EVE THE PURSUER.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 19221, 9 January 1926, Page 5 (Supplement)

EVE THE PURSUER.

BY BEATRICE HERQN-MAX'WELL AND FLORENCE E. EASTWICE.

(COPYRIGHT),

CHAPTER I. Danvers March sat in a long chair at the window of his mother's sitting room, his eyes closed, his brows knit, and his lips set in a tense line that indicated both concentration and introspection. A transient lull in the noisy traffic of Southampton Row had sent his thoughts back in a flash to the morning "out there" when a thunder of barrage had ceased instantaneously and the ensuing silence had been cleft by the order to "Go over the top!" The leap out of the trench, the swift rush, the onslaught, were re-enacted in his mind, followed by recollection of tho crash that brought annihilation ! Two years had passed away since then yet it seemed only yesterday, and when .'ho opened his eyes and looked out again on the scene of normal existence below, its cominonplaco serenity struck him as part of a new and unreal life in which ho had ueither part nor lot. A few bits of coloured ribbon were tho only tokens ho possessed now of that vivid pulsing time of his life when every moment was strung up to tho highest tension. Ho was invalided out of the army with the right to wear those ribbons and to have inscribed after his name tho magic letters D.S.O. and M.C. Beside these honours the only other tangible reminder of war was his bandaged foot, and as he glanced at it and realised what a handicap its slow cure was proving, he wonderod if it would not have been better after all for the shell to have finished him entirely. His mother was so badly off and he had no intention of becoming a burden to her! For her sake, nevertheless, he was glad to bo alive, knowing that his life counted to her supremely; but for her sake also ho was determined not to be an invalid longer than he could help; and to find work as soon as ho could hobble to it. Wherever he looked there was some offering of affection—flowers, papers, books, cigarettes and more flowers! "Mother!" he called out impulsively, and in an instant she came hurrying from tho other room. "What is it Danny? In pain, darling?'' "Not a bit of it," he answered, his smile dispersing tho anxiety on her face. "I only wanted to know where all theso flowers came from. Why do you get me such loads dear 1 It makes me feel an awful fraud." "Danny! As if you hadn't earned them with what you've been through. Beside they're not from mo. Muriel brings them every day nearly." "Muriel?—it's much too good of her. I must teil her not to." "Oh, no! Danny—you couldn't do that. She would be hurt." " Hurt! Surely not. She doesn t realise that I'm convalescent! It's sheer extravagance and I shall tell her so. Mrs. March looked dubious. a great pleasure to her to bring them, she said at last, " she said she should call today nnd arrange to take you for a drive. She is never happy unless she is doing something kind." Silence fell between them until Danvers resumed: "War seoms to have changed a good many people. You know I didn't think Mnnel that sort of girl before she married. She was always rather self-absorbed—and—" Ho broke off abruptly for the door had opened and Muriel Hatherley herself was entering. . „ , ~T . "I hope I may come in, lihe said, Ive brought the latest 'shilling;_ shocker' for the invalid and some grapes." Mrs. March went to greet her with marked cordiality. "My dear! you are too good. The grapes are a perfect picture —aren't they Danny ?" He tried to be cordial sia he assented but he could not helping adding, "I would so much rather you would give them to a hospital, St. Dunstan's or,< somewhere like that—the fellows thora would enjoy them, and they deserve them much more than I do." Muriel's face clouded. It was a brilliant face, handsome when she was grave, and alluring when she laughed, and liquid light flashed into her brown eyes. She knew the value of her smile very well; indeed,, she appraised every charm she possessed at its utmost worth and each one was an asset to her in the career she had marked out for herself. So far her ascent of tho social ladder had been a triumphant one. Married at twenty-one to a rich merchant who was captivated by her audacious efforts to make a conquest of him, she was already a widow after only three years of bondage. The bulk of Mr. Hatherley's fortune was willed sway from her. There had been time for him to learn that she was extravagant and selfish, but she had enough to keep up the house in Park Lane, so long as she remained a widow. On a second marriage her income was to be considerably reduced. But this was not generally known, and «he had no intention of letting the fact become'public property. "My dear boy," she said, as she moved to Danver's side, "I never go emptyhanded to,a hospital. But I like to make a few littio offerings to my own people sometimes." Mrs. March, with a quick glanco at them both, murmured something about hastening tea. Muriel pulled an armchair nearer to Danvers, and sat down. "Are you cross with your poor little cousin?" she asked playfully, looking at him from under her eyelashes—a trick that she had when she wanted to appeal to a man's susceptibility. "Of course not," Danvers answored rather uncomfortably, "only don't you know, I'm practically all right now, and—" "And you want to deprive us ot tho pleasure of looking after our hero,' she finished softly, still with that dangerouslyappealing look. "Good Lord!" exclaimed Danvers brusquely, with a vexed laugh, "not much of the hero about me! lam simply a lame do£ waiting until T can ret over a stile. -You were mentioned in despatches over and over again," she persisted, and wo are evr so proud of you—your mothei nnd I. Women love their brave and do their bit W'.sll. ' ( And her hand stole tjward Danver s whore it lay on his k'.ie and pressed it lightly. . ft was a moment of revelation to him, and his mind recoiled from tho understanding that Muriel meant ;t to be so. But there was no mistaking the invitation of her tone and of the caressing fingers that lingered on his. Hp found himself in a corner that every man avoids if he can, where love is offered rti Mm that he has not sought, and there seems to bo nc pleasant way out. It was an unfair temptation, too. for war makes men peculiarly susceptible to feminino influences, and they come back from it with many weak places in their armour where the shafts of love, or of the many moods of inclination and philandering that pass tinder that name, find ready entrance. Every woman of passable attraction seems more or less desirable to a man whose eye.';; and ears and thoughts have had to be fixed on the dread realities of battle.

Had he been in love with Muriel Hathand only hesitating because she was rich and he was facing poverty and the necessity for restarting a career, it would havo been easy to respond to her. But his heart was entirely in his own keeping and the ideal girl for whom the vacant shrin". was waiting differed in every resnect from Muriel.

He took the only course possible at the moment, and clasping he;- hand briefly told her that she and hiit mother were both too good to him. Muriel snowed no sign of being: disconcerted ; instead she rose and fetched a newspaper, running her glance down the list of theatres and reading out the names 01 popular playa.

"Tell me what would amuse you most?'* she said, "I want to take you to a theatre, and now that you have begun to walk with a stick you can manage it quite ( easily. What shall we go to?" "It's awfully good of you," he said, "but —may we put it off for a bit? I'm trying to find a job you see and I want to keep myself free to see people who might help me to one." "My dear Danny, you can't work vet!" she expostulated, "beside where's" the hurry.? I can easily get you a billet when the time comes—if you are bent on working!" "Oh ! I don't want you to bother over it," he said. "I shall get hold of something before long—thanks very much all the same." His tone was formal and Muriel was too clever to annoy him over a point that was immaterial to her in the plan she had formed for Danny's future and her own. "The fact is," she said, "you are getting bored. You have been a prisoner in these dull rooms too long. The car will be round presently. Come for a drive with me—it would do you good." Danvers was ransacking his mind for a civil excuse when, to his relief, tea was brought in by a maid, and Mrs. March reappeared. "Danny," she said, "I wonder if you would mind two more visitors ? Mrs. Trevelyan has just called to enquire for you, and said she should so much like to see you if you are well enough." "Oh! I'm quite all right," Danny answered, only too glad that the tete-a-tete with Muriel was ended, " Anyone you like, mother." "Who is tho second visitor?" asked Muriel carelessly. "Only Mrs. Trevelyan's companion, Ruth King," Mrs. March said, "a very quiet girl. "A dowdy littio person, a typical lady's companion who has the sense to keep always in the background," Muriel put in with a spice of malicious derision, and Mrs. March went off saying almost apologetically, "Well, I'll bring them up, Danny." Danny, inwardly blessing Mrs. Trevelyan, was conscious of a feeling of relief and a determination to talk to the quiet, dowdy little girl and avoid settling aay futuro plan with Muriel. CHAPTER 11. There is a moment in a man's life when ho finds himself at a loose end, with clouds around* and ahead of him. Then a star shines out and he realises that Heaven lies beyond, more fully than he vvould in a clear, untroubled sky. The instant that Ruth King came into the room Danvers sensed that her personality was not only a marked one, but that it was especially and intrinsically attractive to him. There was pride as well as gentleness in her eyes and the firm lines of a delightful mouth; there was temperament in the upward arch of her eyebrows, and tho mould of her chin. Her voice was of the timbre that always appeals to a man, especially when his ears hiivc been sensitized by the terrible sounds of war. Mrs." Hatherley's disparagement of her appearance had been made with careful carelessness, designed as a pointer for Danvers to emphasise her own "smartness" in his eyes. But Danvers found a harmonious expression of character in the dark neat coat and skirt, the wide soft untrimmed hat and the one note of colour and adornment, a carbuncle brooch, shaped like a heart with, a diamond arrow punning through it. "May I bo rude and make a personal remark ?" he asked after a few moments of talk in which Ruth had conveyed sympathy to him without any word of condolence. "Certainly," sho assented smiling, "I'm quite sure it won't be rude all the same." "I am admiring your brooch," he said, "it is so uncommon." "Isn't it?" sho agreed, and, detaching it from the lace it clasped, handed it to him. "Mrs. Trevelyan asked me to choose a present for myself from a bazaar stall I helped her with, and I chose this. It fascinated me." Muriel, busy dispensing tea at Mrs. March's request, looked across and said with a patronising inflection, "A mascot! I suppose you believe in such things:; I confess I don't. I think people with any strength of character at all make their own futures." "I am always interested in beautiful things for their own sake," Ruth replied equably, disregarding the uncalled-for criticism, "especially those that have a history." "May I hear the history of this?" Danvers asked, still toying with the brooch. But Muriel had no intention of letting his interest wander from herself. "Will you be very kind, Miss King," she said in her sweetest tone, "and hand this cup to Mrs. Trevelyan. Thanks! Now the bread and butter please. Oh, by-the-bye, Miss King, have you seen anything of tho Millers since you left them. Ruth stood hoMing the plate ot bread and butter and looking with a surprised expression at Mrs. Hatherley. "The Millers," she repeated, while the colour deepened in her cheeks, "Oh, do you know them ? I left them more than a year ago, and have not been back to Suffolk since then." "1 suppose you never heard any elucidation of the burglary at their place?" Muriel asked carelessly, but something in her tone made Danvers look at her attentively, wondering what the motive was for this interrogation. Tho girl had moved away toward the other ladies, carrying the bread and butter, and her only response was a low-toned negative. But Muriel, rising with her own tea in her hand, crossed the room and took Ruth's chair close to Danny's. "It was a most mysterious burglaryonly two or three extremely valuable old miniatures were taken, and it happened while Mrs. Miller was away from home, so she did not discover the loss until some time later." Danny felt no interest in Mrs. Miller or her minatures, but he noticed and understood Muriel's manoeuvre, and mentally decided that it was time for him to free himself from tho toils of this cousin, a cousin onlv by marriage, too, for it was her dead husband, Richard Hatherley, who had been his relation, although he had known Muriel since she was a child. But he had no notion of being managed and he resented Muriel's tone of patronage to a girl who seemed to him both wellbred and attractive. For the sake of mere politeness he enquired casually though his eyes had followed Ruth across the room, "Did your friends recover their property?" Thereupon Muriel continued rapidly, "They did ultimately—and in the strangest manner, for they had no clue to help them at tho time. Some months afterwards Colonel Miller was walking along Bond Street or somewhere near there, and saw his miniatures in the window of an antique shop. He went in at once and claimed them, moreover he was able to show proof that they were his stolen property. The dealer said he got them in the ordinary way of business from a collector of curiosities at some place on the coast —and that person when interrogated by the police, declared he bought them at a sale with a lot of old rubbisn and so it ended I suppose, for I never heard anything further. I thought perhaps Miss King could enlighten me as sho was living with them as their nursery governess." Mrs. Hatherley spoke disdainfully and Danvers could see she wns very contemptuous of tho girl who had been nothing more than a nursery governess to one of her friends. The words made little impression on his mind at tb< moment, although later he was to remember them under painful circumstances. But Muriel had defeated her own purpose by arousing his interest in the f ; -' sho evidently despised. So presently, when Mrs. Irevelvan got up to take ' leave, he said, " Miss King you must not run away without your brooch. please don't forget I am to hear th' history of it some day." Ruth crossed over to him and took it.

Mr 3. Trevelyan was just saying to 'Mrs. March, " I hope your son will soon bp about again. Ho lookS' as if he wantrbracing air! You ought to bring him down to Burgh-on-Sea, I am going there to-morrow for some weeks." Danvers, overhearing this as he watched Ruth fastening her brooch, said, "Are you going to the seaside too, Miss King ?" "Yes," she answered, and added, laughing, "I always go everywhere with Mrs. Trevelyan. I never need a holiday because I don't work hard enough." As they departed the maid appeared to say that Mrs. Hatherley's car was at the door with two young gentlemen in it. " Come along, Danny," Muriel said, "I asked the Datibeny boys to go with us as they'd got an exeat from Haileybury—l promised to take them back to school. It will just be a nice run, but we must not keep them waiting or they may get m late and be reprimanded! I'll help you downstairs." "Forgive me," Danny answered, "if I ask you to let me postpone the drive. It is most kind of you to include me, but I don't feel quite up to it to-day." The colour flashed into her face. "You seemed quite up to it before tea," she said, "it's a pitv for you to see a lot of unnecessary visitors and tire yourself talking to them!" Sh>? had forgotten her diplomacy for the moment and jealous anger rang in her voice and sparkled in her eyes, But Danny ignored it. "I'm not really tired," he said good-humourcdly, " only lazy and rather disinclined for meeting new people. And I want to get an important letter off by the country post." She realised that he was not to be persuaded, and, afraid of losing touch with him, she forced herself to smile indulgently. "I suppose you must have your own way, dear," she said softly, "I shall book some theatre seats for to-morrow night—so try to get rid of the lazy fit by then." CHAPTER HI. Mrs. Hatherley was a woman of superabundant energy and vitality, and it was her constant boast that she never had an idle or vacant moment from half-past seven in the morning, when her cup of

tea was brought to her with the first post —until she laid her head on her pillow late at night, or more frequently in the early hours of the next day. Every minute was mapped out for the morning following her visit to Southampton Row, and after interviewing her housekeeper and settling the important business of the day's catering, she scribbled off a dozen answers to letters and invitations, then started forth in her car for a round of shops. She went first to a theatre agency and engaged two stalls for that night's performance of a popular musical comedy which she thought would appeal to Danny's present frame of mind. "Poor dear!" she told herself, "he wants livening up a bit . . . he's dolefully down in the dumps." Then having visited her dressmaker—a solemn rite which lasted an'hour —a.nd the florist from whom she ordered great sheaves of roses for adorning the dinner which she intended inviting her cousin to share with her, she told the chauffeur to drive to a number in Jermyn Street. A small brass plate on the door had the inscription: "Messrs. Boyd and Lattinger —Enquiry Agents," and after a moment's delay in a waiting-room she was shewD into. Mr. Lattinger's private room. A debonair, sleek young man, with a face like an overgrown cherub, welcomed her cordially. "Very pleased to see you, Mrs. Hatherley," Lattinger said in the breezy fashion he always assumed toward his clients. "I was intending to send you the report from our Miss . Paton —it's quite satisfactoiy I'm glad to say. Perhaps you would like to see her personally as you're here—she's in the office writing some letters for me this morning, as it happens." " I suppose that's the deaf girl you told me about. Do you think you can quite rely upon her?" Muriel asked in the peremptory tones she generally adopted to anyone whom she considered her inferior.

Mr. Lattinger was quite untouched by this assumption of superiority. Ho laughed pleasantly. "Rely upon her, my dear Mrs. Hatherley! Why, she's one of the cutest women I have ever employed in my business, or indeed come across in any sort of secret service. She's absolutely sound. I've never known her make an error. But you shall judge for yourself."

He touched a bell close to his writing table, and it was answered instantly by the sharp-looking youth who sat in a little box-like erection in the waiting room. On it was marked in large white letters, Enquiries. "Ask Miss Paton to come here for a moment," Lattinger told him. and he vanished as if moved bv clockwork.

SOLUTION TO LAST SATURDAY'S PUZZLE.

"Jou said, ask Miss Paton," Muriel queried with a touch of sarcasm, "how does the young man manage it?" 'Oh! He doesn't need to manage it in any way, I assure you—he follows my instruction literally." Then the door opened and a very pretty girl came into the room. She had pale, fair hair, rather elaborately dressed, and it was of the tint which the French so aptly tern blondcendre, for it was almost colourless, but it gave distinction to large blue eyes shaded by brown lashes and vvith finely-marked eyebrows of the same darker shade. She was singularly childlike in figure, small and slender, with narrow well-shod feet. This with an innocent appealing expression left an impression of extreme youth and delicacy.

Muriel eyed her with disapprobation. She considered a female detective (as she mentally docketed Miss Paton), should not be dressed to perfection —the grey tailor-mado she wore bearing the cachet of a first-rate Parisian firm —nor in .fact should she aspire by her appearance to any sort of equality with those who required her services. "Miss Paton, this is our client, Mrs. Hatherley," Lattinger said by way of introduction, speaking in his ordinary tone and to Muriel's surprise the girl with a quick smile of comprehension bowed and said in a low, cultivated voice, "I am so pleased to meet you, I have been so much interested in the work entrusted to me on your behalf." "You have been to Thrington then!" Mrs. Hatherley inquired, unconsciously raising her voice. "Do not trouble to speak loudly," Lattinger interposed, "it is so fatiguing and unnecessary for Miss Paton can understand all you say. Sit down Miss Paton and tell us how you fared at Thrington." Muriel noticed that the girl had a quick bird-like manner of looking from one to the other when they spoke. She took the seat Lattinger offered her and began her story with great self-possession. "I arrived at Thrington a week agt>, rather late in the day, and engaged a room at the Inn adjoining the station. The chamber-maid who waited on me was fortunately a native of the village, so I found "out all the particulars I required without difficulty. Old Mr, Danvers is

(To be continued on Saturday next.)

still living at Thrington Park —the servant told me—he is now ninety-sLx—-which, of course, you know already. Also, he never leaves his room and has two attendants, a woman nurse who is with him during the day, and a man to attend on hira at night. The next day being Sunday I went to Thrington Church; it is a little Norman building on the Thrington property, only a few yards from the big house." "Yes, yes—-I remember that," Muriel interposed rather testily, "I have stayed at Thrington you know." Miss Paton gave a little nod. "Yes—l know you went to stay there when you were first married. Your husband was old Mr. Danvers' godson. I thought probably 1 should see the nurse in church, and I was not disappointed, for she was there sitting in what 1 imagined to be the Danvers' family pew. Coming out I lingered near an old tomustone in the churchyard. The fiurse had joined a middle-aged lady whom I took to be the rector's wife, and she was saying that the old gentleman was much the same, quite wonderful for his age—the housekeeper was sitting with him while she came to the service. When they were close to me, I said, ' Can you tell me if this is where Lady Cordelia Danvers is buried.' The nurse said: ' Oh, no, her tomb is inside the church, close to the altar.' I told her I was a little deaf —would she kindly repeat the sentence, and then the other lady said, in what must have been a loud voice, 'lf you wait a few minutes until the congregation has dispersed, you can see the tomb inside the church.' There were only a dozen people there, so in a minute all had cleared out, and the nurse offered to show me the tomb. We had quite a nice long talk. I explained that my great grandmother had been a Danvers, and I had always promised my people out in America that I would visit the home of their ancestors when I went to England. The nurse said she would never have guessed I was American, and I told her, always been provided with British-born nurses and governesses." Mr. Lattinger laughed softly and murmured, "Good!"