THE TANGLED WEB

Star (Christchurch), Issue 19116, 8 July 1930, Page 16

THE TANGLED WEB

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By

ELIZABETH YORK MILLER.

Author of “ The Runaway Wife,” "The Road. That Led Home,” “ A Cinderella of Mayfair,” etc., etc.

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CHAPTER XVIII. It seemed to John Raynes, who by this time was so thoroughly upset himself that an earthquake might have occurred without his noticing it, that Jim’s reception of the news was almost indecently calm. At first Jim said nothing. Then he turned and walking to the sideboard, poured a drink for himself, measuring it doubtfully, as though not quite certain as to the size of the dose. He drank it off and looked at his father-in-law as though from a great distance, and when he did speak it was more to himself than to John. “ That ” he said quietly—“ explains a lot of things. Poor Merry!” John sighed. “I'm glad you take her part, Jim,” he said in a tremulous voice. “ So do I, really, only I had to scold her first.” “ It was our fault,” Jim replied. “ We played that trick on her.” “ Mine, I’m afraid. I was the one who got the bright idea. Why doesn’t she come home?” Jim went to the window and out anxiously. The front garden of the little house was enclosed by a wall, but from the window one could see if a taxi approached. The two men exchanged glances, each hoping that the other was not thinking the same thing. What if Merry frightened out of her wits did something desperate ? Where could they look for her. “ I’d better ring up Lady Pelbury,” Jim said hastily. He did so, but Angel was not at home and Meriel had not been there that afternoon. It was eight o’clock before they realised how time was passing, and the parlourmaid appeared to ask what she should do about dinner. Jim moistened his dry lips. “ Keep it back a bit, Ada. Mrs Tremlett isn’t home yet.” “ We’ve got to do something.” said John who was now in a state of complete collapse. Oh, if only he hadn’t gone upstairs to telephone; or if only he had given poor Merry one kind word. Remorse gnawed at his heart and he knew he would never again have peace in this world if anything had happened to her. He remembered how her tears had smitten him and her wistful appeal, “ Aren’t you going to forgive me, Daddy? ” Yet he had seen fit to drag out the punishment a bit longer. Why hadn’t he yielded then and there and comforted her, as he would so gladly do now were she in his arms! “ I don’t know what to do,” said Jim. Each was thinking of the police and wishing that the other would suggest ringing up Scotland Yard, but somehow it seemed absurd. They might get laughed at for their pains. Twilight hadn’t faded yet. A woman overdue home by only one hour. The police would naturally want to know what specific reason they had for making the inquiry. But by nine o’clock Jim could no longer control his fears —and he did ring up on the score of a possible street accident. It took nearly threequarters of an hour for full inquiries to be made at the end of which time he was assured that none of the hospitals reported a case in which the victim could possibly have been Meriel. They tried the Pelbury mansion again, and this time Cyril St Grys came to the telephone. That he happened to be in the house at this hour was due to the fact that Angel was bringing some people home for bridge after a restaurant dinner. Cyril had seen the slip of paper on which the butler had written, “Mr James Tremlett rang up at 7.50 to inquire if Mrs Tremlett had called late this afternoon,” and not unnaturally he speculated a little upon what might lie behind it. Cyril had thought quite a lot about Meriel lately, inspired by Lady Pelbury’s idea of there being some “ mystery! ” and also by the incident at Leonora’s. When Jim’s voice reached him over the telephone he noted the quiver in it. “ I see you’ve rang up before,” said Cyril. “And Mrs Tremlett hasn't come in yet? Well, it looks a little serious, doesn’t it? I wonder if there’s anything I can do?” “ I wish you could suggest something,” Jim replied. “ Pier father’s here and we’re rather at our wits’ end.” He mentioned that already they had inquired as to accidents. And then that strange sixth sense of Cyril St Grys’s leapt to a quite possible solution, although he hadn't himself at all a clear reason as to why it might be one. “I say, Jim, old man,” he said, ‘it may sound queer to you, but why not try that dressmaker woman in Mad-don-street? Name's Madame Leonora, and the shop’s Number 10. It’s just off Knightsbridge.” A cold perspiration beaded Jim’s brow. Was Merry’s plight already public property? Yet now he wondered that he had not thought of Leonora himself. She was somehow linked up with the whole affair. “ Thanks,” he said. “ Thanks, very much, I will.” . “ Of course, nothing may come of it,’ Cyril replied. “ What shall I say to Lady Pelbury? She’ll be in almost any minute now.” “ Perhaps you’d better not say anything at all. I’ll ring up later. How long will you be there?’ “ Midnight or thereabouts.” “ Thanks. All right—good-bye.” * * * * Just how and why Leonora's name had tripped off the tongue of Cyril St

Grys, Jim had no idea, beyond the hint that Grace Peabody had thrown him. Yet, of course, Cyril must have seen a lot of Saunders in the day§ of Meriel’s infatuation. Jim felt that he, himself, was very much of an outsider where this part of Merry’s life was concerned. But just at the moment he was not disposed to analyse his own feelings. Merry was his wife. He didn’t care a hang what pretentions Saunders might make. He didn’t care what the law said, either. She was his wife, the mother of his boy; she loved him, he knew, and he guessed that wherever she was at this moment she was suffering horribly. All her pain was his--aye, and more. For he suffered not only for her, but for himself and that poor broken man, Johnny Raynes. He spoke very gently to his father-in-law. “St Grys has given me an idea where she may be,” he said. “ She might have gone to a woman who knew Saunders, or if she’s gone to Saunders this woman may be able to tell me where to find him. Now, look here, Daddy John, I want you to let Ada give you a bite of dinner. You can swallow a cupful of soup if you can’t manage anything else. I’m going straight off to find this woman. The telephone’s no earthly use. I want to see her myself.” “Can’t I come with you?” pleaded John. “ No, sir, you cannot,” Jim said firmly. Already the young husband felt less distracted. Here, at least, was soifiething to do even if it amounted to nothing, and surely St Grys would not have given him that hint without good reason. Jim clung to any hope that could take his mind off the dread vision of Merry’s face cold and white against the murky waters of the river. How far away seemed Madden-st. from St John’s Wocd, but finally he stood at the side door of No. 10 and rang the bell. There did not seem to be much promise in it. The place was in complete darkness, both the shop and the rooms above. Did the woman live up there? He tried the shop bell which created a faraway tinkle, then the side door again. Suddenly it all seemed peculiarly absurd. Merry couldn’t possibly lie here; nobody was here. He turned away, yet half lingered, loth to abandon even this one frail hope. Let’s have one more try; he rang again, a long punctuated appeal, as though life or death waited on that blank threshold. Hark! Yes, someone was coming down the stairs. The door opened on a chain, just enough for him to see the white face of the woman he remembered encountering on his own doorstep, and a portion of the wrapper she was clutching about her.

“ Who is it?” Leonora demanded. “My name is Tremlett,” Jim informed her. “ You know my wife. I’ve called to make inquiries about her Is she here?” The blur of white which was Leonora’s face pressed closer to the opening, then withdrew. A light clicked on, illuminating the stairs and narrow passage of which Jim could catch but the barest glimpse, “ Mr Tremlett did you say?” “ If you'd only open the door you could see for yourself,” Jim replied testily, “You may remember I let you in that evening you called with some dresses for my wife.” “ Ah, to be sure ! ” The chain was released and the door was opened. “ Well, sir, what can I do for you?” All the antagonism he had felt at that first encounter was there with a little added. “ I want to have a word or two with you about my wife,” Jim replied. Leonora drew back slightly. “If it's about the money Mrs Tremlett was kind enough to put into my business, I’ll have you know it was of her own free will. A good investment, too. If she says I forced her to do it, then that's not true.” “Oh?” queried Jim. So there was considerably more in this than met the eye. “ I’m not bothering about money at the moment. It’s something much more important. My wife has . . . disappeared. I’ve called to find out if you know anything about it, if you can give me an idea where she is. I thought it not unlikely that she might have come here.” No one who did not know the heart of Leonora Begby could possibly have interpreted the stricken expression with which she regarded Jim. Her voice was hoarse as she bade him enter and apologized for the old wrapper she was wearing. “ I was in my workroom in the back.” she said, “ and I didn’t answer the bell at first because the street boys are always ringing it, and I haven’t any friend who’d be calling so late. Please come upstairs, sir.” She went ahead, turning on lights, and ushered him into her neat littie sitting-room. “ Now, sir, what’s this about Mrs Tremlett having left home?” Jim’s hopes dropped to zero. “ Then she isn’t here—she hasn’t been h^re?” “ No. Why should your wife come here, Mr Tremlett?” Jim plunged boldly, due perhaps to the prodding of Cyril St Grj*s. “I thought it more than likely because of your friendship with Captain Saunders,” he replied. (To be Continued). 1 E*l IS ® El iU Hi @ ES SI HI ® H! S 3 IS HE! HE ill in m H)