LITTLE LADY MYSTERY.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXV, Issue 145941, 26 September 1917, Page 8

LITTLE LADY MYSTERY.

POWERFUL STORY OP MYSTERY AND LOYE.

By RALPH RODD, Author of “A Step in the Dark,” “Under False Colours,” “Whispering Tongues,” “Marriage by Capture,” Etc., Etc.

PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS. Antony Kirby: Barrister, and nephew and heir of Sir Wilraot Kirby. Hie 1 hero of the story. Barbara Mayne; Tho heroine; niece of Dr. Skene. Dr. Skene; A lovable old village doctor, who works and plots hard tor Barbara. Rev. Assheton Vaughan: Who stands in with the doctor-s plans, and otters wise counsel of his own. Noel Boscombe: Artist, good friend, and ardent lover. Josephine Kennedy; “Miss Josey, of Briar’s Cottage, a refreshing, if eccentric, character, to whom Loscombe is devoted. Squire Hugh Dering; Great friend of Antony Kirby, and brother to Marcia Dering: A brilliant ■woman, whose heart is set on Antony Kirby. CHAPTER V. For the first time the world at largo had become aware of the existence oi Kendon-on-the-Moor. It was not a very enviable reputation that the place had so suddenly acquired. Merely that of having been the scene of one of the most sensational tragedies of modern times. But that was enough for the sensation-mongers. The morbid-minded flocked to the village to see what remained of Jane Brown’s bungalow. Speculation wass rife. The police wore reticent, while the papers credited them with fresh clues every day. All that remained was mere surmise. Most felt sure that Sir Wilmot Kirby had met his death at the hands of the companion with whom ho had come to Kendon. The fact that all inquiries had failed to trace the motor-car which had brought the unfortunate man to the scene of the tragedy lent colour to the theory that “Mrs. Merritt’ had subsequently left the neighbourhood in it. It was, however, quite possible that someone who had had cause to wish Sii Wilmot Kirby ill had followed him down to the country.

Even the greatest sensation grows stale, and, as time passed, interest ebbed. It died down as the fire had done—for lack of fuel. To quite a number of people in Rendon the gradual cessation of interest came as a relief, and amongst those who were only too thankful when the Kendon mystery ceased to monopolise every conversation was Marcia Doling. The tragedy in the village had, of course, shocked her, hut all the same it was impossible not to realise that Sir Wilmot’s sudden death had improved Antony Kirby’s position considerably. The late baronet had died intestate, and the greater part of his fortune had gone with the title to tho nephew with whom ho had quarrelled during his lifetime. To Marcia, Tony’s unexpected acquisition of wealth meant a great deal. She had loved him ever since ho and Hughie and she had been children together. But, unlike most girls, she had realised that marriage was not for a struggling professional man, and so sho had been compelled to wait. Now there was no longer any need to do so. Yet, though nearly two months had passed since Sir Wilmot’s deatl), Antony was still nothing more than tho old friend he had always been. Marcia Dering was thinking of all this when Miss Kennedy was announced. Miss Josey, as she was always called, was an institution at Kendon. Nobody troubled to remember when sho had first come to live at Briar Cottage, yet at" the time her advent had caused a certain amount of surprise. The sleepy little village was scarcely the place one would have expected such a frivolous person to have chosen. Her tastes were certainly not rural. Sho was fond of saying that walking-dresses set her teeth on edge, and that broad-toed shoes made her ill . certainly she never ran the risk of wearing either. Her flimsy lace blouses and her thin high-heeled shoes wore the joke of tho village, and they made Dr. Skene very angry, though ho had grown tirod of scolding Dio frail little, lady about them. Even tho rector had given up listening to Miss Josey’s pleas to be allowed to help him in tho parish; he had discovered long ago that she was much too unreliable to bo entrusted with the work for which she professed to yearn. Sick people made her cry. Children caused her to lose her temper, while her example in the matter of dress was not good for the village maidens. Nobody approved of Miss Josey, but nobody disliked her. She was just “a feckless body.” She drifted aimlessly hero and there, and she babbled as sho went, hut on the whole sho babbit'd harmlessly. She was always tremendously busy over other people’s affairs, only, since nobody took her seriously, she did very little mischief.

Alias Josey ran into the room in a way sho considered girlish, and as she did so all the chains and bracelets and gow-gaws she loved tinkled. She was the greatest contrast imaginable to tho stately Aiiss Dering, in her very plain tailor-made. Marcia Dering seldom wore jewellery, never in the morning. Her watch was in a leather strap round her wrist, and there was not so much as a ring on her strong, shapely fingers. Aiiss Josey stood on tip-toe, and she gave Marcia a little bird-like peck—- . Murcia never could understand how she had come to allow the intimacy.

“It’s perfectly sweet of you to allow me to pop in like this. I was so afraid you’d bo out shooting or hunting, or doing something dreadful. You are so energetic.” “1 wonder how long you’ll have to live in the country before you learn that we neither hunt nor shoot in June,” Marcia smiled. “Fancy that!” piped Miss Josoy. It was an expression she used repeatedly. “Well, I’m glad for the poor little birds. I can’t bear to Wink of them suffering; it always makes mo cry.” Again the trinkets tinkled as she shook her meretriciously golden head. “When that kind brother of yours sends me any of the poor little things, I always say to the servants”—Miss Josey’s “servants” always consisted of one little maid, who invariably “bettered” herself at the mature ago of sixteen —“don’t let me sec them until they come to the. table quite brown and unStable.’ ”

“And then you enjoy them thoroughly,” laughed Marcia. Miss Josey pouted like an injured baby. “I couldn’t be a vegetarian, you know. Just think of their figures!” Miss Josey drew her own attenuated little figure up, and she smoothed down her frock with both hands to show how slight she was. ■'When the padre preaches about our blessings 1 always remember that at least I’m not fat, and I am so thankful.” She put tier head on one side and glanced at her hostess inquiringly: “I’m not a,ny fatter, am 1?” Marcia Dering was not smiling now. Her features were softened by a glance of pity. She knew Dr. Skene’s verdict too well, knew that foolish little Miss Josey was not to flutter along the byways of life long.

“I only wish you were,” she said. “I wish you ate twice as much and wore sensible boots.”

Miss Josey was beaming at her tiny feet in their buckled shoes, and sho clapped her hands. “That’s just what Baba says.” “And who on earth is ‘Baba’?”

“My Baba. I always give everyone nicknames. Tho rector’s ‘The Padre,’; tho doctor is ‘Old Grisly’; you’re ‘The Princess,’ and Barbara Mayne is ‘Baba.’ ”

.Miss Dering glanced at tho clock ; sho was a little bit tired of her visitor’s already. “So that’s what you call Miss Mayne, is it?”

“Yes. but tho villagers are learning to call her Nurse Barbara. That sounds rather pretty, too, doesn’t it?” “Is it necessary to have a handle to her name? Isn’t .Miss Mayne, the doctor’s niece, enougii?” The words wore spoken quite carelessly. -Marcia During no longer took any special interest in Dr. Siuene’s relative. J'Uere bad boon a moment at their first unusual meeting when something sue hud seen in Tony’s expression had caused her a swilt stab of jealousy. It had been forgotten long since, in that breathless hour in tno bungalow gardejj, life had become a little distorted, but since then it had assumed luo normal. Miss During, ol Kendon Hall, need scarcely distress licrseii over tno presence m tho village or an in-signiiicaiu little girl, however pretty. Antony, Marcia told herself, was the last man to bo captivated by a dowdy little nobody, even if she had a pretty face. “1 used to call her ‘Little Lady Mystery’’ at first,” Miss Josey said, “but she didn’t like it, so i had to change her name.”

“She doesn’t look very mysterious,” objected Marcia indifferently. She had long since learned how impossible it was to get rid of Aiiss Josey before she had had her gossip. “Oh, don’t you thins so?” The voice was one of genuine disappointment. "Think, she came all unexpectedly in a blaze of fire! Most romantic, wasn’t it? 1 always say she rose from the flames like a sphinx—or is it a phoenix? 1 never can remember.” “Or a salamander,” suggested Aiiss Deriug with a smile. “No, Alias Josey, it’s not a bit of good trying to invent thrilling stories about your guest, for you know quite well that you wflre expecting her. Dr. Skene said so.’i -Miss Josey looked injured, “I wasn’t expecting her that night, at anyrate, and it was very odd her coming with no luggage.” Miss Deriug hold up a reproving linger. “Now you know that nurses always travel light.” “Bui she hasn’t been a nurse for very long,” persisted tho other obstinately.

“Dr. Skene said his niece had spent most of her time in Melbourne, but Baba never speaks about tho colonics, and when I ask her a question she always seems embarrassed.”

“.Most of us hate being eross-ques-tioned.” Aiiss Josey became reproachful. “1 wouldn’t do such a thing,” sho asserted. “Still it was odd that when Grisly came and asked me to befriend his niece”—not for words would the little lady have mentioned tho hated word lodger—“ho didn’t call her Barbara. T’m almost certain that tho name he used was Esther—‘my niece Esther’—that is what ho said, unless I’m very much mistaken.”

“I never knew anyone as fond of mysteries as you are/’ laughed the younger woman. “Shall I explain this one to you? The little nurse’s name is probably Esther Barbara Mayne, and she has dropped the former because the Latter is so much prettier. Now you just notice whether some of her letters are not addressed Bliss E. B, Blayne.” “She never has any letters, not a single one.” . “Oh, surely!” Blarcia said, without actually intending to invito further gossip. The trinkets jingled; this time because the wearer was nodding her head so emphatically. “It’s true, it’s quite, quite true. She’s never had a letter, and she never talks about her people, and she doesn’t like being asked about her past life. It’s no good you laughing at me. J tell yqu_Baha ia-.a mystery Fancy

a real live mystery staying with little me! But I’m going to find out all about her—not to make mischief, you know. I’m much too fond of her. But I do like to know things, don’t yon?” Marcia Dering looked grave; she was one of tho few women who do not take an inordinate interest in other people’s affairs, hut she knew the utter futility of attempting to lecture her companion. A thought had come to her which seemed to explain what Miss Josey chose to term “the mystery.” Her quick eye had noticed the plain gold ring Barbara Mayne had worn on the night of her arrival at Kendon; it seemed to her significant that the girl wore it no longer.

(Continued, daily.)