Newspapers / The News-Journal (Raeford, N.C.) / April 16, 1925, edition 1 / Page 4
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1 ^b&njardan WNTJ Sarvlce. Chapter VI —11— Tea for Three. It seemed to Renshaw that he had been waiting In Peacock alley since the beginning of time. In reality he had been there less than half an hour when he heard his name uttered In a cool tone that was becoming familiar to his ears. "Why, there’s Mr. Renshaw—and he appears to be asleep !” He sprang to his feet, snatching off his hat as he did so. Verity Campbell and Madame Hvoeslef had stopped before him. For a moment the wave of humiliation that rolled over him shut out any appreciation of their ex pressions or their manner. They must be half frantic. They must despise him beyond words as a blundering ass —incapable even of carrying out the simplest instructions. Well, nothing they or anyone elSe thought of him could be worse than what be tliought of hltBSetf. “No,” he said confusedly, “1 wasn’t asleep. I was trying to—” He broke off and turned directly ' to Madame •Hvoeslef. "I’m wretched about tills ng.” he said, with an actual break in m»-ipice. “What can I say?” The eyes of both women were on him as he spoke, and now, with time for clearing senses, he realized tliat neither pai^ held the expression he had looked for. Tlie eyes of Verity revealed her customary Indifference, very slightly tinged with criticism. Those of the other womhn, cold at first, were softening into pity as they took in the young man’s haggard as pect “Say nothing more. Monsieur. I am distressed that you have suffered over niy aflfnirs." She was smiling as she spoke, and the smile prepared him for I her next words. “Bverytlilng Is—how f is It said In English?—‘quite all V right.’ ’• I Renshaw’s eyes sent her a flash that I reminded both women of a sudden f' blaze from a lighthouse with the lift- Ing of a -fog. It was an exhibition of I ^ bidden possibilities that startled them. f Under it the older woman’s expression warmed still more, and the tones of ! her throaty voice took on a quality ^ they had never held for him before. V , “Yon have been unhappy,” she said, t ' “I am so sorry I” She took a step ^ nearer to him as she spoke, under an I' impulse to put a comforting hand on his arm. But his glance had dropped, ' and her half-raised hand dropped, too. j . “We, also, have been anxious,” she r went on gently, “but that Is past. The case is safe in the vaults of the Trust ' company. I myself have Just left it tbere. And this time”—her smile ex- tended now to her brilliant eyes—^ “Mr. Atkins and I have both opened it to be sure it held what we thought.” Her hearer was in a state of stupe faction shot tlirough with indescrib able relief. “But—I don’t understand,” he stam- i mered. f “We ourselves do not understand. I [ can tell you only what has happened. 1 When Mr. Atkins telephoned, we were I riding. Hart came for us in the car. I I was—” she stopped as if almost f overcome by the memory of what that t moment had been—“I was in despair,” - she went on quickly. “1 rushed to my room to change for the train. And there, on my bed, was my leather case —and in it, quite safe, when I un locked it, was—what I had put there.” “Then—you mean—you had two cases? You gave me the wrong one?” S He was trying to follow her, but ■ometblng seemed wrong with bis I mind. She shook her bead. I “No; and that is what we do not comprehend. 1 had one case only, 4 the original case, made for me In”— 5'She stopped—“in Europe,” she ended 4 abruptly. “Some one else has made another case exactly like it. We can understand w’by this was done. But Why the original case and its contents were returned to me, after the trouble and expense of duplicating It—that, ! Monsieur, we cannot follow at all.” Renshaw at last took In the two points that were important. “Then your property is safe—and I ^deliver^ the case you gave me?” he Ijjtaked slowly. . “We tlilnk so. For Mr. ^tkins told ‘na it was not for one moment out of ijmr bands. It must have been Changed In my room before I brought W to yon, though I bad for it a strohg chest with a combination lock.” Jtensbaw shot his glance over the ,kMds of the passing pageant and ftowned reflectlngly. The black leatb- case and its contents were safe, courage dung to the life-line of knowledge. When be got back to Ker, be would take up and try rotfc out the tangle of tbe freakish npprofltable exchange now,** Madame Hvoeslef added My, “we trill all have a "cup laa. My aftin have caused you ke«r. MdMletir, I ds^y ragaet , Bg D4 «a try to forget It** 1 j COPfftlOMT BY THt CENTURY Ca She was already leading the way Into the Palm room as she spoke, leav ing the young man no choice save to follow her. He did so. Inwardly fum ing. He had no wish to drink tea with Miss Camphell, to watch her bril liant eyes look past him, to study anew the slightly superior line of her perfect upper lip. In the Palm room, however, quite unconsciously and part,- ly from sheer force of old-time habit, he quietly put the others In tlie posi tion of being his guests. Verity limited her participation in the social function to the aloof drink ing of a cup of tea. She was oddly Impressed by the naturalness with’ which Renshaw had put her and Madame Hvoeslef Into the position of his guests, the sudden revelation of force In this man she had half-con- sclously despised as a weakling. The Impression of strength faded when the three re-entered the famous corridor. “You will drive back with us. Mon sieur Renshaw?" Madame Hvoeslef made the suggestion, taking for grant ed Verity’s approval of the invitation. Renshaw hesitatfed. His self-conscious ness had again settled over him like a tlght-flttlng garment, trimmed with indecision. “i—I hardly know,” he stammered. “Yes, I suppose 1 might as well—if you have room for me—and if you have time to stop at the station for my bag—” He was iboklng at Verity now, and for once she met his glance. There was a new element in her own. It wms perhaps less cordiality than the ab sence of her usual Indifference. Wliat- ever it was. It was human. So, too, was her reply. “Of course we have room,” she said carelessly. “VVe came 4n the limou sine.” He followed them in silence to that luxurious vehicle. Hart and a strange chauffeur stood together beside it, lost to their surroundings in the charm of a confidential conversation. As the little party reached him, Hart straight ened and saluted. He turned at once to Verity. “1 beg pardon. Miss,” he said deferentially, *301 would you mind If this man—Henry Rickett, he ls-« drives you home tonight? I know it’s unusual, but I got bad news In town— of a pers’nal nature,” he interrupted himself to explain—“an’ I got to be here till tomorrow. If you can get along without me.” “Why—I suppose so. Hart.” Verity hesitated, glancing uncertainly from her chauffeur to the proposed substi tute. “Does he know the way?” “Yes’m. An’ he knows the car, too.” Verity stepped back to allow Madame Hvoeslef to precede her into the limousine. “Very well,” She said indifferently. “Thank you. Miss. I’ll be out on the train by tomorrow noon." Both women were In the car, ob viously waiting for. Renshaw to follow them. He did so, after a perceptible hesitation, closing tbe door and taking a seat facing them. Darkness was fall ing, and the limousine made its way slowly through the crowded streets, stopping at the station for Renshaw’s bag. Twice the new chauffeur was the object of winged rebukes from traffic policemen. He seemed not to know the traffic rules as well as he knew the car and the road. Indeed, Renshaw soon b^gan to suspect tliat he did not . know even thbse as wqll as Hart’s encomium would lead one to believe. Several times he hesitated at turns. Also, the gears of the car protested raucously each time he shifted them. Madame Hvoeslef talked in her casual, charming way, with a new and intriguing note of friendliness, and Renshaw responded. He was con scious of an increased and growing liking for this polished product of an other land. He even ceased to resent her air of mystery. Certainly she had been a thoroughbred today in the con sideration she had shown him and ap parently she had left her atmosphere of mystery in the safe-deposit box with her recovered treasure. Above all, he admired* the tact with which she avoided all allusion to her 'own affairs or to bis. A sudden Jolt startle'd him, then an- otlier. The car bad 'lurched and re covered Itself. Tbe first snowfall of ..the season was beginhing, and very soon the heavy flakes were coming down so thickly as to cloud vision. Tbe new chauffeur was having diffi culty in keeping to tbe road. Suddenly Renshaw leaned forward and addressed tlie glrL “Miss Campbell,” be said crisply, “this fellow doesn’t know bow to drive. Do yon mind If 1 get out and take the wheel T Verity looked startled. In her ab sorption it was clear that site bad not observed tbe Jolts or the driver’s re peated hesitation at crossroads. “Why, aren’t we almost there?” she asked, vaguely looking about her. “No; we’re not much more than half way. And lt*s snowing bard, and the new man doesn’t know tbe road. ’Tbeyo are some nasty spots between here and Tawno Ker." Bensbaw'S 'voice grew more Incisive. “I really think you’d better let me drive,” he finished. For a few seconds .Verity was si lent When she spt^e,’ her words re vealed the character of her-thoughts. "Drive, by all means,” she mur mured, “if you would feel more com fortable.” Renshaw felt the blood rush to bis head. The remark Itself he accepted as an Insult. Also, It reminded him of something he had forgotten. His muscles gre^ lax under the Impulse to sit back and let the ass at the wheel ditch them all. If he had to. Then, quietly, he tapped on the win dow to stop the car, and when the driver obeyed the signal, he got out and raised the young man from his' seat with a single and compelling ges ture. “It’s so thick you can’t see," he said casually, as he took the wheel. “I know the road.” The chauffeur took the seat beside him without protest, muttering some thing about snow in his eyes. Ren- shaw drove in silence for ten minutes, then stopped abruptly beside a small wooden structure whose one lighted window shone mistily, through the storm. “This is the Ardville station,” he told the substitute. “A train for New York stops here In about half an hour:” He offered the man a bill as he spoke, but the chauffeur shrank away. “Say,” he muttered peevishly, “what’s the idea?” Renshaw spoke pleasantly, but his voice had hardened: ‘Tm sorry if you have a date with one of the maids, but the' best thing you can do tonight is to get back to town. You can see the girl later.” “I’m -d—d 4f I wHl," muttered the man. “What right you got»to butt in? It’s the lady that engaged me.” “That’s true but she has Just told me to take your place. Come, now.” At the last two words the man started. The tone was new and menacln|. “I’ll give you exactly one minute to get down and away. Don’t forget this.” He was still holding out the bill, and at last the man took it. “Oh, all right,“Tie said grumpily, “if that’s the way you feel about It. I was only tryln’ to help out a pal.” “Very creditable of you. I’m sure. Good-night.” Renshaw started the car, but his eyes were on the man. “Tbddle right into the nice warm station,” he ad vised. The man drifted languidly toward the station door. He had thrust the bill into his pocket, and he seemed annoyed but philosophic. Shu^ away from tlie drift of the conversa^on, though within sound of the men’ll voices, the two Insldo the llmouMne watched the scene. “He’s sending him back to New York,” Verity Interpreted, with a flush of annoyance. “That young man is taking a great deal upon himself. If I had realized what he meant to do—” She stopped to give an appreciative mind to the perfection of Renshaw’s driving. It was as perfect a thing as Hart’s, and this was superlative praise. “He can drive, anyway,” she con ceded. The limousine stopped with a Jerk. Renshaw leaped from his place and hurried around to the back of the car. Opening the door and leaning out to discover what had happened. Verity caught his words. They were a trifle hurried. He had pursued for a few feet and had caught something that was vigorously protesting against;^ the capture. “Come, now,” said Renshaw. ‘"11119 is getting annoying, you know. You’re a lot keener on that ma^d than I thought you were." “Leggo me,” responded another breathless but urgent voice. The owner of the voice seemed to be getting a violent shaking. His words came out in gasps that sug gested this. By looking tlirough the window at the rear. Verity now haid an excellent moving picture of the scene. “The chauffeur we thought we left at the station merely ran after the car and hung on,” she reported to Madame Hvoeslef. Both received the full bene fit of Renshaw’s next words: “I’m inclined to give you a good thrashing.” “Aw, come off; Fll beat It,” tlie other hopefully suggested. “All right. Let’s see how fast yon can beat It down that road.” The fellow started, but his move ments were not swift enough to satisfy the exacting observer. The latter gave an order, and made a movement as if to follow him, and the man broke Into a lope. For a minute or two Renshaw watclied him, till the running form was lost to view. Then, abruptly shutting the car door, and Ignoring his pas sengers as absolutely as If tliey were not there, he resumed his place at the wheel and the car swept on through the storm. In the driveway leading up to Tawno Ker, Verity spoke for the first time in half an hour. “Mr. Rensliaw takes entirely too much upon himself,” she observed be- , tween set teeth, ' Hie words were’addressed as much to herself as to the other woman, Madame Hvoeslef answered them with a polite confirmatory murmpr that ended In a confidence. “But nevertheless I am becomiuf Interested In this new secretary, my dear. It grows clear to.me as I watch him that he Is not what we thought at first, slow-minded and a little dull I think," she thoughtfully added, “your MonMenr Renshaw has somewhere la' Ite • Shod 4eal of a mam" txo as ooMTutuani)' Chapter Vlt —12— A Message. ' The secretary dressed for dinner that nl^t with his mind on several new problems, tbe first of which was tbe problem of the black leather case. Looked at from every possible angle, he could not wholly solve It, though he was rapidly evolving a working theory. If he were to hav§..Aflf^^1^ce and comfort this year,i^f he were to get back his nervous mrength and rekiver for himself tlie man he had been, be must'd© certain things, and do them quickly. Among them, he must once and for all do away with the melo dramatic mysteries of Tawno Ker. He must find out what there was in tbe bouse that crept along balls and climbed up to transoms and stole and duplicated leather cases and then re turned them. After that, perhdps, he would have some comfort—a condition he could not hope for now. This very night, for example, be was probably in for some infernal manifestation that would deprive him of the sleep he so urgently needed. However, he was, in a way, pre pared for these. He had two pistols now, and the other articles he had bought. The pistols were loaded and ready. In one way the fact was re assuring. In another it disturbed him. He did not wish to do any impulsive shooting and subsequently and bitterly regret it. He began to feel that he had made a mistake in buying the pistols. He considered hiding them ih his trunk. He ended by hiding one there and slipping the other into a pocket of his evening trousers. It was a very smeil, unobtrusive pistoi. He had been careful to select that kind. And undoubtedly It would be safer in bis hands than in the dark' and sin ister hand he bad seen through fals transom window the night before. Dinner that night was again almost gay. Madame Hvoeslef was her most engaging self. Evidently, with the transference of the black leather case to the Trust company’s vaults a great weight had rolled off her mind. Verity and David Oampbell responded to her mood. Soft ripples of laughter swept the table, laughter in which Ren- sbaw did not Join but which he sub consciously enjoyed. It was rather wonderful to hear Verity Campbell laugh, and he had not realized that her beautiful but rather cold face could be so warmed and Il lumined as he saw it now. Her laugh was delicious—soft, low, and full of mirth. He listened to Mrs. Pardee but looking at Verity, and as he looked his dislike of hei* and his inner mas culine resentment of her cool self-suf ficiency gave placq to his first im pulse of genuine admiration. Spme- ‘thlng like admiration had stirred in him when he watched her play with We-wee. He began to realize that the beautiful Miss Campbell had two sides. That was disturbing. WItli the discovery of an attractive side, he could not lend himself to the whole hearted disapproval of her which he had expected and desired to feel. Her singing after dinner strength ened tills conviction. It, too, reflected her new mood. The Slavic songs to which heretofore she and Madame Hvoeslef had largely confined them selves made way tonight for French and Spanish numbers, in which the predominating theme of love was wedded to that of Joy. Listening in his comer, Renshaw felt his lip curl a trifle. Much that girl knew about love! The foreigner knew. There was a woman who had 4oved and lived and died a few times^and been bora again, always with a heart Ha Threw Open the Door and Stared Incredulously. Verity CampbeM'Stood. Before Him. , attuned to life and the master hand. She must have bad many lovers. She waa the type whose inner fires were fierce - and -consuming—and soon ex hausted, and readily replenished.' He wondered what she and Miss Camp bell talked about when they were alone. Certainly not about love! The foreigner was too sophisticated to per mit Verity Campbell’s clear eyes to rest on any untidy pages in her book of life. He recailed hia vagabond thoughts with a suddenness that brought him upright in his chair. Without an- Alyaing his reasons, he felt that spec- •lattOD sAto.the xwssible lovers of joie By Elizabeth Jordan (® by TIm Cantuiy C«.) WNP Service. foreigner was. In a way, pardonable. Certainly he had indulged Ug It without the sense of recoil be noiw felt The recoil merged Into a grim amusement at bis own expense. He was making progress, he was getting back In touch with life, when he found himself spec- nlating about women I He resolutely centered his thoughts on the black leatlier case. He went up to his room at eleven o’clock. Before he opened the door he stood for a moment In front of It, silently studying the lock. It was a good lock, but an ordinary one. A trtfle he had bought In to^wn woqld effectually prevent It from being locked from tbe outside. He entered his room and inserted this trifle Into the keyhole, nodding with satisfac tion as he did so. No one outside could lock his door tonight. On the other hand, neither could he himself lock Ifc He drew forward a ehalr. In serted Its back under the door-knob, and so placed It that a certain effort would be required to push the door open. He could not be taken wholly by surprise. After these simple prep"- arations, he read and smoked for a time. Then, with a sense "of expecta tion mingled with other emotions. In which excitement, resentment, anxiety and nervousness predominated In turn, he undressed, got Into bed and turned out the lights, putting one of the new revolvers under his pillow, but within Immediate reach, as the final precau tion for an Interesting vigil. He waited with taut nerves. It was almost midnight, time for the noctur nal activities of the Thing to begin. As soon as he heard the sounds an nouncing the Thing’s near approach, he would fling open the door and spring out upon whatever was there. After ithat—well, after that he would at least know what he was up against. The clock on his mantel struck twelve. He was almost convinced that nothing would happen. Possibly the Thing did not roam about every night- Possibly it would never roam about again. Probably It had been shut up, confined— Be closed his eyes, and swiftly opened them again. Something had touched them, passed them, and was focused on the wall. It was the blue circle—and this time he studied It closely. It was- a circle about the, size of a sliver dime. Its blue color was a singularly vivid hue. It danced ahd> (jtilvered nn'the wall beside him, so close to him that he could put up hls band and touch It.' As he did so. It Vanished and tbe familiar darkness of the room closed around him. He lay still and for the first time seriously tried to explain the circle to himself. It was, of course, as he had held from the first, a reflection from somewhere, from something. That wise conclusion was still obvious. But from what? The visiting light appeared again. It was as ffeverlshly active now as It had been motionless on its previous visits- It touched hls face, flitted about, and came to rest on the foot board of hls bed. It touched hls hand, and flew to the opposite wall. It played about hls lips and leaped to the door leading to the hall, w’here It glowed silently on a panel. Renshaw watched It with a gaze that shifted when It did. If he closed hls eyes, It lingered on the lids till he reopened them. Its character changed. It had been Interesting at first. It be came annoying,^. like the repeated at tacks of one mosquito on a hot night. It became more than annoying. It be came first infuriating and at last sim ply devilish. He rose and, going In turn to the room’s four windows, stared out at each. With hls movement the light disappeared. He could see nothing outside but the storm and the tor tured. wind-flung branches of oaks and maples. He went to bis door, opened It and glanced down the dark corridor. No sound or movement there rewarded him. He closed the door, replaced the chair-back under the knob, and returned to his bed. As soon as he was comfortably settled, the blue ball entered, touched hls face, and danced for a moment on the wall. Then suddenly It grew quiet and re mained fixed In one spot, like a watch ful and Infernal blue eye. The clock struck two, the deep- toned strokes sounding ominous in the darkness. Two o’clock! And he had been on the edge of hls nerves since eleven 1 That sort of thing would not do—It simply could not be enddred. Tomorrow he would tell Campbell that he, Renshaw, must go away, that he was not up to the work. But no, that would not do, either. He had-already shown that he was up to the work. Campbell had referred at dinner to a lot of things to be done the next day. Well, then, he could say be was not in as good condition as he ba^ imagined. A sudden memory seared hls con- sclausness. He could not resign! He had no situation to resign—simply be cause' he had refused a situation. Be was not bis own master. He was, for a year, David Campbell’s property, boufpbt and. In part, actually paid for. On tbe morning of tbe day that had only Just ended, Campbell bad given him a generous advance on the pur chase price; and tbe greater part of that advance be, Renshaw,^ had al-- ready spent in town. Even assuming- that he was willing to break tbe tered Into, be most work a mqu^ to pay off the obligation imposed by'that advance. In other woifl8i''he was a fixture here. Re could not leiave. ^ Hls eyes had closed and be, bad hi- most lost consciousness when ha heard* a noise In the balL it was not the familiar thump, nor was It Hia equally abhorrent sonnd of crawling. It was the sound of footsteps—light and running. There was also the sound of hurried, excited breathing and of a rap on bis door. He sprang out of bed and hastened to open U, disturbed yet reassured by tbe rapu It was alarmed, but it was normal. He threw open the door and stared In- credulously. Verity Campbell stood before him In the darkness. He could not see her, but he knew her even be fore she spoke to him in a voice hushed and terrified. “Oh, Mr. Renshaw,” she^ gasped, "please come with me quickly! I can’t find either Jenks or James— and something dreadful has bagpened to grandfather!” Renshaw nodded and stepped back into hls room. “One Doment,” he said, “and t will be with Jyou.” He thrust hls feet Into slippers and pulled/a dressing gown over hls pa- Jam^ knotting the cords of the robe .as4ie rejoined her. He had to run to catch up with her._ Having summoned him, she was almost at tbe end ot -■ ■ V f Ha Lifted the Light Figure in Hia Arme ae Eaaily as If i.t Had Been the Body of a Child. tha corridor when she felt him be side her. As they hurried past the central ball landing and into tbe west wing of the house, he asked a low- toned question or two. She replied in a voice that trembled. “Madame Hvoeslef is with him," she said. “I called her first, when I could not get the servants. 1 can’t imaging what has happened to Jenks. He ia so reliable and faithful. But Aunt Katharine says they take a car and go into town sometimes at night, and per haps she is right, though I never thought so.” “What’s the matter with your grand father?” Renshaw’s long, swinging stride waa easily keeping pace now with her shorter steps. “I don't know. I heard a fail. Hi* bedroom is next to mine, you know. I thought I heard a groan. I ran out in the hall to his do^r and knocked. When there was no answer, I went in. He was.lying in hls bedroom, on the floor.” “Hurt? Unconscious?” “I don’t know. I ran for help—for Jenks first, then, when I couldn’t find him, for 'Madame Hvoeslef. Apntie is of no use, of course, in. a {rrisls, so we didn’t even wake her.” She stopped as they reached what was evidently the door of the old man’s bedroom, and passed tlirough In silence, leaving the door open for Ren shaw to follow her. Hls first impulse was one of shock at the seeming lifelessness of the prone figure on the floor, over which Madame Hvoeslef was distractedly keeping guard. Her dark face .lighted up with relief as the young man Joined her. “I have not ventured to do any thing,” she explained in a quick whis per, “He breatlies; but I did not know if it would be wise to lift hls head—” Renshaw knelt beside hls master, and his heart lightened. He bad been afraid of violence, even of taagedy. Anything, he now believed, might hap^ pen In Tawno Ker. But seemingly what had happened was common enough. The old,man had felt Ill, had risen, had perhaps tried to,, call for help, and had fallen unconscious. ,^"What is It?” Verity asked the question in a whis per. The young man went on with bis hurried examination. “A shock, I’m afraid.” ' “Is he—dying?” 'No; no, indeed. He’s nnconsclouA but hls heart Is working well The first thing to do is to make him com fortable.” , • ' He Ufted the light figure In hls anus as easily as if It had been the body of a child, and carrying it to the bed laid it between the sheets, drawing tha bedclothiog carefully up around It (TO BB CONTINOBD.) Cultivated hazel outs have a shell agreement he and Campbell bod en- onl^ half os bard as wild onoa.
The News-Journal (Raeford, N.C.)
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April 16, 1925, edition 1
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