STRANGE ABSENCE

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXIV, Issue 941, 11 December 1933, Page 12

STRANGE ABSENCE

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

By

ALLYN SLOAN,

CHAPTER XVIIT. Jean Meets Perichon.

The next morning before Jean was dressed Helen called to her that she was wanted on the telephone.

‘‘Jerry!” she thought, and her heart, which had been desolate since their break of the night before, began to race. When she reached the telephone, however, it was only Dan Washburn.

“Is that you, Jean?” came his voice. “Sav, I wonder if you’d come up to the villa and fix the flowers for me. Sis gets here to-day, and I'd like to have the place looking swell when she

Jean laughed in spite of herself. “Whv don't you do the flowers yourself?” “Why, 1 did try to fix the darned things, but when I'd finished, they looked kind of like a Peace Conference, all separated and falling out. Say, won't you come? You will? Gee! You’re a peach. I’ll call for you in the roadster and get you! I’ll be there at five minutes to eleven.” Washburn rang off and Jean's laughter faded. There had been no mention of Jerry Grant. Had it been intentional, she wondered. The memory of his hurt and angry face had haunted her all night, and the fact that she could not do anything about it only made their estrangement the worse.‘incidentally, it also augmented her dislike of the Baron, and she wondered again as she had several times in the last few days whether she dared defy him. When driving up to the Villa St. Juan, Jean inquired rather tentatively whether Grant was at home. Washburn shook his head. “I wish I knew what bug was eating that boy. His temper lately has been about as sweet to live with as a hornet’s nest. He went off somewhere this morning with a life-sized grouch upon him. Well, here we are. Now you’re running the decorative business, but I’ll do whatever you tell me to.” For the next half hour Jean wandered through the garden, directing Washburn which branches to pick, and herself gathering great bunches of roses, narcissi and anemones. “I bet you, sis breaks right out into a Party the minute she gets here. She’s a live wire, I can tell you. Even the clock goes faster when she’s around.” Jean glanced at Washburn, who stood at her side with his arms filled with the flowering branches. His good-natured face struck her suddenly as a very friendly one, and ignoring his previous remark, she said: “Dan—” He grinned: “Jean?” WTiat d’you think is wrong with Jerry ?” His faced flushed faintly as he answered: “Well, I kind of hoped you knew that.” “You think it’s my fault?” “I don’t know about your fault, but it’s you all right. When a feller's as gone as Jerry, there’s usually something wrong with his heart. Don’t vou like him. or what?” The question was so matter-of-fact as to embarrass the girl. Without answering, she loosened the flowers in the vase she was arranging, shaking them out and standing back to look at them critically with her head on one side. But at last she said: “Dan, I do like Jerry awfully, but for—well, for certain reasons, 1 don’t want to be engaged to him yet. That makes him angry.” “Yeah, I gneiss lie thinks you’re running another bean alongside of him.” “But I’m not. I’ve begged him to trust me. Can't you do anything with - “Well, I'll see; hut It's rather like being a buffer on the end of a train. Hello, look who’s here.” Turning round, Jean saw an elderly man plodding up the drive. A long black cape swung from his shoulders and in his hand he carried a wide felt, hat which left his somewhat dome-shaped head gleaming baldly in the sun. “Who does he look like— Sanclio Fanza or Sir Galahad ?” whispered Washburn. “Who is ho?” “Periclion, the cx-tcc ” The mail of whom Jerry had spoken! Jean watched him curiously, and for a moment the old man returned her gaze. “Bonjour, mon ami.” “Good morning, sir. I’d like to have you meet Miss Graham.” “This is a pleasure I have long desired,” answered Periclion with a smile. “I suppose you’ve heard all about, me,” said the girl, on the defensive, yet forcing a certain lightness into her “Ah, I am a friend of M. Grant, so it “Did you come up to see Jerry?” Washburn inquired, pushing forward a chair. “No. I came to see mademoiselle.” “Me?” Jean stared. The Frenchman smiled: “You are surprised. But I will not keep vou long — just a little minute, if you will be so amiable.” He glanced meaningly at Washburn, who immediately took the hint.

I It was with mixed feelings that Jean accepted the seat which Periclion offered. Grant had said that he was on their side; nevertheless she feared him.

“Ah, what a day of sunshine,” sighed the old man, leaning back and blissfully lifting his face to the sun. Unaccustomed to his irrelevances, Jean wondered, and shot him a surreptitious glance. But in a moment his tone changed as he remarked: “Mademoiselle, you are in trouble, and I arn here to‘help you—to find the culprit.” She murmured: “I wish you could.”

“Ah.” His eyes, whilst appearing to be on the scenery, were covertly watching the girl. It was the first time he had seen her from so close, and he thought her a rather lovely creature. Not pretty in the manner of a Frenchwoman, but he admired her skin and colouring, her sunny hair and slim, lissome figure. There were other thiims which he noted as well. “Mademoiselle, you are not happy,” he announced abruptly.

Jean'looked away: “You know about my brother?”

“Le pauvre M. Graham. Yes, but that is not all. You are—afraid.” “Afraid?” Involuntarily she turned to Inin, but when her eyes met his they fell. Shrugging her shoulders, she murmured: “I don’t know why you should say that.” “Ah, I am Periclion. 1 know ” he asserted.

Know what? ’ The words broke from her sharply. “That you are afraid of .something and. mademoiselle, believe me, if I am to help you, you must confide in me. So far we are not much further. Mv brave comrade Kivaux knows nothing, has found nothing—and meanwhile M. your brother and the pearls of Mine. Win ton are lost.” 4

“Oh, 1 know.” Jean moved impatiently. How often had she been over and over it all? “M. Perichon,” she turned to him suddenly, “what do you think has hup pened to Euan?” “Ah, Ca!” His shoulders humped themselves and his hands spread out. “But you are a great detective—can’t you eve i guess?” Perichon chuckled inwardly. He was a great detective. Oh, yes, it was pleasant that this charming young lady knew it He overlooked the other implication of her words, for, after all—it was his guessing which had made him famous which had raised him head ..nd shoulders above euc-h common fry as Kivaux, wlic only followed their noses. He glanced at' the girl, then began : “Mademoiselle, 1 do not like to tell you what I think.” Joan was silent a moment, then: “You mean that you think he is dead?” “I do not know, but that is what 1 fear.” “Ah, poor child,” thought Perichon for although Jean had not spoken, she had turned away. After a while, she said i-i a low tone“l almost wish it were so.” “Mademoiselle, you do not trust me. Why? I am not pretty outside, hut I am kind au fond. 1 would like to help you and that poor M. Grant, who is; so impatient and who loves you so much.” Jean looked up sharply. “How d’you know?” “Parbleau,” laughed the old man. “1 am not that stupid!” He leaned forward persuasively. “Come, mademoiselle, have confidence in papa. Of what is it that you are afraid? Why do you sometimes hope that M. your brother is dead?” Jean did not speak. Torn between the desire to tell the old man everything she knew or feared and risk the consequences—and distrust of him. He represented the law evpn if he was kind, and if he discovered that Euan had stolen —- she sighed and moved impatiently. -Perichon saw that although he had made an impression he had not gained his point. “Mademoiselle,” he said, “I will tell you a little story. Once there was a jeune fille who had a brother of whom she was very fond. This boy, however, was unsteady and lost much money. Then one dav he disappeared under peculiar circumstances, and at the same time some pearls disappeared with him. Everyone said he had stolen them, and some even said that his sister had had something to do with their disappearance. Now —” Perichon’s lids dropped over his eyes so that he resembled a somnolent old bird, but lie was watching the girl’s face, noting every emotion which passed over it. “Now this young lady knew that her brother had those pearls, and that was why she was so worried at his disappearance—” A gasping sound passed Jean s lips, and she would have risen had not Perichon grasped her arm and forced her down again. “I have not finished, mademoiselle. That young lady was afraid that her brother might try to sell those pearls — that he would be taken —” The girl lifted her eves to his defiantly: “Well?” The other shook his head and said in gentler tones: “Mon enfant, why will you not trust me? I am an old man with much experience, which I offer you for vour benefit, and you refuse —vou actually refuse!” The kind words were more than Jean could endure. All the tears which had been behind her eyes and in her throat it seemed to her for days would no longer be contained and began to course down her cheeks. Hiding her face, she sobbed: “I’m so miserable —I can't bear it.” Perichon allowed her to erv for _ft while, then patted her shoulder: “Now we will talk, n’est-ce pas?” Blowing her nose, she nodded. “A la bonne lieure! Now tell me all that happened on the morning vou left Mrs. Winton’s villa.” For the first time since her accident Jean told the exact story of that ill-fated morning, suppressing nothing. Character-istic-all v. Perichon listened with his eves half shut, and his face raised to the sun. When the girl had finished speaking, ho said: “You do not know why your brotliecalled on the Baron do Laurier?” She hesitated before answering: “No. v “That is not true, mademoiselle.” The girl glanced at her interrogator then looked away. Could he read thoughts, that old man, or did he really know? she asked herself uncomfortably. “Mademoiselle. T am going to put you a question .which may seem to you impertinent, hut I beg of you to answer me truthfully. Do vou like Max dc Laurier ?” “No!” The answer came immediately, almost before she had thought. “Then why do you sec him so often? Why do vou lunch and dine with him? Why does he—touch you?” Jean made an involuntary movement of protest and became a shade paler. “If you know everything, why do you ask me?” she stammered. “I do not know quite everything, or I woul.d not ask. But if you will not toil me I shall find out.” “You mean you—you’d have us watched?” The girl's hands clenched and unclenched as she flung a frantic glance about her. Whatever was she to do—supposing that—- “ Come, mademoiselle. What hold has Baron de Laurier over you and your brother?” “Hold ?” “But, yes. Come! Be honest. lam or^ Jean hesitated a moment; then: “M Perichon, if I tell you everything, will vou promise me not to tell Jerry—Mr. Grant?” “But naturally I will not tell Mr. Grant. Papa is not one to make the trouble. I assure you.” It was nearlv an hour later that Jean loft the villa with Dan Washburn, and she was in a more happy and confident mood than she had been for several weeks. The American watched her a moment, then hearing an cxc-itcd little catch iii her laughter, grinned. “Say. old Daddy Perichon has put a whole lot of new pep into vou, hasn’t he ?” The girl smiled as she said: “He’s rather a dear.” “Don’t you let Jerry hear you say that,” laughed Washburn. (To be continued daily.)