“THE BLACK OWL”

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17837, 4 May 1926, Page 14

“THE BLACK OWL”

“STAR’S” NEW SERIAL.

[By

William Le Queux.]

CII AFTER XV111(Con tinucd.) Pearson left the hotel about his customary time and walked as before in he direction of Soho. To Marsden's surprise w*hen he reached that neighbourhood he did not make for his usual haunt; but turned into Old Compton Street and entered one of the biggest restaurants in that well-known thoroughfare. Marsden followed him a at respectful distance and seated himself in the dining-room. occupying a table behind that which Pearson had chosen, where he could watch the other’s movements witout being observed himself. It must be stated that on every occasion, he made some important alteration in bis disguise, so as to avoid identification.

The waiter approached Pearson for orders, but received none. Instead he was asked to bring him a newspaper which he read rather fitfully, glancing every now and then in the direction of the entrance. It was obvius he was expecting a guest. Presently a smart, well-set-up young man. dressed in a dark tweed suit, came briskly through the entrance, threw a keen glance round the diningroom, recognised whom he was looking for, went to Pearson’s table, and seated himself opposite them, after exchanging a brief handshake. Marsden had experienced a thrill or two while he listened to the important revelations of Attwood, but they were faint compared to that which ran through him-as he scanned the features of Pearson’s guest. If the portrait he had memorised could be trusted, the young man in tweeds was Graves the chauffeur, the man who had left behind him a forged letter, purporting to be in the handwriting of Iris Winterton, the man who was supposed to have been drowned! CHAPTER XIX. The young man in tweeds had broght with him a suitcase, which he deposited on a chair near him; either he had come straight from a station or was leaving London some time after dinner. That, if his usual good fortune befriended him, Marsden would find out in due course. The two men did not seem to talk very much during the progress of the meal; as they sat at opposite sides of the table facing each other, there was not much opportunity of private conversation. Marsden had little doubt in his own mind that Graves was the man to whom had been despatched that Manchester telegcam in reply to one which had so disturbed Pearson. In due course, he paid his bill, and when he saw the butler summon the waiter for the same purpose, he slipped quietly out and took up his watch a few yards away from the restaurant. Presently they came out, and walked arm in arm, talking very earnestly. They made their way into Leicester Square, and entered the bar of the Queen’s Hotel. It was here then they were going to continue the confidential conversation, for which there had not been privacy enough at the restaurant. Marsden slipped in behind some other people who entered immediately after them. Yes, there the}* were, seated in a corner by themselves, well out of earshot. He ordered his drink and stood at the bar from where he could comfortably keep an eye on their moveNearly half an hour had gone before they rose to and in their exit passed close to the watching Marsden. Pearson was speaking to his companion in a low voice, but amongst the many accomplishments possessed by this clever young man, was the faculty of keen hearing, and softly as the butler spoke, to liis acute ears every word was distinct. “All right, then I shall be down at Manchester next Mondav. I shall leave. Kuston by the fast morning train. It seems to me that we must hurry up matters as soon as possible.” 11 is first intention had been to follow them, but in view of this information. it did not seem necessary. Today was Thursday. On the following Monday Pearson was going down tu Manchester in order that he * might hasten things, in conjunction with the man who had so contrived matters as to convey the impression that he had perished as the victim of an accident. Manchester was the centre of their sinister activities, to that city he would follow Pearson on the day named. lie felt very elated when he left the bar of the Queen’s. He knew by a sure instinct that his weary time of waiting, of baffled endeavour, would eventually be compensated. lie was now definitely on the track of some vile conspiracy, in which these two scoundrels, both experienced in the methods of the underworld, were playing a sinister part.

On the' following morning, he paid a visit to (’rawshaw’s office. That experienced solver of puzzling mysteries agreed that the information he had just secured was of the deepest importance, and had high hopes of the visit, to Manchester, on the following Monday. lie displayed his usual cautious habit of mind in certain remarks he addressed to his lieutenant. “I am sure we are on the track of a very foui conspiracy, but until I have some indications how you are progressing at Manchester, I thing it will be wiser not to say anything to Mr Fraser. The knowledge of the purpose for which you have gone there, would keep him in the tortures of suspense. Poor fellow, we don't want to add to what he has already suffered.'’ Marsden agreed, and took leave of his chief whom it was not at all likely he would see again before he took that important journey. Neither did he think it necessary to keep up his watch on Pearson any longer. Manchester not London was the place in which discoveries were to be made, if his luck held out. In the morning of that day he had an very pleasant one, but for certain continappointment which should have been a gencies in the background of his mind, lie was to meet Miss Cotteil for the purpose of lunch at a quiet little restaurant in Oxford Streeet. The young lady has disappeared from these pages for a little time, but Marsden had still kept up his acquaintance

with her, not because she was of any further use to him in the elucidation of the Clanstone. mystery, but for the reasons that it was difficult to break off the connection without assigning some plausible reason, and more important still that he found himself more and more attracted by this well-behaved, modest young woman, who was, in so many ways, superior to her station. Time after time when he had left her, he had told himself very sternly that the thing must cease, that he was acting unfairly towards her by keeping up an acquaintance to which he did not feel disposed to bring about the termination that she naturally expected. It was easy enough to se that she was very much in love with him, and he shrank from the brutality of telling her the plain truth, that in the first instance, he had cultivated her society smiply for the purpose of making use of her.

Through the influence of her uncle, Miss Cotteil had procured an importand post in the ducal household. She was now quite in the upper circles of the domestic profession, and the knowledge of her advancement had added a certain asurance to her demeanour, had given her a touch of extra refinement.

As she stood there in her closely fitting. well-cut clothes, dressed in quiet good taste, Marsden thought, so far as mere appearnce w’ent, she would carry away the palm from a good many of her social superiors. In addition to that superior appearance, she was wonderfully well-educated for her station. She was there before him, waiting at their usual table. She greeted him w r ith her usual pleasant smile, and on her cheek there fluttered the faint tinge of colour which usually came to it when they met. But it was not long, as the meal progressed, before he could see that she was not her usual self, that there was something wrong. She did not chat away with her accustomed vivacity; as a general rule she was quite good company, but the smile with which she received his occasional sallies had not the ordinary spontaneity, it was forced and mechanical. It was easy to see that she was in a grave mood, that she was deeply preoccupied, and thinking very seriously about something. It had been his purpose to-day to tell her as kindly and gently as he could that their acquaintance must end. He had not made up his mind in what terms he was going to break this to her, or what more or less plausible excuse he would advance for such a decision. He trusted that inspiration would come to him at the moment he was in need of it. More than once before he had resolved upon a similar course, and then as now he had been diverted from his selfish purpose by her undeniable charm, by the patent evidence of the affection with which he had inspired her. Today, in face of that gentle dignity which her unusual gravity had seemed to throw round Tier, it seemed impossible for him to approach the perilous subject. Coward-like, he made up his mind he could not speak to-day. After the luncheon was over, and they were in the coffee and cigarette stage, there was a long silence between them. Conversation had languished a great deal since the first moment of their meeting, but now a peculiar constraint seemed to have fallen on both. He was the first to try and break it, to endeavour to restore if possible the old, pleasant atmosphere. “Well, what shall it be after this?” he asked briskly. “Shall we go to the pictures, or would you like a matinee.” This had been the usual conclusion to their merrymakings, and she had always accepted the suggestion with alac-' rity, adopting one or the other of the alternatives he presented her. To his great surprise, she shook her head, and spoke in a low voice, in which he was sure he discerned the suspicion of a tremor. “ I would rather go to neither to-day. I feel a little bit out of sorts, and I would prefer to get home early.” This was not at all like the ordinary Amy -Cotteil, who w’as a most eventempered little soul, and liked to make the most of a holiday, on the not very frequent occasions when she got one. He looked at her keenly. With the inconsistency of the masculine nature, he felt himself a little aggrieved by this grave and aloof attitude. He had called her Amy for a long time, but she had never got beyond the formal Mr Marsden, perhaps because she was morbidly conscious of the difference in their positions. Once or twice, when they had talked very confidentially, she had let slip a timid little “dear,” and blushed very much as she said it. She did not look at him when she answered, but kept her head down, her eyes fixed upon the cloth. Was it because she did not -wish to catch a glimpse of the tears that w r ere slowly gathering? “ I'm afraid I’ve not been a very cheerful companion, have I? I’m awfully sorry if I have spoiled your lunch.” Hard as she tried to conceal it, he knew that she was speaking under the stress of very considerable emotion. His ill-humour vanished at once, touched as he was with the deep dejection of her attitude. And in that moment, by a sudden revulsion of feeling, he realised how very hard it would be to part from the girl, what an immense amount of sunshine she had brought into his

“ Amy, for goodness sake, don’t sit there looking so miserable.” he urged, pleadingly. “Do tell me what has upset you so greatly.” At last she spoke in answer to that appeal, and although she could wink away the tears from her eves, she could not succeed in keeping them out of her voice, bravely as she tried. lie listened, astonished by the rather rambling phrases. And as he listened. he thought how the positions were reversed. lie had had it strongly in his mind to tell her that this was to be their last meeting. And now in those halting phrases, in a voice that she could not keep steady, she was telling him the same thing. “I've been thinking it over for a long .time, and know now there must, be an end of it. Last night. I had half made up my mind to write to you. And then I was too weak to do it; I wanted to see you for the last time, to say good-bye properly.” (To be continued.)