INTO THE MISTS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 19386, 22 July 1926, Page 16

INTO THE MISTS.

CHAPTER XXIII. Judith left the dinner table long before the conclusion of the meal, and Paule had scarcely lit his first cigarette when Martin entered the room and approached him. " Her ladyship would be obliged if you would come to her boudoir, sir. Coffee will be served there." " Got your orders, you see, Paule," his host declared good-naturedly. " Don't inind me. Judith's got it into her head that she wants to talk to you, and you'll have to go through with it." Paule laid down his cigarette, and followed Martin from the room. He was ushered into an apartment, of which in those first few minutes he received a confused impression of smoke-coloured draperies, flashes of unexpected blue, and the odour of burning wood. Judith was half seated, hail reclining upon a great divan near the fire. She motioned him to sit by her side, and poured him out •om e coffee. " Thank you for coming so soon," she said. " There are cigarettes on the table there. Don't neglect your coffee. It's really Turkish—orange flower and all. I'm glad you came early; we have an hour and five minutes. I want to talk to you.*' Paule helped himself to his coffee, and lit a cigarette. The atmosphere of the room pleased him. The wails were severe, panelled in white satin-wood. The furniture was French. The thick carpet was velvety and smoke-coloured. There were many roses and carnations in wonderful bowls. The only dominant colours in the rooin were a smoke-grey, a delicious soft blue and gilt. The odour of the burning wood was faintly aromatic. " You want to talk to me. I know what about. Your tame Sherlock Holmes came to see me this afternoon." " Do you ever make a mistake in life?" " Infrequently," he admitted. " Well, you have made one now. I have nothing to say to you on that subject." " I am surprised." " I want to talk about myself." " To me,?" " Why not ? Aren't you interested ?" There was a note almost of anxiety under the faint insolence of her question. She was looking straight into his eyes. Paule had baffled her more than once, but, after all, he was a human being. There must be a way through the armour of his imperturbability. Her moment must come. " Everyone," he said, " is interested in Lady Judith Fernham." "I am unhappy. You think that extraordinary ?" "You seem to have gathered in most of life's gifts. What more do you desire?" "I am young. I have looks, with a certain vogue among people who count. I have all the money a person could use or spend, and I am engaged to marry the eldest son of a marquess. Yet it is to you that I have to turn for help." " I imagined that you mistrusted me. You have recently shown a desire to avoid me. What surety have you that I would help you, even if I could?" "No surety, only a conviction," she answered confidently. " I am afraid of you. I suspect you of nameless things. Yet I know that you are. the only person who can help me. I know that you are nearer to me than any of these others, that, as I speak, so you will understand." He was on the point of interruption, hut her arm flashed out, slim, white and beautiful. " No. You fence with your tongue. You don't give me a chance. You shall remain silent. Afterwards you can say as much as you like. In the meantime •this is my homily, and the text of it all is that I am unhappy. You know what is to happen to me to-night, of course. I api to set the rivets upon my bondage. Freddy is to be my husband. "I am not a fool. I know very well that I can't go through life without a husband. 1 :>hould much prefer a lover, but I have that Jiuch of my race in me. I am virtuous because I can't help it. Freddy doesn't help me at all. Now, can't you see ? I don't want to marry Freddy." Paule threw his cigarette away. He was conscious or a lar.gour of the senses. His brain, which had never once, played him false, was working still. All the time he knew his danger. " Other women before me have done this thing," she continued, " have been qualified by their instincts to walk in the sacred groves, or have climbed the ladder and made their way there, only to follow the same will-o'-the-wisp and sink into the drab places. . No one can ever really escape, you know. Look at the clock. It is twenty minute 3to ten. At ten o'clock the Duchess of Midlothian will he here with a little congratulatory speech all ready upon her lips." " What do you want me to do," he asked, not altogether steadily. Her eyes swam with joy at the little break in his voice. She leaned toward him. One arm was around the back of the divan, the fingers of her other hand seemed creeping toward him. You know," she said. " You and I breathe the same atmosphere. Our eyes see the same things. You may be as wicked as hell, but you are the only person to whom I could come for salvation. For some reason you have the will to hate me. Is"it strong enough? Stoop down, Lawrence—nearer—-nearer!" After all, his embrace was like nothing she had imagined. Every line in his face seemed to have softened. There was a tenderness in those stern eyes of which she had never dreamed. His arms went around her almost deliberately, his lips sought hers with something of the same studied care. There was nothing of the blindness of passion in that long, wonderful caress. She felt herself raised to her feet, her arms still round his neck. Heheld her throbbing body closely, while his lips sought her eyes, her hair, her hps again. She felt the' sense of something overpowering, a passion born of other things than the strength of his arms and his softly-whispered words. Presently he let her go. Even then she feared to open her eyes. She heard his .voice, a little stifled. "It is ten o'clock, Judith.. Iu a moment, your chaperon may be here." She opened her eyes then and smiled at him. " You are the only person who could 1 have solved this for me," she murmured. 1 "Do you mind going now ? I am ringing for my maid. Unless you care about it, don't come to the ball. Later on in 1 life I'll make my curtsey of thanks to ' you." " Later on in life?" he repeated. > She stood with her finger upon the bell. " Why not ? You have been wonderful. You alone could have saved me. Later on I will tell you how grateful I am." The maid entered, and there were tidings of Joyce and the duchess. Paule niade his escape. CHAPTER XXIV. Paule, on the following morning, received a visit from the head of the firm. Joseph was obviously in a condition of great disquietude. • " A nice state of things! " lie exclaimed, throwing himself into an easy chair. "Have you heard anything?" " I have no idea what you're talking pbcut." His visitor handed him a slip of paper. " just as I was coming out this morning if you please," he explained, " up conies her ladyship and presents me with this: ' Please see to it on your way down to the city, dad,' was all she said. Read it, read it, man! It's for the Morning iPost." Paule read the single line in Judith's firm handwriting. " The marriage arranged between Lady Judith Fernham and Lord Amberleys yr'.i) not take place." " Broken off! " he muttered. " All done last night, it seems," 'Joseph continued. " Several other newspapers have been ringing up , a? 0 f course

BY E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM.

(COPYRIGHT).

the anonncement was to have been made publicly last night, although the engagement was pretty well known beforehand. Changed her mind! That's all she'll say. The hussy! It isn't as though Amberleys wasn't the eldest son. From what I can hear of Holt, she'd have been a marchioness in five years. I say, Paule," he went on curiously, " did Judith give you any idea of this yesterday evening?" " Her conversation indicated that she was not altogether satisfied with the prospects of her engagement," Paule admitted. " I had no idea, however, that she was contemplating breaking it off so abruptly." " I've never had anything against the young fellow," Joseph went on. "A bit stand-offish, perhaps, but, after njl, there never has been much for him and me to talk about. What can the girl want?" " Lady Judith is rather an exceptional character." " Then if this is the result of her being exceptional," her father declared emphatically, " I wish that she were ordinary. With Ernest gone, and Henry with his career abroad, drifting away from our traditions, Judith was all her mother and I had to turn to. We Jews, you know, Paule—l ain't ashamed of being a Jew —have got just two weaknesses in life. The first you'd say was money— I wouldn't put it first, but let that go—the other is our family. We like large families. Wo like to see the younger generation of our own stock all around us. Judith was our last hope. We wanted her to marry and have children. It would have lengthened her mother's life by ten years. And she won't do it, Paule. I don't believe she's got it in her. She's thrown over this young fellow—a fine enough chap in his way—and gone off to Scotland this morning with Lady Joyce and her mother." " Lady Judith will probably very soon marry someone else." " Doubt whether she'll marry at all," her father groaned. " She's all brain and fancies and temperament. That sort of a person finicks with the marriage question. She didn't give us a chance even to argue with her, Paule. Just hands me this slip of paper." " Since she did hand it to you," Paule suggested, " perhaps you had better have it sent to the office of the Morning Post." " I had them copy it," Joseph explained. " I kept this to show you. It's so awkward for us, too, down in Norfolk. We were just getting along nicely with the people, and now this will put the kibosh 011 the whole show." Paule glanced at the clock. " Well, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for you, Lord Honerton," he regretted. " We're terribly busy here, and I've several appointments before twelve o'clock." I Joseph rose unsteadily to his feet. This had been a shock to him. He had indulged a little freely, too, at the club the night before, and his cheeks seemed more pendulous than ever. " Well. I won't keep you, Paule," he said. " I've a busy morning myself—feeling cheap, too. Rotten! What about giving mo one of those pick-me-ups you used to gve Samuel ? I'm needing something of the sort if anyone ever did." For a moment it appeared as though Paule had not heard him. Joseph moved on his feet impatiently, and his companion seemed to beconie suddenly aware of his presence. "Yes. I'll give you something," he assented, drawing his keys from his pocket and moving across the room. " Wait here a minute, will you? " y Joseph was smitten by a sudden and overpowering curiosity. "What do you keep in that Bluebeard's chamber of yours ? " he exclaimed. " Let's have a look ? " Paule swung round with his back to the door. " The secrecy of these rooms is rather one of my hobbies. Lord Honerton," he observed. "If you remember, it is part of our agreement." , " Stuff and nonsense! " Joseph scoffed. " No one wants to pry into your secrets, man. You know perfectly well that I'm not even a chemist. It's sheer curiosity with me, nothing else." "It is because I realise the fact that I venture to advise you not to press your request," Paule said. "Investigations which I conduct here have a definite purpose, but they necessitate unpleasant accessories." " What do I care? " was the irritable retort. ' 'Come On! Let's have a look at the place! " " Against my advice," Paule reminded him, as he threw open the door. * * # # * Paule, alope once more, gave a brief order to his secretary through the telephone, crossed the room, and entered the little apartment with the orange light in the roof which he had once shown Judith. For an hour ho lay stretched upon the hrvrd couch, motionless, his wide-open eyes fixed upon one spot in the wall, indulging in reflection so concentrated as to be almost trance-like. At last he rose and made his wav back, first to his private rooms and later to the laboratories. He completed a long morning's work with his usual precise care as to detail, lunched alone in his quarters, and sat smoking a cigarette and reading a review. Presently the telephone at his elbow rang. He took off the receiver. " Will you tell Lady Honerton that I will call during the evening," was his response. He rose, and pasesd through the door back again into nis chamber of solitude.

CHAPTER XXV. The four young men who had been waiting in the library of the great house in Park Lane for over an hour, rose with one accord as the door opened and Rachel entered. With her white hair and parch-ment-like skill, her dress of unrelieved black and her dark, brilliant eyes, she presented ,an appearance which for a moment absorbed their interest to such an extent that'the current of their thoughts was changed and not one of them asked the question which had been trembling on his lips for so long. " I am Lady Honerton," she announced. " I understand that you gentlemen are from various Newspapers and wish to see me." The young man nearest to her constituted himself spokesman. " We have been informed, Lady Honerton," he began—" there are some rumours going about, in fact—that Lord Honerton has—er—is not—" " My husband's prolonged absence from home is certainly causing us great anxiety." " May we ask for the exact particulars of his disappearance ? " the journalist continued. " They are very simple," Rachel replied. "He left home at the usual time this morning, spent an hour at the works, called at his bank in the city and sent the ear back from there. Since' then I have not received even a telephone message." l ou expected him here to luncheon ?" one of the others asked. " Not only did I expect, him but he had invited some guests," she told her inhllf'v r ♦ y , arrived at o'clock, but we had to lunch without him." I take next <l u ery, "that all the usual inquiries have been made." IS aturaily, ' Rachel assented. "We telephoned to tne works and since then to ?o ? id s .£ s, „f* " d ev,ry possibb «• "And the bank," her first questioner suggested. ' What about the bank ? Did he draw out a large sum of money? " He drew out no monev at all," was the unexpected reply. "His visit there apparently had reference to a quite unimportant matter. The cashier who attended o him declares that he was not in the .place more than five minutes and the commissionaire on duty remembers his leaving the premises.'' an y id ea why he sent his, car home ? one of the visitors asked. None at ad. It was a most unusual occurrence. He seldom walks a yard if he can help it." ae {To be continued daily.)