MISS NAPOLEON

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 23096, 22 July 1938, Page 4

MISS NAPOLEON

By V. M. METHLEY

An arresting story of a remarkable personality whose feminine appeal is ever present* but whose life purpose leads to strange eig s.

CHAPTER VII. "INDIA —CiltlM STKPMOTHKR OF OUR kind" Puthapore was not a picturesque nor romantically situated station. The cantonments looked like a child's brick buildings dumped in the middle of tl% plain's flatness, with the untidy muddle of the native bazaar some little distance away, hi neither was there a single structure of any architectural value; even the Club was an unpretentious red-and-whito bungalow, with grounds which showed no sign of blossoming like a roso in the desert. Beyond tho Club, beyond tho barracks at tho extreme edge whero the cantonments met tho plain, with a dusty road running northwards across it like an unrolled tape measure, stood a small bungalow, whose compound showed moro than a feeble attempt at cultivation. There was a bed of pansies, mignonette and wallflowers, all seeming rather to deprecate their presence in this strange land, while a jasmin© tree flung itself recklessly over the verandah, and shed a galaxy of starry flowers upon the ground beneath. There were orange and red croton lilies in tubs sunk into tho ground, and a gardener squatting before a small flower-bed was gravely inserting into the dust of its soil the decapitated heads of marigolds, forming them into a close, thick carpet. The mem-sahib loved flowers and her tastes should be gratifiod, even though by to-morrow the labours of Tantia would bo withered and dead. And for tho moment tho flowerbed looked far gayer than if the marigolds had been planted, roots and all, after tho stereotyped method. Tantia looked up and grinned a3 the mem-sahib herself came out on to the verandah. Undoubtedly sho would be pleased . . . And Chrissie Struan, encountering that gaze of childish satisfaction, just managed to hide her dismay and smile at the man eneouragingly.

"It looks very nice, Mallee," she said, and sank down into one of the long chairs, with the feeling that she should cry if sho did not cling to her perception of tho funny side of it. And it was so liko India —ono phase of India.

Wearily sho pushed back tho limp hair from her wet forehead. Although sho had only just bathed and changed, her clothes were clinging moistly to her again; there was no trace of freshness in the air. Her body felt heavy and listless; she had scarcely energy to lift her feet on to the chair and lie extended, and the cushions under her head stuck damp.

She had Said that she might go down to the club, but now that it came to the point sho simply couldn't muster the energy; perhaps she would feel better it she rested for a bit, more fit to face dinner time.

And then, the hoot of a horn, the throb of an engine; a motor-car unmistakably stopping at the gate. "Oh, dear!" Chrissie pressed her fingers to her aching eyes. She would have to drag herself up; there was no help for it. Sho swung her legs over the sicle of the chair; sat on the edge, then sprang to her feet with a little cry. "Oh Mr. Hall, how tremendously glad I am to see you!" sire cried, her breath catching almost in a sob. "But how . . . when . . . whv . . . ?"

Hall took the two outstretched hands in his own and pressed them warmly. "Why, now, that's wonderfully nice of you," ho said. "It means a lot, a real welcome like this."

His trained eyes took in quickly her pallor, the heaviness of her eyes, the drooping, sagging lines of her whole body.

"You want to know why I'm here," he said in his pleasant Southern States voice, with a slight drawl. "Well, you see, somehow England felt very lonely after you all left in October. I'd not to finish my commissions, but I didn't feel inclined to linger on after I'd got through with them. And I'm bound to say that Christmastime bored me."

"Here it was . . . rather pathetic." Chrissie was laughing at the remembrance, but again came that little catch in her voice. "Snowy, frosty hymns—> and the cook served up tho Christmas pudding in a soup tureon —liko porridge. So then you decided to come to India?"

"Oh, I'd always had it as a possible end in view, you know! But what settled it was a commission from a big thing in potentates out hero, the Maharajah Zindia—Lakhsman Singh." "Yes —of Khotalghar; his place is not far from Pathapore," Chrissie apoko eagerly. "Only about six or seven miles, I understand. So I thought I'd como here and see you first."

"And stay with us? That will bo splendid." "No, my thoughts did not mount to thoso heights, Mrs. Struan. Tho portrait will take some time, and T couldn't possibly foist myself on you indefinitely.'' "Oh, but we should be delighted. I'm suro that Manny will say tho same, and then Leonie . . . she knows you and likes you too , .

"Ah!" Hall's quiet eyes were observant. "She's still with you?" "Ob, yes. I don't know what wo should do without her" Chrissie spoke with almost feverish haste and there was a bright spot of colour in each cheek. ".More especially now that I . can't go about with Ranny so much. You sec . . ." She raised her eyes to Hall's with a kind of grave simplicity. "I'm going to have a baby at the end of the year." "I'm glad," he answered as simply and sincerely. Hall glanced expressively. "Surely—• perhaps I'm wrong—but don't women generally go up to tho hills on thoso occasions? But perhaps you are going away . . . later." "No, 1 don't think so," Chrissie answered quietly. "Hann.v would liketo arrange it like that, but there's the question of expense, you sec. Hanny can't possibly get away, and ho wouldn't like me to go alone." "Miss Valence? Didn't she come out hero as your companion?" Hall raised his evebrowK,

"Oh. Vps . vcs!" Atcain the two feverish red spots appeared in Chrissie's cheeks. "Hut then, 1 should hate to take her awa\ fro-n Ranny. She's such n companion 1o him, too. I mean it, really, Mr Hall. You sec. the cxpeiimontnl flying grounds aro a longish ride a-.vav and ltnnny's job tikes him over constantly. And I'm not riding much at present. . . . Resides, Leonio is so wonderfully well informed about aviation; it's marvellous howsho'B picked it up, the technical side. And I'm a perfect idiot about these things—l .simply can't remember the different kinds of 'planes and their records and who built them Hut Leonio can discuss it all, man to man; Ranny says she can even make useful suggestions about design and that sort of thing, So, of course, he likes being with her." Chrissio leant hack in her chair with an air of finality. Hall put his next question) quietly, in almost an off-hand manner "You've grown to like her yourself, then? She doesn't frighten you any longer?"

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"1 believe I must have a nasal memory!" Hall laughed. "I'm sure I remember places and people most keenly by smells—or tastes.''

"And that reminds me that I've been most abominably inhospitable—never to offer you a drink or anything else! Whatever would Itannv think of me?'' Chrissie's voice held real perturbation, as sh? sat up sideways. "What will you have? When did you get a meal last?"

"I'm not needing anything, really, and please don't get up, Mrs. Struan. r shall have to he off." "Indeed you won't! Ah, hero comes Ranny! 1 can hear their horses, so 1 shall have reinforcements to persuade you to stay." The clatter of hooves and the sound of voices camo from tho side of the bungalow, and in a few moments two figures appeared on tho verandah. Struan strode forward, hand outstretched, an attractive ftguro in his riding-kit, from smoothly brushed head to well-polished boots. "Hall! What a pleasant surprise! I wondered whose car it was. And what brings you to India—aud to Pathapore?" "Business and pleasuro combined, as I've been explaining to Mrs. Struan, Well, Miss Valance, wo meet again, aud I only hope you're half as glad as 1 am."

"I'm glad, of course." There was just a flicker of a smile about her lips, but her eyes wore grnve and intent as they stood hand-clasped. And Hall, looking at her, realised that hero was a phase of Leonie Valence. Up to now she had always been the samo grey-clad figure, on the Gloriana. in the boat, at the Kensington Hotel. Now in tussore coat, jodhpur riding-breeches and a terai felt hat. she looked younger, prettier. But no. oven now, "pretty" was not the word to describe her; that epithet, which might be bestowed equally we'll on a daisy, a lamb or tho pattern of a wallpaper. More of a woman, even in that boyish kit—was that it? Certainly the tropics must suit her. There was colour in her pale face, a soft brightness in her eyes which was surely new; tho beautiful lines of mouth and jaw seemed less sculptural. "Of course, you'ro staving with us. Hall," Struan's voice broke in on his thoughts. "I won't hear of anything else, Chrissie says you're painting our local potentate, but yoft won't want to spend all your time at Khotalghar. Gorgeous, of course —something between Windsor Castle and Aladdin's Palace, but not exactly what you'd call homely! 1 couldn't stick it myself for moro than a few davs, although India is pretty thoroughly Westernised—Harrow and Christchureh, and all that." "I've no doubt I can arrange to run over to Khotalghar for His Highness' sitting, perhaps spend a few days with him lator."

"Then that's settled—good!" Struan said heartily, "I'll speak to tho butler, Chrissie." In the baro. matted room, with the green sun-blinds and mosquito-curtained bod, where tho light admitted by ono side-window shone purple through a falling veil of botigainvillea. llall surveyed tho situation mentally. "I wonder why I'm glad to be staying here-—I wonder what's the real attraction—or who? I'm hanged if I cure! A looker-on —that's what I've always been, that's what I am still."

CHAPTKII Vlll. INDIAN GAI.A It was a gala day at tho Gymkhana Club. The "ground" was crowded; the long side adjoining the pavilion had the appesirsiiiro <>l ft horbocoous border in full bloom, so gay-coloured were the dresses of the women, their silks, organdies and muslins. Chrissie Struan's primrose-patterned chiffon under a pale yellow silk coatwas new for the occasion, yet somehow, leaning back listlessly in her canvas chair, she looked quenched, colourless. Leonie Valence, standing beside her. erect against, one of the pillars of the pavilion, made the yellow gown seem almost dowdy beside her dress of delphinium blue, with a long chiffon scan to match draped round her huge blackhat, framing tho clear paleness of her face.

Her look, intent and interested, was fixed upon Struan's ponv, from which ho had just dismounted in order to join the group by tho pavilion, a compact, cleanly-built' little chestnut. s "Look at him!" Leonie said. "One would think ho understood the meaning of every stroke."

"Ami so he does!" Struan answered. " 'l)uke' ia an old polo pony—he's played for years and knows tho game. And loves it!"

"The darling!" Leonio said softly, and Chrissio laughed "L believe you like horses better than men, Looiiic," sho said. "I bclievo L d<> —on the whole. They're so thorough. 'Duke. 1 now hasn't a single thought in the world except for the game lie's watching. Ho doesn't fritter awav his energies trying to do several things at once." " 'Duke' and his master would both like to he playing," Struan laughed. "I'll be getting obese for want of exercise." (To be continued dally.)

Rather a long pause followed before Chrissie answered hastily; "Of course not!" "You know her better —trust her better?" Hall persisted, rather as a doctor persists in his catechism of a patient. "No! I mean . . No. 1 can't say that 1 know Iter any better, really, i don't think she wants one to. It's . . . it's like tisli in an aquarium; you see them and all they do quito plainly, but, there's always the glass between you. You can't touch them, or know what they arc thinking." "But you say Struan likes her ir. spite of her . . . fishitiess?" "It sounds a horrid comparison put in that way!" Chrissie laughed. "Though it's my fault for having mado it first. And it is really marvellous tho way Leonie manages the servants. She speaks Hindustani far better than 1 do, and they liko her, too, although I believe they're a bit afraid of her as well. She's an extraordinarily capable person in every way; she leaves me very little to do in the way of housekeeping; everything is taken off my shoulders really." "What do you do with yourself then?"

"Oh! —I sew —and read—only it's difficult to g;et anything new. And I've been working at music again, practising quite a lot." "You play, then? I didn't know that."

"Yes, the piano; 1 was taught rather well in Paris and London. 1 compose a hit, too, or try to, and I've been studying harmony and counterpoint. 1 was lazy at that, as a pupil." "Will you play lor me some time?" "Why, of course!" Chrissie smiled at Hall. "Hamiy likes it too, so long as the stuff isn't too classical—although he can appreciate good things too, especially if they are not labelled Bach or Brahms! He's more musical than ln» knows, really." "And Miss Valence?"

"Oh, she declares she doesn't know ono tune from another: I don't think she has much ear, really; she's not good at distinguishing voices. Now, that's how I know people, how I remember them—an aural memory, it's called, isn't it? Leonie must be tho visual sort. Sho never forgets a face, or a book she has read —anything she has seen."