CHAPTER II.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 9674, 16 October 1909, Page 2

CHAPTER 11.

; CONGSBN'S THE UXXXPICntD. ' •: - Having concluded his meal, the thinfaced stranger rose, and with another quick inquisitive glance at me, again. left the restaurantHJar. ■ "That fellow certainly seems unduly interested in us/* I remarked to my companion jsrhen he had gone.; *rr felt once or twice much inclined to spealc to .- him. He had his eyes fixed upon you the wh*le tinie;"; v ' '■/:■ ' . She gave vent to a little sigh of relief, eayhigr ' > i . " Yes. But—well, I'm glad you refrained from creating a scene, Mr Laird. Probably he won't a-eturn." ' I had ventured on the remark ;in, the 'hope that?she might admit the trtjth, The story about the incident at ;■? :/sLf\ ■ theatre I did not believe, arid I think she realised that I doubted it., - X*% after all, such a slight perversion xrf the truth was certainly permissible in a pretty woman, and, indeed, r there could be no two opinions regarding'-her extraordinary beauty. ' -'''-.■!-'''"''^-z Yet there wasi'.an air of xnystkry about herself and about her meyemehW that was distinctly curious. Even h* nationality she was carefully concealing. \-.:-,- :•; '■•. '. :■ •. . ''.''■.'\\. The afternoon; wore slowly by a» *£ halted in York, and then sped . on, swiftly towanls Grantham. :. Her depression, apparently caused by the. stranger's proximity, had now given place to high spirits and meriir inent, and in the course el our chat she told me that she was on her way to join her father, who was. living in Hoanslow, tibout twelve miles out of London westward. " Your best way will be t© go by train from King's Grose to Hammersmith, and then by the electrio tranu That is," I added, "if you', have no luggage."/ "I've only my dreatfngj-bag," ah* said. "I went thai"- way once before^ It is much easier than going by train from Waterloo." ; ."■'■ •■:V ;';~: Then we lapsed into silence, and she began to read her magazine, while I, took up my paper,. . . ; ''^ "We had dißctwsed many things, and even, the apprehensien consequent upon the receipt of the telegram had now disappeared. 1- V She sat with her great hlue\ j»£jf; fixed now upon the fleeting'landscape, apparently thinking deeply. Then, after a time, she opened her dnspuigbag, and, taking frem her small tuoV ting-b*ok a half-sheet of notepaper, pencilled something upon it. From her manner I knew that she did not wish me to see. This excited my curiesity all the more, and I the**fore managed to turn my paper se that. I.owild. get a Jpovert glimpse b£ whf* she was writing. It was unintelligible to me, but in wonder what it could meany Iglattoed at it from time'to time uiinoticed of her, and made a mental note of it. ■ What she wrote alowly and uitt great oare was t3u»:r- * 8. O. 3. 12. 3. Euf«ne. , 9. 24. 18. IS. 2. 9. 16. 6. 1. 2. S. 22. 12. 18. Rue Blanche, 196 a. 3m«. The Black Three. More than once, while tracing that puzzling array of figures she raised her eyes to see if I were looking, and; having satisfied herself that I was-not x continued. Then, having finished, sbt 1 carefully folded the paper and ehppW fit into her glove. ' _.; :; .■ > i Was it possible that she intended to 1 give it in secret to the thin-faced ! stranger? • ! In order that I should not forget tha* : curious arrangement of figures, I roa*^

■m

and, making an excuse that I wanted a telegraph form, passed through into the next car, when, upon tthe back of an envelope, I wrote down what I had just committed to memory. That it was some cypher was quite plain, and it was. without a doubt intended for the man who had exchanged those curious secret signs with her as we had eaten our meal together. The Rue Blanche I There were many streets of that name in France. Nearly every provincial town boasted one^and as lor the Rue Blanche in Paris, *! knew it well. It ran steeply from the ohuroh of the Trinite up to the Montmartre. But who were "The Black {Three," I wondered? The mystery surrounding " this girl Liliah Ashcroft increased as each hour .went by. * ■ - I returned again to my seat, but as darkness drew in and we approached j Peterborough, there was every evidence of a gathering fog. The train slowed down, and we were stopped once or twice by adverse signals. Instead of swinging through Peterborough on the non-stop run from Granth&m to London, as is usual, we pulled up for fully ten minutes outside the station. "There's a bad fog in London, they say," the attendant remarked to me as ' WnerOTpon I turned to my charming fittle companion, and remarked: v "That will be a bit awkward for you, T fear, Miss Ashcroft. To cross London in a* fog is not at all pleasant." , "Oh. II don't mind!" she declared, *JI shall get home all rigfet. I'm used if), travelling, you know." I She still held the scrap of paper with th» cipher message upon it beneath her brown kid glove. For whom could it «be intended P Tea was served, and as we neared London our pace became slower on account of the increasing density of the ■ fog/ I somehow began to regret that in an hour we should part never perhaps to meet again. L mentioned that fact, whereat sne laughed, just a trifle nervously, I thought, and answered: " Oh! the world is really a very small j •place, Mr Laird. You— well, you may perhaps one day hear of me again — who Hear of her ! Why had she not said that I might perhaps see her? " WelL >r I said, " I should be most delighted to renew this very pleasant acquaintanceship, either hore or abroad. You have my address on my card, but — but I have not the pleasure of knowing yours." "Ah!" she replied. "My father and I nave no fixed abode nowadays. We ere nearly always travelling." - " But you said you lived at HounsIbwT "Only temporarily. To-morrow we, may go abroad again." Yes. She was a complete mystery. 6he had attracted me more, perhaps, than any other woman in the whole coarse of my life. I felt a keen anxiety to see her safely to her destination,, yet when I told her so, declaring that the evening was unfit for a lady to be out alone, she laughed at my fears, declaring that 'she was quite well able to take care of herself. At last, more than an hour late, we crept slowly into Kjngfs Crass, where the fog was so thick that the station .was half ©bscured. On alighting I looked around for the thin-faced stranger, but he was no- ■ .where to be seen. With a light mischievous laugh she gave me permission to accompany her as far as the subway, which leads from the Great Northern to the Underground Railway, and through the suffocating blackness we hurried together. Then, just as we were about to part, and when she had taken my hand, she looked at me again with those wistful appealing eyes and said with her pretty accent: "It is awfully kind of you to have looked after me like this, Mr Laird. I . — I wender if we should ever meet •gain, whether you would still be my friend?" "Your friend. Miss Ashcroft P" I echoed. "Why, of course. I'm only too anxious. You have only to send me word' and I shall be ever ready to assist you at any time." :" Ah !" she sighed, deeply. " I— l wonder if you would really be my friend •-^if — well— if you knew the truth." "About what?" " About me." "The truth matters nothing, whatiwer it. may be," was my reply. '•Please rely upon me to remain your friend." "For a second she hesitated. "It is really very good of you," she declared, sighing again. "I now regard you as my true friend. And if we nave never again to meet, perhaps yon may sometimes recollect the day you spent with Liliah Ashcroft — a woman who is outside the j>ate of " Her lips were pressed together, and I saw that tears stood in her splendid •yes. "Why— what are you sayingP" I asked her, her trembling hand still in mine. "The truth," was her response. « Good-Bye." And a second later she had turned and was lost in that hurrying crowd of city workers rushing homewards. As later on I drove to my rooms in Savoy Court, I fell to wondering what tad become of that bearded Btranger .with whom the pretty Liliah had exchanged those carious signs. The fog was censer as I drove towards the Btrand. Indeed the man had to de-

scend from his box, and lead the horse across Oxford Street and down Long Acre and Bow Street into the yard of the Savoy. Surely it was not a night I for any woman to be out alone. j I regretted that the girl had refused | to give me her address at Hounslow, j yet could quite pee that she was ooni cealing from me' certain facts of • which 6he seemed ashamed. And as later on that evening I eat before my fire in the cosy little flat I occupied adjoining ; the Savoy Hotel, I took out the old envelope on which I had scribbled from memory the strange cipher which she had traced. But I could make neither head nor tail of it. Therefore I placed it aside, and afterwards had supper with some friends in the gay red-carpeted restaurant below. Next morning, about twelve o'clock, I was writing letters in my green-and-white sitting-room, the embellishment of which was, according to the proprietors of that great block of residential flats, a triumph of modern decorative art, when my man entered, saying, that a gentleman desired to see me, and handing me a card upon which was inscribed tie name, "Mr Philip Pontifex." A moment later a well-dressed man was ushered in, and we bowed to each ather. His stout, well-nourished, wellclad figure, and broad, round face, with its very thick sensual lips, flat nosn, and carefully cropped hair, were of that international type of professional financier you can meet upon every Stock Exchange in Europe. His eyes, however, were entirely expressionless. Protruding, dark, filmy, they reflected as little of his mind as those of a fish. And yet his narrow, low forehead and heavy jaw showed great strength of will ana resolution, as well as insatiable instincts. He was profuse in his apologies for disturbing me, and when I had invited him to a chair he said " I am here as messenger from — from a lady whose acquaintance I believe you 'have mad* — Miss Lilian Ashcroft." "Yes,," I replied, "I met the lady in question yesterday." "Well," he said, "something— something of a contretemps has happened, and she has sent me to inquire whether yeu would go to her; she desires to see you." "Where?" I inquired, in some surprise. . ' "At Feltham Station— at half-pact nine this evening." " That's beyond Hounriow," I said quickly. "Yes," my visitor said. "A train leaves Waterloo for Feltham at 9.7." " But why hasn't she written to me?" I queried. "She has," wm his reply, and he produced a note from her asking to© to meet her at Feltham, and requesting a verbal reply by the bearer. What could she desire, I wonder? The note was in a neat educated feminine hand which, however, betrayed in certain of its letters the foreign model. "You "have ijo idea of the nature of the lady'is business with me, Mr — Mr Ponttfex?" I asked, looking straight into his dull eyes. "Not th' slightest. Miss Ashcroft merely asked me to call upon you and deliver the message to you in secret." was his reply. '"There appears to be some reason why she does not desire others te be aware of your clandestine meeting with her." " A lover possibly?" He only smiled, without replying. My quick eyes had noted that my visitor was a prosperous man-of-the-world. Therefore I informed him that if Miss Ashcroft so urgently desired to speak with me I would keep the appointment. When he had left I eat staring into the fire and wondering. Why had not my neat little travelling companion telegraphed to me to redeem my promise of assistance? Why had she sent that man Pontifex? What relation could he be to her ? These, and a thousand other thoughts surged through my mind as I sat alone at Tuncheen. Afterwards I had several callers, men I knew, and about six o'clock Soddon, my man, brought me the evening paper, which I lazily opened as I lit a fresh cigarette. It contained a sensation — a sensation which was, to me, intensely interesting. As I read I held my breath in utter amazement. The story, ornamented by great bold head-lines, was utterly astounding. I read every line with keen avidity. Printed in the newspaper, half-way down the column, and embellished by cross head-lines, was the same puzzling array of numerals with the name Eugene, and the address in the Hue Blanche which Liliah Ashoroft had written, in my presence, . and an exact copy of which reposed in my pocket at that moment. The story was unexpected, astounding, startling. Those printed lines danced before my excited gaze. Yes, the blue-eyed girl was a mystery most remarkable and complete. What I read there fascinated and appalled me. I never dreamt that my chance acquaintanceship with that pretty fairhaired girl, 6O chic and so ultra-cosmo-politan, would result in my being drawn into a vorfcex of doubt and mystery. A veritable maelstrom 62 tangled perplexity which from that moment held me fettered, spell-bound, and enthralled just as I venture to believe its narrative — which I have here Bet down in.

black and white, will hold you, my reader, astounded to the end. The story I read in the columns of that newspaper was startling, amazing, undreamed of. And the more so, indeed, because my visitor, Philip Pontifex,. had promised me that I should resume my acquaintance with her that same evening at half-past nine. I glanced at the final head-line of j that curious cipher printed half-way ! down the column

"THE BLACK THREE."

, Yes. Those words were significant — most significant. And yet what I had read formed a problem that was utterly inscrutable.