LOVE WINS THRUGH

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXVII, Issue 16507, 7 August 1919, Page 8

LOVE WINS THRUGH

POWERFUL STORY OF ROMANCE AiVD MYSTERY,

l;v BEX BOLT,

Author of “The Lady of the Miniature, “Love Finds the Ciue,” “The Sin of Silence,” etc., etc. CHAPTER X. On a bright May day, Sir Philip rcotl, aw unipainea by nis fiancee and Miss Sherwood, descended nom a car ,ii the entrance to Burlington Hoi sc. Just as they did so an aequai nance or Stella’s hailed her laughingly. “Fie Stella! Aon also flock to the fashionable sensation.” “Thu fashionable sensation?” laughed Steliu m reply. “1 do not understand.” “No?” laughed her friend. “Do you menu to say that you have not heard ol the picture of whicli everyone is liking, tile one which society has nicknamed 'The Murderess?’ ” Stella smiled. “We only came up to town yesterday, and have had no chance of hearing much. yet. But what is there special about the picture?” “it’s a problem picture, in the stylo of the Eon. Joint (..oilier. You look at die picture, ami according to your nature, interpret it and pass judgment. Hie subject is noi. the dice;fullest, and .t has a challenging tale roil answer the question as you lute, nd already society is divided as to the .msv.or. -'Ot having seen the picture as yet 1 shad- not describe it to you, isteila. in n.e minutes you will beliold it lor yoursel;. -And there is another pic-ure by the .-.am,; artist, ul a diffeient order, a land:..ape. Pm told, wivh 'the odd title, ‘Hell's Gate.’ . No one seems to know anything oi the artist, who is clearly a new arrival, and as both his pieturi s are on the line he seems to nave arrived pretty thoroughly.” What is ills name?” asked Stella curiously. “Let me think. It’s something quite humble, i know. Cottage—no. Cot,av! that’s the name—J. Cottar, i hough uhat ilie J. stands tor I can’t tell you, .Liber., as like as not.” Stella. laughed at her friend as they followed Sir Philip and M.iss Sherwood through the turuMue, and, catalogues in hand, moved as directly as they eculd towards the .sensation of the hour. They had no difficulty in locating it. A small crowd at the far cud of one of the rooms caught the attention of ..'fella’s friend. “This way,” she said with decision. There isn’t another picture in iiic exuihilion that would attract so in any people.” She hurried Stella forward, and presently they lolled themselves on the edge' of the people crowding round a largo picture. Stella’s friend stood an tiptoe and looked over the shoulder of a stout gentleman immediately in front of her'. Then she gave an exclamation. “Wh.y! Stella, it is ” She broke off, and whispered quickly “pull vour veil down before you I lick.” “But why?” “Never mind! Do as I toll Tonal once. And prepare for a surprise.” Something in her friend’s manner told Stella "that she was quite in earnest, and without parley, she dropped her veil.- As the stout gentleman moved aside, Stella stepped into his place, and then stood quite still, staring at the picture, her heart beating wildly. The subject was an unusual one. in a spacious room, which served for background, stood a girl tall and slim all in white, and witli a wealth of golden hair. Her clear-cut face was very pale, and in her grey eyes, staring towards tne halfopen door, Avas a look of mingled horror and apprehension. In her hand was a poi.gnard sturned with blood, blood also flecked the white dress, and at her feet lav a man. whoso attitude, though his face was hidden, left the beholder in no doubt that he was dead. As her eves fell on this strange picture, Stella Sherwood experienced a great shock. Her mind instantly flow back to the flat off the Place Pigallc, and she. knew that she was looking at a representation of the terrible thing that had befallen her there on that dreadful afternoon a year ago. The outlines of the room were the same, the colour of the man’s clothing lying huddled on the floor was tho same, and the girl was unquestionably a portrait of herself—of herself when she had stood, waiting after the knock upon the door. Availing and watching in an | agony for the person whom the opouI in.g door avus to rc\ T cal. i .She stood, .staring at the pictured | tragedy that to her was so real, like i a pel-son turned to stone, experiencing | again all the emotions of that terrible 1 afternoon. Her friend watched her | curiouslv, then plucked her arm. i “Stella,” she Avhisporcd, “that girl is j marvellously liko you. You haven t I been posing as a model, have you?”

1 Iter friend, checked by tho abruptness of tho reply, fell silent, and Stella ‘ still looked at the picture ; but now she hud herself avcll in hand, and was listening to the comments of the curious. One especially she gUA-o car to. A pretty Avoinan, after one glance at tho picture, had turned to her escort, a tall, shrewd-faced man, who had taken out’ a monocle the bettor to examine the painting. . , _., . “Jim, what do you think? Did that n-irl kill the man? You are a barrister, and you ought to bo able to deCldf'.” For a moment the man did not speak, and Stella found herself Availing for his , answer with a sharp anxiety. Then the barrister laughed. , “Not guilty!” ho pronounced. “But arc you sure, Jim Tho girl ' looks afraid,* and that blood on her ; dress as well as that poignard in her j "“Look at tho face, tho byes!” broke, i in the barrister. “There’s innocence in every line, and tho horror and fear in tiio ‘eves arc not those of a person who has" just mitrdcrcd another. The ‘ <■ ii-l is suffering from the shock of the 1 discovery she had made, and udnlst she ! is afraid of what is behind that door, I she is not necessarily afraid of herself, i if she could tell her story, and it i | could examine her, I could establish j her innocence in tu'o ticks. “Quito sure, Jim?” . , “Quito sine, my dear Lctty, if that s any consolation to yon,” replied the barrister laughingly. “It is a consolation, Jim. Yon can lauo-li at me if von liko, but I couldn t bear to think that such a race girl had done a thing like that. ' Stella Sherwood gave a sigh of relief. The barrister’s words had brought consolation to her also. It he found the i Hrl in the picture innocent, it was hc- ] cause it had been part of the artist's | intention to suggest that, notwithstand-

big tho ambiguous title. But who could the artist bo who knew the details sot forth in the picture? Whatever other p'-oplc thought the painting was no imaginative study, that she was certain of. for such a likeness as that between the girl of the picture and her self could scarcely he an accidental one. Someone knew of tho events of that afternoon in Paris. Someone had seen her- ”

Her thoughts broke off abruptly, and a startled look camp on her face. She" stared at the signature in the corner of the picture. “J. Cottar.”

Her mind guessed it for a pseudonym, and a second later she recognised it for a very transparent one. If tho lasttwo letters of the snrraanc were set in front of tho first four, tho name thus reached— T. Arcott—cxplained the mystery of the artsit’s knowledge, revealed in tho picture. But John Arcott was dead. Ho—Yet was he? Suppose he was alive? SupposeTho colour came hack in her face as she turned hastily to her friend. “Nora.” she said quickly, “I want to see that other picture of Mr. Cottar’s. Where is it?”

“In the next room,” replied her friend.

Without a word Stella hurried forward, oblivious of the fact that Sir Philip ami her aunt had just , joined the crowd in front of the , picture “Guiltless?” Nora followed her and. overtaking her, asked a question. “Stella, do you know J. Cottar?” “I know no one of that name,” answered Stella evenly.

“No! I was going to suggest that if you did Sir Philip ought to horsewhip him publicly. Unless tho likeness is accidental it is shameful for a man to use your face for a subject like that.”

Stella Sherwood did not reply. Half-a-dozen people round a picture halfway down the second room attracted her attention, and with unerring instinct she moved towards them, As they dreAV near two men Averc offering comment on the picture picture. “Rather a disappointment after ‘Guiltless?’ ” said one, “bin good, for all that. Not so sensational, of course.” “No, but fine. The colouring is great. T tie, sea. the sky, the trees—hut Avhat's that thing on the hill there?”

“It looks like a, sign-post. No—bv jove, it’s a semaphore, AA’hat on earth-—?”

Stella did not catch his next words. A hand Avas laid on her arm, and turning, she looked into the distressed face of her aunt. “Stella, my clear, I nm very worried for you. There’s a picture in the next room—the one that Nora here Ava.s describing ”

Yes, auntie, I know. I have seen

“I am glad you take it so coolly,” said Miss Sherwood. Avith manifest relief. “I was afraid it would upset vou. Ido not know J. Collar, hut il I did ” “Stella, have you seen ?” T.,e voice was Sir Philip Arcott’s, and there aa as a rather angry note in it. But, as Stella turned, it broke oil' abruptly. 'The girl looked at him wonderingly. He was staring at the picture winch others, looking for a new sensation, found disappointing. But it Avas clearly not so for him. His eyes seemed riveted, upon it, and a iter stnring_ at it for a few seconds he exclaimed: “New Caledonia ! By jove!” “Is that s«?” asked Stella quickly.

“I’m certain of it. That’s tho Harbour of Noumea, and the hill behind there is the HiTl of Pain. That thing on the top that looks like a distant directing-post is the prison semaphore, and if you look closely yon can-see the prison quarries on the hillside there. I wonder who could have painted it?” “The same man who painted that girl who is so like rue in the next room,” answered Stella, quietly. “You don’t say?” Sir Philip’s-amaze-ment was extreme. He met her-glance, and there, a. as a question in her eyes. “1 may have been mistaken,” he half-whispered. “Y'ou must haA'o been.” “But the warder was sure. Ho said —” “He must have been mistaken also,” ans-wered Stella, in a steady voice, as she turned to look at tho picture nneAv. (To bo Continued.)