PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. The Lion's Mouse

New Zealand Times, Volume LI, Issue 12015, 18 December 1924, Page 7

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

The Lion's Mouse

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C. N. & A. M. Williamson.

4 “* 0r ‘' ThiS l h l Conductor/'

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SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CHAPTERS I. to lII.—On the Santa Fe, Limited, Roger Sands meets a beautiful young woman, who claims protection from a threatened danger. She gives her name as Beverley White, and passes as his cousin. She remains hidden for the rest of the journey while Roger takes charge of the sealed envelope that Beverley fears to lose. At Chicago she is to meet a man at the news-stand. Forty-five minutes later she has to own that she does not* know what to do since the messenger who is to claim the envelope has not turned - up. Roger Sands marries her by special license, and they go to New York together. On the same day Clodagh Riley, an Irish girl, gets a position as waitress in Moreton and Payntor's department store, in New York. Six months after marriage Mrs Sands decides to view the satinwood furniture at Moreton and Payntor’s. She goes there in a motor. A girl has thrown herself out of a fourth story window, andi lies wounded and bleeding on the pavement. The girl opens her eyes, and Beverley promises that she shall be loved and cared for. CHAPTERS 111. (Continued) to V.-A doctor arrives. The ambulance sent for has been delayed by an accident. Beverley Sands takes the girl to his own homo, and engages a trained nurse. Roger Sands disapproves of his wife’s action. Sister Lake allows the child to see Mrs Sands. The invalid vows to repay some day. John Hefon refuses Roger’s invitation. Beverley is relieved. Roger and his wife- disagree, but make it up. Clodagh Riley tells her story to Beverley. When she is convalescent Mrs Sands takes her a drive. As they are about to step in the car a shabby, ill-looking man addresses Mrs Sands. He is the man sent to meet her in Chicago on September 21st of last year. CHAPTER VH.—(Continued). Beverley obeyed, as in that . mood she would have obeyed an ordAr to stand still and be shot through the heart. “One—two,” slowly struck the grandfather clock in the corner; and she felt something coql and heavy dropped over her neck. “Three—tour!” . the clock finished. “Open your eyes,” Roger gave the signal. “Ohcried Beverley, almost aghast. On her delicate grey dress the double lino of pearls glistened like huge drops of dew on a spider-weib. The rope hung down below her waist, and each peart had a light in its heart as if it held the ghost of a rainbow. “It I can’t be truel It’s a dream,” the girl stammered. She loved pearls, and knerw that these were marvels beyond common knowledge. ’’ She managed, however, to put a world of emotion into one kiss and clasp of her arms. Her silent anguish ; was disguised as awe. By this time she had an inspiration. She felt like the Queen of New York she said. She must run to h6r room for a look in the glass, as there was only a weird old convex mirror in the study. In just a minute—or maybe two minutes—she would come hack. She could have sobbed out “Thank God I” when Roger, laughing at her vanity, let her go. This time he did not follow. He stood examining the purple velvet case with the Queen’s crown and monogram. He had not told Beverley the price he had given for the pearls. He wondered if she guessed they had cost a fortune. Why didn’t she come -back? Beverley had not even thrown a glance at the mirror. In her room she tore Open the drawer where her handkerchiefs were kept in rose-scented ’ eaohet cases. The largest of these cases she snatched, throwing the contents back' into the drawer. With' fingers that shook, she ripped the top of the padded silk cushion, and extracted a long envelope sealed with three gold seals. She would hardly have reremembered the Queen’s pearls had the rope not caught in the key of the drawer as she turned hastily to go. Before she could save it, the string broke, and pearls big as peas ibegan falling like hailstones. With a cry, she oaught the broken ends of the rope together, dragged it over her head, and bundled it into the , drawer among scattered handkerchiefs. 1 She did not even stop to close the drawer. As for the fallen pearls—a dozen at least —there was no time to think of thorn, or of what Roger would say when he heard of the accident.

Crushing on her hat, which still lay on the bed where Roger had thrown it, she ran from the room, the envelope | wrapped in a ohiffon scarf. Luck favoured her. She got oul of the flat and into the lift without Being seen.. When five* minutes had passed and Peverley was still away, Roger decided to join her. He opened the bedroom door, and looked in. Something rolled away from Roger’s foot on the threskcldr He stopped and picked tho thing up: it was an enormous pearl. A shock of fear thrilled through him. lie thought that news of his purchase might already have reached the underworld. In these few minutes while he calmly waited for Beverley she might have oeen murdered. Things like that did happen. He stepped on- a second pearl, and saw that others lay on the pale rose carpet. He stood staring. At the root of the bed, a tall screen had been placed to keep the light from Beverley's eyes in the morning. What if behind it he should find her lying. As he braced himself to go and look, Beverley herself came into the room. Jt Beemer that she shrank at sight of him. “I thought you’d been kidnapped o* killed 1” he gasped: “What’s happen: edP” “N-n-nothing,” she stammered. ’li was only—we forgot about Clo —I had to take her that money. I—” She broke off seeing the pearl in Roger’s hand. ‘ Oh, iwansn’t it dreadful that the rope broke P” she hurried on. “1 wanted to get back to you quickly, t knew Hie pearls were safe here. J just shut the door, and ran down.” “So I see,” Roger safd drily. All the joy he had felt in his splendid gilt’ was gone. “What are a few pearls more or less compared to Misß Riley’s convenience P” “Oh, Roger!” Beverley burst into tears. “Don’t look a£ me like that! Don’t speak to me like thatl You think I don’t value the pearls? Ido I ! —for themselves, and for your love! I acted on impulse——” I “Quite so. You’ve done that before. Don’t apologise, my dear girl. It’s not .worth it. I care less for the things than you do. Ring for your maid and let her sweep them up. I. dare t

I she’ll find them ell - ■ or to-mor-row !” “No,” said Beerley, fighting back the hysterical sobs that choked her. “No, I won’t hare anyone look for the pearls but myself. Unless you, Roger, would show your forgiveness by helping me?” “I have an appointment,” he answered. “I’m late for it now. I must go out at once.” It was not true. He had no appointment. But he felt that he must be alone, and out of doors, in the fresh air. Clo Riley, returning from her errand to the Hotel Westmorland, did not see him as ehe tripped from car to door, but Roger on hie way home saw the girl hurry in as if each second were important. Hardly had she vanished when a man strolled round the corner. ,110 was walking slowly, and looking up at the facade as if interested. Roger at the further end of the block recognised Justin O’Reilly.

CHAPTER. VHI .—BEVERLEY TALKS.

Clo remembered Beverley’s instructions, and went straight to her own | room, but the threat of the ferret-man ' rang in her ears. “Tell your lady | friend a life will pay for this. She’s . got till 10 o’clock to-night, and not a minute more.” It was now after five, and Sister Lake was firmly hent upon undressing her charge. Clo had to let herself he tucked into bed. Meekly also she received the order to lie quite still and rest till dinner time. Rest! As though she could rest, not knowing what ought to be done next to help the Angel! A passive plan occurred to Clo, which could do no harm, and her quick wit suggested how best to carry it out. > “Til be as good as gold,” 6he promised, “if you’ll forgive me, Sister, and do me a favour. I feel sick because I spoilt your afternoon! You stayed in, waiting for me' to come back, instead of taking your walk. Will you go out now, instead? I’ll rest better if you will. Do, please 1” All Clo’s Irish powers of persuasion were needed to coax Bister into consenting. Eventually she relented. Clo could have sung for joy as Sister Lake bade her “good-bye for an hour.” As the door or the rooih closed, the girl began counting the seconds which must pass before the outer door shut. “Sixty-two—sixtY-tSree—she ought to he gone!” Clo was whispering, when her heart sank. The room door opened. She feared that Sister Lake had changed her mind; but it was the Angel who came in. “I was racking my brain bow to got rid of sister, when I saw her go out,” Beverley said. ■ “I’m sure you managed it. I’ve been desperate. You can’t think what things have happened! Tell me, did all go well?” The blow must be struck. In a few words Clo described the scene at the Westmorland; told how the ferret-man hod kept her waiting; how he had said that the envelop® looked all right, but bad insisted upon opening it: how he had flown into a rage at finding only folded sheets of blank papeor. “Blank paper!” Beverley gasped. “But that’s impossible! I know what •was in the envelope. There were letters. The man must have tricked you.” Clo shook her head. “I was watching him. He had no time, or chance, to play a trick. The blank paper waa there, and nothing elae. It was writing paper, quite a lot of sheets that seemed to have been taken from same train, ‘Santa Fe Limited ’ or a name like that.” Beverley gave a cry, as if she had been struck over the heart. “Let nto tblnk,” she groaned. “How can that have .been ? Writing paper taken from the train?” Suddenly she turned, and came back (to the bed, putting out her hands in a groping way to Clo. The girl caught and held theta tightly. They were very cold. “Angel! is there nothing I oahi do?” she whispered. Beverley sank on the bedi once more. “Mv head feels as if I’d been given ether, ’ she said. “I can’t think things out clearly. That isn’t like me! A terrible day! One shook after another. If I talk to you will you swear by all' that’s sacred never to give away one word)?” “I swear by my love for you. That’s the most sacred 1 thing I have, except my locket with mother’s picture,” the girl answered. (To be continued.)