Miss MIDAS

Star (Christchurch), Volume XLIV, Issue 146, 22 June 1931, Page 14

Miss MIDAS

By

NORMAN PENLEY

v.vXv *'»i***r***vr<*xs*r*‘* (Author or •“ The Loveless Isle,*' etc.)

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS, r The one obsession of rich old JAMES MELBOURN 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 voung 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 has little time to spare l'or Huntingdon. One Saturday night he takes her to dance at the Hautniont Club, where they meet an acquaintance of Huntingdon’s, LORD CHIDFOLD. With Cliidfold 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 JScaucourt has sinister designs with regard to her father’s business. Citv 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 an apt pupil, her father realises that she lias no sense of responsibility because lie 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 tells her that in taking over the business and its accompanying wealth she also inherits his enemies. SIR SIMON LOANES is the chief of these nnd lias enlisted-the .services of Beaucourt and a financier of doubtful character, MARCUS OTJ.YF.T. . They see Iheir way of doing Molbourn narin by trying to influence Heather. UIELLA SCHEEK, one of the girls in Meibourn’s business, is jealous of Heather and seeks to do her narin. When one day she sees Heather in, the company of Beatioourt she sends an anonymous note to Huntingdon. CHAPTER XVIH. Heather’s First Success. “I am sorry to intrude upon you at a period of mourning, Miss Melbourn.” The journalist was very deferential and sympathetic, and he was a trifle surprised to see the girl’s eyes display an unmistakcable sign of resentment. But this was his second surprise. He had not expected to find her at the office; he anticipated that his colleague, who had beer, sent down to Dunmale, would get the personal interview, while his own part would be merely to collect a few details from the manager here to supplement the story. In strict truth, he had been caught napping, and had not thought out his questions very carefully. “Why do you talk of mourning?’’ asked Heather rather tartly. “Have you any news about my father, beyond what I have received?” “We know only what was in the morning papers, Miss Melbourn. I hope that in speaking of ‘mourning’ I was not assuming too much. I’m very sorry. I must apologise.” “That’s all right. You are not the only one who has made the same assumption. But you must understand the situation. It is a horrible position for anyone to be in. ... I can’t sav anything more than that. Mr. Phlange, niv father’s solicitor, has the matter in hand. He is dealing ■witli all inquiries. You will find his address in the telephone book. Meantime, I’m doing just as my father would wish me to do. 1 am carrying on. He does not believe in meeting trouble half-way.” The journalist noted, and admired a little, the bravcTway in which she spoke of her father in the present tense. As he said to his colleague, who had returned empty-handed from Dunmale, “It was pathetic to hear her talking of the old man as though he were alive. You could almost follow her mental processes as she was trying to convince herself that the news did not mean what everybody else knows it means. But, there, women always do deceive themselves. They can make themselves believe what they want to believe.” Heather, now accustomed to making up her mind quickly and unalterably*, had resolved, soon after receiving her father’s letter, what her course of action would bo. She rose early next morning and Administered a kindly but salutary rebuke to old Jennie, whom she found in a state of suppressed tears, talking about drawing the blinds. The devoted servant was told that she was a poor testimonial to her faith if she rushed to the worst conclusion on receiving a piece of bad news. Where was the sense in being so pessimistic? That little lecture was circulated throughout the small staff of the house, who had quickly assimilated all that was in the morning paper about their master. By the time Heather left for the city the tone of the establishment had improved considerably, and nothing more was heard of Jennie’s suggestion that the blinds should be drawn. Before leaving the house, Heather gave explicit instructions that all callers were to be informed that Mr. Phlange would deal with any inquiries they wished to make. Local friends who inquired were to be told that no more was known than was in the newspapers. Mr. Phlange followed hard on the heels of the journalist and had a much briefer interview than he anticipated. He, too, assumed the worst and expected a long session, in which he would have to play the part of comforter. He was surprised to find Heather following her usual routine and showing her customary compo-

On tlio first day on which the news of her father’s disappearance was mad© public she paid out many thousands of pounds, some of the cheques being delivered by hand before the disturbing news was twenty-four hours old. It was a bold proceeding, taken entirely on her own initiative, and it proved to be the first stone of a reputation which was to be built with astonishing rapidity. On that memorable day many callers sought interviews with Heather, but she was discriminating in her choice of those whom she saw. The afternoon was well advanced when she was brought a card over which she hesitated for some time before agreeing to sec the man. It was the card of Mr. Marcus Ollyett.' For some time Ollyett, in spite of his boast to Beaucourt, had procrastinated over his promise to visit Heather. Tho news of Melbourn’s disappearance, however, was something of a godsend, for Beaucourt had begun to chaff him on the reluctance lie was showing. Here was an excellent reason for approaching the girl. When, therefore, ho heard that Heather was at the office as usual, he lost no time in seeking an interview. By now reports of the attitude she had taken toward the disappearance of her father had been published in the evening papers and Ollyett had read them. He soon perceived what his attitude should bo and there was nothing of the pose of a funeral mute in Ollyett’s bearing when he was shown into Heather’s room. “Miss Melbourn,” he began, “when I read this morning’s papers I determined to call and express my sympathy. When I read the evening papers and found what a courageous attitude you had adopted I felt that congratulations rather than commiseration were called for. Please don’t misunderstand me. At best you are undergoing a serious trial, in which everyone will sympathise with you. Although I come from a rival house I hope that won’t preclude you from accepting mv sympathy, so far as it is appropriate, but still more rav admiration of the very fine stand you have taken” » “You are very kind, Mr. Ollyett.” “No, it is good of you to see me, after what must have been a very exciting day.” “Yes, it has been trying, and I’m tired; but it is quite a tonic to meet someone who can see that there are two angles to this difficult situation, and that there ia no ground for assuming the worst.” “By Jove, I wish this old city had more of your spirit! Really tho way in which we choose the worst of two evils whenever we get the slightest opportunitymakes me think, at times, that we deserve to lose our supremacy as the financial centre of the world. Once upon a time we had the courage to face our troubles with a proper show of fortitude, and we never ran out to meet the worst half-way. It’s good to find the old spirit is not dead, and if it is to be revived by women coming into the city, then the more we have, and the sooner they come in, the better for everybody, except our foreign competitors.” “Well, I did just what my father would have done in the same circumstances.” “Miss Melbourn, your father was —is— a great man, a far-seeing man, and the way in which he brought you into his business showed that he could move with the times.” “You believe, then, Mr. Ollyett, in women coming into the city?” “Most certainly. And I’ve always held that it was a perfectly normal development, not a thing to be written up and simpered about as it is in some quarters. But J.’m keeping you too long,” ho exclaimed, and rose from his scat. “I came only to wish you the best of 1 luck and the best of news. “Just one thing more. Please forget that ours arc rival concerns, and if I can help you at any time, do allow me to do so. * I’m not saying that because you are a woman. That’s not my outlook on the matter at all. It is merely that I have had a longer experience in the city than you have, and I am placing it at your disposal just as I would offer it to a man in the same circumstances.” He held out his hand, and by the way she took it and returned his smiling “good-bye,” he knew that he had achieved his end, and if lie had not gained Heather’s confidence at the first meeting he had gone as far towards doing so as anyone was likely to get with a Melbourn. In fact, she had said, quite definitely, that she would be glad to avail herself of his advice. On hie return to the office, Ollyett ■ inquired at once for Beaucourt, eager to ’ tell his partner of his success; but Beauj court had gone. Presently Lord' Cliidfold entered with, a letter. “Oh, Ollyett, I have a note here from Beaucourt. We were having lunch together to-day, when I told him about old Melbourn’s disappearance. Seemingly, Beaucourt had overlooked the report in this morning’s paper. Almost at once he seemed to have an inspiration about this man’s disappearance. Ho said he must go to Paris immediately—felt sure he could find out something from the Surete there. Then he dashed off this note to you and rushed along to his flat to pack some kit and to get the four o’clock boat train.” Ollyett did not open the letter which Cliidfold gave him. He rose, crossed to a table on which were laid out many newspapers. Selecting “Le Journal,” he glanced at an inside column, murmured, and set it down again. “All right,” Cliidfold, I understand.” Still the young peer showed a reluctance to leave. “But it’s dreadfully exciting, this Melbourn disappearance, isn’t it? They were discussing very little else down at tho Stock Exchange this afternoon, I was told.” • ■ “Frankly, Cliidfold, I don’t see anything to get excited about.” “Well, to put it at its lowest, it’s p one old bird the fewer, and more chance for young blood like you and me.” “So you have aspirations to old Mel- ‘ bourn’s place, have you? Well, strange things have happened. His daughter is a very presentable young woman. What’s more, Cliidfold, there’s your peerage, ; always an attraction to the ladies, and when you’re sober and haven’t cut yourself shaving you don’t look bad in a half-light.” . “Ollyett, you’re rather bitter, aren’t , you?” . “P’raps I am, p’raps T am. Sorry, old man. Don’t take m e too seriously. But I’ve cause to be bitter. Suppose you . buzz off before I break out again.” I Cliidfold did as he was told, and . Ollyett opened Beaucourt’s letter. He . knew only too well what it contained—

Indeed, as Heather explained long afterwards, the experience of the day was a revelation of the ingrained habit of people always to look on the darkest side of a situation. By that time, however, she had forgotten that she, too,, assumed the worst, when she first heard the news, and that it was not until she knew definitely the facts of the matter, facts know i to no one else, that she took on the buoyant demeanour which so impressed everyone who met her during those trying times. Mr. Phlange had a busy day, dealing with the police, the Press and various business acquaintances of Melbourn’s, some of whom, for the first time in their recollection, began to feel a little uneasy about Melbourn’s financial position. That difficulty was soon disposed of. On Heathers instructions, she. was informed immediately of anyone who showed the slightest timidity about the financial stability of tho concern, and, whether the account were due or not, payment was sent to them that very day. News of her action soon travelled round the city and any anxiety about the condition of the firm was quickly dissipated.

lies, of course. . The truth was to be round, in tho French newspapers. The Miarm. Sisters were on the last week ox their season in Paris. What a partner! Heather Melbourn lor ail her inexperience, was worth a score of erratic birds like Beaucourt. Stak it'ever? idCa in that - Ho ”H,st CHAPTER X3K. Spurned. Heather Melbourn, after Ollyctt’a eparture, sent out a message to the not C so® G t 0 Say that sho <-o»W not see any more callers. She decided f ”® l , llomo - where, no doubt, nettl Yffi W u-° SC .° reS ° f < l uesti ™» and petty difficulties to he dealt with Also, there might be another letter.' ' one was preparing to go, had, in fa»t donned her liat and coat, when a <wrl clerk came into her room. ,h®' l i 0n ' t si W tllel '° is another visitor,’* else „ >ega "' 1 rcal, y cannot see anyone tin™ ■ ha T en ’ t -begotten your instructions, Muss Melbourn, and wove sent several into Mr. Potter, but this W Captain Huntingdon, and he insists on my telling you that ho is here.” This, indeed, was tile last straw. Instinctively she turned to the mirror above her mantelpiece, although she had only just turned away from it the moment the girl entered. She took a long look at herself before she said a little wearily: “Please show Huntingdon swung into the room with long, eager strides. To all the feminine eyes m the general office, as they followed him into Heather’s room, lie was obviously, in spite of his lounge suit, a soMier. His carriage alone betrayed that, though there was much in tho set of the shoulders and the weathered skin of his faco which made his pro--fession easy to guess. Even Miss Sclicer felt a little romantic about him. Heather received him kindly, but not affectionately. He did not know, could not know, the restraint which a tired mind was exerting. “Gerry, you know this is not in the contract,” she said. “Forgive the word contract.* I’m becoming thoroughly commercialised.” ° “1 know, darling, I know. But then tliw most unfortunate mishap to your father is surely something which sets aside contracts. X should bo less than human if I didn’t come and ask if I can help you. You must be very harassed, darling. Can I do anything at all to case matters ?” They were both standing. She had not asked him to sit down. It was not deliberate, this omission; it did not come of any intention of being brusque to him. It was simply due to the fact that, suddenly confronted by the man whose love she had treated lightly, she was too bewildered to know exactly what to do. Vaguely she realised that, whatever tho inward feelings, this interview must be brief and as little like a lovers’ meeting as she could make it. . s h° stood by the matclpicce, looking pale, hut very charming in her dark, sc\ eiely cut suit, he edged his way toward her and laid a hand upon her arm. “Heather, darling, I have a duty—a privilege, rather—of protecting you. Let 1110 "Ip you through these difficulties, and Til go away again. I’ll resume the contract,’ as you call it.” He looked straight into her eyes os he spoke. He was pleading. She turned * ./ acc * wa 7 from him and looked out °i the window on the spires and pillars of the City of London. ‘ Gerry, you can guest what a day I’ve had with i m one but Mr. Phlange to w.ioni I could turn. It has been dreadful.” “Darling,” he interrupted, “I eanie as soon as I could. Court nuptial this morning—missed my lunch—motored to Dunmale—had a puncture—no spare—drove straight here—” “I don’t mean that. I’m sure you’ve lost no time in coniine. That is so liko you. I mean you can imagine how file has been for me to-day.” “I can indeed, darling, I can.” ‘ Well, Gerry, I Jo beg vou not to break me by plunging me'into a bi«» struggle at the end of it. I really do appreciate what you sav and what you ve done, Gerry. I love you for it. . . But the bond we made still holds good. 1 lease don’t argue with me. You can help me best by doing as I ask.” There was a silence, a long, awkward silence. ‘ Gerry, I must refuse even that . . --nber it’s no easier for me than for ‘But you will have to be driven there. 1 suppose?” \es. Perhaps, as you go out, you’ll ■ k onn °f the youths to get a taxi for me? Good-bve, Gorrv.” The business woman was speaking a gam. Her emotion had been banished after a struggle. What she said now bore unmistakably the air of finality. There was a ghost of a smile as they shook hands, but when lie had gone sho dared not look in tho glass. As for Huntingdon, his disappointment suddenly changed to a mood of tierce determination. That was the last time he would accept her decision. Next time there would be a battle. And, in the end. he would will —no matter how long it took him. (To be continued daily.)