HEARTH AND HOME.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 9913, 30 July 1910, Page 4

HEARTH AND HOME.

which took thorn to a cross-way .where five roads met. M. Lenormand, without hesitation, chose the on© on the left, the, Saint-Cucufa Road. As a matter of fact, at the top of the slope that runs,down'to the lake, they met the other Doudeville brother, who shouted: , - , "They are in a carriage—half a mile away." The chief did not stop. He sent the taxi flying down the incline, rushed fclong the bends, drove round the lake and suddenly uttered an exclamation of triumph. Right at the top of a little hill that stood in front of them he had seen the hood of a carriage. Unfortunately he had taken the wrong road and had to back the maohine. When he reached the place where the roads branched, the carriage was still there, stationary. And, Kiddenly. while he was turning, he »aw a girl spring from the carriage, jk man appeared on the step. The girl stretched out her arm. Two reSorts rang out, one after the other. She haa taken bad aim, without a doubt, for a head looked round the otb>' of the hood and the man, catching sight of the motor-cab, gave bis horse a great lash with the whip and it started off at a gallop. The next moment a turn of the road hid the carriage from sight. j M. Lenormand finished his tacking in ii few seconds, darted straight up the incline, passed the girl without stopping, and turned round boldly. He found himself on a steep, pebbly forest road, which ran down between dense woods and which could only bo followed very slowly and with the greatest caution. But what' did that matter I Twenty yards in front of him the carriage, a sort of two-wheeled cabriolet, was dancing over the stones, drawn, or rather held back, by a horse which knew enough only to go very carefully, feeling its way and taking no risks. There was nothing to fear; escape was impossible. And the two conveyances went shaking and jolting down-hill. At one moment they were so close together that M. Lenormand thought of alighting and running with his men. But he felt the danger .of putting on the ' brake on so steep a slope; and he went on,'pressing the enemy closely, like a ■prey which one keeps within sight, witnin touch. , " We've got him, chief, we've* got . him 1" muttered the inspectors, excited by the unexpected nature of the chase. At the bottom the way flattened out into a road, that ran towards the Seine, towards Bougival. The horse, on reaching level ground, set off at ' a jog-trot, without hurrying itself and keeping* to the middle of the road. A violent effort shook the taxi-cab. \lt appeared, instead of rolling, to proceed by bounds, like a darting ■ fawn, and, slipping along the roadside slope, ready to smash any obstacle, it caught up the carriage, came' level with it, passed it—— An oath from M. Lenormand . . . shouts of fury . . . The carriage was empty 1 The carriage was empty. The horse was going along peacefully,: with the reins on its back, no doubt returning to the stable of some inn in the neighbourhood, where it had been hired for the day. Though choking with anger, the chief-detective merely said: "The major must have jumped out during the few seconds when we lost sight of the carriage, at the top of the descent. 5 " ''We have only to beat the woods, chief, and we are sure " "To return empty-handed. The beggar ifl fax by this time. He's not one of those who are caught twice ia one day. Oh, hang it all, hang it all I" < They went back to the young girl, whom they found in the company of Jacques Doudeville and apparently none the worse for her adventure, ii. Lenormand introduced himself, offered to take her back home, and at once questioned her about the English Major Farbury. , She expressed astonishment. , "Heis neither English nor a major; and his name is not Parbury." ''Then what is his name?" " Juan Ribeira. He is a Spaniard sent -by his Government to study the working, of the French schools." ." A3 you please. His name and his nationality are of no importance., He 1r the man we're looking for. Have / you known him longP" " A fortnight or so. He had heard about a school which I had founded at Garches, and he interested himself in my experiment to the extent of proposing to make x me an annual grant, on the one condition that he might come from time to time to observe the progress of my pupils. I had riot the right to refuse. . . ." "No, of course not; but you should have consulted your acquaintances. Is not Prince Sernine a friend of yours? He is a man of good counsel." N "Oh, I have the greatest confidence in him: but "he is abroad at present." " Did you not know his address?" "No. And besides, what could 1 have said fo him? That gentleman behaved very well. It was not until to-day . . . But I don't know if . . " I beg you, mademoiselle, speak frankly. You can have confidence in me also." "Well, M. Ribeira came just now. He told me that he had been sent by a French lady who was paying a short visit to Bougival, that this lady had a little girl whose education she would like to entrust to me, and that she -.had asked me to come without delay. The matter seemed quite natural. And, as this.is a holiday, and as M. Ribeira had hired a carriage which was waiting for him at the end of the road, I made no difficulty about accepting a seat in it." " But what was his object, after all P" She blushed and said: ." To carry me off, quite simply. He confessed it to •me after half an hour . . ." " Do you know nothing about himP" " No." "Dees he live in Paris?" " I suppose so." "Has he ever written to you? Do you happen to have a few lines in his handwriting, anything which he left behind him, that may serve as a. clue.?" "No clue at all. . . . Oh, wait a minute ... but I don't think that has - any importance . . "Speak, speak . . . please ..." " Well, two daya ago, the gentleman asked permission to use my typewriting machine; and he typed out—with difficulty, for he had evidently had no practioe—a letter of which I saw the address by accident." "What was the address?" "Ho was writing to the 'Grand Journal/ and he put about twenty stamps into the envelope.'' "Yes ... the agony column, no doixbt," said M. Lonormand. "I have to-day's number with me, ehief," said Gourel. M. Lenormand unfolded the sheet and looked at the eighth page. Presently he gave a start. He had read the following (sentence, printed with the usual abbreviations*: —■ "To any person knowing Mr Steinweg. Advertiser wishes to know if he is in Paris, and his address. Reply through this column." "Steinweg!" exclaimed Gourel. "But that's the very man whom Dieusy is bringing to you 1" " Yes, yes," said M. Lenormand to himself; "it's the man whose letter to Mr Kesselbach I intercepted, the scan who put Kesselbach on the track of Pierre Leduo. ... So they too want - particulars about Pierre Leduc and his past? . . . They too are groping in the dark? . . ." He rubbed his hands. Steinweg was at his disposal. In less than an hour Steinweg would have spoken. In less than an hour the murky veil which oppressed him and which made the Keseelbach case the most agonising and the most _ impenetrable that ho had ever had in hand: that veil would be torn asunder. (To be continued.) •Porsonal advertisements in the French newspapers ara charged by the line, not by the word, and consequently nearly every word is dipped down to two, three, or four Utters*—Translator's Not*.

FASHIONLAND. [Fbom Our London C'obbesfondent.] June 3. Last week I wrote—and meant what 1 9aid—that I had no idea, until mourning became general in England out of respect for King Edward, how greatly it becomes most women, and what dignity and grace it seems to impart to the wearer. Now 1 read in an article on "Fashions," by Mrs Eric Pritchard, that appeared in Saturday's " Daily Telegraph " the following:— "Mourning to look well should not be subjected to economical considerations—that is to say, beautiful fabrics of crepy texteure must be employed, while silks and soft flouncing draperies of black chiffon are almost essential, and lend dignity to the general aspect of mourning dress. It is, however, an entirely different matter to look well in black serge and alpaca. The frock of ' utility' in mourning cottons and linens' is seldom becoming, although, of course, if perfectly cut and expensively supported by the proper hat, it can be irreproachable in style."

How reconcile this with the evidences of our own evesP Naturally the condemned "utility" dress' and cotton frocks, when perfectly cut and expensively supported, would be expected to bo " irreproachable in style," but the whole contention is incorrect. I have known, and my readers will have known also, many_ women who in plain frocks have looked queenly, but who, when in elaborately trimmed dresses, failed to attract the least attention on the score 0* good dressing. Good dressing or otherwise is always a matter of individuality,/and no fashion advice can dare to be general, since few women can safely follow the same rules. Fashion herself is a dictatorial autocratic dame, who asks no one's advice and considers no one's figure or purse, and she cannot be universally followed save with disastrous results to at least some of her slaves. A little while ago I was talking to one of the leaders of London's most exclusive set. She is a sweet little person, interesting, and very_ charming in face and manner, albeit a little affected, and she is dressed by great dressmakers. In figure she is petite, and, as she stood, her clothes were probably worth about £9O at a rough estimate. Now, she is a great lady, with a wonderful line of ancestors whose names we all know, and so, wherever she goes, everyone takes a "great deal of notice of her. She wore that day a navy blue costume, with a very tight skirt, many costly elegancies such as boots, gloves, laces, etc., a huge hat of a dull green, shade, that might have been a great green milkpan so hideous and plain was it and so absurd. She has, among other beauties, lovely dark eyes and a low classic forehead. The forehead, on this occasion, was completely swamped by the hat, and the eyes, just snowing when, she held her beautiful little head back, were like frightened rabbit's eyes appearing from under some great-tent. So much for allowing oneself to be dressed I But for her position this particularly shining light amongst fashion's votaries would not have been, in the very least remarkable. It is thought that perhaps Queen Mary's sensible objection to bending to any dictates of the wilful dame may influence her feminine subjects, and, if that is the case, a happy day is dawning at last. _ Certain it is that Her Gracious Majesty's patriotism in buying everything she wears that it is possible to get in her own country, in England, has already borne goocf fruit.

Tight skirts —"toddle," "hobble," "mummy," etc., as they have come to be called—are now said to be doomed, and it will be good news to those who could not but dislike the garments because of their extreme foolishness and unpleasantness, and to those, also, who felt bound to don "the latest fashion." The skirts have been most uncomfortable and really dangerous, also, and, with glorious summer just ahead, the absurdity of wearing frocks that put boating, walking, tennis, croquet, and, in fact, any kind of exercise whatever, quite out of the range of possibilities, seems to have at last sunk into women's minds. Did one fall downstairs, or getting into any vehicle, there one must stay till ignominiou6ly picked up. with a mummy skirt on. How very silly our sex can be, to be sure! All around have I seen women for the last few months in these hideosities, illustrators of up-to-date stories gown the heroine in them, stage beauties are so dressed, yet never have I heard one person—man or woman, dressmaker or client—say he or she liked them I And this is a free country I

A pathetic instance of death being caused by worn-out^ shoes was shown, at an inquest held this week on a maid, Ineani, who was killed during fire practice at the Junior United Service Club. Her shoes showed, said the captain of the club's fire brigade, a sharp-cut edge projecting out of the line of the heel, and had the girl gone down the chute first during a fire she plight have been killed, mid also prevented anyone else from escaping. One of the assistants of Messrs Merryweather's, the fira experts, said the imperfect heel without doubt caused the accident, and he had known only one similar case in twenty-three years. The jury, returning a verdict of accidental death, said more oare should be taken in first examining shoes. It is not always easy to choose a style for a black evening dress, though most women look well in blaok at night, and the following taken from a daily paper may be of some help to my readers". It could be modified to_ suit the wearer's purse, but I give it just as it appeared. Black ninon de soie is the fabric chosen for the gown itself, made up over black soft satin, and lightly draped at the sides of the skirt, where the folds are caught with Inft'ht jet buckles. Over the ninon skirt there is a tunic of very fine black Chantilly lace, while the bodice is draped with the same lace, arranged in bolero fashion. The lace draperies on the corsage are caught together with jet chains and buckles, and on the shoulders a similar

THE DOMESTIC CIRCUh