The Girla Million Knew

Sun (Christchurch), Volume I, Issue 42, 26 March 1914, Page 13

The Girla Million Knew

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

CHIEF CHARACTEBS IN THE STOBY. DURHAM KENT, who, dying, swears he never again wants to see his wife, FLORENCE KENT, an unscrupulous woman, who inherits £30,000 on the death of her hushand. She is the step-mother of CHRISTINE, a charming girl, who aims at being an actress, and who becomes the i -"rage." She is trapped in a flat by Leila Mayne, and is visited by Faucett, ; who presses his unwelcome attentions upon her. A struggle ensues. *»ICK TEMPEST, Christine's .fiance. Tempest tells her she is very like LEILA MAYNE, the "star" of the Pharos Theatre. Christine notes a meeting between Tempest and Leila Mayne at an inn, an# discovers later than Dick has driven the "star" to London in his car. Christine discovers that Leila Mayne is in possession of some of her father's choice coins,' and, later, that Florence Kent is Leila's mother. In a hot scene, Leila promises she will make Christine's life a misery. MAX FAUCETT, theatrical manager, who is described as the "biggest brute in London." ALAN HOLIDAY, one of the "profession," who is the means of Christine getting her first chance, • when she "makes good."

CHAPTEE XV. (continued.) A BOW AT EEHEAESAL

A noise, something Jike Sssss—wisshhh!'' mixed up inextricably with a low whistle, suddenly sounded, close, to Christine. She started. The strange noise was repeated. ■ She looked down. At her face she perceived a pale-faced, under-sized boy, with eyes exceedingly bright, and a nose like a.button. Christine bent down.

"Mind your eye," said Nipper Dunn in a hoarse whisper. "She's 'ot today." After an effective pause he added: " 'Ot ain't the word for it. She's mustard this morning." Christine's face was blank at this information, and the boy proceeded to explain farther, with the air of a king conferring a favour.

"Miss Mayne, I mean. .She's got her knife into you good and strong, I guess. You watch out, that's all. Don't say I haven't told yer." i

"Thank you," said Christine, gravely. "Not at all," returned the cocksparrow, magnanimously. "My money's on you. I likes you. . You come to Nip-, per if you wants to know anything. Look out! Here she comes, like a bloomin' Cleopatrisher! So long." As the lad vanished Leila appeared. Her telephone call had been from Dick Tempest to remind her of a lunch appointment she had made with him for that day. Instantly snapping out that she didn't intend to keep it, she had slammed the receiver back into its place, feeling glad that she had vented some of her temper, if it was only a little. If she hoped Dick would be disappointed she was mistaken, for no sooner had he safely rum? off than he muttered

a heartfelt exclamation of relief at her refusal.

With a sweet smile to Hugo Slade, which did not deceive that old hand for a moment, Leila condescended to take part in the business of the rehearsal. Nipper Dunn, who added to other accomplishments that of being a born critic, grinned patronizingly at the proceedings. "She'll explode or something," he remarked to himself, as he regarded the star's face, still white with suppressed anger. "Looks as if she'd been out on the tiles for a week. I give this rehearsal half an hour,-and not a blooming minute longer." He was too generous in his estimate. Hugo Slade, it was easy to see, was of the same mind as Nipper. He did what he could to get some snap and go into the work, but it was pretty hopeless. Nothing was right for the star. Her face grew blacker and blacker as the minutes passed. Shifting the blame on others, she roundly declared that all the chorus was too stupid for words this .morning, and if they didn't know even the beginning of how to back her up properly she had no intention of wearing herself -out..over the business.

Thus attacked, a spirit of revolt began to grow among the girls of the chorus, many of whom, quite naturally, bore no goodwill to Leila at the best of times. None knew better than Hugo how to - manage such a situation, which was not' uncommon, and he checked the murmufings from their ranks. Then, as Leila continued to abuse everybody, he called out:

"Miss May no, please remember that ,I'm conducting this rehearsal. If the chorus make mistakes, I'll attend to them."

One of the girls giggled, her hand before Her mouth. It reached Leila's cars, and made her angrier than ever. Making no reply to Slade, she took up the third verse of thet.song on which she had been engaged. Behind her the chorus stretched out in a gigantic semi-circle. The verse finished, it was the turn of the chorus, and a:i they took up the lilting refrain Leila, plucking her skirts high, commenced to trip daintily across the stage. Her face was turned towards the empty blackness of the huge theatre, and, with a lifted-hand and pointing forefinger, it was as if she emphasised the point of the verse and invited the audience to accompany her at the same time. It was a favourite pose of hers, and one of the most effective bits of business imaginable. Leila was a beautiful dancer, and as she glided across the full width of the stage upon her toes only, she hardly seemed to be moving at all. She had parfected this special movement, and it always brought the house down, so bewitching and alluring it was. In the wings Christine, instinctively recognising the difficulty of performing it as Leila performed it, with a grace so natural that it appeared to be unstudied, whereas it was the result of long months of the very hardest work, forgot where she was and clapped her hands.

Then something happened. Christine's action unsteadied Leila slightly as she reached the end of the stage. She may have had some notion that Christine's almost unconscious tribute was intended ironically. Whatever the_ cause, she bumped sharply into a girl at the extreme end of the semi-circle. It was Olive Glenside, a fair-haired, fragile little thing against whom Leila had- displayed special animosity during the rehearsal. The singing of the chorus stopped, like a stone flung to earth, as Leila turned upon her like a wild cat.

"You elmiiivy camel!" she cried, "Haven't you got gumption enough even to keep your place ?" "I did keep it," Olive faltered. • "You little liar! You did nothing of the sort. You were falling about all over the stage. You're just doing it to annoy me."

Olive Glenside made a weak protest, her thirty shillings a week from the theatre meant a great deal to her, and she was afraid of incurring the enmity of the star. . Then she shrank back in real fright as Leila, beside herself, raised an arm to strike her. The explosion prophesied by Nipper Dunn had come. - But that spiteful blow did not fall on the girl Olive, for Christine quickly stepped forward between the two. It did\not fall at all, for Christine caught Leila's ,wrist. Hugo Slade moved quickly, too, but Christine was nearest: Leila, looking up in surprise, was still further maddened to see whp had prevented her spite. A torrent of wrath against Christine now possessed her, and struggled'blindly for utterance. "You think you're everybody," she sneered, "because you throw yourself at Alan Holiday. Because he's well in with the Governor, I suppose." Christine released her hold on the other's wrist.

"I think you're very cruel and unjust to this girl,'' she said, quietly, taking no notice of the sneer. "That's all 1 think."

"It was quite an accident," put in Hugo Slade, in a conciliatory voice. '' You must know that, Leila.'' But he realised that any attempt to mollify her was hopeless. "It wasn't," she vociferated, and swung round on him. < * The girl's got the sense of a lame sheep, and stamps about the stage like a policeman on his beat. If a girl is no earthly use for anything else, she blows on to the stage nowadays. It makes me ill."

The last insult was obviouslv directed against Christine, but Christine was not to be dragged into a war of this sort. She only smiled.

"You can shut up your rehearsal till you've got a chorus that knows its A.8.C.," announced Leila, shrilly. "This lot of stumpers doesn't give me a chance. I'm afraid of getting my feet trodden on all the time." She swept off.

Hugo Slade, dismissing the rehearsal, mopped his forehead with a huge silk handkerchief. He looked up, and met Christine's laughing face.

"First round, my dear young lady," he observed. "At least, the first at which I've assisted. You told me there had been one before, I believe." Christine nodded.

"A great woman, our Leila —a great woman. In the dim, vasty days of the glorious future, when I have time, I must write a drama for her, with a fishwife part. She'd be immense." He changed his theatrical tone. "Well.

CHAPTER XVI. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

did you hear the news? We kept it dark for you till to-day." "Mr Holiday told me. I was delighted. Is that why she's so cross — because I'm understudying her?" "Precisely," replied Hugo. '"I spotted Holiday telling her herself, just when I-was hoping to begin the rehearsal. Then I knew it was all U P for this morning—no merry and bright rehearsing for me. Collar-work, Hugo, collar-work —that's what it is, poor old chap." And he stroked himself gravely, with great compassion'. '' Holiday cleared off to do some work at home, for he knew that was coming. Left it all for poor old Hugo to bear. It's worth a bottle of wine, your news, don't you think? With food, of course, at the Petit Riche in Soho. I'll be ready in half an hour. -. Is it a bet?" '' Bather,'', said Christine joyfully. '' And 'I 'm paying for the lunch, on the strength of my first week's salary. Do you know the Governor's giving me five pounds a week? I've never been so rich."

"Eight! I'll meet you at the Riche."

"Tell you what," said Christine. '' Mr Holiday oguht to come, too. I 'll go and fetch him." "You'll 'never become a star if you're so might good-natured," returned Slade. "You'll have to learn to swear and be cross to everybody." But he winked solemnly as he spoke. Old Hugo had once had a daughter of his own, and she had died. Christine, reminding him of her, 'had won a soft, corner in his heart.

"I'm a fool/' said Dick Tempest, mournfully. "That's what I am —a gOTgeous fool." He was sitting in Alan Holiday's flat. Into his gloomy mood of self-de-preciation there came ■ the memory of Christine, fresh and boyish as he had known her at Englefield. Such a companion for a walk over the downs, a round of golf, or a rather mad scamper in the gray two-seater that Dick's soul loved! "She'll never think the same of me again," he went on. "I couldn't expect her to. How could she?" There was nobody to answer the despairing question. This morning, thankful that Leila, in pique, obviously, at something or other, had refused to keep her appointment for lunch with him, the idea had come' to Dick that he would interview Alan Holiday and ask him just how things were between him and Christine. Finding Holiday out, he had resolved to wait for his return. Burton, who had opened the door to him, was a servant to both Holiday and Tempest. Bachelors both, breakfast the only meal they generally had in their flats, so that, even with this double service, Burton had a comparatively easy job. He was downstairs now, in Dick's flat, immediately below. Holiday and Christine were about a good deal together, he knew. It was for this reason that he had lately kept away from the Pharos, where, before that visit to Englefield, his business had been to dance attendance on the many whims of Leila Mayne. At the back of his head, as he continued his despairing meditations, now and then spoken aloud, there was the desire to have a row with Alan Holiday, with whom he had for long been v close friends. There was a knock at the door. Expecting Holiday, he went quickly to answer it, and then gave a start of surprise. For it was Christine herself. When she saw him she made an instinctive movement to turn back to the stair-head. Then she controlled her first impulse. "Holiday's out, "said Dick, lamely.

-■'" Thank you.'' And this time Christine did turn. Dick's voice stopped her.

"Shouldn't think he'd be long now. I've been waiting for him,myself well over half an hour. Is it f anything special ? " The polite inquiry was thrown in as an after-thought. Anything, thought Dick, to keep her there, to prevent her from disappearing down the stairs. '' L- was only going to ask him to lunch."

The quick jealousy that jumped into Dick's eyes was not lost upon. her. Strangely enough, for she had repeatedly confided to herself that she had done with Dick, it made her oddly glad. And Dick also made a discovery as to eyes. Christine's eyes were happy with the thought of her success. "You're brimming over with good news of some sort," he exclaimed. "Your eyes fairly dance."

Christine tried to look as solemn as an owl. She failed. A little pause. "Am I not to know it?" asked Dick, and hung upon the answer. '' You 'll have plenty of time to tell Holiday at lunch," he added, with a touch of bitterness.

By this time, not knowing how, Christine was in the passage, but only just in. With an inspiration of generalship, Dick lashed out at the door with his foot. It slammed noisily.

'' Silly boy!'' observed Christine. "You needn't be angry because I'm lunching with Mr Holiday. Hugo Slade 's coming too." "Ah! but what's your good news?"

Her face clouded. "I want to know one thing first." "Out with it, then." Christine followed him into the sitting room of the fiat. From her bag she pulled out the bracelet with her father's coins—the bracelet Leila had eontemptuously flung Ao her on the occasion of their quarrel. Telling him straightforwardly where the coins had come from, telling him also how she had seen Leila at the inn on the night of her father's death, she said: —

"Leila Mayne told me it was you gave these coins to her. Where did you get them, Dick?" His heart jumped at her use of his name; he had not expected to hear it from her lips again. Though he had not been near the Pharos more than he could help these past weeks, he had rung up old Rogers, the doorkeeper, on many occasions only to be refused information of Christine's whereabouts. He had naturally concluded that she had ordered Eogers to deny any knowledge of her. Peggy Lewis had departed on her provincial tour, and Christine had consequently left the old lodgings for a room more handy to the centre of things. Dick's head was bent over the bracelet.

'' Leila lied to "he ansewred, and her quick relief was such that she did not particularly notice the strangeness in his voice. "I did not give them to her." Raising his head, he said: "Do you doubt me, Christine? I swear I didn't give them to her. I have never seen them before."

'' But, Dick, y.ou know something about them. I'll tell you something more. Leila forced a quarrel with me. She was perfectly furious. She was like a wild thing. She insulted me beyond

endurance. And she threatened me. You belonged to her, she said. This morning she insulted me again. Of course, I know partly why she hates me so "

"Why?" Dick interrupted. '' Mr Cardinal has said I'm to understudy her in the new piece." "Really?" "Yes, I heard this morning. I've been playing in the suburbs. Holiday and Slade have been splendid. They got him to come down and see me, and he was quite pleased." Dick gave a schoolboy's whoop. '' That's fine news! "he cried. '' Christine," he went on, his voice becoming tender, "don't worry about Leila." "How can I help it? What is there between you and her? I'm walking in a fog. I've cried myself, to sleep some nights. I'll be honest with you, Dick; I've always been straight with you. I tried to put you out of my mind." ,

A little silence. Dick looked at her, and felt ashamed.

"And did you?" he asked then. "No," said Christine. "I didn't, Dick—l couldn't." Dick's hand reached out for hera. That frank confession had cost Christine something. This, though he was a man, he dimly knew. "Christine, you're a great woman. Do you know, the things I wish for you I couldn't get in London alone. I'd have to hunt the for them, they're so many and so fine."

"Nonsense! " cried Christine. "You talk like a poet, Dick!" But she was smiling through the sudden tears. Her little successes had been amazing and splendid in her mind. But with it all there had been a gap, a loneliness, a something missing, for all her attempts to persuade herself that she was the happiest girl alive. And now she knew what it was. "I think I'd give up this last thing —understudy to the star—just to go back to that evening when I really got the. whole house with me, if you were in the audience, or in the wings, to see."

"I'll see you in bigger triumphs than that," said Dick, quickly. "You said you were in a fog. I'm in a fog, too, Christine. I can't tell you everything; there are things I can't explain. You see, I met Leila before I met you. There was some kind of an. engagement. I didn't take much notice of it. Christine, I was just a fool. In those.days I had money to spend, and I went at life like a fool. That was Leila's time, but this isn't, by Heaven! The present is yours. All that happened in another world. But I went to a fresher, a sweeter world when I had the luck to strike Englefield. And you came into that world like the sun. I was hopeless, miserable, till you came. Do you believe me, Christine? You must! " She was in his arms, as she had been that night on the winter road, before death and trouble came. And he kissed her very gently. There was something white and kind about this embrace that forbade all notion of evil, and she thought quickly of Max Fawcett with his leering confident facej and with it was the thought of the frightful desires of men.

Here there was refuge,, and here there was armour. She was surrounded splendidly by love, and all her doubts faded. Faded, also the bewildering hate and anger of others. Leila Mayne, her stepmother, Max Fawcett, were as nothing now. She gave a little glad cry before she stood upright. "I won't question you, Dick, "she cried.

"I want you to trust me, Christine; That is all. But it's a very great deal. Do you remember at Englefield I said the world of the stage was a hothouse, insensate life—a world into which you should not come. I say it now. There are such things to fight in it, Christine."

"I know, I know," said Christine. "Better than you think." For again she thought of Max. Fawcett. '' But fighting's the thing, Dick —perhaps the best thing after all." Dick shook his head doubtfully. ''So you'll trust me, thent You promise, and I'll fight, too. I'll fight clear."

"I promise," Christine answered. She dropped back into real life with a jerk, suddenly thinking of old Hugo waiting at the Petit Riche, where she had promised to join him inside fhe hour. She said she must go at once; probably he had met Holiday there. It was a favourite place with them. "" (To be continued to-morrow.)