The Other Romilly

Star (Christchurch), Issue 12301, 25 April 1918, Page 3

The Other Romilly

CHAPTER XI. Philip was awakened the next morning by the insistent ringing of the telephone at his elbow. He took up the receiver, conscious of a sharp pain in his left shoulder as he moved. “Is this Mr Merton Ware?” a man’s smooth voice inquired. “Yes.” “I am speaking for Mr Sylvanus Power. Mr Sylvanus Power regrets very much that he is unable to lunch with Mr Ware as arranged te-dav, but he is compelled to go to Philadelphia on the morning train. He will bo glad to meet Mr Ware anywhere a week today, ami know the result of the matter which was discussed last night.” “To whom am I speaking?” Philip demanded. “I don’t know anything about lunching with Mr Power to-day.” “ I am Mr Power’s secretary—George liiuit,” was the reply. ‘‘Mr Power's message is very clear. He wishes you to know that he will not be in Now York until a. week to-day.” “ How is Mr Power?” Philip inquired. “He met with a slight’ accident last night,” the voice continued, “and is obliged to wear his arm in a sling. Except for that he is quite well. He had already left for Philadelphia- by the early train. He was anxious that you should know this.” “Thank you very much,” Philip murmured, a little dazed. He sprang out of bed, dressed qnicklv, hurried over his coffee and rolls, boarded a cross-town car. and arrived at the Monmonth House flats just in time to meet Martha Grimes issuing into the street. She was not at all the same Martha. She was very neatly dressed, her shoes wore nicely polished, her clothes well brushed, her gloves new, and she wore a bunch of fresh-looking violets in her waistband. She started m surprise as Philip accosted her. “Whatever are you doing back in the slums?” sh i demanded. ■ “ Any fresh trouble ?’’ “ Nothing particular,” Philip replied, turning round and falling into step with her. " 1 can't see mv way, that’s all, and I want to talk to you. You’re, the most human person I know, and von understand Elizabeth.” “ Gee!” she smiled. “This is the lion and the mouse, with a vengeance. You can walk with mo if you like, ns far as tile block before the theatre. I’m not going to arrive there with you, and I tell you straight!” “No followers, eh?” “ There's no reason to set people talking,” she declared. “ Their tongues wag fast enough at the theatre as it is. I’ve only been there for one day s work, aiid it seems to me I’ve heard the. inside history of every oue connected with the place.” “ That makes what T have to say easier,” he remarked. “Just what do they say about Miss Dalstan and Mr Sylvanus Power ?’’ She looked at him indignantly. “If you think you're going to worm things out of me ” . “ Don’t ho foolish!” he interrupted, a | little wearily. “ How could you know j anything? You are only the echo of i a thousand voices. 1 could find out, if L went where they gossip. 1 don’t, i In effect, 1 don’t care; hut 1 am up) against a queer situation. 1 want to know just what people think of them. Afterwards I'll tell you the truth.” “Well, they profess to think.’’ sho said slowly, “ that the theatre belongs to Miss Dalstan. and that she ” “Stop, please!” ho interrupted. “I kuQjv you hate saying it. and I know quite well what you mean. YYeil, what about that?” “ It isn’t my affair.” “ It isn’t true,” he told her. “ YVhether it's true or not. she is one of the best women in the world,” .Martha declared vigorously. “There isn’t any doubt, about that, either, ’’ ho assented. “Tins is the. situation. Listen. Sylvanus Power has been in love with Elizabeth for the best part of his life. He built that L.ea.iro for her and offered it-—at a price. Sho accepted his terms. YVhen the time came for payment ho saw her flinch. He went away again and lias lust come hack. Sho is fare to face now with a decision—a decision to which '-lie is partly committed. In the meantime, during these last few months, Elizabeth

By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM. Author of “ The Hillman," " A Man and His Kingdom," “ The Mysterious Mr. Sabin,” &c., &c.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

and I have become great friends. You know that I care for her. I think that she cares for me. She has to make up her mind, Martha, which is sue to choose?” “How do you want me to answer that?” the girl asked, slackening her pace a little. “I’m not Miss Dalstan.’ “From her point of view,” fie explained eagerly. “ This man Power is madly, and I believe truly, in love with her. In his way he is great; in his way, too, he is a potentate- Ho can give her more than luxury, more even than success. You know Elizabeth,” ho went on. “ She is one of the finest women who ever breathed, an idealist, hut a seeker after big things. Site deserves the big things. Is she more likely to find them with me or with him?” “Power’s wife is still alive,” she ruminated. “ And won’t accept a divorce at present, ’ he observed. “If ever she docs, of course, he will marry her. That has to be taken into account, not morally but the temporal side of it. YVe know perfectly well that whatever Elizabeth decides she couldn’t possible do wrong.” Martha smiled a little grimly. “ That’s what it is to be born in the clouds,” she said. “There is no sin for a good woman.” He looked at 1 her appreciatively, “I wonder how I knew that you would understand this.” he sighed.' Suddenly he clutched at her arm. She glanced up in surprise. He was staring at a passer-by. Her eyes followed his. In a neat morning suit, with a. olack bowler hat and well-polisbccl shoes, a cigar m Ins mouth and a general air of prosperity, Mr Edward Dane was rtroihng along Broadway. He uassod without a glance at either of them. For. a moment Philip faltered. Thou he set ws teeth and ivnlked on. There was an ashen shade in his face The Mrl looked at him and shook her head. " . ' Mare,” she said, “we haven’t talked much about it. but there is something there behind, isn’t there, something you are terrified about, some. Lung that might come, even now?” She knows about it,” ho interposed quickly “YYould it be vety bad if it came?” “ Hideous 1” “If sho were your wife ?” “ She would be notorious. It would ruin her.” Do you think, then,” she asked quietly, “ that you needed to come and ask my advice?” He walked on with his head high, leaking upwards with unseeing eyes. A little vista of that undisturbed supper table on the other side of the. marble hall, a dim perspective of those, eight years of waiting’, flitted through Ids brain. The lord of that Fifth Avenue mansion was m earnest; right enough, and he had so much to offer. “ It will break me. if I have to give her up,” he said simply. “ 1 believe 1 should have .gone overboard, crossing the Atlantic, but for her.” “ There are some women." she. sighed, “ the best of all women, the Joy of whose life seems to be sacrifice. That sounds queer, don’t it, hut it’s true. They're happy in misfortune, so long as they are helping someone else. She is wonderful, Elizabeth Dalstan. She may even be one of those. Y'ouTl find that out. You’d better find out lor yourself. There isn’t anyone can help you very much.” j “ I am not sure that you haven’t,” lie said. “ Now IT; g O . Where did you get your violets, Martha? Had them in water since last night, haven’t yon ?” She made a little grimace at him. “ A very polite young gentleman at the box office sent ns each a bunch directly we started work yesterday. I've only had a few words with him yet, but Eva—that’s the other girl- -she’s plagued to death with follows already, so I’m going to take Mm out one. evening.” Philip stopped short. They were approaching the theatre. “Not a step further,” he declared solemnly. “ I wouldn’t spoil your prospects (or worlds. Run along, my little cynic, and warm your hands. Life’s

good at your age—better than when J found you, eh?” “You don’t think I am ungrateful?” she asked, a- little wistfully. “ You couldn’t be that, Martha. . . • Good luck to you!” She turned away with a little farewell wave of the hand and was lost at cnee in the surging stream of people. Philip summoned a taxi-cab, sat far back in the corner and drove to his looms. He hesitated for a moment before getting out, crossed the pavement quickly, hurried into the lift, 'and, arriving upstairs, let down the latch of the outside door. Edward Dane was back in Now York! For a moment the memory of the great human drama in which ho found himself a somewhat pathetic figure, seemed swallowed up by this sudden resurrection of a grisly tragedy. Ho looked around 1m room a little helplessly. Against his will that, hideous vision which had loomed up be tore him in so many moments of depression, was slowly reforming itself, this time not in the still watches of the night, but in the broad daylight, with the spring sunshine to cheer his heart, the roar of a friendly city in bis cars, lb was no time for dreams, this, and' yet be felt the misery sweeping in upon him, felt all the cold shivers of his ineffective struggles.' Slowly that fateful panorama unfolded itself before his memory. He saw himself step out with glad relief from the uncomfortable, nauseous, third-class carriage, and, clutching his humble little present in his hand, cross the flinty platform, climb the long, rain-swept hill, keeping his head upraised, though the very sky seemed grimy, battling against the miserably depression of that everlasting ugliness. Before him, at least, there was his oue companion. There would he kind words, sympathy, a cheerful fireside, a little dreaming, a little wandering into that world which they had made for themselves with the help of such treasures as that cheap little volume he carried. 'And then the last few stops, the open door, the room, its air at first of wonderful comfort, and then the queer note of luxury obtruding itself disquietingly, the picture on the mantelpiece, her coming. He had never been in love with Beatrice. He knew that now perfectly well. He had simply clung to her because she was the only living being who knew and understood, because they bad mingled their thoughts and trodden the path of misery together. He covered his face with his hands, strode around the room, gazing wildly out over the city, trying to listen to the clanging of the surface cars, this rumble of the overhead railway in the distance, the breaking of ttie long, ceaseless waves of human feet upon the pavement. It was useless. No effort of his will could keep from his brain the haunting memory of those final moments—the man’s face handsome and well satisfied at fvrst, the careless greeting, the sudden change, the surprise, the apprehension, the ghastly fear, the agony! He beard the low, gurgling shriek of terror; lie looked into eyes with the fear of hell Worn them! Then he heard the splash el the black, filthy water. There was a cry. It was seveial seconds before he realised that it had broken from his own bps. He looked around him like a hunted creature. There was another terror now—the gloomv court with its ugly, miserable paraphernalia—the death, uglier still, death in disgrace, a sordid, gfiasuy thing 1 He walked up and down the room feverishly, as a man might pace a prison in the first few moments ol oaptiviiv. There was no escape! If he disappeared again, it would only rivet suspicion the more closely. There was no place to which he could fly, no shelter save on the other side of the life which he had just begun to love. His physical condition began to alarm him. He felt his forehead by accident, and found it damp with sweat. His heart was beating irregularly with a spasmodic vigour which brought pain. Ho caught sight of his terror-stricken face in The looking-glass, and the craving to escape from this frenzied solitude overcame all his other resolutions. He rushed to the telephone, spoke with I’hoibe, waited breathlessly whilst she fetched her mistress to the. instrument. “ I want to see you.” ho begged, as icon as he was conscious of her presence mi the other end. “1 want to see yon at once.” “Hus anything happened? she. asked quickly. “Yes!” he almost groaned. “I can't tell you ” “ T will be with you in ten mimit.es,” she promised. He set the receiver down. To "so ter. minutes were surely the longest which had over ticked their way into eternity! And then she came. He heard the lift slop and Ids dour open. T : . was a moment's breathless r, : as Uumx eyes met. then a little gathering

together of the lines of her forehead, a half querulous, half sympathetic smile. She shook her head at him. “'You’ve had one of those silly, nervous attacks,” she declared. “ Tell mo at once why?” "Dane is back—l saw him on the pavement this morning!” he exclaimed. " He has been to England to iind out!” She made him sit down and seated i herself by his side. “ Listen,” she said, "Dane came back on the Orinoco, the day before yesterday, I saw his name in the paper. If his voyage to England had boon a success, which it could not have been, you would have heard from him before now.” “ I didn’t think of that,” he muttered. “ I have never asked you,” she went on, “ to tell me exactly what happened behind there. I don't want to know. Only I have a consciousness—l had it from the first, when you began to talk to me about it—that your fears were exaggerated. If you have been allowed to remain safe all this time, you will bo safe always. I feel it, and 1 am always right in these things. Now use. your own common-sense. Tell me truthfully. don’t you think it is very improbable that anything- could be discovered P” "That anything could be proved,” be admitted eagerly, "yes!” "Then don’t be silly. No one is likely to make accusations and attempt a case unless they had a definite end in view. We are safe even from the. ‘ Elletimia ’ people- Mr Raymond Greene has censed to talk of your wonderful resemblance to Douglas Romilly. Phoebe —the only one who could really knowwill never open her lips. Now take me for a little walk. We will look in the shops in Fifth Avenue and lunch at the 11 itr,-Carlton. Go and brush yourself and make yourself look respectable. I’ll have a cigarette and read the paper. No, I won’t. I’ll look over these loose sheets and see bow you are getting on.” Ho disappeared into his room for a few minutes. When he returned'she was entirely engrossed. She looked up at him with somethinig almost of reverence in her face. “ When did you write this?” she asked"Yesterday, most of it,” he answered. “ There is more of it—l haven’t finished yet- When you send me away this afternoon, I shall go on. That is only the beginning. I have a great idea dawning.” " What you have written is wonderful.” she said simply. “It makes me feel almost humble, makes me feel that the very best actress in the world remains only an interpreter. Yes, I can say those words yon have written, but they can never be mine. I want to be something more than an intelligent parrot, Philip. Why can’t you teach me to feel and think things like "Yon!” be murmured, as he took her arm and led her to the door. “ You could feel all the, sweetest and most wonderful things in heaven. The writer’s knack is only a slight gift. T put on paper what lives in'your heart.” She raised her head and he kissed her lips. For a moment he held her quite quietly- Her arms encircled him. The perfume of her clothes, lier hair, her warm, gentle touch, seemed like a strong sedative. If she said that he was safe, lip must. he. ft was queer how so often at these times their sexes seemed reversed; it was he who felt that womanly desire for shelter and protection which she so amply afforded him. She patted his cheek. (To be continued.)