NEW STORY.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 16115, 25 April 1918, Page 8

NEW STORY.

[All Rights Reserved.] THE DIAMONDS OF DEATH.

By DAVID WHITELAW;

Autho rof “The Princess Galva.” “Tnn Secret of Chanrillc,” “The ManWith the Red Beard.” etc. [Our readers are informed that all_ characters in this story are purely imaginary, and if the name of any living person happens to be mentioned no personal reflection is intended.] CHAPTER 111. THE PARIS HOUSE OF CAR LAI LIS AND CARLA IRS. The Paris branch of the banking house of Carlairs and Carlairs was situated at the end of an unpretentious courtyard in the Rue Scribe, a little backwater of tbe capital, sedate and unfrequented, but still within sound ot the great surging boulevards. There was Tittle in the outward aspect of the offices to speak of the important position held in the gay city by the concern presided over by Sir Hector Carlairs. The baronet himself seldom now came to Paris. Since the death ol his wife Sir Hector had lived a. retired life, and the monthly visits to the. Rue Scribe had (Involved upon his sou. _ a duty which to Hubert was frankly distasteful. Frankly, that is, to the world, for if one wore to peep in upon Mr. Hubert Carlairs on a. certain afternon of January, one would bo foreed to the conviction that that gentleman s lines instead of. as he would have had the. world believe, being cast in desolation. were cast in very pleasant places indeed. For of all pleasant places upon a sunshiny winter afternoon there are tew more pleasant titan a front floor apartment in the Hotel few gayer sights than the Hue de Rivoli with its string of smart carriages and gleaming motors, its well-dressed men and exquisitely boi'urred women. Across [ho street, beyond the tall railings, the noble architecture of the Tuileries! showed .against the clear blue of the winter sky. Hubert Carlairs stood at one. ot the long windows drawing on his gloves and looking down upon the animated scone below him From his Horn burg but and his -sable collar to his immaculate boots, the son of Sir Hector Carlairs was the beau ideal oi the Parisian milor. He was a handsome man. dark, and'with a skin of clear olive that was a legacy from a mother who had been in her day the loveliest woman in London society. The man gave a glance at the gold watch strapped to his wrist. Five o’clock. The hour of the. absinthe, as it is known in Paris; that delicious hour when one throws off the thought of dingy offices and sits with one’s friends upon the terrace of one of the cafes and watches the crowd of cosmopolitan idlers thronging the, broad pavements. And Hubert Carlair’.s favourite cafe was the Dc la Paix. from the corner ol which one can sit and smoke and watch half Paris. He turned from the window and, os ho crossed the room, saw for the lirst time an envelope lying upon the table. Evidently it had come while ho was at his office, and he had tailed to .see it when he entered. He took it up and hold it to the faint light that came in at the window. There was something in the small cramped writing that caused a frown to settle for a moment upon his face, a, frown that passed only to return as he. slit the envelope and read the contents of the letter it contained.

The man road it twice, then crumpled the sheet of paper between bis nervous lingers and sank into a chair, and sat there staring out over the darkening gardens of the Tuilcrios. He took off his hat and passed a silk handkerchief across his forehead. For perhaps five minutes he sat there motionless, then, smoothing out the letter upon his knee, he folded it carefully and placed it between the leaves of his pocket-book. Tin? hour of the absinthe would not appear upon this particular January afternoon to Ire so pleasant a function to Mr. Hubert Carlairs as that gentleman usually found it. The opal liquor in the goblet before him had remained untasted for half an hour, the cigar he had lighted upon* taking his seat had long since gone out, and at least three salutations from pa.sser.s-hy had been unheeded. For a moment a little gleam of interest showed in Hubert’s face—it was when an urchin passed shouting out the late edition of the Prcsso. , The man leant, eagerly forward and signed to the gamin, and, having bought a paper, he opened it at the racing news. Ho smiled bitterly as he refolded the T’resse. Hubert Carlairs finished his absinthe at a draught. Two blows had fallen upon him within the hour. And yet. had he taken the trouble to ask himself, ho would have seen that one at least of the blows could not have been in any event long averted, Lewison was not the man to put up with evasive answers and specious promises for ever, even from a, man in sueli a position in the world as Hubert Carlairs. Simon I.ewison was. as be often told his clients, not in business for his health, and however anxious and willing iic might be to assist his friends, business was business, and the interest upon moneys that he had been good enough to advance must be fully paid. The letter that Hubert had found awaiting him that afternoon at the Hotel Naudin had been courteous in the extreme—deadly courteous. At every smooth sentence |)ermed by Simon Lewison, Hubert had' seen in his mind the man’s oily smile, heard the low. whining voice. The heavily-quilled signature with which Simon Lewison had signed himself as “dear Mr. Hubert Carlair’s humble servant” was full of aggressiveness and carried in its brutal caligraphy, as doubtless it was meant to carry, its inexorable message. As a matter of fact, as Hubert read the letter for the third time as he sat upon the terrace of the Cafe do la Paix, the carefully-worded sentences of Mr. Lewison resolved themselves into the intimation that if Mr, Hubert Carlairs did not within one month of tho date written beneath the die-sunk heading of Conduit Street, Piccadilly, pay to Mr. Simon I.ewison the sum of eight thousand three hundred pounds, being moneys advanced and interest accruing thereon, the said Mr. Simon Lewison would bo under the necessity, the re-

grotfnl necessity. of handing Mr. Hubert Carlair’s promissory notes to his father, Sir Hector Carl airs. That was the blow that had been impending and had fallen with such force that m ternoon in the Hotel Naudin. The second blow was. by comparison, unimportant. Tbe fact that “Hainan It” bad failed to land the Prix dh Hois merely made the necessity of 'action the more urgent. In other words, the racing nows in the (’rosso had shown plainly to Hubert that the turf was not the way out of bis difficulties, and that .something must be done, and chat right quickly. In fact, Hubert was rather glad that Hainault had been left at the post and so had missed Ids chance of the Prix du Hois. True, it woufd have meant a few thousand francs in his pocket, but any ease that might have brought him would have boon the ease that a condemned criminal experiences when his execution is postponed for a week. A few thousand' francs would, in the case of Hubert Carlairs, serve but to put off the evil day. It was possible, just possible, that Simon Ijcwison would consent to hold his hand for a month for a few thousand francs—and the scheme that had for weeks been simmering in the brain of Mr. Hubert Carloirs might just as well bo put in motion now as in a month's time. And so. action forced upon him. Hubert Carlairs ordered another absinthe, and at the same time requested the waiter to bring him materials for writing. Between sips of the Pinaud Frcres Mr. Hubert Carlairs wrote a letter to Monsieur Thoma.s Bannister, No. 19, Hue .Richelieu. It was not a long letter, and it was signed with initials only, for it is as well, when writing to the Thomas Bannisters of the world, that one should not unduly commit oneself, Hubert committed himself only so far as to suggest that ho would‘be at the Cafe d’Harcourt that night at eleven. Always there is a certain .satisfaction in having taken the plunge one has been meditating, in having burnt one’s boats behind one—and reaction, with its soothing balm, caino to Hubert Carla irs at the moment, when ho saw the messenger ho had summoned disappear in the crowd_ upon Ills way to the Rue Richelieu. True, there was yet time to withdraw from the perilous path he had mapped out for himseJi. Rive hours remained to him before ho would meet Bannister in the d’Harcourt—five hours in which he could weigh and rc-weigh the pros and cons of the desperate undertaking. Again, those live hours might be most profitably spent in deciding ways and means of working out details. A moment’s reflection, “however, told Hubert that ho would bo wise, to leave such details in the more capable hands of his partner. Thomas Bannister ho knew to be a past master in the art of intrigue, who would gather up tbe many threads and make order from what was at present a chaotic scheme. No, it would be better for Hubert to clear his mind of schemes and confusing details and spend the, five bums in a manner befitting die Queen of Cities and the fine winter evening. A little dinner at tbe Taverno Royal, and perhaps coffee at Maxim’s. Then a couple of hours at the Folios Borgeres would bring him to 11 o'clock nniT die Cafe d’Harcourt. He would not. return to the hotel and dress; the habitues of the. cafe in the Batin Quartier were apt to look askance at broadcloth and fine linen. Also, it would be pleasanter sitting here, for an hour than returning to the Hamlin, pleasanter far in the little angle of the glass windscreen of tbe Cafe do la Paix, watching the changing life, of the. boulevard ami awaiting the time when the call of appetite should suggest a stroll to the Rue Rovale and the Taverno. From which it may bo inferred that the mind of Mr. Hubert Carlairs was able to adapt itstlf to the, needs of the moment. {Continued daily.)