? You want to see her. even though I can assure myself she is not your daughter ? Mansfold's features, strained and grim, developed into a smile—subtle, baffling. " Whoever sho is, whatever sho is, I want her! "

Before hunting for Paul Lamotte, Colonel Carfax sat down and spent the rest of tho day in making a plan of campaign. It was no use going into an affair liko this blindfold. If ho found tho sculptor, Paul Lamotte, it did not follow that ho would discover tho lovely Spanish beauty, Lala Mansfold's doublo . ... or Lala Mansfold herself.

Mansfold's behaviour had begun to make Hippo slightly auspicious. It looked ! as though tho Argentine King bolioved .that tho girl Dysart liad nmt at tho '03 i Club was his daughter. Rather awkward for him and everyone concerned if this turned out to bo so! Carfax wondered how Dysart would take it. One could never be quite suro how Dysart would take anything. That was what made tho fellow so loveable; he was always unexpected. Early next morning af'r.cr his usual cold tub aid a light brealcfast, he took a cab to Chelsea, dismissed it it tho Embankment, walked a little distance alongside the ri-'er, then turned to the right along Beaver Street to tho C.B. School of Art, where he asked to see the principal and explained fJiat he wanted the address of Mr. laul Lamotte's studio. He said ho was rcting on behalf of a well-known patron of the arts. Lamotte's studios were In Cheyno Avenue, not five hundred yards distant. The secretary told him tho famous sculptor cc.uld nearly always bo found there between eleven "in tho morning and five in the afternoon. So Paul Lamotta was famous! That was a good thing, for the man who is f.imous among his own craftsmen is generally a Sood fellow. Hippo walked leisurely in he direction of v.neyne Avenue, lighting a pipe and 6moking it contemplatively. He felt that was one of the things one could safely do in Chelsea —smoke a pipe in the street, a thing he would not have dreamed of doing in the "West-end. Ha found the entrance to the studios without any difficulty; a small narrow courtyard, insignificant, dusty. It led him down a passage on either Bide of which were doors bearing the names of tho various artists. Some had brass plates, others merely a card nailed to the woodwork; here and there the owner had painted his or her name in flaming colours. Paul Lamotte had scrawled his name on a piece of cardboard which looked like tho bottom of a cigarette box. , Hippo listened a moment before knocking, and heard a curious sound: faint, indistinct; the sculptor was at work. He knocked loudly, and the sound which resembled scraping ceased: he distinctly heard a muttered imprecation. Evidently Lamotte disliked being interrupted in his work, and old Hippo realised ho would not meet with a welcome. Tho door opened, and he saw facing him a tall, lean men, with a short pointed beard, almost golden, thick hair the same colour, an eaquiline nose, and deep-set, piercing blue eyes. He might have stepped out from the canvas of an old Master; his hands were lon£, white and beautifully shaped. Carfax gave him his card: "Can you spare me just a couple, of minutes ? I want your help in tracing someone, a lady who, X believe, sits for you. But, of course, before you can help me—" Lamotte cut him short, i'm sorry, but I'm busy at the present moment. I'm working." "Will you make an appointment, then, this ufteruoon ? or, better still, lunch with

me ?" Lamotte shook his head: Hippo noticed hesitation in his manner now and grew hopeful "I am engaged on a very important piece of work which I've got to complete in a hurry: I simply haven't a moment to spare." He would have closed the door at that, but, with an artist's quick and sure instinct, he recognised in Carfax a gentleman —one of the breed almost extinct. "I am sorry," he said, "but if you don't mind writing—" Ho turned his head quickly as he spoke, and unconsciously opened the door wider. He heard the patter of bare feet on the boards. Looking over his shoulder, following his gaze, Carfax saw the girl for whom he was looking At the first glance ho did not recognise her, for his eyes met a vision to which he was not accustomed. He had never seen anything quite so lovelv in his life before —aiul he had travelled tin* world and seen more of its beauty than the majority of mankind. The top light from the studio fell dir- | ectly on the girl's dark hair, which glowed | with vitality, tho natural curls clustering around the nape of her neck. Sho had thrown on an old Persiau coat, deeply coloured as if with wine and sunshine, around hor bare shoulders. It hung loosely, falling just below her knees, swinging fis she moved, disclosing tho most perfect figuro before which Praxiteles himself must have bowed his head in reverent gratitude. "Go back, Dolores," Lamotto suid sharp!v. "Go back at once." Carlax saw tho bluod warming tho sculptor's pale cheeks. Jealous of his model! Old Hippo did not blame him. Ho could not take his eyes off her. He tried to, he felt he had no light to look on anything so beautiful. It was almost sacrilege. It was difficult to believe this was the girl he had seen at the '03 Club. Sho had looked so different in the garish surroundings. The clothes she wore and the Spanish veil had helped to hide and disguise her. Now she stood facing him, fearless, frank, stripped of all disguises, typiiying the ideal woman. "I thought perhaps someone wanted me," sho said. And she looked at Lamotto, laughing, mockery in hor eyes, eyes that had all the depth and mystery of a deep pool in a dark forest. Her mouth, warm-lipped, almost voluptuous, was tender, with a delightful suggestion of humour lurking m its corners. . "That's the lady I want," Carfax heard himself say. 4 , r Lamotte began to close the door. fear it's impossible—" . , , Dolores came closer, laying her hand on his shoulder. There was a curious lack of sdS-cansiubuiiiwss. cur sfoyusss about - - Orfor had never been so deeply moved I

before; ho wondered if she realised lid) beauty was like a shield protecting her.

"What do you want?" she said to him,, "If you're looking for a model, I'm afraid, it's impossible—but I don't think you're! an artist

"I'm not. If Mr. Lamotte will kindly give you my card ? Thanks!. . . It's impossible to explain my business now, but if you'll make an appointment to meet me anywhere you chooso to name at th<j earliest opportunity, you would bo conferring a perhaps inestimable boon on some friends of mine who are in great trouble.'* He had forgotten Lamotte for th® moment, and was looking at the girl, conscious of the lamonoss and inadequacy of his appeal. Had it not been for the sculptor's presence he could have oxplained. He tried to assure her his request for an interview was not made from any frivolous motives, and that the matter was of vital importance. Yet even while he spoke ho began strangely enough to wish lie had never offered to act as Maiisfold's emissary. Dolores seemed' to hesitate; 6he waa looking at Carfax thoughtfully, her expression altogether serious now.

Lamotte said: " You must rcaliso it is impossible sir. And anyway I couldn't spare Miss Vanderley—" "I shall be dining at the Golden Apple Cafe this evening about seven o'clock. It's a little restaurant off Dean Street, Solio. Perhaps you know it ? If you care to go there I should be very glad to hear what you've got to say."

Carfax saw nn ugly expression come into the sculptor's blue eyes as Dolores spoke. Ho felt a little sorry for him. "Thank you very much," ho said. "I shall be there at seven."

Without another word Dolores turned away and disappeared. Then the door shut with a noisy bang, and Carfax found himself staring at it, blinking his eyes. 110 felt as if ho had been etaring at the sunshine which had suddely been obscured by clouds. He grouped his way down th« winding passage, out through the courU yard into the street. Ho stood there tlittle whilo and leant against the wall while ho knocked out his pipe, rcfillai and lit it. It had really been a w.onderfnl pioce of luck linding tho girl so quickly. Ho ought have been feeling pleased with himself—but ho was not. Ho was too disturbed. And ho was annoyed that a, mere girl, an artist's model, should have tho power of affecting him so deeply. AY ho was she ! What was she '! Theso questions did not really-affect him at all. They -vvero for Mansfold to answer. #he was no ordinary girl. It was not just her beauty that hud affected him so deeply. There was moro in it fhan that (ho had to insist cn this for his satisfaction). Ho walked back to tho Embankment, walked quicldv now as if to keep pace with his thoughts. It was a good thing Dysart had loft' London "and a jolly good thing ho had not found her in" Paul Lamotte's studio, posing for tho sculptor as somo goddess of ancient times. For Carfax was beginning to feel convinced against his will that in Dolores ho had found Hubert mansfold's daughter—ami Dvsart's futuro wife. If so it was curious Dytqrt had not enthused more about her. Perhaps she had hidden her real self from him, hidden her beauty; old Hippo knew women had the power of doing that, even as some flowers when touched fold their petals, fold them up and refuse to disclose their loveliness or to give their perfume. The readiness with which Dolores had promised to meet him that evening seemed to suggest that she was tho Argentino King's daughter, and was awaro a search was being made for her. If, however, she was not, then Hippo made up hi* mind that under no conditions must Dysart meet her. No matter what his ings had been for Lala. ho would fall in love with her. How could any man help it Y Goo# heavens, ho was in lovo with her himself. He laughed aloud, but there was a trace of bitterness in his laughter. Ho would havo to watch it or ho would bo making 1 a fool of himself. Even at his age. Indeed he might well laugh. Yet when at one o'clock he presented himself at the Rita Hotel and asked for Mr. Hubert Mansfold ho began to feel that imagination had been responsible for the extraordinarv feelings ana sensation's which had overwhelmed liira that morning. Ho was not accustomed to sculptors and studios and artists' models. The quaint* surroundings, that wonderful Persian coat (he was an authority on Persia), th» extraordinary unconventionality of thi* whole affair —theso things had affecteO him. Luncheon was laid in Mansfold's prf« vato sitting room. As Boon as it wa« sorved Mansfold dismissed tho waiter, and Carfax told him he had succeeded in tracing Paul Lamotte, and that by a piec» of extraordinary good luck he had found the girl they wanted in his 6tudio. i Mansfold' leaned eagerly towards hime " Well—you have seen Lala's photograph, you could tell in a moment. There its no one quite like my daughter. Is it she ?" Old Hippo bent over his plate—the Rita made an excellent Sole Mornay. " Photo- ; graphs are very misleading, so aro othar people's descriptions," ho said slowly, i " This girl—Mr. Lamotte called her Dolores " 1 "Just the Eorfc of name Lala -would

assume." " She was unlike any other woman I'vtt ever seen. I made an appointment t© meet her at the Golden Apple Cafe to* night, seven o'clock. You had better le% mo have a talk with her first of all. Pro*

pare her." Mansfold pnt down his knife and fori?. He cculd not eat, Hogot up and began to walk to and fro. His adventure had given old Hippo an appetite, anyway h% hated wasting a good luncheon. Ho was feeling happier now. Ho agreed with Dysart; life was only worth living vshon there was adventure in it. And h« could net help wondering what would happen if Dolores was not Mansfold's daughter. Mansfold poured himself out a glass of wine and drank it, " I'll give you half an hour with this girl to —to prepare the way for me. If she is my daughter well, she'll have guessed we're searching? for her; I don't suppose thoro will Ik any difficulty, she'll come back with me. You will be "tactful, you won't lot hor gof' Old Hippo smiled. "I won't let hfiff R O -" Manifold's hands were elapsed .tightly together behind his back. His heavily. lidded eyes were half closed, there was i* tense, strained expression on his fac©. " I must be calm, I will bo calm,'' ha said under his breath, as if speaking to himself. Then: "You don't know whftl

she means to me, Colonel Cm-fax, My only child, I love her, I never realised until this moment how much I lovo her.

And Dysart's a fine fellow. I was SO grateful when she fell in lovo with him, for, like all fathers, I lived in comtwvb fear lest some rotter had carried her off, only desiring her wealth. Gentleman aio hard to find nowadays, eh ?" " Thero are not many left." " And he took it so splendidly—her dii> appearance, I mean. Pray God we'va found her." The waiter brought another course. Mansfold resumed his seat. When they were alone Carfax asked him """hat he intended doing if this was not his daughter. It was a long time before Mansfold replied. " If. you were in my position what would you do ? Realise the circumstances ( Wo have got to think of Dysart, too. Remember the publicity that has been given to the forthcoming marriage. 1n» famous —against my will. Ho laughed grimlv " Again to-day the hotel was base iged with callers. With all her faults 1 know Lala loves me and is devoted to her mother. She would not willingly disgrace us but she's thoughtless, ruled by f,or emotions. If she has disappeared ot her own free will she'll take care to cover up her tracks and leave no traces; shell hide her identity. When my wito arrives in Loudon, and her arrival cannot much longer bo delayed a substitute for Lala must ho found. She will never be seeu evept bv the servants, and with the exception of the maid they'll all be strangers '"old Hippo twisted up the ends of his moustache. " That's all very well, tat « cannot go on indefinitely. And supposing vour daughter never turns up. ' Mansfold did not answer the nation. "Wo will meet to-night outside Golden Apple at seven o'clock.