Our Short Story. THE STOLEN HEIRESS.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LX, Issue 143762, 9 April 1912, Page 8

Our Short Story. THE STOLEN HEIRESS.

By ARTHUR APPLIN,

Author of “The Gamester’s MaTe, “The Chorus Girl,.” ‘’The Priest of Piccadilly,” etc. CHAPTER V. —(Continued.i) Martin was a little afraid of hirtself, or rather of Ids love; porlmps it JiaU made him sellibh. Ail that mattered was Dolores Kenyon’s reputation and safety. Haste might enuauger UdJi. Alter the omnibus had travel-red a few yards, he dismounted and turned into a narrow tortuous street which led him to the Jewish quarter, xlere, the day was young, -so only wtfmen, children and a few loalers idled the streets. Turning oft to the right, ho stopped at a small newsvendor’s; <t tiny window filled witli foreign postc/arcU, not of the tvpe found in the \\ esit End —Russian, Jewish and Drench iUerulure. .Inside the simp, chaos ’m«c the eye; newspapers, booklets, inlo-pots, pens and pencils, bottles, toys, jam! a. queer assortment ol highly coloured foreign goods mixed pell-mell topi^ther. And crawling about them three children. A middle-age d woman, pale-and weary, with black hair turning grey, greeted Martin. He held out his jiand : idle took it without a worthy “I’ve come.” he scad. ‘Aon Imvon t forgotten mer“ .Madame Niknff shook her head and removed her youngest born trmn -a too close proximity to a large howl a.vhicn apparently contained decaying vegetables soaked in oil. “Vou’ve come to stay wi the Vladomirs to make your picture*, she said in broken English. “My sou wil. show you the way: hut they may have no room for you now, or have changed their minds.”

Slip opened the door of an inner room and beckoned to a yontti <IF some thirteen years, a fragile. eonsrrniptive little fellow. He looked at .Martini and sinilod, and without a word Stepped into the street, Martin following niiii. Up one cobble street, down at)other, then the boy paused before a heavy black door. There was no handle', only a curiously carved brass knockor. In answer to his rat-tat, the door opened and a woman. typically H/iissian, peered out. A short conversation ensued, in a strange dialect. The door was opened wide and Martin admitted. The youth disappeared. Madame Vlademir led Martin, into a fairly huge dark room containing one window which looked into the street. There were heavy shutters oic 'Other side of it. The room was (sparsely furnished, a stove stood in one corner, a couch in another and several mattresses rolled up; a largo round tabic in the centre of the room. “This is where yon will sleep,” the woman said. “There arc three others. Mv husband's room adjoins; yon pay tell shillings a week, breakfast and "TO n nodded. From that moment he was the Vhulomirs* gm*st. Affairs arc easily arranged in the ca*t ami uo questions asked. Ho threw Ill's things into a corner and changed his clothes. Just as lie was going out, the, woman's husband mitered. He was a giant, with jet-black hair and bristling black beard, over site feet high and broad in proportion. The sort of man who. if he were angry, might walk through the closet! door of a room; —without being aware of the obstruction. He gave Martin his hand, a great hairy paw. The action was strangely courteous, his voire ami oyo-i were as gentle as a child’s. “Von are welcome.’’ he said.

Ten minutes later Martin v-'as hurryitm hack by underground in South Kensington.' 110 could now cull oil the l.e.s ons’in Drayton Hardens,to enquire lor Dolores without exeitinn suspicion or rcsciumcnt. lie felt floppier in his rough studio workiu;; clothes, though liis heart heat lilts a sledge lianmier when he fac'd Paul Lesson's house and rang the front door hell. A inn id-servant answered the door. Mr. Lesson was not at home. ‘’Then Mis- Mia, hi- sister;'" Ms rein said quickly. “You might (ell her the matter is of some importance." There was nothing in tin- maid-ser-vant's attitude or demeanour to excite his suspicion, lie was shotm into the dining-room and asked to wait. It was well and comfortably furnished in a conventional way. Again he felt it «as absurd to think that a young girl cnild he kept here a prisoner against her will.

And yet? l T ndmihtec|ly danger threatened her: if not from (’an! Lesson. then from that dreadful house adjoining his tudio. and from the dead man lying in the mortuary at Westminister awaiting the inquest. At last. Kiln Lesson mitered the rooui. She was a woman,- about forty years of age; her hair of pale gold parted naetly in the centre and brushed smoothly over her hirers. She was dressed in a simple bin eft frock. It was difficult to read li/w character, for her face was a mi'Klt. Clear-cut features, cold, emotionless blue eyes. "How good of yon to drill, Mr. .Martin, " she said pleasantly. "My brother told me he motored np with you from Ifcok Hall. He’s out now, hut I expert him in every minute, though 1 fear we have no news for von,” "Miss Kenyon hasn’t been found then?” Miss Klla merely shook her head “Of course. 1 must own, dear Dolores is most eccentric; it (isn't the first time she’s played this a,ort of prank. But it makes one very anxious, doesn’t it?”

“Xaturallv,” Martin implied stolidly. And ho sat down. “I tjbink I’d like to wait until your brother 1 returns.” “Please do.” Miss Lesson replied. “What would von like to drink—a whiskey and soda?” Martin shook his head.

“I hope yon won't mind my leaving you. 'We’ve line!—trouble with our .servants, and I’m jttst in the act of interviewing a now houteinaid.” She left the room, closing the door behind her. Martin waited a moment. Then he stepped quietly to the (door and opened it. Superficially. Ella Lesson was all that a woman should be, the epitome of discretion and respectability. But there was something about her face, her eyes, her voice that Martin did not like. She gave the impression of being a female Jckyll and Hyde; underneath that calm exterior there might be an iron will and a. cruel ambition.

He stepped into the ball to listen. Miss Lesson lias a.sccjnded the staircase and reached the first floor. Ho heard her pass along the corridor and mount the scond flight of e.tairs. The house was only two storeys high. It was strange that she should interview servants in her bedroom. He stood at

the foot of the banisters and mounted a couple ol .stops, staring up. He heard her footsteps erase; they were silent for a moment, then his cars caught the 'sound of a key being inserted in a look; he heard it turn; thou, very faintly, the closing of, a door.

He longed to follow.' Tie told him--selt imagination was making him unduly suspicious; Ids heart was in danger of running away with his head. Even while he hesitated half-way up the* stairs arguing with himself, the front door quietly opened. it closed noisily and Paul Lesson hailed him. “Hello, Mr. Martin! By Jove, for a moment I. took you for a thief.” He gave an unpleasant laugh. “Are you looking for anything or anyone?” Alartin turned quickly, the blood rushing to Ids face. He realised be was no match for this man, while they fought in the dark. Truth "‘'as the best weapon, and in the end it always beat subterfuge. He faced Lesson defiantly.

“Yos. I’m looking for Dolores Kenyon. ]’rn certain she’s in this house, brought here last night. For all I know she may have come willingly—there may ho a reason. If so, tell it me, let me see her and I’ll apologise for my interference and go away. But I must know where she is and how she is.” Lesson walked to the Foot of the stairs, and folding his arms looked James Martin up and down with a sarcastic smile. “Really! Perhaps .you’ll tell mo your reason for this strange interference.” “One is that I love her,” Martin blurted out fiercely. “And if you don’t know the other—-that one must be sufficient.” Lesson turned on his heel and walked into the dining-room, rang the bell, then lie returned ana pointed to the ball door. “That is Hie way out.”

“I know,” Martin replied in n voice as quiet as Lesson’s. “But I’m not going until I’ve assured myself that Miss Kenyon is here of her own free wil! and that she is not a prisoner.” (To be continued.)