Miss MIDAS

Star (Christchurch), Volume XLIV, Issue 144, 19 June 1931, Page 14

Miss MIDAS

By

NORMAN PENLEY (Author or "The Loveless isle,” etc.)

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. The one obsession of rich old JAMES MELROURN was pride in his achievement in setting- his name high in the financial world and a desire that his DOUGLAS, should follow in his footsteps. But his son loses his life in a motor smash. James proposes, therefore, that his daughter, HEATHER, an attractive girl of 23, who is about to become* engaged to GERARD HUNTINGDON, a young Guards’ officer, shall take the place of a son. Heather consents, thinking that it is a passing whim and that her compliance will help her father to recover from the severe shock resulting from the tragic death of Douglas. Heather soon learns the ways of the city and finds she lias little time to spare for Huntingdon. One Saturday night ho takes her to dance at the Hautmont Club, where they meet an acquaintance of Huntingdon's. LORD CHIDFOLD. With Chfdfold is a tall dark-skinned man of about forty, who is introduced as AIR. BEAUCOURT. Heather and Huntingdon take an instant dislike to him, and Heather is disquieted by the suspicion that Beaucourt lias sinister designs with regard t«» her father’s business. City life is absorbing Heather and the idea of matrimony becomes less attractive. She asks Huntingdon not to attempt to see her unless she sends for him. Reluctantly he gives this promise. Although Heather is apt pupil, her father realises that she hirs no sense of responsibility because he is always at her elbow to advise her. SO he decides to let her take full control with charge of a million-pound business, while he goes abroad for a holiday. He tolls her that in taking over the business and Its accompanying wealth she also inherits his enemies. SIR SIMON LOANES is the chief of these and has enlisted the services of Beaucourt and a financier of doubtful character. MARCUS OLUYET. They see their way of doing Melbourn uarin by trying to influence Heather. LUELLA SCHEER, one of tlie girls in Melbourne business, is jealous of Heather and seeks to do her narm. When one day she sees Heather in the company of Beaucourt she sends an anonymous note to Huntingdon. CHAPTER XV. Staging a Disappearance. ✓ “Yes, eet Is most remarkable weather for this time of the year, and I hope you are enjoying your stay'.’* The reception clerk at the hotel delighted in tlie opportunity of - airing his knowledge of English. *lt was not often they had an English visitor at La Haute, and it was very exceptional to have one at this time of the year. “Yes, I'm having a very good time, and if the weather doesn’t become too severe, I shall stay two or three weeks longer.” A dialogue something like this occurred nearly every morning of the week, between James and the reception clerk, and it was about the only sustained conversation he had with anyone, for, apart from his ability to order a meal in French, and to ask his way about, old James spoke no language but his native English. “You don't know Scotland, do you?” James said to the clerk one morning ae he lighted his cigar, preparatory to a jwalk in the winter sunshine. “I .was in a Glasgow hotel for a very fchort time, monsieur, but I do not see pnuch of the country.” >- “Well, the country is very similar to (this. That’s why I like La Baute. I [feel at home in theee hills and glens.” /The clerk made a mental note that me must look up the word “glens” in this Frencli-English dictionary. That was ja' new word to him. r 4 ‘Ab f yes, monsieur. And you like jthe lake too?” S “Ave, it’s a fine loch.” r The clerk noted the word “loch” for [investigation, though, somehow, it [seemed familiar. “Most afternoons,” continued James, j“I walk right round the top end of yon [loch, up into the foreet. One day I’ll [take liberties with one of those boats on the shore there, and see if I can still iTow. I was fairly good with an oar once upon a time.” > Thus the conversation would continue, ■tlie clerk paying little heed to the general sense of the talk, but keeping his ear for words that were new jto him and expressions that he had half forgotten. Still, he was pleased to gather every day that James was enjoying his holiday. That meant a continuance of the conversations which the clerk was finding very beneficial to a knowledge of English picked up during a few months of work washing dishes in various British hotels. V But if James had been perfectly truthful, he would not have said that he was enjoying himself. He was far too worried to derive much pleasure from this holiday, and/ in any event, he did not care for Continental holidays. / Before liis eon's death, James Melrbourn’s visits to the Continent had been relatively few, and apart from an [occasion when he had taken Heather for ia long-promised holiday in Switzerland, all his trips had had a business motive. jHe did not care for foreign countries, and had said so again and again. At any other time Heather would have opposed his going to France for ithis lonely holiday, but his mind was no [longer running upon its familiar course, , and Heather deemed it beet to let him do as he wished without protest. Perhaps liis last experience in Paris had, after all, given him a liking for the Continent, although there was nothing in hie manner at the time to indicate such a change. And where, too, could he have learned of La Baute. except from a pamphlet about the Vosges, which was the only English publication in an array of miscellaneous magazines which lay in their sitting-room during tlie holiday in Paris. As he took his usual walk along the boulevard which Avas the main street of La Baute, and thence into the deserted grounds of the closed Casino, James wondered why Heather had not opposed the plan. True, lie had told her of it in a manner which did not invite opposition, or even criticism, but that was necessary. lie was determned to take this way out, and the less time and temper wasted in fencing with criticism and opposition, the better for both of them. And now lie Avas feeling lonely. He Avanted to see Heather again. He haci an old man’s yearning to be near his child. He fancied, too, that she needed him. She must be haA r ing a rough time Avith the business, and, like the brave girl she was, she was telling him little about it. Yes, lie felt sure the time had come to put. into operation the next and most difficult part of the plan. Other men might have hesitated, might have felt a doubt about the wisdom of taking that next step. But fear was something James had banished

from his life. To fear anything, in his philosophy, was to meet failure half--SSo that morning he Avalked round the northern end of the lake, as lie had done many times before, and took tlie narrow track that followed its eastern side, skirting that extensive wood which was locally termed “the forest.” About a mile along the eastern side lie entered tlie wood and for a short distance picked liis way among the dead leaves and bracken until he came to a fallen elm. There he paused awhile, looked about, and haying satisfied himself that no one was in sight, he removed his long ulsfer, disclosing beneath a light spring overcoat. This he rolled carefully and deposited under the upturned root of the elm. Then, from the pocket of the ulster he drew a rolled-up felt hat of French make, and that, too, was stowed beneath the elm. Resuming his ulster again, he knelt and piled up the dead leaves, so that the coat and hat could not be seen. Then he retraced his steps, and was back at the hotel in time for lunSh. After lunch he had a short nap and spent rather more time than usual in liis room before'going out again. Following his usual practice, he left some letters at the office to be posted. As daylight was waning, he Avas back at the fallen elm in the wood, retrieving his light overcoat and the rolled hat. These he donned, and carried his ulster, and his usual hat, doAvn to the waterside. Neatly he folded the ulster, as was his habit with clothes, first cheeking the contents of the pockets. Then he placed it on the ground -with the hat on top, and went to one of two old boats moored near by. They were Aveather-beaten old tubs, such as arc allowed to lie out during the winter. James understood they AA r ere used just noAV and then by the forest guard, tAvo venerable woodmen Avho were not likely to do much boating in winter. He untied one of these boats, after 1 removing one of the oars_With the oar **'» removed ho pushed the boat out into tlie lake, where it Avas caught by the wind and a light tide, and began slowly to move towards the west. When it was free, lie mustered all his strength and threw the oar as far as lie could into tlie water. It fell Avith a noisy splash, Avhicli made the old man a little apprehensive. He Avaited for a - time to ensure that no one was about, and then exchanging his cane for a rough stick cut from the wood, he set off southward. He had seven miles to go to Potin, but he felt equal to the walk. All his life he had been a sturdy walker and seven miles Avas little to him, eA'en at his present age. His only anxiety was for his clothing. This chopping and changing of overcoats might have been dangerous, but he had made discreet use of a woollen cardigan, so that even now, when he Avas wearing only a spring overcoat, ho AA’as not, taking the usual cardigan into consideration, much . less heavily clad than usual. Potin was only seven miles from La Baute, but, in many respects, it was in a different world. ‘it was a fair-sized town, with one or tAvo industries, and La Baute, superior, genteel, did not encourage contact Avith Potin. Ne\-ertheless, James had been there more than a week previously, had explored it, and had purchased a first-class ticket to Paris, taking care to do so just about the time that an express to Paris was due. It Avas now quite dark, and, glancing at his watch, James Avas gratified to note that, so far, his plan had worked out to time. He had allowed himself two and a half hours for walking the seven miles to Potin, a calculation which would bring him to the town in time to get the night train to Paris. He had carefully traced the train through one time-table to ensure that it was not - one of those expresses likely to be popular. The fact that it halted fairly frequently and had no restaurant or sleeping car was an assurance against a crowd. As he trudged along the road, he kept his ears alert for any cars or fellow pedestrians avlio might, later, be able to give evidence that they had seen him. To amuse himself, lie went over the contents of his pockets. Yes, he had his passport. He always kept that in his hip pocket, and had taken care that the reception clerk at the hotel had seen him put it there. That Avould dispose of the passport mystery from the police point of view. They would hear the clerk’s story and say at once that the passport was on the body, at the bottom of the lake. He regretted that he had been obliged to leave a thousand francs in the pocket of his ulster. That would pay the two days’ hotel bill, which Avas all he owed, and any incidental expenses in connection Avitli his “death.” That it Avould be stolen A\ r as unlikely, for this was a small community which, like many in France, prided itself upon its honesty, particularly in relation to the property of Aisitors. It A\*ould never do for a health resort to get an ill reputation in that respect. But the money had not been left there with the object, primarily, of paying debts. They could be settled, if necessary, from London by Heather. His aim was to giA r e this strange disappearance tlie suggestion of an accident^That was why he had put the money in an old wallet along Avith a few letters and visiting cards and sundry receipts. “See,” they would say, “his money is here, and his papiers ties affairs.” Then they would go to the bank, see what he had drawn, compare it with the hotel bills he had paid, and say, “Yes, one thousand francs would bo* about the balance. The man could not be at largo without money. He must be dead.’' Actually, of course, he Avas well supplied with funds. For some days before lie had left London lie had been buying francs for cash at various tourist offices, and that reserve he had not touched. It was safely stowed away in his pockets, and, as he walked, he felt in caeh for one of the crisp bundles into which he had divided it. Once or twice, as he walked, he had been obliged to take cover from the glaring headlights of a ear, and in the only village through which he had to pass he was fortunate in encountering a lieavily-laden farm cart, on the far side of which he walked until the houses were passed. In Potin he felt safe, so safe that he Avas sorely tempted to go into a cafe and get some refreshment, but be had a few biscuits, some chocolate, and a small flask of brandy stowed away in the deep pockets of his overcoat, and, once aboard the train, he would be able to make a light meal.