STRANGE ABSENCE

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXIV, Issue 936, 5 December 1933, Page 12

STRANGE ABSENCE

Author of “The Dividing Years,"' and “Guarded Watch.”

By

ALLYN SLOAN,

CHAPTER XIIT. Jerry Cheers Up. Silently Grant walked away with Dan, for he was thinking of Jean, and wondering whether the time had come to propose to her. He wanted to, devilishly, but a hint of Scottish caution withheld him. It would be a pity to do it too soon and be rebuffed. He thought over the moments when he had been with her, and tried to gather from them the portents in his favour, but they were pathetically few'. Just odd halfhours. spent in cheering her up whilst she was ill. and Washburn had often been present. The nearest he had come to intimacy with her had been that morning when lie had found her in the olive grove’ crying. She had quickly wiped her eyes and pretended it was nothing, but he knew, and had done all he could to comfort her, short of actually making love. He had wanted to most terribly, for somehow she had looked very pathetic, but he had known it was not the moment. Her whole thought had been with that brother of hers, and to thrust his own feelings in would have been ineffectual. He had come nearer to her in intimacy all the same, for she had told him a little about Euan—only the sweet things —speaking of her love for him, and of how much they had been together. Washburn glanced at his friend, who was walking beside him with long strides down the road leading to that part of the town known as the Condamine, and saw that he was far away. At last, however, he broke in: “Say, is this a walking tour?” “Um.” Grant scarcely noticed him. He was just remembering that be had placed his hand over Jean's and asked her whether she would not let him help. He had thought that she was going to 'tell him something—he had seen the very words trembling on her lips, but she had pulled herself up before uttering them and with a sigli had turned away. They were nearly at the railway station when Washburn struck. Grabbing Grant’s arm lie stopped dead. “Look here. I’m not going any further. AnvwayjH wish you’d stop looking like a fish with toothache and talk a bit. God gave me ears to hear with, but devil a little they hear from you these days. Your tongue will dry up if you don’t use it.” Grant shook himself mentally and chuckled: “Sorry, old man. I’m worried over this business.” “Don’t I know. I saw you last night in the moonlight pulling all the daisies in the garden to pieces. She loves me —she loves me not—does —doesn’t. Why don’t you grab the girl by the hair and ask her to marry you? ‘She can only stab you with faint No’s.” Grant shook his head: “Wish I could, but that’s not the way to do it.” “You Scotch are too done up; you should pull off a button or two and let your caution out. It’s choking you.” The Scotsman regarded the now sulky face of his usually good-humoured friend and said: “Look here, Dan, I’m going to stand by Jean Graham whatever happens. If that doesn’t suit you, I’ll move to an hotel!” A wide grin overspread Washburn’s face and he shook his head: “Oh, no, you don’t,” he said. “You’re not going to give me the frozen cold mitt. I told Mrs. Gorst I in it, and I’m not going back on my word, even if life with you isn’t a cocktail. Anyway, look what I did for you to-day. Didn’t I introduce you to the world’s longest nose?” “Um,” muttered Graint doubtfully. “You mean old Periclion ?” “Sure I do. You needn’t think because be looks like a pelican that he doesn’t know anything. His head’s as packed with sense as an egg is with chicken.” Suddenly Grant laughed. For no reason in particular but that he felt better. He would go up to the Villa Marguerite later and invite Jean to luneh with him on Wednesday. That would be a been APT ER XIV. Perichon Takes Lunch. Helen Gorst was astounded and not a little disturbed to learn from Jean that she was going to lunch with Baron Max de Laurier. But then, several things about the girl had been puzzling her in the last few days. She knew, of course, that she was horribly worried, especially as the Press bad got wind of the story and had announced the loss of Doreen Winton’s pearls in words which, although not libellous, unpleasantly connected the young Grahams with their disappearance by drawing attention to the fact that the pearls had been missing ever since the day of their departure. Naturally it was all very trying for Jean, but it wasn’t so much this as a kind of nervous reticence which had been growing upon her in the last few days, which disturbed Helen. Until recently the girl had been willing enough to talk things over, but now she could scarcely be induced to mention the affair, although quit© obviously slie never ceased to think of it. As indeed she could not! “The Baron knew something!” said Jean over and yver to herself. He knew that Euan nad had some pearls. Probably be did not know that they were Doreen Winton’s—if they were —but be would suspect it now {hat the loss had been made public in the Press. A shudder of horror and of shame passed through her as she thought about it. If only Euan had told her bow and where he had got those pearls. She simply could not believe that lie bad stolen them, and yet—that twe thousand pounds! “Oil, Euan!” she gasped. Two thousand pounds! It was appalling. And to owe it. to Max de Laurier of all people. That, of course, was why he wanted her to be nice to the Baron. Oh she saw it all now. And she had believed that by selling lier little bits of jewellery she had saved him from debt! The disappointment was terrible, like a dead weight upon her heart, and quite beyond the relief of tears. Euan, for whom so much had been done, to whom so much had been given. She thought of their mother —she had promised her before she died to look after Euan, and of tlieir father. He would have to know as soon as a letter could reach him. But always her thoughts reverted to de Laurier, for he seemed to her a great danger. How much did he know and what? No doubt more than he had confessed to. But why had he waited until the last moment like that, before mentioning the pearls? Anyway, she decided that slie must lunch him and find out what he knew. When Jerry Grant came over to invite her to lunch with him tlie next day at the Reserve at Beaulieu, she refused, explaining that she was engaged to lunch with Max de Laurfer. H© stared at her and ejaculated: “Oh hell!” “I’m so sorry, Jerry. I’d love to lunch another time." “But ” The young man broke off. Di course it was none of his business

really, but why this new craze for do Laurier? He disliked the man aiul everything about him. He was of the dark smooth type which Englishmen abhor. The sort of man he could never by any stretch of imagination visualise in tweeds upon a moor with a gun over his shoulder or even upon a golf course. To Grant he was a product of Hotels de Luxe, he went with thick pile carpets and hot restaurants, and looked his best when twisted in the contortions of a tango. None of which was like Jean, and yet she had seen him the day before and was lunching with him on the morrow. He could not understand it; it was beyond him. However, he supposed he had no right to object, and changed his protest into another invita“Well, why not come over to the Cafe de Paris afterwards and let me give you some tea ?” “I’d love that,” she agreed readily. “Good,” lie grinned. “As Dan would say, ‘Make it snappy/ I'll wait outside for you. We might go for a drive first or—or something?” The next day M. Gustave Periclion sat in the lounge of the Hotel de Paris with an aperitif before him, apparently ruminating. He was thinking of the interview he had had earlier that morning with his friend Rivaux—or Ris de Veau as lie had used to call him, because he had always maintained' that the poor fellow had sweetbreads inside bis skull instead of brains. They had discussed the case of Euan Graham together quite amicably and frankly, because Periclion had kept it dark that he had any interest in the case whatever. “Ah, mon vieux, I shall get promotion for this,” Rivaux had said. “Idiot,” thought Perichon. “He’ll never be promoted; he’s too small. Sees everyone through himself, and it is a narrow outlook. Now me —ah, what a difference. I am big. I look at the world and the people in it, not just as fat little Papa Perichon.” Going back to the case in hand, he recalled having asked Rivaux why he considered the Grahams to he guilty. Rivaux had smiled, purred almost, as he explained; firstly, that the brother Graham was a bad hat, that lie gambled and drank; neither had his associates been of the best. Perichon 2iad then led the conversation round to de Laurier, but there had seemed nothing against him. He was rich apparently, and as far ns anyone knew anything about him, respectable. “Then why,” had asked Perichon, “do you suspect Mile. Graham ?” So slowly and very pompously Rivaux had divulged his reasons; that the Grahams hardly knew the Wintons, but hail come to stay with them for the first time. That the boy had lost much money, certainly a great deal more than he had. Indeed once, fearing suicide, they hod had him followed, yet always he had produced more money and always he had lost it. On the night before his disappearance he had again lost heavily and had seemed in a very reckless mood, yet according to the testimony of the. Baron de Laurier, when he called oh him' that last morning he had seemed to be in a very cheery mood and had promised to pay all that he owed him in a few days. M. the baron had been very generous and had given him the extension he demanded, and stated quite emphatically that the boy had seemed in very good spirits and rather excited, as he stated his absolute ability to pay. There was testimony, too, against the sister. Firstly mademoiselle adored her brother. Mrs* Gorst and mademoiselle had' said so. She would do anything—simply anything—for him. Perichon remembered what a point Rivaux had made of this and nodded his head slowly. It was important. It was the kind of evidence which spoke volumes. The words Love and Honour which he had mentioned to Grant passed through his mind again. They had accounted for so much in the lives of some people, for everything perhaps although he acknowledged that there were others who did not know them or their meaning. If Miss Graham loved her brother so i much, and that brother was so deeply in debt. . . . He saw her fingers reaching , out towards some pearls. Perhaps at first the impulse had been involuntary, just a nervous reaction of the hands to a mind which might have been thinking: “If I had those pearls I could clear ! Euan.” Then someone had come, Suzanne, the French maid, and almost as involuntarily her fingers had caught up the pearls. She had not meant to take them, but feeling guilty at the thought which had passed through her head, and being startled, she had grabbed them. Then, frightened perhaps or even succumbing to tlie temptation into which slie had fallen, she had kept them, passing them perhaps to her > brother— Suddenly Perichon broke off, for there, sitting a few yards away, was the girl herself. Covertly he stared at her, his practised eye taking in her long slim lines, her well made, but simple dress, and her attractive face beneath the shady straw hat. It was pale and judging by the way she occasionally bit her lips, rather nervous as her eyes rested on the lift door. Perichon found himself liking her. She was simple and no thief—no, certainly not. But if she had loved her brother so much—too much—if he had been in great trouble—? Who was she waiting for? Her nice impatient Englishman? No. she would look more happy. M. Periehon’s question was answered almost instantlv, for a man hurried up to Jean Graham, bowed over lier hand and seemed to be offering her profuse apologies of some kind. When the man turned, however, and he saw that it was none other than Baron Max de Laurier. the detective’s eves narrowed for he said to himself: “What is the connection between these two more dissimilar people?” Tie would have liked to have watched them, but they went immediately into the restaurant, at the door of which the m nitre d ’hotel accorded them a sweeping bow. (To l>e continued daily.)