A TIGHT CORNER

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 16039, 25 January 1918, Page 8

A TIGHT CORNER

[COPYRIGHT.]

By ARTHUR W. MARCHMONT.

Author of "By Right of Sword,” "The Man Who Was Dead,” Etc. CHAPTER XVIII. "LA LUNETTE.” Blount was so elated by this rare stroke of good fortune that he had the greatest difficulty in preventing nis voice from betraying it, and to gam time ho spoke about Estelle's performance, complimenting her fulsomely upon her dancing. , She was quite quick enough, however, to see his motive. Police agents did not waste time in compliments, and thus bv the time they reached the restaurant the panic which had overcome her at the moment of the meeting passed, giving place to curiosity. ‘■JV strong and eager curiosity why this “queer little man,” as she termed him, had forced himself upon her. As they faced one another at "the little table, chosen because of its aloofness frofh the rest, she had a good look at him while he was ordering the supper. She had not been long enough in Eondon to know many Englishmen, but his type was not altogether unfamiliar. The men who scrape acquaintance with music-hall performers on the other side of the Thames are not very distinguished ; and she decided that Simeon Blount—ho had told her his name in the cab—was om a par with the rest of the class, and not an ill-looking specimen. The circumstances of the meeting in Paris came hack- very clearly to her. Tho fierce quarrel with Jean Colonne; her rage and violent abuse of him—regretted ceaselessly and bitterly cluiing every moment of the intervening time; her fear that! he meant to kip her; the iniinite relief when Blount had arrived and her panic-stricken flight. But me could not remember why he had come to the Rue Claude or whether he had given her the reason. Jt struck her now, and not for the first time, that he was in some way connected with Jean’s disappearance - a mystery which cost her hours and hours of fruitless and heart-breaking speculation. Not a moment had passed during which she had not bitterly repented the quarrel and the furious reproaches which had driven him away from her; she loved as passionately as ever, and had searched Paris in the vain hope of finding him that she might throw her Self on her knees to heg his forgiveness. . ' Yet her Jovo for him had instilled caution in all her long search; and no (single word that could in any way unplicate him or endanger his safety had ever passed her lips. Her one consuming purpose was to seek him out, make him fulfil his promise to marry her and, if he refused, kill him or herself. “You haven’t forgotten me, then?” he asked as he poured her out a glass of chianti. "Oh, no.” she replied smiling. ‘You came to the Rue Claude when my ffiend and X were alone there.” ’ "And you bolted—went away, . I mean,” he explained, judging by her broken English ‘that she might not understand the word—“saying you would fetch your father. He never came, yon know.” “He hod gene out and I didn t know it.” She could always lie glibly. "But you didn’t come hack to tell me.” he reminded her with a nod. “I went to find him; and when I got back you and Jean had gone.” His experience of shady clients enabled him to know that she was lying; and he was rather glad. There was obviously something to hide. “Nice fellow that Jean ; but a bit put out that day. He was wild when you didn’t come back.” • “What did he say?” she asked with an irrepressible eagerness which showed him the right track to follow. "I believe he thought I’d scared you away,” he replied laughing. “He told me a lot about you,” and he shook his head knowingly. “What?”

“Part of it I'could see for myself—how beautiful you were. And you are really beautiful, you Know. That needed no telling.” “Flattery’s no good,” he said to himself as she motioned impatiently. “It’s the fellow she’s keen about.” ,• . "What else?” “He wanted to know where I’d sent you, and got quite ratty—angry, I mean. He’s a big fellow and I’m only a little ’un, and I didn’t feel any too comfortable I can tell you for a minute or two.” “He wouldn’t have hurt you. He wouldn’t hurt anyone,” she .protested. “I don’t know that. Anyway I didn’t then, because, you see, I knew him. I had seen what Jean. Boutille could when ” "That is not his name,” interjected Estelle. “I beg your pardon there. I’d seen him doing the strong man business on the stage only the .week before, and; —” .“His name is Colonne, not Boutille, and he was not on the stage—at least, at the time you say,” sho cried impetuously. “Wen, if that doesn’t take the biscuit—l mean surprise me,” he ' said with well acted astonishment, pluming himself on having got the ngnt name. “He must have thought me dot—a fool. I kept calling him Boutille.” “You were long with him then?” “Not so very'long., As soon as he found out I didn’t know anything about you, he shoved mo out of the way and went off to find you.” “To find me? Are you sure?” “That’s what sqid anyway,” lie answered with a shrug. “But I’m bound to say he looked more like chucking himself into the river.” “Don’t. I thought of that. I have never seen him from that day.” “What?” exclaimed Blount, as if unable to believe it. “And after all he said about you? Well, I’m blowed!” and ho threw up his hands and dropped in his seat as if overcome with astonishment. “He must be a brute!” ho added after a moment, thinking a little abuse of him would be judicious. Then he laughed cunningly. “Unless there was another woman in his mind, eh?” and he winked. “Or thought the police were after him ?” “The police were nob after him ; ” protested Estelle angrily. So angrily indeed that Blount knew the shaft had gone home. He winked again. “P’rhaps not, and p’rhaps he didn’t tell me anything of the sort. But it’s no business of mine. He looked like a gaol bird, anyhow.” This was, a mistake, however. The mention of the police had put her on her guard, and she grew more cautious. “1 tell you* the police were not after bin- oqcl. ha did not look .like a, gaol

bird. Ho was ill and , I had nursed him.” "Oh. I .see. , And he got well and then—it was the other girl, eh? Just like ’em.” Clearly jealousy was tho card for him to play. •‘Do you know anything, m’sion?” asWed Estelle slyirply. Blount stared into her eyes meaningly and did not answer, contenting himself with another wink and a sly smile. “You,do.,He said something to you,” she cried, firing. “If I do, I’m not going to tell you. Can’t a man change his mistress without another man giving him away?” (Continued daily.)