THE LADY OF THE MINIATURE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3265, 11 October 1916, Page 51

THE LADY OF THE MINIATURE.

THE MOVJSLIST.

[Pdblishkd oj Special Aiuiangxment.J

By BEN BOLT. Author of "The Lifting of the Shadow/' " Love Finds the Clue/' etc.

[COPYIUGIIT.]

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. CHAPTERS I and ll.—Sir Charles Shapland informs his nephew, Vernon bhapland, who is also his prospective heir, thai lie had a son by a marriage that took place 26 years ago. He lost botn his wife tnd infant eon while on a pearling expedition among the isles of the Kew Guinea coast. A hurricane held him back from rejoining his family lor three days. When he did return he found the place had been ran/sacked, and he never saw wile or child again. Now he has learnt that a trader named Rowley had found a native woman and white child living alone in a hut. The woman had died, and Rowley had adopted the boy as his own. The trader was afterwards killed and eaten by cannibals, but the boy had grown up and had gone to New Guinea some years ago. Vernon Shapland makes inquiries regarding his long-lost cousin, and learns of (several waye by which he can be identified. He offer* to go on a search for him, which offer Sir Charles thankfully accepts. Shortly afterwards he has an interview with the woman he loves, Janet Selby. Vernon arrives at Port Moresby, in British New Guinea. On inquiring for someone of the name of Charles Rowley he is referred to Jack Cordery. This man he finds, and together they organise an expedition to tho Range, where the said Charles Rowley is somewhere encamped. After an eight weeks' journey Rowley and his partner are located as only two days away. Cordery goes prospecting, and Vernon goes forward by himself. Nearing the camp he advances alone. A man comes to tho door of tho tent on hearing a slight noieo that Vernon has incautiously made. He expresses his wonder at it aloud, "as sure os my name's Rowley." There is the crack of a rifle and he falls, shot through the heart. Vernon flees. CHAPTERS 111 and IV.—Vernon Shapland finds that Cordery has returned from his prospecting. Cordery notices something unusual about his companion and draws his attention to a dangling gold chain. Vernon acknowledges that he has lost a keepsake. Charles returns to carnp lo find his foster-brother, Jim Rowley, lying murdered. A native servant discovers a miniature of a woman, and brings it to Charles, who notices the name "Crispi, London," on the back of it. He takes this as a clue to the murderer. Vernon Shapland starts on hits return journey. Cordery insinuates that they will meet in "England. To throw off the scent Vernon travels' as "Herbert Allington." He reports to his -uncle that he got on the track of Charles Rowley, but found that ho had been dead some months. He promises to do hia duty as tho heir. Janet Selby tacitly gives him hope.

CHAPTER Y. HE Australian liner Queensland was two days out of Sydney, bound for England!, and most of the first-class passengers were on deck *enjeying the beautiful weather. Among ■ them was Charles Rowley. Ho was seated in a deck chair, a very thoughtful look in his eyes. The locket which Boromai had found was in his hand open, and from time to time he glanced at the beautiful face which looked out at him therefrom. In that miniature he felt lay the key to the solution of his foster-brother’s death, and since its discovery he had thought 'long and often over the problem the two presented. Since boyhood the murdered man and he had been inseparable. He was convinced that there was nothing in his foster-brother’s life to account for what had happened, and that Jim had never met the original of the miniature he was quite sure. The crime that had been committed, therefore, could have nothing to do with the beautiful girl whose portrait, might yet help him to find the murderer in whose possession it had been, and who had left it behind him after his crime.

His thoughts wandered from the circumstances in which the miniature had been found, and the ends of justice that it might serve, to the original herself. Who was she? What was her relation to the slayer of his foster-brother?" Somehow the latter question filled his heart with vague disquiet. He answered his own question in four words. "Father? Brother? Lover? Husband?" Almost automatically his mind dismissed the two first.. Neither fathers nor brothers were given to carrying about with them miniatures of their daughter* or sisters. But lovers and husbands had a weakness that way. and " The disquiet in his heart grew more pronounced. He was conscious of a stirring of resentment against the unknown man to whom, as he surmised, the miniature had been given by its original; a resentment that had nothing to do with his brother's death. The feeling grew. And suddenly he broke into a little grim laugh. "Jealous!" he whispered to himself. " Jealous of Jim's murderer!" He looked again at the miniature. The sweet face and the grave eyes drew him as he had never been drawn before. He lifted the miniature towards his lips, arid then paused, held by an odd scruple. " She might not like it," he whispered, and closed the locket, and set the gold of it to his lips. He smiled queerly. " You can't obect to that, you darl—-" A sudden commotion broke on the whisper. There was laughter, and a movement of curious passengers towards a portion of the deck where the first officer had appeared, with two seamen, between whom stood a miserable-looking

creature, in a dungaree suit at least two sizes too large. " What is the matter?" asked a lady of her companion, as they passed Rowley. He listened for and caught the answer. " Looks like a stowaway." Charles Rowley ro'-e from his seat and followed in the iva'j of the other passengers, prompted by the same curiosity which moved them. The stowaway was standing between the two seamen, while the ship's captain, fierce and lagisterial, shot his questions. "Where did you come on board?" "At Sydney." "Which of the crew helped you?" * > Xone of them, sir," was the answer in a voice that to Rowley seemed weak and tremulous. " I came aboard after dark, pretending to be worse for liquor, and the watch mistook me for one of the firemen." " Which you shall be, confound you!" cried the captain. "I'll have no sponging stowaways on my ship. You'll work your passage and go to prison at the other end." He turned to the first officer. ' Take him away and put him with the stokehold gang.' r *' You can't do that with me. sir," protested the stowaway. "Can't do that!'' The captain's voice was explo.ive, and his face almost apoplectic as he echoed the unexpected words. " We'll see about that, you shrimshankeri lam master of this ship, and any man who " ""But I'm not a. man," answered the stowaway. "I am a woman." The captain's amazement was comical to behold. For a moment he stood there stuttering, unable to speak, whilst one of the onlookers broke into a latigh. For his part, Charles Rowley, looking at the stowaway's face, saw that the features were too delicate for a man's. His eyes ran over the shrinking form, and knew instantly that the. statement was true. The captain also accepted it.

"A -woman!" he said. "A woman: Then what are you doing here in this rig-out?"' " I wanted to get to England to join my husband. He went on the last boat, leaving me to follow, but my money was stolen from me, and I knew nobody. I was desperate, so—.-c " The stowaway's voice quavered and broke, and. tears began to run down the begrimed face. The captain stormed. " A likely tale. What's your husband's name?" " Jack Cordery." "Never heard of him!" said the sailor woodenly. " You don't expect " " But I've heard of him, captain : indeed, I've met him, and,, though he's no great class, I'd like to pay this poor woman's passage to England. That will clear up the difficulty, I suppose." The speaker was Charles Rowley, and as the captain turned and recognised him, a little of the fierceness died out of his face. Rumours of great wealth had circulated about the young man, and he was human enough to desire the good opinion of a rich passenger. " Oh, well, Mr Rowley," he said, "if yiou like to waste your money, that's all right. But how <lo you know that she's the man's wife, that she isn't telling the tale?"

"I've got my marriage lines!" snapped the woman in swift resentment of this imputation. " I'll pay," repeated Rowley imperturbably, "and if you can get some clothes from the ttewardess-— —" "' Very well," said the captain. "Put her in the hands of one of the stewardesses, Mr Johmon. and then rend her into the steerage." He turned from the officer to the stowaway. " You've got out of this very luckily, woman. And if you'll accept a pieca of good advice, you won't play any more of these Maygames." He nodded to the first officer, who turned to the woman. She, on her part, flashed a grateful glance at Charles Rowley, then accompanied the officer to the stewardess's quarters, and the incident was closed.

The young man did not see her again until they reached London, when, just as ho was leaving the ship" a voice accosted him.

" Sir, will you permit me to thank you?" fie turned to find the woman looking at him with tearful eyes. "I am very grateful to you," she continued. "'The stew-ardess has just given me a packet with money in it from you. How to thank you, sir, I don't know; but " " Don't trouble to, Mrs Cordery., There's no need for you to do so. I hope you'll find your husband without any trouble."

He turned away, and his luggage having passed the Customs, entered the train, and a little later drove to an hotel in the West End to which he had been recommended. There he had lunch, and after making an appointment for the next day by telephone with a great mining _ magnate, to whom he hid an introduction, he rang for a directory, and beg<m to hunt for the name of the miniature-painter. He did not' find it, and realising the impossibility of wading through the whole of the London directory, he called a taxi and told the man to drive him to a picture -shop. The man drove him to a fine art dealer's in The Strand, and entering the shop, he was received by a lady assistant " I am looking for a miniature painter of the name of Crispi," he explained. "" Can you tell me where to find him?" The assistant smiled and gave an address in St. John's AYood. " That is where Signor Crispi lives, and has his studio. But unless you have an appointment I am afraid you will find it rather difficult to see him. He is a very busy man. and has the oddness of genius." "Thank you. I will take the chance," answered Rowley, and re-entering the taxi, drove to St. John's Wood.

Ho found Signor Crispi's studio without difficulty, ' and was ushered by a uniformed Englishman into an artistic

reception room, where two girls were busy at work, retouching old miniatures. On his entrance one of the girl;- rose and advanced towards him.

Have you an appointment, sir?" she asked, looking a little askance at his obviously ready-made suit.

"'So, Miss," he answered. "I came ou the chance of finding SSignor Crispi disengaged." The girl shook her head. "Ke is never that," she said, " and at this moment he has a sitter. If you will leave your name. and address, sir, Signor Crispi* will communicate with vou."

"Thanks!" answered the young man, carelessly. " But maybe there is no need for that. How long have you been here?" The girl stared at the abruptness of his question, and with a faint trace of resentment in her tones, answered: '•' Three years." Charles Rowley thrust a hand in his pocket, and, drawing out the locket, opened it, then held it towards the girl. " That was painted here,'' he said, "and I want to learn the name and address of the young lady. Do you recognise her, can you help me?" The girl took the locket in her hand, then a look of surprise came on iter face, and a moment later she smiled

" The young lady " she began, then broke off, as if some second thought had checked what she was about to say.

" Yes?" said the young mat; encouragingly.

The girl glanced towards a door at the far end of t.he room, a doubtful look of her face; then she began again : "Your request, sir, is a rather unusual one. I could not possibly answer vour questions without the consent of Signor Crispi. If you will tell me why you required this information 1 will lay the matter before him, and see what he has to say."

Rowley guessed that feminincr curiosity had prompted the suggestion, and he shook his head. " I am afraid I cannot do that," he said, " the matter being extremely private and personal. But " The door at the far end of the room opened, and a tall, handsome, young man stepped into the reception room, and began to walk towards the entrance. He •was dressed in the height of fashion, and beside him Charles Bowley felt a very plain bird indeed. The newcomer glanced at Rowley superciliously, almost insolently, and was passingl on, when the girl cried quickly, " Mr Shapiand, one moment. This gentleman--—" lit the impulsive movement that she made, the hand holding the miniature caught a tall vase of flower.-- on an ornament table, upsetting it, and jerking the locket from her hand. It foil at the feet of Shapiand, who stooped to pick it up, and as he did so there was a sudden change in his demeanour. The superciliousness dropped from him. The blood receded from his face, leaving it white and drawn, and his eyes gleamed with apprehension. "Who does this belong to?"' he demanded, hoarsely, looking from the sweet face in the miniature to the girl. "It belongs to this gentleman here," answered the assistant quickly ''He was asking who the lady " Vernon Shapiand swung round quickly, and as he interrupted the girl, measurer the man before her with quick eyes. " Yours?" he asked. " Yes, do you know ?"

Shapland glanced uneasily towards the room from which he himself had emerged, and broke in on the other's question. " Gome outside," he said brusquely, " and we can talk. These steam-heated places are stifling." Rowley held out Ins hand for the locket, and as the other yielded it reluctantly, answered: " I don't mind if you can help me. This young lady bore seems disinclined to give me the information I want, which is just the name and address of the original of that miniature." Shapland nodded.

" Professional etiquette. Cut if you come with me perhaps I can help you." He led the way to the door, and Rowley followed. But when they were fairly outside something struck Shapland, and with a quick " Excuse, me one moment," he hurried back into the reception room. The two girls were in animated conversation, but broke off on his appearance. He walked straight up to them, and taking out a pocket-book, slipped out a crisp piece of paper, and set it on the table. " You did quite right in not giving him Miss Selby's name. Do not o. Do not let him see Crispi. The inan is a lunatic. He will only annoy Miss Selby, and it will be better to make no mention of the matter to her. You understand?''' "Yes, sir," answered the elder of the

girls. " Then I rely on your discretion," said: Shapland, and" a moment later he was gone. ■One of the girls picked up the paper he had left on the table. It was a tenpound note. "My!" she cried, "Look here! Ho must be terrible set on keeping the man away from Miss Selby." "That's because he"s going to marry her. It's the way with men _in love. But, anv way, the money's all right, and there's a costume in this morning's paper that I am going to buy with my share. But I wonder what' the lunatic would have done if he'd known that Miss Selby was there in that room all the time?" " I wonder?" echoed her companion. CHAPTER VI. When Vernon Shapland reached the street he found the man with the miniature talking to the taxi-driver, and realising that it would not be easy to discuss a delicate matter in the open street, hfl proposed they should run into the city. " Shall we go to my club in Piccadilly?" he asked. "We shall be quiet there at this hour, and it will be possible to talk without interruption/

" Don't mind if I do," answered Rowley. " These streets are frightfully noisy after the New Guinea hush." Vernon Shapland was not startled by the other's revelation of the place he came from. From the moment his eyes had fallen on the miniature, and lis had •earned who was in possession of it, he had been sure that he came from Papua. As they settled themselves in the taxi he exhibited no more than a polite interest in his companion, though in reality he was in a raging fever of, curiosity. " You arc a stranger in London then?" " Never set foot in it till three hours or so ago. I've lived all my life in the Pacific, knocking about the islands, pearling and gem-hunting, prospecting, and what not." Vernon Shapland betrayed a quickened interest. "The Pacific ■ must be an interesting place," he said, "and from all one has read of it, life there must he pretty exciting." " Depends where you go," answered Rowley smilingly. " There are islands where you can loaf and 101 l about better than anywhere in the world—'a drowsy land where it is always afternoon'—"-as Tennyson says. But there are others, the Solomon Group, for instance —'the fighting Solomons' you know —where you can have as exciting a life as you want. The man m who has a plantation down there has to look lively all the time, and he needs an arsenal to keep the plantation Kanakas and the islanders quiet." "Indeed!" said Shapland, politely. "I did not know there were such savage places left on the earth. One always associates the Pacific Islands with missionaries and the late R. L. Stevenson. But you mentioned New Oruinea just now? Am I to understand you have been living there?"

" Yes/' answered the other unsuspectingly. " I've put seven years in there.". " And is it as lawless a place as the Solomon Group?" "'Depends where you go. Things have altered a lot during the last few years, under the British administration. Hound the settlements and on most of the plantations up the Astrolabe you're as safe as in London—safer if you take the motor cars here into account. But inland and up among the hills there are cannibals, and head--hunting tribes, not to' mention

prospectors who don't care a fig for anything but gold and gems." " How very interesting!" said Shapland. " But here we are at the club."' They descended from the taxi, and as they entered the portals of one of the most exclusive clubs in London, Shapland turned. " I forgot to inquire your name," he said. ," It is necessary that I should know it that I may enter it in the visitors' book."

"Rowley!" answered the other simply. This time Vernon Shapland was startled. It was the very last name he was expecting, and for a moment fear had him in his grip. He turned to ask for the Christian name ; but was afraid to do so, and as he bent over the visitors' book his face was pale, and his hand shook as he wrote the name which for him had such significant memories. Without speaking, he led the way to a quiet smoke-room, and immediately ordered refreshment, and when it arrived drank off his own brandy and soda, and ordered a second. The pallor of his face was noticeable, and without having any inkling of the cause of it, Rowley remarked it.

" You don't look very well, Mr Shap land."

Shapland .miled feebly, and lied easily. "It is my heart. A touch of weakness—nothing more. I came too quickly up the stairs; but I shall be right in a moment or two."

_ He offered his cigarette-case to the other, lit one himself, and leaned back in his chair. After a moment his nerves steadied themselves, and the colour came back into his cheeks. He leaned forward once more.

" That miniature, Mr—er Rowley," he said, holding out his hand. " May I look at it again?"

Mr Rowley nodded, and producing the locket, handed it to Shapland. The latter looked at it quite a long time, without speaking. He was wondering how to the circumstances in which it had been found ; and how much this man with the significant name knew of that tragedy in the camp in the Pacific mountains. Finally he said thoughtfully as if to himself rather than to his companion, " It is like her, very like, and yet there are differences." v

"You know the original, Mr Shapland?" asked Rowley eagerly. Shapland shook his head. "In the first glance at the studio I thought I did ; but I see now that I was mistaken. There is a very strong resemblance to a lady of my acquaintance, but that is all. It is not a portrait of the lady whom I know."

Watching, he saw- a disappointed look come on Rowley's face, a look that passed as the latter spoke. "Are yon quite sure, Mr Shapland? If the resemblance is so striking, may it not be some, defect in the miniature which accounts for the apparent difference of identity?"

Shapland smiled easily ' "It is as well that Signor Orispi did not hear you make that suggestion. There arc no defects in Crispi's miniatures. In his own particular line he is a genius and the most accomplished artist in London. That is why, in view of the differences that exist, I am so sure that the lady of the miniature is not the lady of my acquaintance." He broke off, and then added :

"By the by, I suppose there is no doubt that this is a Crispi miniature? Seeing you in the studio made me jump to that conclusion."

" None whatever," .answered Rowley. " His name is on the back." "Urn! Then that settles it," answered Shapland, returning the locket. " I am afraid I shall not be of any use to you

after all. Crispi'a work, as I have said, is so perfect that it leaves no room for mistake."

But Charles Rowley Was not so easily turned aside.

" I should like to judge for myself, Mr Shapland, for the identity of the lady of the miniature is very important to me—much more important than I can tell you or anyone else. Couldn't you introduce me to the lady and let me "

" That is quite impossible, Mr Rowley," answered Shapland with sudden hauteur. "I do not know what may prevail in New Guinea, but in England it is not customary for gentlemen to introduce their lady friends to —er —pardon me—come-by-chance acquaintances." Charles Rowley was conscious of the snub, and flushed a little under it, then he laughed.

"I can get along without the introduction, Mr Shapland. It will be sufficient if you will tell me where I can tee the lady—just see her—in that way I shn.ll be able to satisfy myself." " That also is impossible," answered Shapland with a quick lie. " The lady of whom I was thinking is at the present time travelling abroad. I am afraid fhat you would have to rake Europe through—and possibly Egypt—before you could find her."

" I'll rake the world, but I'll find her ! cried Rowley vehemently.

Vernon Shapland betrayed a mild surprise, and then smiled as he answered: " That would take a long time, Mr Rowley, and life is short. But you must have a very powerful motive for desiring to find a lady whom you have never seen? How did you come to be in iiossession of her portrait? Did you purchase it in some dealer's or " " I found it in very tragic circumstances," interrupted the other. " And that is one reason why I wished to find the lady." Vernon Shapland showed no curiosity in regard to the • circumstances mentioned. He would have liked to make an inquiry, but was afraid of betraying himself by £ome slip, so instead he remarked: One reason, Mr Rowley; then you have more than one."

He saw Rowley glance at the open locket in his hand, and caught the light in his eyes. Then he smiled to himself as the other replied: " Yes, but it is a private one." Shapland ostentatiously took out' his watch and consulted it, then he rose from his chair. " You will have to excuse me, Mr Rowley. I have an engagement. I am sorry not to have been able to help you ; but if you are open to receive a word of advice, I should drop worrying over the lady of the miniature. After ail, it may chance to be a fancy study, and in any caso the world is a very big place, and chance resemblances among humans are common enough." "I've got to find her," said Rowley, and a moment later nodded to Shapland and left the club.

Shapland saw him. enter a taxi, and wondered where he was going to. He watched the vehicle until it was lost in the stream, of Piccadilly traffic, and still continued to look out of the window absently. At the end of a quarter of an hour, he whispered to himself. "It is to be hoped that Janet and he do not meet. That was a near shave at Crispi's this afternoon. If I had not happened to come out of the studio " He broke off, and once more a thoughtful look came on his- face. It would have been perhaps still more thoughtful had he at that moment been able to see the man who had so recently left him. The taxi in which Rowley had departed with the intention of returning to Signor Crispi's Studio was held up at a crossroads. And he was looking idly out of the window v hen his eyes encountered those of a young lady in a taxi going the same way. Instantly he recognised her. She was the lady whom he was seeking—the lady of the miniature. For a moment he was too astonished for action, then he rapped sharply on the window, to attract her attention, and gave a violent tug at the strap. It came off in his hand; and before he could open the window the other vehicle moved forward, the passenger's face betraying astonishment at his antics.

(To be Continued.)