SNOW UPON THE DESERT

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIX, Issue 21349, 25 November 1932, Page 20

SNOW UPON THE DESERT

By J. RUSSELL WARREN

CHAPTER Xl.—(Continued)

Elisabeth stood still and stared at him, utterly taken aback. The only thought in her mind was that something terrible had happened to Roger Corcoran. She had often read about people's hearts standing still, and really hers seemed to stop beating, then.

For a few moments —but it seemed to her an unendurable length of time—he stood there, looking at her gravely, sadly. His skin seemed darker, his eyes deeper, his moustache softer and silkier than eyer. Then he said : " Good afternoon, Miss Tarlcton." Elisabeth stammered something. " You are surprised to see me back so soon," ho went on in his oily voice. •" Something has happened—" Elisabeth blurted out "Roger!" and then collected herself at seeing astonishment in his eyes. She managed to ask, more steadily: " What has happened ? Captain Corcoran —Mr. Tresilian —are they

The astonishment died out of his eyes, but she saw a perplexity remaining, and a curious, speculative kind of expression, as though he were considering her from a new angle. He made a slow, smooth gesture.

" No, they are quito well, I believe," ho said, and Elisabeth could have cried out in sheer relief. He paused, then, as if he had something very important to tell and found it difficult to put into words. Captain Corcoran—" he began, and stopped again. "Something happened—" Elisabeth invited him to sit down, which he did, after waiting for her to . do the same, with his usual overdone politeness. He asked if he might smoke, and lit a Turkish cigarette. He held the 'match between his finger and thumb and sat watching it burn down until it almost reached his fingers. Then he dropped it on to the floor and put the neat toe of his shoe upon it. He looked up at her suddenly, as if he had at last made up his mind, or found words, or something of the kind. !, " Miss Tarleton," he said, "I am very sorry to have to tell you this, but it is only right that you must know. I am very disappointed in Captain Corcoran." Elisabeth had not the faintest idea what ■f he meant. She could only echo the word ■" disappointed " in wondering surprise. " Miss Tarleton," he began again, " I ■want you to understand that I do not accuse you in any kind of way. I am satisfied that your'motives have been perfectly honourable all tho time; the motives of an English lady." i' Elisabeth wondered what on earth he meant.

"But this Corcoran,", he said, and

/there was almost a snarl in his silky voice; it was like, in a way, a cat putting out its claws, " this Corcoran, he is not honourable, not honest; he does not play the game straight." There was something so childishly peev- ' ish in his voice that at first Elisabeth was merely amused; she gathered that he had taken offence at something Roger had said or done, and had left the party * and come back to Ashar in a huff. He sat there, staring at her and stroking his moustache.

" It was agreed, was it not," he said, " that we should not look for any profit in this venture; that it was to be all for the good of suffering humanity?" " Certainly," Elisabeth agreed, still wondering what.he meant. "That was your intention," he said, / " and it was mine, and Mr. Tresilian's and Mr, Skinner's, but this Corcoran—no. He is out to make money from it." "Indeed?" Elisabeth asked, in incredulous scorn. " And may I ask how?" >i Mardignan spread out his hands. ' "He proposes to form a company to exploit the discovery; he will have shares, and draw dividends upon the sale of the cure; that is his plan." Elisabeth, of course, simply did not bebelieve it. " And since when," she asked icily, " has Captain Corcoran changed his intentions about the cure 1" " Mardignan dropped his hands between his knees and looked sorrowful. " It was the night after we crossed the border," he said. "We camped, and sat round the fire. And presently Corcoran said, ' Now we're well away from that ' girl, we can talk as man to man. Poor little simpleton, she thinks we are in this for our health, but we know better; we •will make a bit—and a big enough bit to be worth while. Equal shares, eh ?

H Twenty-five per cent each." " And that Skinner, he said, ' Hear, hear! Put me down.' The Tresilian boy, he hesitated, and was reluctant, but the 7 others began to persuade him. He is ' young and defers to older men. So then I said, ' I will be no party to this. 1 do not want to make money out of other people's misfortunes. I entered into this for the good of humanity, and so did you all, and if you turn it into a moneymaking concern, I will leave it. " And they all laughed at me, so in the j morning I left them. I brought, away my horse, and as many mules and men as I needed to carry my kit and necessary provisions, and I returned. I reached - Amara and took a boat down. It came in here at noon. After landing, I paused

only to eat and bathe and change, and sleep, and came straight to tell you what p has happened." Perhaps you can imagine little Elisabeth's scornful incredulity, can see her ■sitting there on that balcony in the rc- ' fleeted sunglare, with her hps tightened into a thin line and her clear eyes indignant. She was quite ready to flare up, but she managed to keep a d gnificd calm. " This is quite impossible," she said, in a tone that would crush most men. y Captain Corcoran, with the rest of you, signed a paper to say that he would take no profit out of the venture. Mardignati smiled; the indulgent, patronising smile of a man of the world exploding the pleasant fallacies, the illusory ideals, of youth. Elisabeth could have slapped his face. " Yais." he said, " but where is that paper ? lie took it away with him; no / doubt he has destroyed it. Who can produce it against him?" Elisabeth felt almost cruelly triumphant. " I can," she told him. " Because Captain Corcoran gave it to me to take care of, and I have it still. "Ah, splendid!" Mardignan said, his eyes lighting up, and though she doubted and distrusted the man and every word he uttered, vet she found it difficult to believe that" his relief was not ( sincere. ."You keep it in a safe place?" Elisabeth was on the point of tell ng / him that it was in her locker; that she had intended to put it in the bank, but had put it off. but she felt that she must be wary, and told him that .the document ■was in' a safe place, and that she could produce it when required. This appeared lo leave the Armenian nothing more to sav. He rose to his feet, picked up Irs astrakhan cap and prepared to go. As he turned toward the light Elisabeth no'iced, for the first time, that

he seemed to have a curious lump on one side of liis forehead, and that his thick, curved nose looked thicker than ever, but less curved. But she was not feeling any interest in Mardignan's appearance: she wanted the man to go, leaving her alone to think over this unpleasant development in the situation, and its possible consequences. Mardignan took her hand in his smooth, vrann one. an:l bent, over it gravely. / " Let me assure you, Miss Tarleton," he said silkilv, staring at her with his beautiful, deep, dark eyes. " that I have

come as a friend, 1 will always be a friend; that everything 1 shall say or do will be in your own best interests." / Elisabeth thanked him politely, without believing a word he said, and was very thankful to see him go. She was curious

AN INTRIGUING STORY OF THE EAST

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though, to know if he would leavo the Hospital directly, so she went, to tho balcony rail and looked down. In a few minutes, Mardignan appeared below, coming out from the main door. For an instant slio looked down at him standing there, in the glaring dust, a grotesquely foreshortened figure, mostly black astrakhan cap. Then, as if he' felt, her gaze upon him, lie looked up suddenly. Ho smiled, with a flash of white teeth and A sparkle of dark eyes, raised his hand to his cap in salute" and then, turning, walked jauntily away in the shadow of the wall. (" Only dogs and Englishmen," says tho proverb, " walk in tho sun.") Elisabeth was embarrassed and annoyed that Mardignan had looked up and seen her watching him. His self-satisfied smilo, his jaunty step, revealed quite clearly that lie had mistaken her motive; he believed that she was—slio did not quite know how to put it—interested in him. Little as she know of tho East, as yet, she understood how apt the Oriental is to exaggerate and misconstrue a smilo, a kind word, from a European of the opposite sex. Mardignan, on his way into the town was probably exulting in a belief that ho had made an exceedingly favourable impression upon the little English girl.

Elisabeth, of course, did not for a moment believo ono word the Armenian said. She simply could not believe that Roger Corcoran would do anything underhand, although he seemed to think little of her; although his manner toward lier was no more than kindly and indulgent, almost fatherly, she could not imagine him saying, " Now we're well away from that girl we can talk as man to man." Those words rankled in Elisabeth's mind; they came back again and again, making her seethe in hot indignation. She could not believe that he would go back on his word and try to make money out of Lady Susan's sacred trust. She was convinced that Mardignan was telling sheer lies from start to finish. She thought it far more likely that it was Mardignan himself who had made the horrible proposition that they should turn the quest into a money-making venture, that Corcoran had refused indignantly, and that there had been a quarrel of some kind. She remembered the lump on Mardignan's forehead and the distortion of his nose, and she believed it most likely that Corcoran, flaming up, had literally thrown the man out of the camp. Tho thought made her feel better, but she was still worried and unhappy. It was a bad sign, things going wrong with the expedition so soon; it was not a good omen. And she wondered if the loss of the animals and stores Mardignan had brought back would hamper those who were left. (She did not learn until afterwards how badly it had hampered them, for Mardignan had taken away, not merely the animals and stores he needed for his returning journey, but all he had paid for).

And there was worse to come. Presently, as most of us would, Elisabeth decided to look again at the precious document that bound the four men to a course of altruism and disinterestedness. She had not examined it since Corcoran had given it to her. She went to her locker and opened it, looked in the place where she had put the paper, among a few books and other oddments, and—tho document was not there. You can imagine how anxiously, with what a dreadful feeling of alarm and consternation and self-reproach, she turned out the locker, examining every article minutely to see if by chance that paper had slipped among other things. But she had no real hope that anything of the kind had happened. Can you see her silting there on the flagged floor of the room, with her few pitiful little? belongings scattered round her, and utter horror in her clear-blue-grey eyes ?

She realised, in bitter self-reproach, that jf only she had done as she had intended—taken the document to the bank for safe-keeping—it would have made all the difference. It was a convincing denial of- Mardignan's story of that poisonous gup that all Ashar was exchanging and repeating—and she- had lost it. She felt that she could never forgive herself, that there was no excuse for her; that she had been criminally careless. And she felt that this loss, although it was a thing that no one but Mardignan and herself knew about as yet, was another bad omen for the success of the expedition and Corcoran's safe return.

But, Elisabeth was a practical little soul, and she did not sit there long in useless self-reproach. She tidied her things up again, went down to the courtyard, where Mrs. Malcolm reclined in humid discomfort, and fold her all about it. The doctor's wife was a good deal surprised to learn that such a document had existed, but she was quick to appreciate its importance. " It may have fallen out of your locker and got swept up by the mitas," she said, " or picked up by a nurse or orderly. We'd better ask matron."

With unusual energy she heaved herself out of her chair and marched off to the matron's office. The matron, a testy martinet of whom little Elisabeth was rather scared, was most sympathetic. Within a few minutes all the nurses and kahars were being interrogated. But nobody, it seemed, had a recollection of seeing such a paper in Elisabeth's room, or of taking it away. The entire hospital was searched, but without much hope—for all waste paper was 'burnt in the incinerator, morning and evening—and without success. " Well, my dear, there's only one explanation," Mrs. Malcolm said at last. " Somebody's stolen the wretched thing." Elisabeth, reluctantly, had to admit fliat no other theory seemed possible, but she could not understand who could have taken the paper, unless one of the hospital staff, an orderly or sweeper had been bribed !

' The matron, of course, was indignant at the suggestion; nothing of the kind was possible, she insisted. Mrs. Malcolm seemed inclined to agree with her. " Well, who's had a chance to get at your locker ? " slio demanded. " This Mardignan innn—" Elisabeth explained that Mardignan had never been alone in her room.

" Well, but what about this very morning when that fool orderly took him up to your balcony, and left him there? You don't know, because you haven't seen the wretched paper for days, but it may have been safely in your locker until to-day ? "

For a moment, Elisabeth jumped'at the idea in positive relief at finding some kind of explanation of (he mystery. And then she realised that it was no explanation. Mardignan had said that ho did not know she had the document; ho believed Corcoran had it; in any caso he could not possibly have known that she kept, it in her locker.

Who did know that fact? Only one person except herself; ono person who might cpnceivably have had an opportunity to take the paper without her knowledge —Roger Corcoran. She did not believe he had stolen the thing, of course; she would not believe it, out of thought—it was not even in her trusting mind, a suspicion—persisted, and made her wretched. She began to realise then that her blind faith in linger Corcoran was destined to be tried almost beyond endurance. She dined with tho Malcolms that evening. The doctor, who had been down to tho club for some tennis, came in half-an-hour late.

" This fellow, Mardignan," he said " is saying all kinds of things about Corcoran; makes him out the worst sort of twister, Mardignan says he ieft the expedition in disgust."

Perhaps you can imagine the colour rushing into Elisabeth's cheeks, the hard glint into her eyes; can hear her saying, coldly that she believed Mardignan left in Bomo physical pain, judging by the condition of his face.

" Oh, aye," said Malcolm. " He admits there was a tamasha. The says he was so furious about the whole affair that he went for Corcoran; but, of course, lie had no chance against him. Skinner and Tresilinn, he says, pulled Corcoran off and held him, or he'd have half killed the Armenian."

(To be continued daily)