STRANGE ABSENCE

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXIV, Issue 934, 2 December 1933, Page 23 (Supplement)

STRANGE ABSENCE

Author of

“The Dividing Years,’ 1 and “Guarded Watch.”

By

ALLYN SLOAN,

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS L • JEAN GRAHAM and her brother EUAN have been staying on the Riviera with GEOFFREY WINTON and his wife DOREEN*. Doreen has led Euan on to gamble in the Casino, and Jean wishes to get him away. They start for Pans in the ear, and call on BARON* MAX DE LAURTER. one of Euan’s friends, whom Jean distrusts. Euan is closeted with the Baron for some time, while Jean waits in the hotel lounge On the Paris road Jean takes her brother s case out of liis jacket pocket and finds inside a beautiful string of pearls. Euan snatches the case from her, and. in doing so, loses control of the car, which . crumples against a rocky bank at the side of the road. The accident is discovered by TERRY GRANT, whom Jean had met the night before with his friend DAN* WASHBURN. Jerry takes her back to his hostess, HELEN GORST. The police are informed, but they are astonished to learn that Euan Graham started out with Jean, for 6he is the only person found in the wreckage. Jean is not told of the failure to find her brother. On learning of Euan's disappearance, Doreen Winton behaves in a strange manner, raising the suspicions v/ her husband. CHAPTER X. Rivaux’s Questioning. Helen was not surprised when shortly M. Rivaux presented himself at her villa and asked for Jean. He was in a state of high satisfaction and regarded Helen from gloating eyes. “So now we find our motive,” he ejaculated. Helen'6 heart sank, but she asked steadily: “What do you mean, M v Rivaux?” “Where is mademoiselle ?” Glancing through the window, Helen said: “She’s just coming across the garden.” As she spoke Jean appeared, followed bv Grant. Both were smiling, and the man's arm was about the girl—just to help her up the steps, he explained hastily. “I’ve been sitting in the olive grove,” Jean volunteered, omitting to mention, however, that Grant had \ found her there in tears and had stayed to console her. But suddenly, her eyes becoming used to the dimmer light, Jean discovered Rivaux, who was watching her intently. “Oh, I hadn’t seen you,” she apologised. “What is it? Is there A smile oozed out of Rivaux. “News?” he said, carelessly shrugging Ills shoulders. “There is always news. There is, for example, the news that the pearls of Mme. Winton have been stolen.” Only Grant looked at Rivaux with any surprise. The other two were watching the girl, the Frenchman intently, Helen anxiously. The information coming thus unexpectedly so shocked Jean that it saved her from registering any definite emotion. ' She merely stopped abruptly in tlie act of pulling otf the light straw hat she wore and said: “When?” “Why do you ask when, mademoiselle?” Sheer instinct kept Jean steady, foilier heart was pounding horribly within her. Rather slowly she replied:

“Isn't it a natural question?” “But if the pearls had not been stolen recently you would surely have heard of it, n’estee pas?” “I —I suppose so, but I mean was it last night or to-day?” Rivaux gave the girl a long look, then moved nearer to her: “Mademoiselle, I must ask you a few questions.” Jean flung a glance of appeal at Helen, then sank resignedly into a chair. Grant, however, came forward and rather peremptorily addressed the representative of the Surete. “Look here,” he began. “Yes, yes, monsieur,” Rivaux endeavoured to wave him aside. Grant, however, returned to the attack. “It’s all very well; you’ve worried Mise Graham quite enough, and nothing to show for it either.” Clasping his hands behind his back, Rivaux glared up at the Scotsman. “Has Mees Gra’am something to hide?” “Of course not.” “Then it will be a good thing for her if she will not refuse to answer.” “What d’you mean by saying ‘good for her’ like* that?” jerked Grant, truculently. 'Since his talk with Jean that morning in the olive grove he felt more than ever that she was the only girl in life for him, and he detested the Frenchman for plaguing her with his eternal questions. Besides, he fancied that there was a kind of smug threateningness about Rivaux which he much resented, especially as it intensified the sense of his own impotence. Helen, however, whilst agreeing with him, signalled to him to be quiet. “Go on, M. Rivaux,” she said. Jean sat forward on her chair, waiting. She felt rather cold, and was aware of a horrible sensation in the pit of her stomach. Fixing his attention upon her, Rivaux began: “Mademoiselle asked when the pearls were stolen. Supposing I was to say on February 10—the (lay that mademoiselle and monsieur her brother left the Villa Palmiers, over two weeks ago? Does that say nothing to you ?” Before the girl could answer, Grant exploded: “Book here, you aren’t trying to suggest that Miss Graham had anything to do with it, are you?” “I was not speaking to you, monsieur. Well, mademoiselle?” Watching Jean keenly, Rivaux saw that, in spite of her level voice, the fingers of her hand whicli rested on the arm of the chair were working nervously, and he smiled. “J am asking you, Mile. Gra’am, if you know anything about the pearls of Mme. Winton?” “I say—really—” protested Grant, sharply. His anger was such that he could scarcely contain it. Jean, however, answered at once: “Of course I don’t.” Helen got up and took a cigarette. “Really, M. Rivaux, I think you are going a little far,” she said, curtly. Rivaux flung her a strangely piercing ! glance. “Perhaps madame would prefer that mademoiselle comes with me to the Prefecture?” A moment of dismayed silence followed, for there seemed something unpleasantly sinister in Rivaux’s tone and manner. Jean put her hand rather wearily to her head, but, looking up, asked the police officer to proceed. Her interlocutor nodded: “Mademoiselle is wise.” Grant muttered something, swinging iway and staring out of the window. The girl’s pale, tortured face wrung his heart and he longed to take her in his ftl lilo.

Helen sat clown rather helplessly, whilst again that queer sensation of a nameless fear crept over her. “Now, mademoiselle, I believe — Rivaux paused. “You were fond of your brother, n’est-ce pas?” The girl nodded and answered in a low voice, “Very.” “You would do anything for him?” She fell into the trap, her eyes lighting to an anxious smile as she protested, “-Anything.” “Ah!” the Frenchman smiled. “Good! Now tell me, mademoiselle, why did you sell two brooches, a bracelet and a ring at the little second-hand shop of M. Gaillard ?” Jean started and a wave of colour swept over her face. “Well, mademoiselle?” “B-because I wanted the money,” she stammered, wishing suddenly that Jerry Grant was not present. “But why ? Mademoiselle has a good allowance from her father.” “That’s my business,” she jerked and sat fiddling with her handkerchief. M. Rivaux smiled. “Was it perhaps that mademoiselle wanted the money for her brother?” “I’ve told you, it’s my business.” “Monsieur had lost much money, very much money—”

Leaping to her feet. Joan glared at M. Rivaux from a white, angry face. Please leave mv brother’s name out of this. If he’s d-dead, you might at least leave him alone.” Her voice trai’ed away to a sob which she sought to control. Grant tunued from the window and went over to her.

“Miss Graham, it’s a damned shame,” he blurted out. “I wouldn’t put up with, it.” He stood there, his hands twitching with the desire to take and iomfort her. But Jean turned away and stood with her back to them and her elbows on the mantelpiece, supporting her head on her hands. Helen’s heart went cold within her as she looked at Rivaux’s obstinate little face. There was something she could not define in it, a self-satisfaction and also perhaps a threat which filled her with a vague apprehension. “I say, Rivaux, can’t you see that Miss Graham —”

“No. no, it’s all right,” Jean interrupted, pulling herself together and facing them once more. “Go on, M. Rivaux.” “Good, mademoiselle is sensible,” he smiled. “So, Mees Gra’am, on the morning you left Monte Carlo you called at the Hotel de Paris. Why ?” “My brother wished to see Baron de Laurier.” “And you? Did you not see the baron? No? And what did you do?” “I—l went to the post office,” Jean said wearily. “To send off a small parcel.” “How do you know ?” gasped the girl. “I know everything,” grinned Rivaux. “Now tell me what was in that little box.” “Some coral beads I was sending to a child in Scotland.” “Where did you buy them? At what shop ?” “I didn’t buy them. I’ve bad them for ages.” “Oho!” the Frenchman exclaimed. “And suddenly you felt you must give away these corals to a child?” “Yes. It was her birthday.” “Sucks for you,” muttered Grant viciously. “Oui, monsieur? You wish to speak?” Rivaux looked at him blandly. “No. 1 think you’ve asked Miss Graham enough questions for one day, though.”

The other smiled. “Nearly. There is just something else. Mademoiselle went into Mrs. Winton’s room twice on the morning that she left. Why?” Again Jean was astonished at the extent of Rivaux’s knowledge, but she answered quietly; “To say good-bye to my hostess. The first time I went in she was in the bathroom beyond and the maid let me in. I waited awhile, then called that I would come back later.” ,

“And the pearls were on the table, were they not ?”

There was something in the manner of the question which made Jean hesitate; an instinctive sense of danger, such as one walking in the dark might reel. "I—l don’t think so," sne answered.

Rivaux gave her a long look, then said “Mademoiselle, before le Bon Dieu, I ask you if you know anything about the pearls of Mrs. Winton ?” Jean neither hesitated nor thought before voicing an emphatic “No!” fcjiie fell instinctively that all this was aimed at her brother Euan, who was dead or —cr —anyway, no one should blacken nis memory. Rivaux shrugged his shoulders again and bowed. “Very well, but—if Mademoiselle remembers anyth —later on perhaps—it would be good it ~he would tell me.” Tlie words were addresed to Jean’s back, for she had turned away. “Monsieur—Madame!” Rivaux bowed.

Graut took a step towards the girl. His hands twitched with a desire to taki* and comfort her, to shield her, his darling. But with a supreme effort lie controlled himself. This was not time to make love. But he whispered: “Jean!” Rivaux, however, had not yet gone. At the door he turned and flung a somewhat satirical smile at the young man whose love for the girl was so transparent; then he said: “Madcmoislelle will please not leave Monte Carlo.” “What’s that?” Grant took another step towards Jean and stood protectinglv close to her as he glared at the Frenchman. Rivaux, however, ignored liis truculence and said coldly: “Jt is in the name of the law. Bon CHAPTER NT. A Visit to De Laurier. That afternoon Helen Grist went ovt» to Mentone to see a friend, leaving her young guest to rest in a sheltered corner of the loggia. Fear however, is a restless companion’ an 1 Jean could not keep quiet or rest. For heifcvif, she had nothing of wnich to be asnamed, but for Eliansl'G liad lied already for Kuan. Tire memory of Rivaux’s little close-eyed face made her shudder. He was like a rat, and there were few secret places into which rats could not eat. It terrified her, too, that lie knew so much about her. What might he not know about Kuan? “O, God!” she sighed nervously. She did want her brother found, yet now she was terrified. Anyhow, what could he have done with himself, where gone? She paused, visualising the sort of scene she had read of in detective stories. Kuan in disguise living in the unde<--word of Marseilles. The thought made her shudder. She could not bear to

til Ink of Tiim slinking about in those low-down haunts along the water front, one of the acknowledged!y most evil places in the world. Euan, who was used to everything that was best in life, for whom nothing had been spared. Suddenly an almost fierce sense of protective love for the boy swept over her, filling her heart with tears. It was a kind of agony, and she clenched her hands, saying aloud: “He didn’t do it! He didn’t do it!” They should not say that he had. How could she have believed such a thing against him. He was weak, she knew it, and possibly had lost at the tables, but he was not a thief. As for tlie pearls, there must be some explanation. She would not believe that he had stolen them.

For a long while Jean sat there, turning the problem over in her mind, and she found herself wondering who could help her in her dilemma; whether there was no one who could throw light on Euan’s disappearance. Whom, for instance, had he seen last. De Laurier! .The police, of course, had been to him, but perhaps he had not told them much. Sometimes, not wishing to become involved, people held things back. The idea that she must see the baron possessed her. She did not like him, but she could not let her own feelings stand in the way of anything which would help to unravel this wretched mystery. The more she thought about it, the more certain she became that possibly Max de Laurier might know something which would throw light upon her darkness. After all, he and Euan had been closeted together for nearly an hour on the morning of the accident. So strong was the hope, that only immediate action would satisfy her, so.

getting up, she fetched her hat and gloves°and walked down the village. She had not been to the town since her accident and it was a long way to walk, but hoping that she might, meet a fiacre or taxi, she set out along the dusty road between the white villa walls. Her antagonism to de Laurier was now in entire subjection to her desire for his help, an assistance of which in some strange way she was confident. Ht would know something—he must. At the hotel she. sent her name up t.o de Laurier and sat down to wait. At another table a young man in a brown suit also seated* himself, but the girl was far too full of her own affairs to give him a thought. She did notice, however, that the hall porter and buttons stared at her curiously, and a faint flush crept up her neck. Of course, Euan’s disappearance was public knowledge, but owing to the injury to her head she had read very little and had scarcely realised the interest which the case had aroused amongst the gossipmongers of Monte Carlo. Soon, however, the porter returned and bowed obsequiously: “Monsieur le Baron will be with you in a little moment, mademoiselle.”

Scarcely had he finished speaking when Max de Laurier stepped out of the lift and came quickly towards her. “Mademoiselle, je suis enchante! T have wondered so much how you are. and Mrs. Gorst, she was so severe, 1 could never get in to see you.” His sleek dark head bent over her hand, but in an instant he scanned her face with every evidence of concern. “How are you? You are better?” “Oh yes, thank you, nearly all right.” Jean glanced nervously about her and saw a young man in brown apparently engrossed in a newspaper seated just behind her. “Baron, I—l wanted to ask you something,” she began, haltingly, and in a low tone. “How charming!” he smiled, and, fol-. lowing her glance, understood. “Wilr you not come up to iny sitting-room ?” “Oh, no, thank you. I—l don’t think. Look, there is a quiet corner.” She moved across to (he far side of the lounge where against the wall was a small table. Do Laurier called a waiter. “What will you have? A cocktail?” “No. Some coffee, please.” “Now, mademoiselle, what can I do for you ” The Frenchman’s face was serious, but a smile lurked in his eyes as they ran over her little stiaw hat, rested a moment on her face, then glanced down at her slim legs and neat feet. “I —I wanted to ask you something about Euan,” Jean began, but hesitatingly, for she was finding it far more difficult than she had expected. And besides, that guarded feeling which she always had with him was creeping over her, freezing her like ice. De Laurier looked down, and said with great feeling, “Ah, that was terrible. I have been so sorry.” (To be continued daily.)