HER DAY OF ADVERSITY

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18189, 23 June 1927, Page 15

HER DAY OF ADVERSITY

“ STAR’S ” NEW SERIAL

(By

MBS PATRICK MacGJLL.)

If thou faint in the day of adversity thy strength is small."—Proverbs.

CHAPTER XIII. THE HEROINE. “Crikey, dresser, but I feel as if I'm all of a jelly inside. Give me ’ands a bit of a rub, will ver, old dear?” Lottie held out her cold, red little paws, and the good-natured dresser, who had similarly helped hundreds of nervous “first turners,” slapped them between her own large, none too clean hands, and sage advice which Lottie was too flustered to heed. “You get the boy to bring you in a nice bit o’ skate, fried, with some chips, and a bottle of Bass.” Here the dresser passed an expressive hand over her own mouth. “I siippose, like all the rest of them, you’ve had no tea, what with the excitement and one thing and another?” Lottie took the sensible advice, and also the hint, sending for two bottles of Bass with her fish supper, and she was in the middle of her meal, listening as she ate to the dresser's tall stories of days when she was herself a “star,” when the door opened, and David Murray, very shy and apologetic, put his head round the corner. “Oh, no you don’t, young man ! You just stop outside,” commenced the dresser, coming across the stone floor, with a hostile gleam in her watery eye. “Look here, I must speak to this young lady; my errand is of the utmost importance.” As he spoke David pressed a couple of half-crowns into the eternally seeking palm, and their effect was magical. “Oh, well, if the young lady don’t object,” came the voice which 5s had transformed into amiability. “What is it, sir?” Lottie’s voice and face alike were frightened: she had seen the papers that day, but had given up trying to solve the riddle of Carol's marriage. David put his hand on the thin shoulder, and his voice was harsh with emotion which he was keeping in check. “Lottie, I can't tell you everything here, but I’ve come to claim that promise you gave me on the Embankment—do you remember?” “I couldn’t ever forget, Mr Murray,” was the simple, earnestly spoken reply. “Well, she’s ill—very ill, Lottie—and T want you to come back with me at once and help to nurse her. You are the only friend she's got to rely on.” said David, unconsciously touching the most responsive chord of Lottie's whole being. All her life, the little servant girl had been starved for love, and her nature craved it as a flower the sun; all that she asked of life was somebody to love, somebody who would depend upon her for even a little bit of happiness. All the secret pent-up longing transfigured and made beautiful the homely little face. Everything was forgotten, even the all-important “turn” which was due in forty-five minutes. "I’d give me ’ead to make ’cr better, the pore precious 1 Got a taxi waitin’, did you say, Mr Murray ? Just wait outside till I get into my proper togs, and I’ll be with you in a couple of shakes.” “But what about your turn, dearie?” asked the scandalised dresser, when she saw Lottie preparing to change. “Can’t ’elp it. I’ll maybe get another chance. But there's somebody dependin’ on me—matter of life and death, it is—an’ I’d never forgive myself ter my dyin’ day if anything ’appened while I waited to do my turn," said Lottie, her very considerable sense of the dramatic thoroughly roused by the demand which was being made first upon her loyalty and then upon her capacity for self-sacrifice. “Little brick, I’ll make it up to you,” said David, with a warm rush of gratitude at his heart, as he took Lottie’s shabby little imitation cowhide case containing her clothes and make-up in one hand, and her too thin arm in the other; and led her through the dimlylighted stone passage which ended in a door that gave on to the street. David was about to hand Lottie into the waiting taxi when a voice which had sufficiently irritated him for one day, said in his ear, “Don’t bother about the taxi, David. I'll drive you home, and your—er —friend can sit in the emergency seat at the back.” Nadia had quite recovered her ruffled temper; a glance at Lottie had been sufficient to assure her that no man in his right mind could possibly prefer tht ugly, underbred little creature to herself. David frowned. This was the last thing that he had bargained for. It greatly puzzled him to know what business could possibly bring Nadia over to Wood Lane at that hour of the night. A fleeting smile chased the frown—which however, Nadia had noted—for a second, as David hastily raised his hat. “Thanks ever so much, Nadia, but don’t bother. I’ve already engaged this fellow, and he’ll shout blue murder if 1 make him go back empty to Piccadilly, where I picked him up.” All the time that he was speaking, David’s sub-conscious mind was working. lie knew that it could only be pure coincidence, but it was also a somewhat disturbing fact that Nadia was the sister of a close friend of Jacob Stone, from whom, at all costs, Carol’s whereabouts must be kept a secret until she was well enough to tell him the truth about her amazing marriage. So, in his anxiety to do the right thing, David blundered badly, in that, after once more declining his admirer’s pressing request to be allowed to drive him home, he told the driver to head ;for Charing Cross Station. Nadia get into her own little runabout, with a puzzled frown darkening her handsome face. What was the idea? Of course he wasn’t bound for anywhere by train at that hour of the night with such a quaint little creature for a companion! Very discreetly Nadia set herself to follow the taxi. THE SLEUTHHOUND. It was hard work keepnig the taxi in sight, and for a long time nothing happened to reward Nadia for her trouble. Then, when the bend in Regent Street was reached. David suddenly put out his head and altered the direction. There were several cars between, and Nadia could not possibly catch what was said, but she guessed easily enough. And the knowledge sent the angry blood racing to her face, dyeing it crimson, and not even the cool night wind fanning her cheeks sufficed to cool them. “But it is iust a vulgar intrigue—nothing more.” she told herself ere she was compelled temporarily to abandon her thoughts and concentrate on her driving. She bit her underlip in vexation when David's taxi and other cars which were between were allowed to pass the policeman and she was held up. Directly she was free to start .she made for the rank in Piccadilly, just

in time to see David's driver emerge from the entrance to Jermyn Street. At night she tossed wakefullv, jealously, on her pillow, finding no consolation in the thought of the difference between the respective positions of Lottie and herself. She hated the girl whom she suspected of being even a passing fancy of David Murray. After a perfunctory, unenjoyable breakfast, she tried the telephone. “The line is disconnected,” she was told. “Why?” was her ‘irritable query. “Because the subscriber wishes it,” snapped the exchange in tones equally offensive. “Why should he wish the telephone to be cut off?” thought the suspicious, sore-hearted girl, when she had satisfied herself that the information given by the exchange was authoritative. Jermyn Street drew her as a magnet attracts a needle. See David she must, even though he could descend to a flirtation with a little music-hall artist who had once been a domestic. Disdaining the use of the downstairs bell, Nadia walked straight upstairs to the second floor, where David's flat was situated. Stringer opened the door, and there floated out from the flat a curious aroma of sanitary fluid, hothouse flowers and beef tea. “Oh, good morning. Is Mr Murray “He's gone away for a few days. Left this morning early. Didn't leave no address for letters, Miss,” he lied solidly. Again that curious combination of smells! And Nadia also thought that she could hear somebody moving about, stealthily, as if anxious to avoid attracting attention. "Well,—er—l’ll leave my address—this is my card—and if you should get a communication from Mr Murray would you mind letting me know?” “What the mischief did she want?” inquired David, irritably, as soon as it was safe for his voice to be heard. “Nothing, sir,” replied Stringer, truthfully, so far as he knew. David spent every moment that he was allowed in Carol's room. There had been no change during the night, and the doctor had been up the whole time, compelling Lottie to go to her makeshift bed in David’s sitting-room as soon as she arrived. “You’ll need all your strength tomorrow, and, anyhow, you must obey my orders, and act in every way like a professional nurse if you are to help me with this case,” he said, abruptly, but kindly, and he had his reward in the glow of happiness which suffused the young face at the identification of herself with a real, live doctor.

Little Lottie’s dreams were happy that night, and the next morning, as the clock struck six, the weary man who had watched all night by Carol’s side, fighting the fever which several times seemed hopelessly superior to his own skill and his patient’s strength, was secretly amused but outwardly gravely approving of a spick-and-span young person smelling healthily of Stq u pap. pßq oq.w ‘duos Aonqajiq white apron over her frock and pinned a big handkerchief round her head in regulation hospital fashion. “That's splendid, nurse,” said the man who had fought a bigger fight than anybody in the flat would ever know, for during the night not one drop of liquor had passed his lips. Lottie was going about her duties as quietly and calmly as any professional nurse, while Nadia Ilalkin was wasting her smiles upon Stringer at the door, but. nevertheless, Nadia’s love-sharp-ened ears had caught the soft swish of skirts and the sound of deadened footsteps. ... “I must find out everything, I must,” she told herself, stormily, as she walked down the narrow thoroughfare into Ilaymarket. She turned into the Civil Service Stores in order to give herself a few minutes in which to think. The wish to possess David Murray, to mean more to him than ony other woman in the world, was becoming something more than mere longing; it obsessed, dominated, controlled and coloured every waking thought—had done so almost from the beginning. Then, into the. brain of the beautifjul woman in orchid velvet whq stood, apparently gazing at some exhibits on a stand, there stole the idea which was to have such far-reaching results when it was put into operation. “It seems horrible, but everything is fair in love; lonian, no less than man, has* to fight for her mate, even in these civilised times.” It was with thoughts such as these that. Nadia sought to comfort herself as she climbed the stairs to the office of a private inquiry agent., who was soon acquainted with his client’s wishes. “I understand, Madam, perfectly, and I’ve fio doubt that I shall have something to report by six o’clock to-night,” he said suavely, as he bowed Nadia downstairs. It happened that the particular in- * quiry agent selected by Nadia had done quite a lot of work in the vicinity of the Jermyn Street house. Caretakers and cooks were his bosom friends, and j through the good offices of one of them he was enabled to mount a window- I cleaner’s ladder and take a peep into the back rooms, as a preliminary to other investigations. llis first cautious peep was into a I room where the window was opened widely, and what he. saw made him open his eyes and mouth simultaneous- , ly. “W hat a stroke of luck ! Who'd have thought it?” the detective asked himself gleefully as, after giving his friend notice that he had finished with the. ladder, he rushed to the nearest telephone call box. and put through two calls—one to Jacob Stone’s house at Finsbury Park, and the other to Nadia ll^lkin. To the latter he said, politely and officially, “ I am able to report that the young person whose description you gave me is residing at the gentleman’s flat, and the gentleman himself is not away, as he made some purchases at the chemists’ only two hours ago.” “Thank you. Is that all you can tell me? She—the young person—was she with Mr Murray? In the same room? The detective smiled into the mouthpiece. “She was not with Mr Murray, madam. lie was not in the flat at the time when I was investigating,” he was able to say quite truthfully. He rang oft from the Knightsbridge house with a little impatient sigh of relief. He could have given a whoop of joy when, on ringing up Jacob Stone, he was told that he was at home and would speak. “Well?” The moneylender's voice was a bark Since Carol’s mysterious disappearance he had neither ate nor slept. He spent nearly all his time in fruitless searching of the streets and visits to Scotland Yard.

(To be continued.)