CHECKMATE

Taranaki Daily News, 16 January 1931, Page 11

CHECKMATE

By

SYDNEY HORLOR.

Tlus frown which had gathered with somewhat alarming quickness now vanished. The face of the Comtesse became transfigured by a smile. “That is delightful of you—l feel sure we shall get along splendidly, Mary. Have you many friends in London?” “Not many.” “And those you do possess —what is their view of your taking this post?” “I have discussed it with one only. She is a girl of wealth who wished me to live with her as a companion.” “The proposition sounds most attractive. Why did you not accept?” “Because—-well, because I would rather have my independence.” “I quite understand. Working for either relatives or friends is rarely completely successful. Does this rich friend of yours. know that you are going to the Riviera?”

The questions were put in a most charmingly artless way, but M?,ry was beginning to get tired of the inquisition.

“Oh; y6s,” she replied, rising. “If you will- excuse me now, I should like to get awayj I have several things to see to.” .

“Of course —but you must give ,me another five minutes, nevertheless.” There was the hint of a determined will behind the conciliatory smile. “We have not discussed the question of salary vet.”

* Mary laughed in embarrassment. “That shows how little used I am to business,’’ she admitted. “Mr. Santos last evening mentioned £3OO a year. Considering my inexperience,. I. consider that is too much.”

The Comtesse did not reply. Mary became sensitive of the woman’s direct gaze. Had she made a mistake? —committed a faux-pas?• “You are really .a most unusual person,” said the Comtesse at length. -Tt is so refreshing to meet such candour, that if triith' and honesty did not shine out of' your eyes, a person wRo has become so bitterly disillusioned as myself might begin to',doubt if you were absolutely genuine. No, please do not be offended; I mean it as a compliment. And because I should not think of offering you a smaller salary than the one my nephew mentioned last night, we will agree on the £3OO a year. How would, you like it to be paid?. I pay all iny accounts quarterly; that system fits in with my banking arrangements.” “Quarterly will suit me very well,” Mary replied. “Then everything is now satisfactorily settled. We leave for the South of France by the 11 o’clock boat-train from Victoria to-morrow morning. Can you be here by ten o’clock?” “Yes.”

“Until to-morrow, then.” Displaying much of the unusual animal grace she had shown before, the speaker rose from the divan and held out her hand.

“We are going to become very fond of each other, I hope, Mary,” she said. “I want you to look upon me more as your friend than your employer. Promise that you W’ill try to regard, me in that light.” ‘‘lf you really wish me to do so.” “Qf course I do. I have taken a great liking to you, Mary. Oh, by the way, there is the question of your passport. When were you last abroad?” “I managed to have a -week-end in Paris about fifteen months ago.” “You needn’t bother, then—your present passport will do.” The speaker pressed a bell, and after a rather long wait, the maid Mary had seen the previous evening appeared. “Annette will see you out, Miss Mallory. Please do not be late to-morrow morning.” How swiftly changing were this woman’s'moods! She spoke now as though she were adressing a menial. Mary, although hurt, managed to keep her reply normal.

“I promise to be punctual.” When she was outside the room the manner of the maid became singular. After glancing to right and left, she approached Mary, “Are you going abroqd with—her?” The last word was significantly underlined in a stealthy whisper. Whatever might be the cause of the maid’s extraordinary behaviour, . Mary decided that she must be put in her place. “What is that to do with you?” she said, sternly. The girl looked cautiously round again. Then, her face white and set, she whispered: ‘‘lt’s nothing to do with me—l’m leaving here to-day—but if you take my advice —” “Good morning,- Miss Mallory.” A man dressed in a well-fitting navy-blue suit came out from a door on the left. It was Jose Santos. Mary did not reply to the salutation immediately. She was watching the maid. The girl’s face had become frozen with a species of fear. She had a hand over her mouth and it was trembling. “All right, Annette, I’ll see Miss Mallory out.”'The maid, dismissed, looked first at the man and then at Mary in a bewildered fashion before hurrying down the hall. “It’s very sad about that girl,” Santos remarked. “.She was frightened by a burglar i:i her last situation and her mind has been affected ever since. She imagines that everyone is a criminal—queer, isn’t it?” “She certainly behaved in a most peculiar manner a moment ago,’ Mary acknowledged. Jose Santos put a hand up to his tiny black moustache. “May I enquire what she actually said?” With the lifting of his eyes, the absurdity which seemed part of the man went to be replaced by a quality which j Mary had not time to classify, but which she could only designate roughly ns being slightly sinister. Swiftly she made up her mind. She could not get the maid into trouble—and, besides, she did not earn for this olive-com plexioned person any more; now Ilian slic had done the previous, evening. i

I “She was enquiring into my personal affairs,” was the reply she gave; ‘‘but I should not like for the girl to be punished in any way.” “Sh*e is leaving us to-day,” replied Santos. “The Comtesse would have taken her abroad but that she has found the poor creature is unbalanced in the way I have stated. The prospect of being branded as a criminal by a halfwitted servant is scarcely to be tolerated.” -The. man’s manner -was impressive enough, but when Mary was in the street she found herself thinking of that frozen look of fear which had 'been imprinted on the maid’s face. CHAPTER IX. THE HOUSE OF DARKNESS. The phrase flashed into Mary’s mind directly she saw the Villa Graciosa. Totally unlike her conception of houses on the Riviera, this square-shaped building, set down in the midst of a gloomy and desolate courtyard, looked more like a prison than a place of residence. Tired and dispirited after her long journey—-twenty-six hours had passed since she had taken her seat in the boat-train at Victoria—she wduld have cried but for the self-control which she forced to her help. “I hope the servants have arrived,” said the Comtesse; “see if you can’t ring a little louder, Mary.” She took the knob of the antique bell and pulled, it with all her strength. The next moment she had reeled, backwards, for the mechanism had come away in her hand. This touch of ludricrbus mishap was the final straw. Muttering an imprecation, the Comtesse Zambyski delivered a series of blows on the heavy door with the handle of her umbrella. As these met with no response, the: woman began to lose control. She behaved .as though rage had driven her mad. A-stream of words, the real meaning of which Mary was mercifully ignorant, poured from her lips. -•“The fools aren’t here!” the woman exclaimed, at last—and then, as though to give her cause for a fresh outburst, the door opened cautiously and a man, wearing a green baise apron, peered out.

“Are you Armand?” snapped the Comte sse.

“Oui, Madame.” “Then why the devil have you kept me waiting all this time ?” The mail commenced to explaifi in rapid French. He and his wife had only corn© an hour or so before. There had be a n so much to do that they had forgotten Madame la Comtesse whs due to arrive at 4 o’clock. Moreover, they had both been at the back of the house, “Well, hurry up now, you fool, and let me in.” The Comtesse was still in a furious rage, it seemed. The man drew the door wider and, following her temper-ridden, employer, Mary stepped over the threshold. Be_hind her she heard the taxidriver that the Comtesse had engaged at Cannes station protesting volubly at the amount of luggage he had to unload. But she dismissed this incident in the measure of more important events. Inside, the Villa Graciosa was scarcely more reassuring than outside. A series .of large, lofty rooms furnished Sparsely, struck Mary as being dismal and cold as she walked through them in the Comtesse’s company. There was a mustiness in the air and the* general atmosphere seemed not merely inhospitable but forbidding. “The fools should have got here hours ago—they had their instructions,” declared the Comtesse; “then the heating would have been seen to and fires lit in the bedrooms. How'ever; it’s no use losing one’s temper.” Had she been in a more reposeful state of mind, Mary might have allowed herself smile at this remark. The Comtesse had been in a state bordering on frenzy for the last ten minutes. She could not have been aware of the congruity of her statement. “Go and see if you can find that man’s wife,” The Comtesse gave the order in a manner so offhand that it amounted almost to an offeuce. “She will probably be in the kitchen quarters.”

Mary walked in the direction indicated. She had obeyed immediately, first because she would not allow the woman to see how hurt she was, and secondly because she was glad to be able to be alone for a brief space. The rage which liad possessed the Comtesse had been rather terr if ying. It was so insensate. After walking through a long, winding passage, she camo upon a huge, stone-flagged kitchen. Here she saw a bent-backed old woman talking rapidly to a girl with a cold insolent face who was dressed for thj street. At the sound of her entry, both stopped talking, staring at her with unblinking eyes. “Madame, the Comtesse has arrived,” Mary said in French, addressing the woman, “and she wishes to see you.” “Yes, Mademoiselle.” The woman ducked her head in a queer kind of obeisance and began to untie the apron round her ample waist. The girl with the insolent face removed her hat and coat. “I have been engaged as personal maid to the Comtesse,” she announced; “perhaps I had better see her as well. Are you.a friend of the Comtesse, Alademoiselle?” she enquired in a hard, clear voice. “I am companion to the Comtes ;e,” Mary replied. Her sense of bewilderment was increasing, but one fact out of -the general fog emcu’ged clearly enough; she didn’t like this girl whose manner with it’s icy, clear-cut insolence, was a perpetual challenge. “I had no instructions concerning you,” Mary went on, and then turned away. The girl’s beautiful mouth —she was really strikingly good-looking, Mary noticed—twisted itself into a smile.

‘•Don’t you worry about me—l shall be. able to look after myself,” she said euiginatically.