Our Short story. THE STOLEN HEIRESS.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LX, Issue 143770, 19 April 1912, Page 8

Our Short story. THE STOLEN HEIRESS.

By ARTHUR APPLET,

Author of “The Gamester’s Wife/' “The Chorus Giiil,” “The Priest of Piccadilly,” etc. CHAPTER Xli—(Continued.) Yvette laughed in his face. “You’ll know to-morrow at the inquest what I’ve done. You thought 1 was a fool. You’ll receive an unpleasant awakening, Mr. Lesson.” | The front door .hell rang. Ho did not hear. His face had gone quite white. Ho stretched, out his hands and his. fingers fastened around Yvette’s slender throat.

She gave one rasjping cry for help. The front door bursts open and a couple of detectives entered. Lesson did not hear them.

They seized him aatd dragged his arm back, and released Yvette. Just in time; there were ’ugly red marks around her neck, she was almost fa’nting. But she pulled herself together very quickly, and promptly accused Lesson of assault. ; But one of the dehretives already had a warrant in his pocket for Lesson s arrest on a still mono serious charge.

As the motor car slipped down tlie. Brompton Road, Martin found himself holding Dolores in his arras. “Thanks God you're safe now,” he cried. “Dolores f ” Then he remembered and real-feed his position. “Forgive me, I was forgetting ” He looked into lusr eyes. She was smiling. “You’ve saved me; you’d have given your life for mine. 1 don’t know what’s hapened yet. , I don’t want to know, so long as I noaer, never see Mr. Lesson again. I car. face anything else.” ■

“You’ll never see i him again.” he said, earnestly. “As ..for saving you, I nearly lost you —I meaja, he fooled me—played upon my feelings. I confessed that I loved you ”

He stopped short —unconsciously he had said it! But Dolores still smiled. “Wasn't it the truth?” she as&ed, lowering her eyes. 1 What did anything matter then, hut love? Martin took ’her in his a-ms again and kissed her. “Yes, I love you;” She sighed. “Then I know that at last I’m r,eally safe.”

At the inquest on the body of Frit* Selhcim his widow miade a full and complete confession. i?lio had told the truth to Yvette Libortic. Dolores had been sent to the house'by Paul Lesson. The Selhoims wer© to ! get her out of England for over, or somehow encompass her death. But Dolores was made of sterner stuff than most girls—-and, realising her danger, put up a f ight. In the scuffle which Martin had witnessed, Sc.lheim drew a knife; Dolores had snatched it from, him for a moment, and he had received a slight wound in the face. '

After Martin had helped her into his studio and looked tho courtyard door, Selheim had started to quarrel with his wife. Sho .was for leaving Dolores alone and let ting her escape; her husband insisted on getting her hack at all costs. Paul Lesson was going to pay them well]. Blind with rage and the wound he had received, Selheim attacked his wife —in self-protectieiri she stabbed him; then, horrified, returned to the house and locked herself in.

The jury, after a long deliberation, returned a verdict of manslaughter against the woman, and! she was eommited tor trial. ] Almost at the same time Paul Lesson appeared before tho ■ magistrate in another court, and was committed for trial on another charge. _ And bail was refused him.

So Yvette Libortie wrts revenged. She made no attempt to seo, Dolores, James .Martin or ' tho Dasideons again. She know socially she-' was doomed — for Lesson, in his evidence at the inquest, had done his best to incriminate her- , . But six months later she received a pressing invitation to attend a very quiet wedding—when Dolores Kenyon, the only daughter of tSr.e late General Kenyon, would be united to James Martin, the artist. “Lucky Jim.” certnin Bohemian friends called him, for',he was marrying one of the sweetest girls in London, popularly dubbed, .'“The Stolen Heiress.” ; But neither Jim nor) Dolores cared what the world or their friends said. Neither of them despised the fortune Dolores possessed, beealuse it had in truth brought them together. But , each knew that khe only thing that really mattered, :-.»nd the only thing that would lasi, always—was love. THE ENB».