A Master of Deception

Waikato Times, Volume 98, Issue 16094, 18 September 1924, Page 3

A Master of Deception

CHAPTER XXVII. "Don't—don't do that! I'd rather — do what he's only pretended to do than give you pain. Cheer up—just try hard to cheer up, if it's only just enough to help you to know what ought to be done next." The suggestion affected her in a fashion which perhaps took him aback. She turned again as suddenly as she had done before, this time towards him. Her eyes blazed; the words came swiftly from her lips. "Do you think that I do not know what I'm going to do next? Do you think it hasn't been in mv_mind all night? Why, I've got it all cut, and planned, and dried. Leave that to me; all I want is for you to see"—her voice fell —"the tale's not told." "It shan't be if I can help it; and I think I can." The words still came swiftly from her. "Say nothing to mother, say nothing to anyone: leave me to do all the telliag—you know nothing; that's all you've got to know. You understand?" His voice as he replied was grim. "Oh, yes, I understand." "Then, for the present, it's goodbye." She went from the room to her own on the landing below, put on her hat, her coat, and her gloves, and went quickly down the stairs. Seldom was a pretty girl ready more quickly for the street. She already had the front door open when her mother .called to her.

"Mabel, what to goodness is the matter with you? Where are you going?" The girl seemed for a moment to be in doubt whether or not to let her mother's question go unheeded; then decided to vouchsafe her at least some scrape of information. "Mother, I believe Mr Elmore's gone." "Gone? Mr Elmore? What's the girl talking about?" "His bedroom's empty, and there s ten pounds on the dressing table, and I'm going straight off to the city to see."

"To the City 1" The astonishment of /the lady s voice was justified; she came quickly along the passage as if to learn what might'be the significance of the mystery which she felt was in the air. But her daughter did not wait for her approach; she was through the door, had shut it with a bang, before her mother had realised what it was she meant to do. Miss Joyce did not ,go to the City; she went instead to No. 90 Russell Square. There she inquired for Miss Patterson. She was told the lady was at breakfast. "Tell her—tell her that lam Miss Joyce, and that I must see her—at once." The maid went into a room upon the right—the dining-room —presently reappeared, with Miss Patterson behind her. Gladys came out into the hall. "Miss Joyce! You wish to see me? On what business?" "Somewhere —somewhere where we will be private." Gladys observed her with curious eyes; then she held open the diningroom door. "I'm at breakfast; but, if you don't mind, you'd better come in here." Mabel went' in, Gladys followed. The stranger, now that they were alone, presented such a woebegone picture that, in spite of herself, Gladys was moved. "You don't seem well—are you ill? Hadn't you better sit down; here's a chair." She pushed the chair towards her visitor, but Mabel would have none of it. "No, it doesn't matter. I t 'd —I'd rather stand. My mother was Mr Elmore's landlady." "Joyce? Oh, yes, of course. I thought I knew the name; I remember." Perhaps, unconsciously to herself, Gladys' tone hardened; she drew herself a little straighter; she even moved a little away. In spite of her obvious trouble, Mabel noticed. "You needn't be afraid of me—l shan't bite."

"I was not afraid that you would bite. What is it you wish with me, Miss Joyce?" "That." She stretched out towards the other a letter. Gladys eyed it askance, almost, one might have thought from her demeanour that she feared that it might bite. "What's that?" "If you take it—you'll see. You're right this time in being afraid; you've cause to be more afraid of .that than me. But it's written by somebody you know well, and —you'd better read it." Still doubtfully, as if she really were in awe of what the sheet of paper might portend she took it gingerly from the other's fingers. Then she read it. And as she read a curious change came over her, not only her countenance, but her whole bearing. When she had reached the end her hands dropped to her side, she stared at the girl in front of her as she might have done at a visitant from another sphere. "What—does this letter mean?" For answer Mabel took another piece of paper from that woman's universal pocket—her blouse. She held it out to Gladys, and, even more cautiously than before, Gladys took it with unwilling fingers. This time, as she read it. it was with an obvious lack of comprehension. "What on earth is this?" "Can't you see? Isn't it plain enough? It's a marriage license —

now can you see?" Gladys seemed to make an effort to achieve' steadiness, not with entire success, as if to hide her parital failure she went down the room to the seat which she had been occupying at the other end of the table. Besting her hand on the top of the chair, raising the paper again, she reread it. She was still; there was a perceptible interval: she turned towards her visitor. Her face seemed to have aced; one saw that as she grew older she would not grow betterlooking. "I see that this purports to be a license of marriage between Rodney Flmore, who, I presume, is my cousin " t "He's vour cousin, right enough.' ».And—Ma.bel Joyce. Are you the Mabel Joyce referred to?" "I am. We were to have been married to-day—at noon sharp: the repistTar—he'll be waiting forus; but he'll have to wait. .Mr Rodney Elmore, that's your cousin and my husband that was to be, he's bolted." "Bolted? I see. Is that what this letter means?" "That's just e\art.ly what it means." - "It doesn't mean that—he s—he 9 killed himself?" "Not much it doesn't; I know the gentleman. It simply that, for reasons of his own—l'm one of them,

(UOpyrigut;. Published by arrangement with the General Press, Ltd.

(By RICHARD MARSH) Author of "The Beetle," "Twin Sisters," etc

and I daresay you're another —he's cut and run." Gladys' tone could scarcely have been more frigid, or her bearing more outwardly calm; unfortunately, both the frigidity and the calmness were a little overdone. "I see. I'm much obliged to you for bringing me—this very interesting piece of news. I believe this is yours. 1 scarcely think I need detain you longer." She returned to Mabel both the license and the letter. Enclosing them one in the other, the girl passed from the room out of the house. Gladys stood staring at the door through which she had left, exactly, if she could only have known it, as Rodney had stared when she had vanished the afternoon before. Then she clenched her fifts and shook them in the air. "To think that I should ever have been such a fool! That I should ever have let him—soil me with his touch. Dad was right. What a fool he must have thought me! If I'd only listened, what might not—have been saved! Shortly afterwards she entered the office at St. Paul's Churchyard. Andrews advanced to greet her. "Mr Elmore has not yet arrived." "I know he hasn't; I wish to speak to you." She led the way towards her father's private room; as he followed, Andrews seemed to recognise something in her carriage which recalled his master. There could be no doubt that this was his daughter. When they were in the room and the door was closed, Miss Patterson seated herself in h<V father's chair. She looked the managing man in the face, with something in her glance which again recalled her sire. "Andrews, I suppose you can observe a confidence?" "I hope so, Miss Patterson, I'm sure. Your father reposed many and many a confidence in me, and I never betrayed one of them —I'm not likely to betray yours." "Right, Andrews, I believe you. I believe my father knew the kind of man who may be trusted; he trusted you, and I will. Sir ve hands." She offered him her hand. As if doubtful whether or nd he was taking the liberty, he took it in his. They gravely shook hands. She eyed him for some seconds as if debating in her mind what to say to him, and just how to say it. Then it came from her, as it were, all of a sudden. "Andrews, I told you that my cousin, Rodney Elmore, and I were engaged to be married. I was mistaken •—we are not. Stop! I don't want you to ask any questions; that's the confidence I'm reposing in you. Another thing. You told me when I came in just ' now that Mr Elmore had not come yet. Andrews, he never will come again—to this office." "Indeed, Miss! Is that so, miss?" The girl smiled —gravely.

"There, again, Andrews—my confidence! You are to ask no questions. Neither you nor I will see Mr Elmore again—ever. Still one other thing. You remember what my father said in his will about leaving the conduct of his business in your hands? I echo my father's words;" I want you to manage it for me on my father's lines."'

The old man was evidently confused. He stood staring at the girl and rubbing his hands, as if he found himself in a quandary from which he sought a way out. "I'm sure, Miss Patterson, that I'm very gratified by the confidence you place in me, and I want to do my best to ask no questions, but —but there's one remark I ought to make." He bent over the table as if he wished the remark in question to reach her ear alone. "I don't know, Miss Patterson, if you are aware that yesterday morning Mr Elmore drew a thousand pounds from the bank." "Yesterday morning When did he do that? Not when we were there?" "It appears that he returned directly after we had left, and cashed a cheque for a thousand pounds across the counter, took it in tens and fives and gold—rather a funny way of taking a cheque like that." The girl said nothing. It came back to her; she understood; the letter-case which had been left behind; her sitting in the cab while he had gone into the bank to fetch it. Letter-case?' So the letter-case was a cheque for a thousand pounds; and while she'd been sitting in the cab he had been putting her money into his pocket. "Gashed a cheque for a thousand pounds, did he? Well, Andrews, dad left him nothing in his will—l wonder why. How funny! Then there's still another thing to tell you, Andrews. Let them understand at the bank, «s quickly as you can, that they're not to -Cash any more of Mr Elmore's cheques which are drawn on my account. Now, Andrews, will you be so very good as to send someone to Mr Wilkes, and give him my most respectful compliments, and say, if he can possibly spare a moment, I should like very much indeed to see him here at once." (To be Continued To-morrow.)