The Face of His Dreams,

Otago Witness, Issue 3555, 2 May 1922, Page 50

The Face of His Dreams,

By Louis Joseph Vance, Author of “The Lone Wolf,” “False Faces,” “ The Brass Bowl,” etc., etc. (Copyright in U.S.A., by Curtis, Brown, Ltd.). CHAPTER X. Opposition on the part of Angelo when Francesca announced her intention of leaving his house, blazed up instantaneously, and when it dawned on him that Francesca actually meant to make good her promise, ranged the emotional , gamut from plaintive entreaty and '■ expostulation to impassioned argument, and even threats. But he raged and raved, prayed and protested all in vain. And in vain did Mr Leo Croce seek to soothe the troubled domestic waters with the unctuous oils of eloquence and diplomatic persuasiveness. As vain were the lamentations of the servants, voiced with the freedom of old friends, when they saw themselves threatened with the loss of the one remaining member of the household who held any true title to their respect, sympathy, and affection. Go Francesca would, and that without a minute of avoidable delay; and go she did in spite of every effort to dissuade her. In Rodney’s sight there was something at once amusing and admirable in the way the girl, coolly ignoring the storm of which she was the focal point, made her arrangements. The man-servant she told off to fetch a taxi-cab, her old nurse she instructed to stay behind, pack up such belongings as she would need overnight, and bring them on to the hotel. The housekeeper would attend to the packing and forwarding of the remainder. Then, telling Rodney that she would be grateful if he would wait at the door while she. donned her wraps, Francesca brushed past the still furiously-protesting Angelo and his attorney, as if unaware of their existence, with unimpared dignity left the and went upstairs to her room. The servants followed; and after a moment of agonised indecision, Angelo flung out in pursuit of his sister. Picking up his brief-case Rodney likewise made for the door, but pulled up at the earnest instance of Mr Croce. “A moment, if you please, Mr Manship—one little minute.” “Well?” “This is all so unfortunate. These unhappy children, quarrelling in the very shadow of their father’s death. But you have great influence with Miss Barocco—one sees that, Mr Manship—and I perhaps a little, with my client. Let us forget our differences, you and I, and try to patch up this deplorable misunderstanding.” “Why?”

“But surely, what worthier motive could we ask than the hope of re-uniting brother and sister at such a time.” “Mr Croce,” Rodney advised, “if we’re to get anywhere, you’ll have to quit talking rot. I’m willing to co-operate with you if you can make me see any possible profit to my client in a reconciliation with this bad egg of a brother of hers. But I warn you frankly, you’ll have to be plausible to overcome my prejudices.’ “My dear sir!” “If you ask me, your client is about as thorough-paced a young rotter as I want ever to meet. If I were his sister, I’d see him somewhere before I’d forgive him this outrageous performance—this production of an alleged will which, you know as well as I, was executed under duress of some sort —if it's anything better than a downright, forgery.” A livid flush darkened the face of the Italian. “Take care, Mr Manship !’ “I’m measuring my words, Mr Croce, and I’ll answer to you for every one of them you’ve got the cheek to challenge, before the Bar Association or elsewhere, at your pleasure. As for your client, you may tell him with my compliments that any time he feels called upon to cut up nasty. I ask nothing better than a fair excuse to put him where he, belongs—behind the bars!” “I shall not fail to deliver your message, sir. As for myself, von shall hear from me without delay,’’ and Croce bowed. Not to be outdone, Rodney bowed in turn, and marched out and down to the entrance-hall. He had nut long to wait there. The mail-servant had barely succeeded in finding a taxi-cab when Francesca appeared, hatted, furred, and unattended. Rodney had anticipated, at the best, one last scene with Angelo; but whether that one had given it up in despair or Francesca had contrived to slip away, while his back was turned, she came alone.; and Rudncv was able to conduct her to the cab without another clash. “The Chatham, please,” she said, and when Rodney had. repeated the address to the driver and taken his seat beside her, added a brief explanation : “1 have, a dear friend living there, Madame Farusi, the singer.” “I’ve never heard her. She sings in concert mostly, doesn’t she?” “Yes. She is delightful, and with licr I shan’t be too lonely.” “I am glad.” Rodney said, sincerely relieved. It was only a few .minutes’ ride, and rather a silent one ; for Rodney, understanding what troubled deeps of feeling lay beneath Francesca’s surface calm, and what the latter must cost her to maintain, was studious to say nothing to disturb it. He had his reward in the look and tone

with which she thanked him on their arrival at the Chatham, and gave him leave to call her up in the evening and enquire if there were anything more that he could do. And then he went back to his office and did his best to make amends for his neglect of the affairs of other clients, but all too often he found the face of fatality, a vivid vision of richly tinted loveliness, burning through the cold black and white text to which lie was endeavouring to fix his attention. When he telephoned after dinner, Francesca assured him that it went well enough with her, everything considered. And she was in better spirits than he had hoped, or her voice deceived him .She had been fortunate enough to secure rooms adjoining the apartment of Madame Farusi ; Marcella, her nurse, had duly turned up with the first instalment of her personal belongings and the announcement of a settled determination never to leave one whom she had served since childhood ; and finally, Madame Farusi had been most kind and, on learning that Francesca wanted an early conference with her legal adviser, had suggested that it might be agreeable! if Mr Manship would consent to dine with them the following night. Whether or not the second will of Anidlo Barocco was ever to be proved the instrument of fraud that he firmly believed it to be, nothing could change the fact that it had placed Frftncesca in a jxisition to lx: courted by a man in the circumstances ~f Rodney Manship without the slightest risk of his ever being rated a fortune hunter. And so eventually he turned in and soon dozed off, quite satisfied that, when all was said ana done, he really owed Angelo a vast debt of gratitude for being a actffcn drel. Madame. Farusi proved to lx: one of those handsome, amiable. and accomplished women of the world, abundant of person and an apparently inexhaustible reservoir of vitality, who are so often the possessors of extraordinary voices. Perhaps predisposed in his favour, she seemed to take a liking to Rodney at first sight, although she would eat little or nothing, since she was to sing that night, with rare tact and good nature succeeded in making the excellent dinner she had ordered a more cheerful one than it had seemed reasonable to hope it might be. It was barely ended when she was obliged to leave her guests; and Rodney came back from closing the living-room door behind the lady to find Francesca standing at one of the windows, pensively gazing down at the prospect of Parkavenue by night, studded with fixed lights like incandescent pearls and haunted by scampering files of motor cars that, with their dim lamps, made one think of great, ungainly fireflies doomed by some fatal sorcery to pursue one another upon those unvarying rounds through all eternity. “My New York!” the girl murmered softly. “I’ve always loved it so, I can hardly bear the thought of leaving it.” Something disagreeable happened to the orderly routine of Rodney’s heart action ; and he wondered dully if his voice had as queer a sound in her hearing as in his. “Are you thinking of that? Must you?” “I don’t know, I’m not sure. It’s one of the things I want you to help me to decide.” Francesca left the window and found a chair, motioning to Rodney to take one near by. “Everything has changed . so suddenly. I’m just beginning to realise I’ve got to decide what to do with my life. Nella, Farusi wants me to go to England with her when she finishes her concert engagements here—that’s next week—and it might be the wisest thing.” “Oh, I hope not!’’ The accent of desperate sincerity won a glimpse of her shadowy smile. “But I haven’t much money now, you know, and money goes farther over there. And then I have a little property inherited from my mother, a house in London that I could live in and so save rent. My mother’s people live near London, and they’re most charming and seem very fond of me, so I wouldn’t be quite friendless. You see, there’s every reason why I ought to go, but —I don’t want to, Mr Manship. ’ “Heaven knows I don’t want you to! If I had my way, you’d stay here and fight that will to a finish.” She shook her head slowly. “No,” she said, “I couldn’t do that.’’ “You mean you won’t. But you’re wrong to countenance such a barefaced swindle.” “You really believe it’s a swindle?” “No one will ever make me believe it isn’t. ” “H„w very strange it must seem to you,” said Francesca. “Well, doesn’t it to you?” “Y r es, in a way —but perhaps no. You sec I. know father was mysteriously called away from home that afternoon, but not where he went; I don’t know that he wasn’t in Mr Croce’s office and that pressure wasn’t brought to bear on him there to induce him to dictate a new will.” “What sort of pressure?” “That’s a question that I daren’t answer —at present. I can’t be sure I’m justified in nn r suspicions. When I am —and some day I shall be—you shall know all about it, Mr Manship.” “It isn’t likely you’ll ever know tho truth,” Rodney doubted gloomily. “You think not?” “Not if you refuse to contest that will. It’s fighting that brings rascals out into the open —not letting them have everything their own way.” “But I haven’t given up the idea of fighting—only I must fight in my own fashion, with my own weapons. And I haven’t begun to fight yet, I’m merely planning my campaign.” “But if you let them probate this alleged will 1” “You forget it may be genuine; and to lose would be worse than not fighting at all. And then, to me, the will is a minor point, and by not contesting it I may lull the enemy into a false sense of security—give the impression that I am afraid. But T’m not. Mr Manship. Tt wasn’t the empty threat of an hysterical woman, the warning I gave Angelo that night. 1 shall be true to the promise that I made tnv dead

father, to find and bring to punishment those whose treachery brought about his death—though it takes my lifetime 1” Rodney rose abruptly and began to pace the room, frowning. “I wish you hadn’t reminded me,” ho said. “I hoped-—believed—you had forgotten.” “Never. ’’ “But it’s madness! Y'ou, a girl, a mere child, to set yourself against such desperate criminals as must make up that smuggling ling !” “I’m not afraid.” “I know you’re not. That’s what frightens me ; it’s such a dangerous business for you.” “But I shall succeed,” the girl stated with quiet confidence, “and wittiout coming to harm. The right is on my side., ’ “If the right always prevailed, there’d never be any wrong-doing in this world. Oh, I wish I knew how to persuade you!” “You can’t, Mr Manship—no one can. r am half Italian. You only waste your strength when you try to reason against racial instinct and traditions. You can help me most by not opposing me. “God knows I’ll help you all I can, in any wav yon will !' Rodney groaned. Then "he stopped short beside her chair and stood -.taring down at her in puzzlement “But you're going to England!” “Yes.” “Then that’s ad right' >'ou - ao’t run into much danger » ‘’No/' she agreed . -,sr that it true.” “For the first time 1 m g.art V'Xi re going. A while ago, wb«s. you suggested it, I thought there was nothing I wouldn’t do, almost, to prevent your going, hut lIOHT—a l" “You didn’t think it wise? But why?’’ “it wacri’t that, it was because I ” He caught himself up. “I hadn't meant to say anything—this is hardly the timebut I think you understand what it will mean to me to have you go away.” With a broken smile the girl lifted a hand to him, and Rodney caught it in both his own. “As you say, this is not the time. But, dear friend, I do understand ” Gently disengaging her hand, Francesca rose, moved over to an escritoire, and took up a small packet of papers that lav there. “And now,” she said, in a voice that tried to be matter-of-fact, “if you don’t mind looking these over and telling me just what I must do to leave everything in your hands while I’m away.” CHAPTER XI. Ten days from that dav the Aquitanja sailed, leaving a forlorn Rodney Manship to task all his fortitude of soul with the necessity of carrying on in the world that had of a sudden become desolated, whilst in her state-room the girl Francesca sat with dreaming eyes, lonely and wistful amid his roses.

Yet never a word of love had breathed between those two, nor any pledge been asked or proffered—perhaps because none was needed. Francesca remained an enigma, as inscrutable, as exquisite in the fullness of her pre-occupation with that remote and fatal destiny to which she stood self-dedicated. Rodney’s clientele as a body was litigiously disposed that winter, or had quarrels forced upon it, or blundered into troubles through sheer stupidity, and so kept him uncommonly busy six days out of seven. And if this pressure of affairs did keep him out of the open air too much, he reckoned it his salvation, holding it mainly responsible for his failure to commit some act of hopeless asininity—such as hopping aboard the first available steamer for England and making such an unmitigated nuisance of himself over there that simple weariness of spirit would prompt Francesca to send him packing with a flat and final “No!” So he schooled himself to be content with the few notes that came to him from over the water —notes never lengthy, but always breathing the friendliest spirit, and as a rule compact with news, telling him that Francesca was charmed with her house in London and had settled down in it to spend the winter, with Madame Farusi as her guest: that she had been hospitably entreated by her mother’s relatives ; that her health continued to he excellent. But never so much as a hint of a wish to return, never a single enquiry concerning her brother. Had it been otherwise, Rodney would have had nothing to report. Angelo had apparently lost interest in Rodney the moment the latter left the Barocco residence for the last time, in company with Francesca. Since then Rodney had neither seen anything of the boy nor heard from him. except indirectly, and this but once. Unavoidably he had been thrown into some association with Mr Leo Croce when the will of Aniello Barocco was probated and the trust fund established to pay Francesca the annuity which should properly have been Angelo’s one souvenir of his father. But Mr Croce, seemingly disposed to let bygones he bygones, never raked up Rodney’s challenge of his probitv, and was to all appearances cheerfully unaware of, at worst quite unaffected hv, that coolness which on Rodney’s part characterized their relations. An uninstructed observer, indeed, might well have gathered that they were oiAhe best of terms and counted Rodney’s stiffness a lamentable defect of temperament and truly a poor return for the urbanity of the other. Notwithstanding, Ylr Croce failed to worm out of Rodney the secret of Francesca whereabouts, his most ingenious essays being rewarded only with the advice that Rodney would be pleased to forward any letters addressed in liis care. It was towards the middle of March Mr _ Croce did Rodney the honour of paying him a surprise in his office. “Don’t ask you to be glad to see me,” he volunteered with a vivid flash of teeth —“but I believe you’ll overlook the intrusion, Mr Manship, when you understand the friendly feeling that brings me hore to day.”

“Indeed?” Rodney replied civilly, but, for all that remained on his feet by the side of his desk.

Unabashed, Mr Croce helped himself to a chair, deftly adjusted the knees his trousers to conserve their admirable creasing, and relighted a cigar that was better dead.

es, indeed,” he rejoined amiably, between the puffs. “Between you and me and the lamp-post it isn’t always easy to hold my client when somebody gets his wind up. He isn’t a bad sort, don’t care what you think, and I can generally make him listen to reason in the long run; but it doesn’t do to push him too far.”

“That’s very interesting, I’m sure. Is one to understand that Mr Baroque is in a pet about something at present?” “I’ll say he is—never seen him worse. But I’m doing my best and, with a little help from you, I think we can smooth down his bristles before he breaks out and does something”—the teeth gleamed significantly “he might be sorry for.” “Afraid you’ve come to the wrong shop, Mr Croce. I really doubt if he’d take my interference in good part.” “Well, to get down to cases, Mr Manship ’ ’ “I’ll be obliged,” said Rodney, consulting his watch.

"You must understand how intolerable to a man of spirit is this form of persecution to which you’re subjecting Mr Baroque!”

“I? Persecuting Mr Baroquel” “I wouldn’t call that too hard a name for it. Think how you’d feel shadowed night and day by private detectives. That sort of thing gets on anybody’s nerves. The annoyance of it!”

“Must be most exasperating,” Rodney admitted. “But—while I can’t say I’m surprised, I give you my word I know nothing about the matter.” Mr Croce seemed hugely depressed by this denial, and pondered it solemnly. “Well,” he concluded, “guess I've got to take your word for it. I suppose it couldn’t be possible -that your client ” “Miss Barocco? I think I can answer for her entire ignorance of the business.” “Well, I hope he doesn’t cut loose and do anything foolish.” “I hope so, too, for his sake. But tell me: Did this notion, that either his sister or I was responsible for his being dogged by detectives, originate with Mr Baroque ?”

“Why, naturally, he thought ” “What a perfectly rotten conscience the poor wretch must have!”

Opportunely the telephone bell rang, and Rodney inquired politelv, as he picked up the instrument.- “Anything else I can do for you, Mr Croce?” Mr Croce said there wasn’t, and took himself off with a clouded countenance.

And Rodney made a mental note t-o look Ritchey up and ask him what he thought about it, fij-st chance he got, being privately convinced that, if there were any real excuse for Angelo’s com plaints, that one had mistaken plainclothes men from Police Headquarters for operatives of a private detective agency. CHAPTER XII. Reconsidering the incidents in the light of Ritchey’s earnest warning, Rodney inclined to suspect a motive which hadn’t shown on the surface of the call Mr Croce had paid him in the interests of that vindictive soul, Angelo. It seemed a supposition not too far-fetched, that Angelo, weary of nursing his hate, might he taking cautious preliminary steps toward giving it good satisfaction ; though' precisely what he had thought to gain through having Croce interview Rodney, remained inexplicable. Still, it seemed only judicious to be on one’s guard against a sequel of some sort. But weeks passed without event, Mr Croce and his client continued completely quiescent, and nothing happened to remind Rodney of their existence in a less roundabout fashion than receipt of a letter from Francesca, post marked Florence. She had left London, she said, to spend a few weeks in Italy with Madame Farusi; her plans for the future were indefinite.

Rodney made due acknowledgement to the address she gave ; hut in those days the international postal service had not yet recovered its pre-war efficiency, and it was no uncommon thing for a letter to be six weeks in transit ' between Italy and the United States; and though the time seemed long, Rodney did his best to be reasonable, and. to ease the irk of waiting for her answer, devoted himself to his work more assiduously than ever. Even more than it 'oves a lover, the shiftless world loves a worker; and the severest penalty which attaches unto success, which comes only through hard work, is more work. Xew clients swarmed in the offices of the diligent and enterprising young attorney-at-law, more than he could handle: and he welcomed them for the distraction they afforded him, and cursed them for their everlasting importunity in one and the same breath. One of these was a young IrishAmerican mechanic, named MacManus, who had invented a carburetter of revolutionai'v type which promised to cut gasoline bills in half, and who. falling into the wrong hands, had already been shamefully fleeced and was now in a fair wav to lose his patents altogether. Rodney took a fancy to the man and, finding that he was desperately hard-up, espoused his ease without a retaining fee The negotiations dragged, as such negotiations will, when neither side is anxious to take its ease to court. Winter passed, trailing its slush-bedraggled skirts. Spring came with smiling April face fresh from the washing rains of March. Days grew warm and evenings long; a premature heat blanket closed down over the town early in May. (To be Continued.)