DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 10440, 20 April 1912, Page 2

DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND.

(By JOHN K. PROTHERO.) Author of " With Links of Steel," "Rose of the World," etc.

[All Rights Reserved.] CHAPTER V. HONOUR AMONG THIEVES ! Marcello, in one corner of a first-class carriage, gazed forlornly at Anthony in tha other. He had peremptorily hustlrd her into a compartment, himself following, and she was too tired and too wretched to dispute his will. The man in grey had been detained at the Customs for a few minutes, and arrived to find his quarry guarded by the Irishman, who greeted his little sneer with imperturbable politeness. Whatever he resolved ultimately to do with tho adventuress, the Belgian, Anthony decided, should not interfere with her, and he serenely puffed his cigarette right in Demoulin's face. Marcelle had found it in her heart to forgive -him his misdeeds for having kept Demoulin at bay. Anthony's suspicions were more ridiculous than offensive: it was only the Belgian whom sha really feared. The train rushed through the fading daylight at a pace that put the Netherlands Express pitifully in the shade. Her tulips la<ied and altogether dilapidated, lay limp uoon her, lap, She conceived a "sudden Hatred for the shrivelled petals, and decided she felt very miserable.

Her companion, his face bidden behind a newspaper, was very silent, not to say stern. She wished he would speak to her. She might perhaps induce him to smile. Anthony, she reflected, had a charming smile. " Monsieur," she sighed in a small voira.

"My name is Anthony Lyndon." Tiio paper rustled impatiently. "It is, as I remarked, a beautiful nam©. May I not speak to you? I am very lonely." Her voice was absurdly chifdisli tor an adventurer. Ho could have sworn there were tears in her eyes. "Well?" He lowered the paper slowly, frowning across the carriage. Her small white face, her slender figuiu loolii<l pathetic in the dim light. " Monsieur—l mean Mr Anthony Lynodon, why do you think that I am bad?'

" Good girls don't help to get rid of forged notes," he retorteu. " You aro quite sure that the notes are here?"

She touched the envelope, crumpled and battered by tho voyage. "If not notes, what then?" _ " Ah. Monsieur, why can you not believe my explanation? It is a letter that I carry. See, I will even let you look at the addre-s." " I don't want to see it, thaak you. There are limits even to my good nature, Miss Herbert." He scowled and crumpled up the paper angrily. "I don t like you to think I am a thief," she whispered, two large tears quivering from her lashes. He shrugged his shoulders.

"It 18 useless to continue the discussion I I have warned you, entreated you, to throw away that wretched envelope. _ I have even gone to the length of helping you to evade the police. But it is all of no use. You are determined to put your head into tho noose."

" If I could only explain," ehe clasi>ed her hands, with a prodigious 6igh. Barely the professor would make an exception to his rule of silence if he could see this charming Englishman—she alwavs forgot he was Irish 1 But conventual discipline sternly checked the unwarranted thought. She dared not speak; and he must be allowed to think ehe was a thief, though indeed it was a great pity f She shook her head, and wiped her eyes, and looked extremely pretty, and most wistful. Pity tugged at his heartstrings, softening him against his will. " And when you get to London, what do you suppose will happen?" He flung the paper on the floor, crossed over and sat by her side. " I shall meet my father." It was far, far nicer to have him near, she decided, and smiled delightedly. "Will he be at HolbomP" "I think not. I shall be met there by a friend." "You silly child, before you meet your friend you will bo in the safe keeping of Scotland Yard. De-moulin-—the man in grey—has already wired to London for a plain clothes man to meet him. You will be in the dutches of the law before you can turn round."

" But, indeed, what can they do to me?" she asked pitifully. "It is no crime to take a letter to one's father?" "You'll be arrested on suspicion," he returned doggedly It was difficult to act lite a brute, and throw the fear of prison at the girl, but, he reflected, Demoulin would have no Buch scrupleo. She would have but short shrift. "And then, Monsieur Lyndon?" " You will he searched, the envelope will be opened, and." he snapped his fingers, " the cat will be out of the bas with a vengeance." "They will read this letter?" Her eyes wore, round with fear. The professor had told her the consequences that would inevitably ensue -if the precious document were read by the police, ft wa« uvrible to think that nil her friends in Amsterdam, and manv other people she did not know, would be put into prison, if she were arr^-Hed.

" Dostrov the envelope and its eontents :»nrl you will be safe." He watched her closely, trying to follow the workings of her mind. It would Tint have been such a great matter to have taken the tulips and wrested the s<->er"+. from her. Many nnothor man would have done it without scrunle, he refl"/-ted Tlie KnrnaliKtio writ for news toUT him that- a secret veil worth bavins ivns entrusted to the of this girl. Tt would be n. nil fliinTs considered, to sit by mid watch the envelope, destroyed, but it was an ordeal that on fb«» whole he would roofer, to Eppinw the irirl handled by T)etn<->nlin and bis crew.

" Destroy it," he urged again, while

Marcelle knit her brows and rncked her brains to • find the least word of guidance among tho many the professor had said. ~,,., Alas! he had not provided for tho contingency. All she could do was to be silent, and suffer. "I caiinot," she said, with a catch in her voice. "If you plenso will you believe mo, if T swear upon my rosory. thore are no bank-notes here? She took up the silver chain gloaming round her throat, and held it beforo H ' m > ~ . 1 , ~T l) a " Don'*;." ho said quickly, Its not nice to think of a girl like you. little moro than a child, rendy to swear so pliblv. to what's untrue." ' " But. but." fiho clasps her hands, her lip ouivored. " Tl, is an outrage." eho cried, "an outrage to say such things." ..*•■! He was impressed nfainst Ins judgment. She was either very innocent, or a most netress. Truth and nri lie very close together. "Well, well," I hope you'll find Demoulin more easily persuaded," ho remarked, and lit a cigarette with moody "Tlisfaction. Dwnoulin was suroly to find her a difficult nut to crack. But, and there came in his grievance; the Belgian would discover the contents of the packet, while ho, his mouth watering with longing, must sen the finest storv on record pass beyond his rench. "It is not certain that M. Demoulin, as yon call him, will capture me?" ''No" Ho grinned sardonically, " unless vou arc arranging an escape by aeroplane I fear you will be disappointed." " I think not," she looked up at him. her eves ashine. "You will help me." she said coolly, and nodded her pretty head to give this amazing statement emphasis. " Really? Tour suggestions are quit© humorous."

" But you will? You frown, you shako your head, but all the same you will do it. You say to yourself, ' She is a bad girl, a thief, a—what you call —decoy for forgers. Very, very bad. but she is of my country, and so I will helj> her." •■ And I'm. to implicate myself with tho police to save you. What a delightful proposition 1" His eyes twinkled all the same. It would be rare sport to snatch the game from Demoulin, at the moment that individual was anticipating victory. He had a score against tho Belgian to wipe off. They had been concerned together in the unravelling of a series of crimes. Lyndon, eager for the prestige of his 'paper, gave the other important information, and not a little help, on the understanding that he should be given the latest news of the game. The Belgian, however, had taken all and given nothing. The correspondent of a rival daily had the exclusive intelligence of tho gang's capture, and scored a success that the hot-tempered Irishman did not lightly forgive. If he helped the girl to evade Demoulin, he might break her obstinate silence. It would at least delay the hour of her arrest—and his discomfiture.

" What will you do for me if I help you?"

" I will pray for you night and morning," she said softly, " and I wMI give you my heart's thanks."

" It's h risky thing to do." She nodded. " You like risk," she said softly. " So do I. It makes the blood run quick and cold, and gives you hot ataba through your heart."

' If I g©t yon away from Holborn, I must know where you are going?" " I do not know till I meet my friend."

"Who is your friend ?" "That I cannot tell. He will be there." " Do you mean to tell me you propose to moon about the station looking for someone who may be there? Why do you waste your time and mine with such ridiculous fairy tales?" "Now you are angry again. And I don't know what I've done. Is Holborn a big station?" "Yes, Miss Innocence, it is." "Bigger than Flushing?" "My bat, you'll drive me mad. It is bigger than any station you've seen, with people and porters swarming on the platforms." " In that case, I shall go to the entrance and wait."

" And meantime, I am to hold up Demoulin, and the plain-clothes man? " For three minutes only," she pleaded. "I do not ask for more." "And then?" " I shall be gone, and yon will no longer bo troubled." "That doesn't 6uit me in the very least. I'll undertake to help y6u on certain conditions. I'll do my beet to detain the amiable Demoulin and. and his confrere while you search for your friend. If at the end of, say five minutes, you do not find him or her, you are to take a cab, go to St Paul's Cathedral, and await my arrival. If on the other hand, you meet this mysterious emissary, you are to leave a note at the telegraph office telling me where I can s»e you this evening. " 1 may not be able to give yon my father's address."

" I did not ask for it. Make an appointment to see me where you choose —at a tea shop, a church, anywhere that best commends itself."

"i am sorry, but I know nothing of shops or places in London." He paused. "Very well, then, we'll leave it like this. Send mo a telegram to the office at the station, so soon as you know when and where you can see me. I cannot rest content at the thought of what may happen to you. One thing more, you must promise you will not tell your father or your friend what you are going to do." " That," she said, her eyes wide, " is verv difficult."

''Those are my terms," he said doggedly, and returned to his corner and the paper. He was a fool, he told himself, an idiot, to be beguiled by a pretty face and a soft tongue. Of course she would not send the telegram. Equally, of course, he would help her, she wfuld slip through Dtmoulin's fingers, make good her escape, and laugh at him in her sleeve. All the same, a certain queer belief

persisted, that rlio would kwp her word, and see him once air.ain.

" Well," Jk; glanced ii|) resentfully. " Am 1 to help you, or do you wish to (all into tho bands ot Demoulin ?" "1 will accept your oIU-.r," she bitid slowly. " You are to prevent tho detectives from capturing me, while 1 look for my friends. U 1 do not lind bhem I'm to go to St Paul's Cathedral, leaving a message to say so at tiio t.rli>;ra.pii oilice. II 1 meet/my Irit'iid 1 am to wire you later, where to moot me. ' " 1 'roiiii.se ¥" 11 o Idt himself a fool lor believing in that bteadiast little face.

" 1 swoar," .she answered in a hushed voice, and lifting up her ronary kissed the silver medal with its roses, perlecl, m metal and in shape. Tho action thrilled him. Impulsively ho put on I, his hand. " I believe you'll keep your word," said he.

" It is certain that 1 will keep it," she answered, " and you will help 1,,0 > and later we shall moot. Though what monsieur will gain by tho meeting, it is impossible to know." "That," said the Irishman, "wo shall determine later." An 3, it being near the end of the journey, he left his corner and sat himself beside her.

CHAPTER VI. " let's contend no moke, love." Anthony swung himself on to the platform beforo the train stopped : he had his hand on the door of Demoulin's carriage, his tall figure blocking up the view, before the Belgian had time to realiso ho wns thero. "Hullo!" Anthony beamed friendliness. "What, by yourself!" tie gazed round -tho compartment with an inimitable look of surprise. "Why, I made sure the pretty girl from the convent got into your carriage." "She was with you at Queenboro'." "My_ dear fellow, she rushed out again just before we started, murmuring something about her baggage. And she's not here!" Ho looked round one* again with a puzzled shake of the head, contriving all the time to keep between Demoulin and the slim figure in the dark blue serge, rapidly edging a way through the crowd towards the harrier, "I know nothing of the girl." Demoulin jumped on to the platform. "She is here—somewhere." He walked off rapidly, Anthony's long legs keeping up with him. "Very odd," said the Irishman. "She seems to have flown." "You seem anxious, Lyndon." " Merely curious. Demoulin. Confess you are disappointed." " Not in the least." His grey eyes scanned the crowd. A man in a brown suit, of nondescript featu- s and commoplace air, drifted towards him. ' One of your lieutenants, Demouliu. May 1 not hear the news?" "I do not know the man." The Belgian's stolidity was immova.ble. "On, what stupiditv!" he pointed to a porter wheeling a truck of luggage. " He is taking my portmanteau where Ido not want it to go." He rushed forward. Anthony joined in the chase. "Stupid idiots, these people!" he said in a sympathetic tone of voice. "Here! Hi! Hi!" He stretched out a long-arm and gripped the man upon the shoulder. • "Here he ie, Demoulin. You've got this gentleman's box." ' The porter glared wrathfully; Anthony chuckled, but Demoulin, calmly oblivious, hurried by, towards the barrier. "The dickens!" muttered the Irishman, and for a moment hesitated. The porter, however, did not give him time for consideration, but demanded roughly what he meant by interfering with a man in his duty. "Don't argue," commanded Anthony, presenting him with a shilling, and, his quick eyes recognising a certain neat black trunk, "take that'box to the cloak room, and bring me the ticket. Name? Oh. Lyndon," he answered sharply, careless that the nondescript person in brown was at his heels.

Ho had certainly scored off Demoulin by his capture of the trunk I If Marcelle broke her word—and what was more likely—it was highly probable that some documentary evidence would be forthcoming from the neat black bo.\,.

He followed the norter, keeping a sharp look-out for Marcelle. But the slender _ girlish figure had vanished. INot a sign of her sweet pale face, her pretty head. Neither—it gave him cause for disQuiet—was Demoulin to be seen. He felt a sudden qualm of apprehension. It waTi t good, somehow, to think of the girl in the clutches of tho secret service Demoulin, ho had cause to know, had a reserve of cruelty under a suave manner. He had not thin Um tor nothn?, reflected Anthony. He inquired at the telegraph office in the vam hope that Marcelle had not met h«r friend, and had gone to St Paul's There was no messase, he learnt, and ran right up against the man m hrown as he turned away, having made the inquiry. .Quiok as thought ho was back at tho window, and handed in his card. "On no account," he said, "is a telegram in that name to be given to anyone but me." "I eh all be off duty by seven, sir," said the clerk. | |

" Make a note of it, then. I'll present another card. Don't forget," he sirpped a douceur in the hand of the telegraphist, and motioned to the man m brown disoreetly hovering in the doorway. Jt "l? 8 by no means certain even now, that Demoulin or his men would not circumvent him and get his telegram, but failing a seat in the office he could do no more. It was strange that he should suddenly feel so certain there wouM be a wire. Perhaps the picture of that grave sweet face with the tiemure eyes, unconsciously influenced his jud^nvmt!

He marched towards the cab rank, prepared to cross-exam ino hansom and taxi drivers as to whether they had seen the girl in blue when, as he passed the refreshment room, ho came full tilt against th© last person that he wjshod to meet—Lr.dv Margaret Bonun. Ho raided his fiat, and tried to hurry by. Demoulin had followed thr lady out of the refreshment room, and was disappearing round tho corner. Lyndon made an effort to overtake him, but, in his heart he know that ho was booked to remain with Lady Madsje, and yielded, resigned, if reluctant, ""to tho impatient grip of her hand on his ooat sleeve.

" I do believe you were going without a word!"

She was a tall woman, with a marvellous complexion and wonderful hair. She smiled at him from under the brim of a huge b'ack hat, at least two yards in ci'-camieronce.

" Why, Anthony, didn't you seo me?"

" My dear girl, it was a case of duty first, joy'after—l wanted five minutes' talk with a man who has 1 tear, passed out of my ken. I didn't know Etamoulin was a friend of yours?" "Oh, it was he you'were after?" She shrugged her shoulders. "I mot him at one of Mrs Walcot's At Homos, where she collects all sorts and conditions of oddites and weird celebrities. You haven't said you're glad to see mo, Anthonv?" Her eves told him she at least was delighted, and the flush in her cheeks deepened to a soft carmino. "I'm delighted, and surprised. It's the last place I should have expected to find vou."

They had parted some three months previously, after a disagreement— flippant on her side, serious on his. She had turned his head, and captured his impressionable heart, as a lovely young widow of five-and-twenty, and had not valued its possession. He had been her faithful worshipper for three years, until she went a step too far, and her vanity and seeming indifference hurt him cruelly.

Her soft brown eyes sued for forgiveness. There was a bint of tears about them that in the old days would have set his heart aflame. Any time in the last three months he would have given five years of his lifo to iftect her as she met him now. But—it seemed incredible—ho was no longer swept off his feet

t>y the mere joy of her presence. He found it possible oven to wish she were not there. Ho was consumed with the desire to \<>\k,\: itemoulin and discover Mar- " I carao here to m/>6t you." Her glorious eyes fairly dazzled him; he grew embarrassed and admired her gown, a wonderful and sheathlike arrangement of palu grey. •• You can admire my dress later, Anthony," her hands trembled on his arm, " would you rather I went home?" " My dear Madge!" " Thei!_yWiy are you so strange? Ah, you can't, itunk what I've been through dinco you left mo." The tears brimmed over and ran down her cheeks. He was fiV?d with the hovribV son*? of embarrassment that attacks a man if a uouian shows w#tt« «t distress in public.

" We can't stay here," ho muttered, and glanced wildly round. " Put me in a taxi," she gasped, and lowered her veil. "You-you re not going to leave mo, Anthony P It was a foregone conclusion that lie remained. She was a very lovely woman, and it seemed he had caught her in n strangely softened mood. '• We'll go home," she said, and Anthony gave the address of her flat in Chelsea. ~ He was an ungrateful ass, he tola himself, and deserved to have his head punched; but though she leaned against linn and permitted his arm about her waist, his thoughts went spinning far away. He was planning how and. when he should get Mnrcello's wire at Holborn Viaduct Station. " How did yon know I was returning to-day, Madge?" "Your sister told me. I teased it

out of her last night. Ethel can't bear me, you know, Tony, since we quarrelled. But even her hard heart Telented when she saw how upset I was. Oh, Tony, why didn't you write?" "My dear girl, if I remember correctly, you forbade me ever again to com© near you." "You shouldn't have believed me." She nestled closer in the comfortable obscurity of the taxi. " Oh, I have longed for you," she said. " My dear!"

The old spell was working; the old attraction hold him. Her rose-flushed face and golden hair, her tall, lithe figure, the exquisite extravagance of her dress, her jewels, appealed to his beauty-loving eyes. The pale face, the steadfast eyes of the little girl from *Jie convent, seemed blotted out. " You've been on the Continent all the time, Tony?" "Yes; I've been wandering through Belgium and Holland, exploring wonderful old-world spots, and .primitive people." "Working!" "Oh, yes, I've turned out some deWsnt descriptives." " Have you met with any exciting adventures? Demoulin told me he'd met you on the boat." " I didn't know Demoulin was awaro of our acquaintance." " One never knows how people like him learn things. . . I'didn't mention your name, most suspioious Tony." "I hate the little beast," he answered savagely. "What else did he tell you. MndopP"

" He hinted more than he expressed. Ho''was full of some anarchist he was tracing. Rather foolish of him to talk about his business like that."

"Extremely. He seems to have said a great deal in a very short time." " Oh, he always jabbers twenty to the dpzen."

This was a new light on Demoulin's character. The Belgian was not likely to indulge in idle chatter; he had some motive in saying what he did to Madge. Had he hoped she might repeat it? Lyndon felt suspicious, and was inclined to cross-examine Madge severely.

But .nothing more could be extracted from this wilful and alluring witness. " Oh, why do we want to talk of a pompous little Belgian?" ihe insisted. "It e much more importa - .ut for me to tell you that yon are infinitely more attractive than when you leftAne, and that I think—l think—tell me, Tony, what I am going to say?" "That you are the most provocative fcoman in London." ' " Ah, no 1" Her voice fell to a deep, goft note that thrilled him. " Tony, I think I want to tell you myself." Her head rested on his shoulder. The scent of her hair brought him a thousand momories. She raised her arm and slipped it round his neck. "I love you," she said softly. "I inow it now—too well."

Three months—a week—a day ago lie would have been caught into the seventh . heaven of delight. Eare ecstasy, attuned almost to pain, would have filled his veins, as with the elixir of the gods. Now though his heart quickened, and he felt ( a, quiver of triumph, the pinions of joy were lacking. There ran no fire'through his blood; hia feot were firmly set on mother earth.

" You're gladP" Her voice was jnst a touch insistent.

"Surely," he said, with a swift smile, " You know that."

"Ah, yes, 1 know, I know. . . Oh, niy dear, my dear, I have suffered." Her beauty, however, was undimmed by secret tears, and sleepless nights. Bhe had never been more radiant than when, in the silence of her room, a spacious place with soft roSe-coloured draperies, pink shaded lamps and rosea everywhere, she turned towards him.

"Tt was here we quarrelled, Tony. Foolish we!—Oh, my love, my love!" She leaned against him, a tress of her hair fell on his cheek.

The room was very still. Through the open windows the lamps on the Embankment shone dim in the faint hake rising from the river. The lights of a slow-travelling barge moved eerily on the water. The siren of a fussy steam, tug sent out a shrill cry. The air was scented with the faint perfume of roses; somewhere in the flat below a door suddenly, sharply shut. He noticed these things—the red light creeping on the water, the subtle perfume of the flowers, the insistence with which the door downstairs was closed, with the curious sense of detachment inseparable from emotional crises. He held her in his arms, she smiled up at him. " ' Teach me as I ought to love.' " she quoted in her slow sweet voice. " ' I will speak your speech love, think your thought!' Tony, my dear, I will be a docile pupil." "Never!"

"Hold me close, lovo. . . Oh, if only the world would go by, and time stop still. . . You and I, just you and I, Tony I" 1 The red light on the water trailed slowly out of eight. The mist crept closer to the windows.

"Tony!" She turned on him sharps Iv, gripping his arm. "What was that?" " Someone moving in the flat below tas. . . I heard the door shut a moJnent ago. Nothing to be alarmed at, you foolish child." " Hark," she sat up straight. A man's voice was speaking, sharply insistent. The tone hut not the words were plain. ''Something wrong. . . No, no, don't go. . . I can't bear it if you fo. They're funnypeople downstairs, 'ony, stop here." Her voice was shaking, she put out her hands in a blind groping fashion._ She seemed to be talking to gain time. "No, no, Tony. Stay here. I tell vou they're people of no consequence. God I what was that?" she was shaking in every limb, and her face was ghastly. "Tony," ehe screamed and clutched him wildly. But he did not listen—it is doubtful if he even heard her. A short sharp report had suddenly Tung out, the unmistakable bark of a repeater. He was out of tho flat, down the stairs in a flash. But quick as he was, the flying figure of a girl had reached the stairs before him. Her feet hardly seemed to touch the steps, her breath came in great gasps distressfully. As she gained the entrance of the building she turned her head and glanced panicftricken over her shoulder. The light of the lamp fell upon her face ana figure. There was blood on her. hand and on her dress. Lyndon drew back with a hoarse cry. The girl was Maroelle Herbert I

CHAPTER VII. THE KAN IN THE FLAT. Anthony was after the girl like a !lash, running out into the street. But n some incredible fashion she had disappeared ; the grey mist rising from the rfver had swallowed her up. He ran along the embankment towards Albert Bridge, and caught sight of a slim figure crossing the road. But when he ran down he discovered a Bpinster of middle age in a dress and hat'that would hare befitted seventeen, and who snorted wrathfully. Marcelle was lost! To search for her would have been like looking for a sixpenoe in a maze. He retraced his Bteps, swearing savagely, and suddenly alive to the fact that he had left Madge painfully agitated, and that for all he knew murder had been done in the third floor flat. He found the door close shut; the hall was in darkness. He rang the bell, and !>lied the- knocker urgently. After an nterval of suspense and impatience the door was opened by a man—so much he could see. All details of appearance .Were hidden by the darkness. I "Is anyone hurt?" Anthony stepped over the threshold quickly. " There .was a pistol shot just now. Can't we

have a light?" He felt and found the switch while the other hesitated.

"That's better." Ho found himself faced by a dark-skinned foreign-looking youth. "Why, your arm's in a sling I Nothing dangerous, I hope?" The young man bowed and smiled, in a charming fashion, eminently un-Eng-lish.

" A mere pinprick," he answered softly. He spoke without an accent, but the suggestion of something foreign still remained. " I was practising." he explained. " Learning to snuff out a candle at ten paces. And somehow the wretched thing got jammed, and the bullet went through my arm. A flesh wound, no more.

"You have bound it up " "My friend looked to it. There's no harm done, I assure you."

" A dangerous amusement, pistolshooting in' a flat," said Anthony, sententiously. " I'm not satisfied even now that you're not injured. Lady Bohun was frightfully upset when she heard the shot, and sent rae down to make inquiries. Please let me have a look at you."

Ho turned the handle of the door upon his.left, and deliberately walked

He could have sworn be hoard a scuffle of feet hurrying through the curtains that cut off an inner room from observation, but, though he looked inquiry, the brown-skinned youth offered no explanation, • "You will sit down?" He pushed forward an odd chair. "You smoke?" With inimitablo sangfroid he handed Anthony # cigar. " I'm too concerned for your hurts to smoke."

" I assure you there is no cause for alarm."

" You say the bullet went through your arm?" "Exactly!" He touched the left forearm with his right hand. He did not wince at the pain. He was indeed i miracle of calmness and fortitude. Anthony began to feel uncomfortable. "You have sent for a doctor?" he asked, lighting the cigar. His quick eyes travelled round the room, a large apartment sparsely furnished. A table, a sideboard, a saddlebag couch and two armchairs. Nothing to show in the least the character and tastes of the owner. The prints on the wall ordinary; the carpet conventional. Not at ail the sort of place one would expect the dark-skinned- youth, with the soft shining eyes, to inhabit.

"There is no need for a doctor," he shrugged hte ' shoulders, a touch impatiently. Anthony, keenly on the alert, heard the front door open and softly close. A moment later hurrying feet ran up the stairs to the flat above. Someone had gone lrom the third floor to Lady Bohun's. " You've wonderful nerve," he remarked. "You don't seem, to have turned a hair."

The dark youth coloured. "I hate a fuss," he said. "Won't you have a whisky and eodaP" He went to the sideboard and produced glasses and a syphon. " Help yourself," he said, and taking the decanter from the tantalus in his right hand, lifted the syphon with his left!

Anthony took a deep breath, and discreetly looked away.,, Whon he turned round, the dark-skinned youth had evidently remembered. He 'was nursing his left elbow with an aggrieved expression.

"It's given me a bit of a twister," he observed.

• Anthony sympathised. "You're not here by yourselfP" he asked in a tone of deep commiseration. " My friend will be back later." " Rather quick work to leave you alone ehP" "Wot at all." He spoke as if a flesh wound were tEe most ordinary occurrence.

"You have, of course, a housekeeper? If not, I'm sure Lady Bohun would bo pleased to lend you her maid; or I could telephone for a nurse? A man is so helpless in these matters.'* " Not the least occasion, I assure you. I have a woman who conies in the morning to do all that is necessary. For tonight I have all I want." "My deaor fellow, one most eat." Anthony leaned back lazily. A copper pot on the mantelpiece illed with sunset roses seemed to attract him.

"You're admiring my roses." The boy gave a little laugh. "I am as fond of flowers a? a woman."

He walked impulsively towards the mantelpiece. Anthony seized the opportunity to pick up a dainty little handkerchief lying.tmder his armchair, and slipped it in his pocket.

" Lady Bohun will be relieved to hear there has been no serious accident. She was very upset. She thought she heard a woman scream?" he remarked disingenuously.

The other laughed, naturally, unaffectedly; he-did not colour nor show embarrassment. But Anthony, watching closely, saw the tips of his small ears suddenly turn white. He had noticed a similar sign in men of a dark, smooth type; in nis experience it denoted agitation. " There was no woman here," he answered. " Only myself—and my friend."

The footsteps in the flat above had ceased. Madge was evidently in close conversation with the man from the third floor. Anthony decjded he might find it interesting to interrupt their tete-a-tete. The mystery of the pistol shot was invested with a certain sinister significance.

Who had been wounded? Most certainly not this dark-skinned and insouciant youth. He remembered the blood on Marcolle's dress, the look of horror on her face, and his own grew grave. Ho determined 113 would search the flat before he left it. The wounded person was either concealed there—or—the suggestion was unpleasant—in the flat upstairs. He impetuously decided to return to Madge, and with somewhat Tronic congratulations on his host's 6peedy "'cover y rose to go, But if the youth at first hsd wished his departure, he was n/>w most eager for him to remain.

" Oh, don't hurry. Slay and have a smoke. My friend wdl not be back yet." "Thanks very much. I'll be delighted," said tho ready Tony. " I'll just run up and reassuro Lady Bohun—she'll be imagining all sorts of terrible things. I'll be down directly." He moved towards tho door. The boy, who had risen, stood before him, his mouth suddenly set in a grim line, his eyes hard and cool.

"I shouldn't go now," he drawled; and it's a moot point whether or not lie would have tried to hinder Anthony going, had not the gods at that moment chosen to intervene.

The telephone began to ring. ," Excuse mo," he hurried to the instrument, took up the receiver, and at the same moment heard Tony open the front door.What he did not hear was the Irishman's stealthy retreat down the passage onctj again. It wa>. an opportunity not to bi* rejected. Anthony's cat-like tread carried him softly past the sitting-room to the door of the room adjoining. It stood open, and, as he saw at a glance, the room whs empty of human presence. Furnished in the same commonplace, comfortable fasHion as the front room, there was no corner where a man could hide. There remained the kitchen and back room at the end of the passage, and two rooms on the right-hand side. The kitchen was bare and cheerless. A few plates were on the dresser, cups and saucers on the table. A gas stove, rusty, and, by appearance, seldom used, and two high Windsor chairs completed the furniture. He glanced into the bathroom, half expectant of a gruesome sight. But here again was emptiness, and a lack of the signs of habitation.

There was a bedroom sparsely furnished, that obviously had not been used of late. There was dust on the looking-glass, and a shower of smuts had drifted through the window on to

the white counterpane. The next room, bare ol any furniture, was stuffy for want of fresh air.

tie slipped out of the front door—lie had left it on the larch—-just as the telephone rang off. and ran up the stairs, pealing at jiadge's bell before the dark-skinned youth had time to discover his investigations. Madge answered bis summons. She was deathly pale, but quite composed. " Where have you been, Tony? I was so afraid I"

He. looked ro:iud quickly. "Where's the man who was here?'' he demanded. " The man from the flat underneath, I mean."

" j.ony, what are you saying? There's not been n soul here since vou left mo—with my heart in rav mouth. Why do you look so grave "What has happened? Was anybody shot? Oh, Tony!" "Who are the people down below?" he asked, brushing aside her question. " I can't tell you. Once or twice I'vo passed a young mau, almost a boy, on the stairs. A foreigner, I should say, very dark, with soft eyes. Gale tells me ho is an artist." " He lives alone?"

My dear Tony, how should I know? My maid is my only source of information, and J don't encourage her to chatter. All this time you're keeping me in terrible suspense. Has something—something awful happened?" She trembled, and put out her hand to steady herself against a chair "Your young friend—well.' then, Gale's fnend, if you prefer—says he was fooling about with a pistol, that it jammed, and the bullet went through his arm."

" Poor fellow," she gave a sigh of sympathy. " How dreadful; an artist, too! it his right arm?" "No, his left. Madge, there's something I don't understand. He says a friend was with him at the time. He and his friend were alone in the flat. Now, while I was talking to him, I heard the front door open and close. I heard a man go up the stairs, ring! your bell, and go in to your flatr-you know how keen my ears are—l heard him cross this room, and after a while sit down. Now, nobody left your flat while I was downstairs. I can swear it. the man is quite obviously still hero.''

" My dear Tony, you are too ridiculous. I repeat no one has been here since you left me." " I teil you I heard him."

She flushed, and bit her lip. "You will compel me to tb'nk you wish to affront me. You forget yourself."

" On my sonl, Madge, I mean no offence. You see the whole thing is so mysterious. The boy's tale is obviously very lame. It seems to me he is shielding somebody, and—the inference is forgivable—it might be that your generosity has been enlisted, on "the same person's behalf. It would be like you, dearest, to espouse some unfortunate creature's cause. Your concern for the criminaHy unfit is an old joke between US. Come, Madge, you can confide in me. I'm not such a bnite as to hound a man down and hand him to the police, even if lam a journalist. Who was it you helped, M&dgeP" He took her hands, and looked gravely, fondly into her eyes. His heart was throbbing with the sting of suspicion against the woman whom for five years he had loved with a passion so ardent, so intense, that life had held no other meaning, no other aim, but to love her. The glamour and the joy of that great love was over. She had spilled the wine j shivered the glass, torn the roseate vision from his eyes. But she still remained to him a..woman dear for the sake of memories, wonderful, never to be forgotten. She was still the woman to whom he had offered the golden incense of first love, and she was deceiving him. His grip tightened on her hands, a note of pleading touched hia voice.

"Madge, who has been here?" " No one." " My dear, my dear," and if she had not been blind she must have read the truth in his face. "Don'tl If you cannot, for some strange reason, tell me his name, at least spare me a childish falsehood. You've no right to lie," he grew stern, and his face whitened. "My love for you claims that. Madge —once again—who has been here?" "You're foolish." Her lips were dry. her hands shaking. "Oh, Tony, you re hurting me. No one has been. He let go of her wrista with a endden violence.

"No one?" ho suddenly began to laugh. " You are not clever/' he sneered, lashing out wildly. " This was not here," he made a dash acroß3 the room, and snatched something from the floor, "when I left you." Huj face was white, his eyes aflame "A cigaretto case. Your friend, is careless. What," as she tried to snatch it from him, "you don't know how ft came here, to whom it belongs. We shall see, we shall seel" (l Ah, no, no/' she seized his arm. "Don't look inside. If you love me, Tony, if you love me. I've been foolish; I've told you stories—l—Don't look. Don't look," she screamed, and hid her face. The case lay open in his hand. An innocent piece of cardboard stared up at him, a man's visiting card. He turned it over.

The name of Lucden Demoulin leapt to his eyes!

CHAPTER VIII. "it tt—brtjte!" Zellner's was crowded. Tho collection of antlered heads upon the panelled walls, the silver goblets, old as the black oak dresser on which they stood, smiled down on the great hall filled with a genial throng of men and women. Germans, expansive of smile and with prodigious appetitos, consumed succulent dishes or unpronounceable names, with immense gusto, ard drank huge beakers of lager with, appreciation. At other tables, young men and old, smoked and talked, drank lager and oonsumed sandwiches, some with their womenfolk be°ido them. There was a sprinkling of English, but for the moan part the patrons of Zellner's are German and Belgian, with a few French. From tho far end of the hall came the rattle of dominoes; here excitable foreigners waxed fervent over the ivories; silent warriors contested fiercely a game of chess; the more frivolous occupied themselves with draughts. There is an air of geniality and bustle at Zellner's, one feels immediately at home; the antlered heads upon the walls seem to give one a welcome; ai great white owl with amber eyes blinka at you from the door. Facing tho entrance; in full view of the owl, Marcelle, feeling terribly uncomfortable, drank coffee, and nibbled at a piece of cake. Her eyes, fixed on the swing doors, davoured each newcomer, and as the evening wore on, still bringing disappointment, a scarlet spot glowed on each cheek, and made the whiteness of her skin more marked.

The men glanced at her curiously, some with admiration, others with an expression that sent the blood to her heart with a quick, cold rush. She wished the floor would open and swallow her up, or that she had the courage to get up and walk out of tho crowded nail into the cool streete. But fear that she should miss the man she waited for restrained her.

Oh! wouldJie never come? Her eyes searched tho tables wildly. She clutched with trembling fingers a newspaper parcel that lay in her lap, and gulped down the last of the hot coffee.

Every moment her cheeks grew more red, her eyes more bright, her appearance more attractive. A fat German in gri/ned hia appreciation, until, panic-stricken at his admiration, sho hid her face in her coffee cup. She could not stay! And yet where could she go? Her lips quivered, her eyes sought the clock hish upon the wall.

"Eleven!" Sho felt frightened, and moved closo to the wall. "At such an hour it was incredible for a young girl to sit alone in a publio restaurant.

Sho pictured the good Arlt's anger,

the grave displeasure of the professor, that she, whom he had so carefully instructed, so patiently trained, should havo disobeyed his orders. If only she had paid attention, followed his words in every detail, she would be ,it, this moment safe at home with her father. the precious letter would be in his hands. And the recollection of terrible things would not bo with her. Now, incredible position, she did hot know where her father was to be found !■ Sho knew no ono in London, and had very little money. She was alono and very frightened, and was waiting in a restaurant, a newspaper parcel in her lap, in the forlorn hope of the arrival of a strahger! For, so she told herself with quivering lips, Anthony Lyndon could not bo regarded as a friend. Incredible position indeed I Sho gulped down a sob, dabbed her eyes with a minute handkerchief, and suddenly gave a little scream. "Oh!" she cried, "he's hero at last," and regardless of tire open amusement of the fat German and his friends, laid hands on, Anthony himself. He scowled at the German, stared hard at Marcelle, and led the way to a table in a remote corner behind a tall oak screen.

"You had my telegram?" she asked inconsequently. '' Naturally. You did not hurry to send it."

"I could not—before." Her lips quivered. Ho drummed impatiently on the table; he had had a surfeit of tears. If the girl thought sho could play on his emotions, he> reflected grimly, tho sooner she found out her mistake the better. "What do you want me to do?*' he .asked bluntly. There was certainly a great change in his attitude. Had she committed a still further indiscretion by wiring for him? " I promised to s«md you word where wo oould meet," she said, flushing; '' otherwise '*"

" I understand, I understand," he said impatiently, and wondered at the hardihood of a girl who could play the innocent after such a scene as she i*-«rst have passed through. "I am here, Miss Herbert. Now, what do you want of me?". He was prepared for many things, but her request—made in a. quiet voice, with downcast eyes—made his brain reel.

" I thought perhaps you might help me find the address of my father.

"Good Lordl" He stared astonished. " You met your -friend at Holborn?" he inquired recovering.

"Yes." " Woll? Didn't he take you to your father?"

She shook her head. " I made a great mistake, Monsieur. I disobeyed my orders. I should hdve made sure that he who met me was indeed the messenger. But I was imprudent, careless. He called me by name, assured me that proof of his true identity would be given when we had left the station. It was, he said, too grave a risk to talk with so many eyes and ears around us. Monsieur, it seemed to me it wa3 prudent counsel. I erred, how grievously I erred I I went with him in a motor; he spoke of my father, the professor, Arlt—yes, the good Arlt t How could I dream he was not the true messenger 1 Even now lam bewildered. He knew so muoh t"

"He took you in a motor—whereP" "To a house—no, a flat. I cannot tell you in what street."

" And when you arrived you gave him the forged bank notes? Well, then, if you object, the precious letter?"

" Oh, no, monsieur, the good God did not permit that," she said, simply. " I remembered that I must not give the letter to anyone except my father." " Then where is it? Did they take It from you?" His hands were clenched, he was shaken with a sudden blind unreasoning fury against Demoulin and his ally, the dark-skinned youth.

" Cowards 1" unconsciously he raised his voice. "Did they take it from you?" " No." Her eyes were like stars. "It is here," she answered simply, and placed the dilapidated newspaper upon the table. "The tulips became very wilted. They attracted notice. I bought a paper and folded them inside." She smiled, quite proud of the performance. Anthony leaned back in his ch'tfir and gasped. '' You're a miracle " said he, and eyed her sternly, still fearful she was not telling the truth. "There were others besides this—messenger?" he asked carelessly. " Yes, one other." " The policeP" he hazarded. "I do not know." "Demoulin was not there by any chance?"

Oh, no." She shook her head, and sent a pet theory of Lyndon's crashing to the ground. If not Demoulin. who had been in Madge's flat, and why should they use the Belgian's cigarette caseP"

" Not Demoulin, ©hP" ", A lugger man altogether." ' A beard," he suggested, thinking of a possible disguise. "A moustache only. A large man, with a wicked faoe. He spoke no English, and bad French." ' And he tried " Anthony's eyes narrowed. Ho put out his hand and olasped her arm—the left arm. f,m wu J ced ' and quite white. Iho devils—they hurt you?" His eyes blazed; ho was trembling. "Tell me, quickly, was it a knife?" "No, Monsieur. And indeed it is nothing very dangerous. The big ma« screamed at me in German in a shrill voice just ake a woman's. I told him and the other that I could not give up the letter except to my father. •' And -and-they laughed/' she said, Monsieur Lyndon, they laughed!" And then?" ." The young man spoke softly, and tried to persuade me to give up what" J. naa But the other grew impatient, and shouted something in a language 1 did not understand, guttural., with short clipped vowels, and drew out a pistol very quickly. Ho pointed it at me. 1 do not think he meant to hurt me. But the young man—he spoke to me very softly, Monsieur—rushed and knocked up his ana. And in the struggle the pistol went off And—and - she paused—"the bullet went through tho flesh of my arm." "And you rushed out into the street, eh?"

" Yes—my one idea was to get away —with my letter."

And your arm? Good heavens, it's awful to think of. You must come to a doctor at once and have it dressed." "It is already done. I found a doctor who put on a bandage. It will 6oon heal' "You lost blood?"

" Not veiy much. It throbs a little," she sighed, and shrugged her shoulders. " But lam tired, so tired! If I could go home to my father." "He can't be found to-night. We must fix up something else. Tell me this: How came you to pitch on this £laee? You said you wero strajige to ondon?" *

" A cabman brought me. I felt a little dizzy when I left the doctor's, so I took a hansom and told tho driver to go to a post office where I could send a telegram. It was late, and we had to come a long way. Then I asked him if he would please tell mo tho name of a cafe where I could wait for a friend. He was a nice man," she added reflectively. "He said Zellnor's would suit me, and after I had wired he brought me here." She turned grave eyes upon him, " If you could find my father," she said, and the sensitive lips began again to quiver. Anthony groaned in desperation. She was a most obstinate and baffling person. She told him incredible stories' of a letter to her father—-whom she could not find—cheerfully accepted the suggestion that she was a thief, and claimed his assistance to arrange her future ! And all the time the parcel of forged notes remained with her. Thoro were no two ways about it, ho ought to give her in charge—place her under the care of the police, who

would guard her from enraged foreigners with pistols, and other dangers i;o less grave. But it was no affair of his, he argued. Even now she would not take his advice and destroy the envelope and its contents.

Why on earth should he trouble himself about her? She was a forger's decoy, and carried false notes. And—the hoad and front of her offending—• while alio claimed his help sho refused her confidence.

His lips closed angrily. His shoulders squared.

"Yon will help me, please?" Her face had grown very strained, there was a scared look about her.

"Oh." she said, "if you were to leave mo herb, 1 think I should dio from shame. They—they stare at mo so, those men." " Brutes! Don't worry, child, you 11 be all right." He paused, then suddenly threw down his arms. ' loud better go to mv sister," he said weakly. " She'll put you up for the night, and generally look after you. And he meekly produced pencil and paper, scribbled a note of explanation, and handed it to Marcelle, fully addressed "You'll find Ethel quite nice," he said, brusquelv. "But pte» se understand, you must not involve her many trouble with the police. To put it plainly, Miss Herbert, while you stay with my sister, you must forget your letter."

She nodded gravely. " And to-morrow vou will help me find my father?" " , t . "To-morrow," ho retorted, you may have flown to the moon. r>ow look here, 1 think the wisest and the safest'plan will be for you to leave here by voursclf and take a taxi to Ethel's place in Fulham. She s a bachelor girl, and has a tinj flat. Don t give the address to tho man when you get in. Tell him to drivo to the Marble Arch, and change the destination en route, before you get there. I won t come with you. You never know who micht see us. Someone may be' watching! The deuce 1" ho gripped her arm, "do you see him. sitting at that table by the door? Careful, now, or hell catch sight of you." „ She drew back with a shiver. "They grey wolf," said Oh. Monsieur Lyndon, I am afraid 1" "Looks as if he meant business, eh? I don't quite like the look of that fellow over thero, either. Unless I'm much mistaken, he's our friend of the brown suit. I wonder," he grew thoughtful, " how muoh he paid for a copy of the telegram you sent mo. Careless of me, very, not to have thought of it. We ought to have left directly I came. I'm very much afraid there's trouble ahead."

"You must take him away," she wrung her hands. " Quickly now, before he sees me. I will wait here until he has gone." " Easier said than done, I'm thinking. Still, I'll have a try." Ho was aching to como to grips with the detective. The outwitting of Demoulin had become a. matter of personal pride. "Move into my seat. That's right; you'll be more screened. I'll tip the wink to the waiter you're to be left undisturbed. Keep cool, and don't worry. I'll come hack as soon as I can. If I don't return, you hare my sister's address. You'll go thereP" His face was flushed; his eyes danced with excitement. " Promise me, Marcelle, whatever happens you will go there. If you're clsver you'll contrive to give the man in the brown suit the 6lip. "But I promise." she answered, aond gave him her hand.

He crossed the wide hall swiftly, paid the waiter, and eave him—she did not doubt—the requisite instructions for her safety. She watched him, hardly daring to breathe, approach Demoulin. Slio heard his laugh, careless, goodhumoured.

He was very brave, and very handsome, and St Anthony had certainly known his business when he committed her to his namesake's care.

Positively the grey wolf was standing up. He had walked towards the door. Miracle of miracles, ho had gone out into tho street. She gave a sigh of thankfulness, and, tho tension relieved, sought reassurance from contact with the newspaper parcel and it 3 contents. For one moment she stared, incredulous, wide-eyed, her breath suspended, her heart labouring, a cold clammy feeling up her spine. Tho next she had started to her feet and was hurrying to the door. Anthony Lyndon had taken the secret letter with him. (To be continued.)