THE HEART OF A DANCER.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXV, Issue 20075, 12 October 1928, Page 22

THE HEART OF A DANCER.

BY CHARLES PROCTER.

CHAPTER V. " It has been a wonderful night, Clinton, dear, a night I shall remember," said Daphne, when at last she and her husband got back to their hotel. "I think Pavlovina is the most beautiful creature I havo ever seen. Even in that great gathering, with so many beautiful women about, sho was quite an outstanding figure. Don't you think so ? "Sho is certainly a remarkable woman, answered Clinton absently, his mind still busy with the mystery of the ring. " Clinton, darling, I couldn't help ■worrying about whether seeing her again wouldn't revive unpleasant memories and upset you," continued Daphne, "and, do you know, dear, I fancied you changed colour when you shook hands with her. Did meeting Pavlovina again giv'c you a pang?"

" My dear girl, what on earth put that idea into your head?" Clinton countered, unconsciously speaking brusquely.

" Don't bo cross with me, dearest," exclaimed Daphne. " I don't mean that I'm jealous or anything of tho sort. Any woman who was jealous of Pavalovina would be an idiot, for it is obvious to anybody that she is whole-heartedly in lovo with her husband. But sho is so very beautiful, so fascinating, that Icouldn't help wondering again if you might not bo comparing mo unfavourably with her,, remembering you told mo sho is tho very imago of your first wife. I know I am foolish, Clinton, and that I shouldn't havo mentioned tho matter. Forgivo me, darling!" She threw her arms impulsively round her husband's neck, and Ciinton crushed her close to his breast and kissed, her

passionately. " I have nothing to forgive, Daphne, dear heart," ho said, his voico tenso with omotion. " You are tho only woman in the world who matters to me now, iny my life; and I'd give my life rather than cause you a moment's unhappiness. I shall allow nothing on earth to come between us—nothing!" Hp said the last word so fiercely and vehemently that Daphne was startled. " Darling, I —l didn't mean you to take mo so soriously," she said tremulously. "I know how much you lovo me. And how can anything ever como between us now that wo are man and wife*and lovo each other ? Kiss me again', bo4tfved,' au'd don't look so dreadfully stern."

Clinton kissed her, forced himself to smile reassuringly, and stroked her silky brown hair.

" Somehow 1 feel all worked up tonight, Daphne," he . said apologetically. " Perhaps being in the company of Dougloff and the members of tho Russian Ballet, to say nothing of mixing with a lot of emotional Blench people, has made mo unnecessarily dramatic." " Y T ou'ro a dear, husband mine, and I lovo you in all your moods," said his bride softly, smiling into his eyes and rumpling his hair affectionately. " But 1 do hopo you won't copy Dougloff's characteristics, and take to smashing glasses after drinking a toast when we get home!" •; " I won't, Daphne," said Clinton, "but I'll smash anything or anyone who tries to interfere with your happiness."

" You are still being dramatic, silly boy!" commented Daphne. "As long as you lovo me I shall ho happy. . . Oh, dear, I am so tired!" " Go to bed, little woman," said Clinton. '* I am going out on tho balcony to smoke a cigaiette to calm my nerves. I don't feel in the least inclined for sleep at the moment although it must be nearly daybreak. I'm in one of my restless moods." " Don't stay out on the balcony too long, dear, and don't catch cold," responded Daphne, who already knew that lier husband was to some extent a creature of moods and highly strung, although to tho rest of the world he seemed the normal, level-hejded, almost passionless professional man who did not know the meaning of "nerve 3." as far as he was personally concerned. "I'd love to come out with you to watch the sunrise, but I am so tired and sleepy 1 can hardly keep my eyes open. Good night, darling." "The ring!" How had Pavlovina bo como. possessed of the ring he had given to Irma Zivintof, if she was not herself Irma?" That was tho question which obsessed Clinton's mind as ho watched tho sun rise over the roofs and spires of Paris.

" Wli'at can I do? What should I do?" ho soliloquised!. "Pavlovina was obviously telling the truth, and there are no means of discovering how the ring came into her possession if she is not Irma. And it is impossible that she can be Irma in spite of the uncanny resemblance. I satisfied myself that Irma is dead. It is possible that the ring may have been given to her by one .of tho revolutionaries. Irma was fond of jewellery, and doubtless tho men who murdered her stripped her of her valuables. -That must be tho explanation. " I cannot even bo certain that the ring is actually mine. For all I know there may be clozens of rings in existence with the same crest. Some Russian family of Scottish descent may havo adopted our family crest. God grant that that is tho explanation! Oh, why do I still torturo myself with doubts and the dread that Pavlovina may be Irma, when I have conolusive proofs that Irma is dead ?" Ho told himself ho was a fool to worry, but the fear that in spite of all the evidonce to the contrary Pavlovina might bo the wife he had believed dead persisted, making sleep impossible. Ho found himself considering what would happen if ho found his fears to be well-founded and shuddered at the thought of tho sensation and scandal that would result. Tho consequences might bo a prosecution for bigamy which would ruin his reputation, and at best the matrimonial tangle could only be solved in the Divorce Court. " If I am to preserve my reason and have any chance of happiness, I must put tho possibility that Olga Pavlovina and Irma Zivintof are one and the same completely out of "my mind," Clinton told himself. " After all, lam innocent of anv attempt or intention to do wrong, and nothing can happen to disturb Daphne's happiness and the married happiness of Pavlovina and her husband, if J keep silent." The more he pondered over the matter, the more convinced did Clinton become that he was scaring himself needlessly. There was tho apparent discrepancy in the ages of Irma and Olga, the fact that the latter had never betrayed the slightest sign of recognition, the evidence supplied by his friend at tho Foreign Office. JIo was inclined to laugh at himself, and to agree with Daphne that ho was becoming unnecessarily dramatic when a few hours later, he was wandering with his wile through the torest of Fontainbleau in the Autumn sunlight, and he put tho disturbing thoughts out of his mind. He did not see Pavlovina again until about a month later, when she, together with Serge Romanoff and the great Dougloff, attended Daphne's "house-warming" party, which was a great success. In the interim Clinton's work, and the pleasant task of helping Daphno to make their new - home beautiful had kept him fully occupied. , and left him little or no time to brood.

Meeting tier did not in any way disturb him or revive, his f ca rs, although ho noticed she was wearing his signet ring. Clinton had, lulled himself into a sense of security and convinced himself he had no grounds for apprehension. " Wo leave at, the end' of the month to give a-short season in New York hut shall he hack in England again eirfy nelt .tlivnk I'avlovma *Bl. have great trhunphs."

FHNE STORY OF SWIFT ACTION AND ROMANCE.

(COPYRIGHT.)

"Talking of Pavlovina, I suppose she has never discovered who her people were?" Clinton enquired casually. "No, I think not, but—pouf ! —what does it matter 1" responded Dougloff. "She is a great artist. It matters not whether her name is Baileff or Romanoff. She has no people, I think, or they would surely havo claimed her now she is worldfamous and her picture is in every paper. What matters her people? She is Pavlovina. and lifo for her began when 1, Dougloff, discovered her."

"Well, darling, if we get half the good things that have been wished us to-night we shall certainly 'livo happy ever after" remarked Clinton to his wife, when the last, of their guests had departed. "Why shouldn't, we, dear?" Daphne exclaimed, giving hitn an impulsive hug. "Wo are going to be tho happiest couple in England all our lives, and wo have much to lie thankful for. Wo havo love, a beautiful home, many friends—and no enemies that I know of—a fair amount of money, you arc making a nanio for yourself, and the world is all before us."

"And the past is all behind me," thought Clinton, but left it unsaid.

Ho was happy, and Daphno shared his happiness. They wero ideally suited for each other temperamentally, and Daphne, herself tho daughter of a great surgeon, was not jealous of her husband's devotion to his profession, but. on the contrary, grateful and thankful that Clinton contrived to give her so much of his time. It seemed, indeed, as if they were going to "live happily ever after," until one morning a stranger who had made no appointment, and therefore had, perforce, been compelled to wait a long time, was shown into Clinton's consulting room.

Clinton took an instinctive dislike to him at first glance. Ho was an elderly man of Jewish type, with a reddish beard turning, grey and stained with nicotine round tho lips, and bright, deep-set, furtive eyes. He was well-dressed, yet somehow his clothes sat ill on him and did not look "right," and he had a suave, oily manner.

"Sorry you havo been kept .waiting so Jong, but 1 had several other patients to see who made appointments," said Clinton politely, indicating a chair. "What is the trouble, Mr. cr— ?" "You do not remember me—no?" said the stranger in English, but with a strong foroign accent. "As far as 1 am aware, I havo never seen you before," responded Clinton* looking hard at him. "What is your name, please, and what is it you wish to consult mo about ?"

"My name is Boris Zivintoff," answered tho man. "Now you remember—yes?", Clinton was startled, but his lean face did not betray tho fact.

"Sorry, but the namo conveys nothing to me, and 1 havo no recollection of ever having seen you before," ho said curtly. "No?" There was a suspicion of a sneer in tho suave oily voice. "You pretend, perhaps, to have the loss of memory tho ' same as Irma ? You preler remember what happened in Moscow ?" His ferrety eyes wero searching Wallace's face, which remained mask-like and inscrutable. "What exactly are you driving at? Clinton demanded. 'T do not know you. Please state your business as quickly and briefly as possible. My time is valuable." "Me, I am Boris Ziviritoff, and you are the Captain Wallace of the British Corps Medical who marry my niece, Irma Zivintof, in Moscow," said tho other, obviously slightly nonplussed. "Your niece?" "Yes, 1 am the uncle of Irma, whom you marry."

"Well V . r, > C "It is not well." siiid Boris Zivintof, wagging a long skinny finger stained brown by nicotine, "l'our wife, Irma, she is still alivo but lias taken Romanoff for her husband, and you. you marry a rich English lady, without getting the divorce or anything. It is not well, doctor. You have commit the bigamy. Clinton s grave faco still betrayed no signs of his inward perturbation, and his grey eyes regarded Zivintof sternly and suspiciously. . , . " What fantastic nonsense is this you are talking?" ho demanded. Irma was killed by the revolutionaries over ten vears ago, and I have proofs of that fact. What do you mean. by asserting she is still alive." . " She was not killed, ' retorted Zivintof " Sho was hut hit on the head and stunned, and I, myself, helped her to get into the train for Warsaw. en 1 find her again at Warsaw, sho call herself Olga Baileff and make the pretence not to'know me, the pretence to have tlio loss of memory, which I know to bo only pretence because she want hergo Romanoff to marry her. Now slio is Pavlovina, the great Pavlovina, and you have seen her and recognize her, you know sho is Irma Zivintof, your wife, yet vou marry the English lady and comin it" the bigamy without getting the divorce! And you say 'well, I say to you, sir, that it is not well!" He raised his voice as he said the last words, and brought his skinny clenched fist clown on the table with a hang. # "You need not shout at me, saul Clinton coldly, "and banging the table will only confirm me in my opinion that your m'irid must bo disordered. What proofs have you to support your extraordinary assertion that Pavlovina is I r * Tl <iZivintof, and what proofs have you that you aro her uncle?' " Porroofs ? You think, perhaps, that I am an imposter, monsieur, but you have the wrong." Zivintof pulled a big greasylooking wallet from his pocket as ho spoke, and from it extracted some papers. "Here is tho permit I obtain from the Commissary to take Irma from Moscow. Here her papers of identification, the certificate of her marriage to you, also. Here my old papers; hero my passport. Sec! I am not the imposter, no! He held up each document in front of Clinton's face, but would not let him touch any and seemed to be apprehensive lest Clinton should snatch them from him. " Serge Romanoff, he knows me and he knows who Irma, who calls herself now Olga Pavlovina, is—knows she is my niece. And you, sir, you know Pavlovina is Irma Zivintof, your wife." " Your papers prove little or nothing, except that your name is Boris Zivintof, arid I happen to have information that Boris Zivintof is suspected of being a secret of tho Soviet," commented Clinton deliberately. "That is a lie!" exclaimed Zivintof furiously, his eyes gleaming. " You try | what vou call the bluff. lam honest business man, but poor. " And. if there is'any trul h in your story, which I doubt, you must have allowed your niece, while she was suffering from loss of memory, to contract what you knew to be a bigamous marriage," continued Clinton, paying no heed to tho interruption. • " Furthermore, you have kept Pavlovina in ignorance as to her identity." . "No, not so!" protested Zivintof. 1 tell Serge Romanoff who Irma is, and when lie marry her I think you have boen shot by the Bolsheviks. But you, you do not think Irma is dead when you marry again, for you have seen her. You have not the excuse." " Well, what do you propose to do about it?" asked Clinton calmly. " Nothing, monsieur, nothing at all, if you will help me," said Zivintof, twisting his skinny hands together. "I do not want tho scandal, and do not wish to give you trouble. If you will lend me five hunderd pounds to start again in business, I will keep tho silenco and tell no one that Pavlovina is your wife. Only five hundred pounds, sir." " Blackmail, eh ?" snapped Clinton. "I guessed as much, you scoundrel!" " I do but ask for a loan." said Zivintof, showing bis teeth. " But if you will not help mo, then, I tell your wife and then the police that you have commit bigamy." .(To bo continued daily.}