The Girl a Million Knew

Sun (Christchurch), Volume I, Issue 31, 13 March 1914, Page 11

The Girl a Million Knew

; CHIEF CHARACTERS IN THE STORY. , DURHAM KENT, who, dying, swears lie never again wants to see his wife, FLORENCE KENT, an unscrupulous woman, .1 who is the step-mother of -CHRISTINE, a charming girl, who aims at being an actress, and who is engaged to DICK TEMPEST. Tempest tells her she is very like LEILA MAYNE, the "star" of the Pharos Theatre. Christin-o notes a meeting between Tempest and Leila Mayne at an inn, and discovers later than Dick has k . driven the "star" to London in his ■ car. CHAPTER IV. (continued). The Search at Dawn. As cool as himself, Florence stepped right in front of him. And as she did ao he caught her wrist with a quick movement. The sudden grip was fierce and masterful. With difficulty she repressed a cry of pain. But, nevertheless, as, he tried violently to push her aside, she. clung desperately to him, making ,it impossible for hisn to progress further. To free himself the intruder dropped the bundle. It fell heavily on the floor, and he spoke for the first time. '' Get out of my way, "he growled roughly, "or it will be the worse for .you." She clung the tighter. An oath came from him. Florence Kent spok6 over her shoulder to the woman in the doorway. "Get the police on the telephone,, nurM The instrument in the hall is the nearest." But she added, as the t nurse obeyed: "Wait in the hall. Don't ' ring them till I call out." £. At that a gleam of cunning came •' into the man's eyes, and he released il

CBy HERBERT SHAW,.author of "The House of Many Secrets," etc.) [Copyright.]

his grasp of his opponent. Standing upright, he looked at her keenly. "You're a plucky woman," he said, admiringly. "And you've got sense. The police are no good to you. I worked that out before I came. The station is a mile and a-half away." She returned his gaze, but said nothing. . '' And only a sick man in the house,'' he went on. "Why, I could be clear away before the officer in charge had woke lip to your message. But I didn't want to hit you. It's against my rules —especially it if's a woman." "Indeed," she said coldly; but she smiled. This was certainly a good man at his business, and. her unconscious smile told him what was in her- mind.* " It's a treat to meet a woman who doesn't shout 'Murder!' directly anything happens," he observed, calmly. "Don't try again to stop my going, or I shall have to break my rules." Her grasp on his arm tightened. Well aware that this was no common craftsman, she was quick to take advantage of it. She fell in with his quiet [mood.

"You seem to have worked things out pretty well before you decided on this house?"

"I always study my cases. It's the only thing to do. But I've been badly disappointed. Your house had a reputation for old silver that it did not deserve."

She laughed outright. "Mr Kent had decided on a tour abroad before he suddenly became ill. He sent the silver away, to be stored safely in London. But we waste time —there is a business matter. You searched the little bureau in the next room I" He nodded. "There was a letter there that is important only to me. I want to have it. It was addressed either to Christine, or to Christine Kent."

The interest of the strange visitor was aroused; not for a second did he take his eyes from the speaker's face. After a minute he, shook his head. "I shouldn't have bothered about it if I had seen it. Letters are of no use to me. See for yourself." He knelt by the bundle and began to pluck at the fastening. But something about him made the •woman almost certain that he indeed had the. letter that meant so much to her.

"I want that letter," she exclaimed, and she was quite startled out of the quiet self-contained pose. I must have it." In a flash she understood that she was giving away a secret by attaching so much importance to the letter, and she floundered, and went on desperately: "A business matter, as I told you. Give me back that letter you took from the bureau, and you can go free with what you have stolen."

"I shall do that in any case," he retorted.

"Let me have the letter, and I will make no move to have you followed.'' No answer; only a rather scornful smile, a showing of very regular white teeth beneath the ragged moustache. It angered her, and she went deeper still. "You're right about the station, but you are bound to have trouble in getting clear away. The first train is not till seven in the morning. You " He interrupted her quickly. "If I lived by depending on early morning trains I should live all my life in gaol,'' he interrupted, quickly. "Listen. I'll trade with you for the letter. I'll give you a hundred poundß for.it."

The man appeared to consider this, and a look of relief came to her face when he nodded acceptance of her offer. "I'll want notes," he observed.

"Notes and gold," she said, gladly. "I'll get them." And Florence turned to go upstairs; she was taken completely off her guards No sooner was she through the door than he had brushed by her. She gave a bewildered cry to see him leaping down the stairs, the bundle swinging as he went. He landed heavily at the bottom. Nurse Hayes was no obstacle whatever, for his onslaught was so sudden that he drove her against the wall. The big bolt at the top of the door, the chain in the centro, were released in a moment,

and as he rushed out into the night the bang of the heavy door behind him seemed to shake the house. "Shall I ring the police?" quavered Nurse Hayes, stupidiy. There was no reply. From the landing above the other woman a new voice spoke—the voice of Christine. Florence Kent trembled. "Why didn't you ring for the police?" It was to Nurse Hayes she spoke, as she stood there, pale and wondering, her splendid hair loose about her shoulders. How long had she been on the landing? This, was her step-mother's thought. How much had she heard? I '' What was the letter you were talk!ing about?" continued Christine. "Why were you so anxious about it 1 ?" "You. wouldn't understand Christine. It was very important.. I wouldn't have lost it on any account. I mislaid it unaccountably, and Nurse thought she had seen it on the little bureau.'' Her step-mother gabbled the thm excuses swiftly. She was safe. Christine could not have heard her tell the man the address on the letter. "So anxious," said Christine, slowly, '' that you offered a hundred pounds for it." Florence Kent held her ground. "Yes. There was a cheque for much more than that in the letter, and I remembered I had forgotten to cross it.'' Without a word, Christine passed her, descending the stairs into the oldfashioned square hall. After a second's hesitation her step-mother followed. Seemingly unconcerned, Christine took down the receiver and asked for the police-station. When she had told briefly what had happened, and how the burglar had escaped, she turned again to the woman at her side. '' When did you write this letter that was so important?" This was a new reliant and purposeful. The girl had gathered strength out of the shadows. Not for the world could the other woman have refused to answer.

"Yesterday," she lied. ' "Where did you write it! You must be able to remember." "In the sick room/' "You were there most of the day. Perhaps you did not bring.it away with you. Have you looked there for itf" "No," stammered her step-mother, '' Then let us have a look for it now.

And she moved towards the door of the room where her father lay dead. But now Florence Kent made no effort to accompany her. Her face was a mask of fear. . . Nurse Hayes gave a cry. Christine turned and looked solemnly at the woman who stood still. "Why are you afraid to go into that room?" "I'm not afraid." The stammered words tumbled hopelessly. "But you have no heart, Christine. It's monstrous to think of entering that room again just now, after all we've gone through." "I only wish to help you find your very important letter." "I won't go into that room again." She was at the end of her control; her voice was high-pitched, almost a scream. They heard Christine moving about the room of death. The winter dawn was breaking; its poor light was sick and unfriendly. The two who waited felt a proper craving for clothes and a fire. The tall clock in the hall went on its noisy and intolerable march. They felt that the room had swallowed the girl up for ever; but in reality it was not three minutes before she-stood ' again in the hall. Very pale, more determined than ever, she put down the candle. In her other hand was an oblong silver blotting pad with silver corners.

The. top sheet was missing. It had been torn hurriedly from the pad, so hurriedly that a big fragment of it had been left still imprisoned by the silver corners. Now the girl took this frag ment away and held it between her fingers, Before she spoke, Florence Kent's quick mind understood. This was the pad Durham Kent had used to write that last letter.

A deeper fear was in her. Heaven knew to what reason or what purpose some unknown hand had torn away the sheet which recorded what the dead man had written. The blotting-paper might have recorded much or nothing, and the sheet had vanished, all but the piece Christine held. "I put fresh blotting-paper in this pad the day before yesterday," said Christine. She spoke very deliberately. '' Since then a letter had been blotted on it. My father-wrote that letter."

She raised her head, and her eyes met the eyes of her step-mother. "Here, on the piece that is left, shows

jnst a word of what was written . ~ . and something else in my father's handwriting. Here is my name plain, Christine Kent. So, then, before he died, he wrote a letter to me. -Was that the letter you were so frightened that man might have stolen—the letter for which you would have given him a hundred pounds?" Silence, except for the tall clock. Eelentless, indifferent to the world and,to all human pain, it fussily slammed out the.seconds. Christine was very conscious of it. It seemed to chant to her, '' I alone am truth, I alone am truth. One — two —one —twoN" ; '' I think it must have been.'' - And, in spite of all the ill things that the day and the night had brought her, a faint smile showed on her face; Her father was gone for ever. Her own eyes had shown her her lover as a traitor. Perhaps there was something, good in having so proved an enemy as this woman, something to fight for, a spur! "For this letter, you see,was so important that somebody has thought it worth while to try to destroy all trace of it —its impression on the pad." '' It is all a mystery to roo,'' exclaimed Florence Kent, eagerly. '' You mean this letter my father wrote is not the letter you say you lost." "Of course it is not!" "Then that is quite easy. You say your letter contained a cheque. Show me the counterfoil in your chequebook. Tell me to whom the letter was; tell me what it contained. Then we shall have something to go upon. I shall know where I stand with you. Send Nurse Hayes to I fetch the chequebook. It will not take a minute." • j There was no answer. Christine took j her candlestick again. She paused at the foot of the stairs, and again addressed her step-mother. "You lied again, you see. You are all lies." That was all. But the way in whieh she brought out these last words made them like a blow on the face. Florence shrank as from a whip, while the girl passed up the stairs. She ascended very slowly. Filled with rage and hate, Florence breathed heavily. ; (To be continued tOrmprrow.)