The Austin Statesman (Austin, Tex.), Vol. 50, No. 333, Ed. 1 Sunday, April 30, 1922 Page: 30 of 42
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to your ladyship my regrets at
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CHAPTER x.
Whether Rice’s point of view and
ment upon Emily De Reuss were 1
MM
-
usual, or
credit?"
“Neither,*
AUSTIN STATE
■ ।
i
perfectly well." she said. "But I cannot asked quietly.
It was a rare moment with him. •
“I made a brave start,” he continued-n
“like you. Someone took me to her housel
I made an epigram that pleased her; H
passed at once Into the circle of her ida
timates. She flattered me, dazzled md
fed my ambition and my passion. I toil
her of the girl whom I loved, whom M
was engaged to marry. She was on thm
surface sympathetic; in reality shenevekF
afterward let pass an opportunity of mah
ing some scathing remark as to the folil
of a young man sacrificing a possibixC
brilliant future for the commonplace jovdF
of domesticity. I became even as tifR
rest. My head was turned: my letterdE
to Alice became less frequent; ever^B
penny of the money I was earning wenf
to pay my tailor’s bills. and to keep pac«
sept for me—she was unwell. I had prom-V
ised to take Emily upon the river, and I
she declined to let me off. I think that I
evening some premonition of the truth I
.came to me. We saw a child drowned—I
I watched Emily’s face. She looked at I
the corpse without a shudder, with frank I
and brutal curiosity. She had never seen I
anything really dead—it was quite Inter-1
esting. Well, I hurried back to my rooms, I
meaning to catch a night train into Dear- a
onahlre. On the mantlepiece was a tele- r
gram which had come early in the morn-
ing. Alice was worse—their only hope
was in my speedy coming. I dashed into
a hansom, but on the step another tele-
gram was handed to me. Alice was dead,
t had not seen her for ten months, sad
sheswas dead."
Tat very day Douglas went to Emily ’
De Teuss and told her he must get j
to work and not see her so much. Of I
course, she was disturbed, but she con-1
cealed her anger, which showed signs of]
bursting Its bounds when Douglas told]
her that Rice had influenced him to take a
this step. I
upon "the chtef to such an extant that
he told me off to see this through."
“I still do not see," she said, “in what
way I am concerned in this.”
"It was your "fellow passenger, count-
ess. not yourself, concerning whom we
ware curious. We hoped that you might
be able to give us some information We
understand that he joined the train hur-
riedly. If you like, I will read you a de-
scription of Dougla: Guest.”
Emily De Reuss looked him in the face
and shrugged her shoulders.
“My good man,” she said, "it is not
necessary. I am not in the least inter-
ested in the young man, and when I tett
you that I went to the trouble and ex-
pense of engaging a compartment you
will understand that I should not for a
moment have tolerated any intrusion on
the part of a stranger. The gentleman ,
who accompanied me to London was one
of the house party at Maddenham Priory,
and an old friend.”
The officer closed his note book with
a little sigh and bowed.
"It only remains for me," he said, “to
J) d
2’
Rice answered, smiling.
has Spargetti ceased his
with the life which, as her constant com
panion. I was forced to live. All the
while the girl who trusted me never com!
plained, but was breaking her heart. They
mtst go back to his brooding .nd
negatives »
"It has been very kind of you U come
and see me, and to take me out,” ke said.
She interrupted the words of #rewell
which were upon his lips.
"Our little jaunt is not over yet,” she
”I am." he answered.
CHAPTER IX.
At an attic window, from which stretch-
ed a Babyionic wilderness of slated roofs
and cowled chimney pots, two girls were
sitting. The Ian of the wind and the sun
was upon their cheeks, their clothes
lacked the cheap smartness of the Lon-
doner. They were both in mourning for
their father, Gideon Strong.
"Suicide, nay! I’ll never believe that
It was Douglas,” Joan declared firmly.
"Nay, but I know the lad too well He
was ever pining for London, for gay
places and the stir of life. There was
evil in his blood. It was the books he
read. and the strange taste be had for
solitude. What else’ But he’d not the
pluck of a rabbit. He never killed him-
self—not he! He’s a living man today,
and as I’m a living woman I’ll drop my
hand upon his shoulder before long.”
Cicely shuddered.
“It’ll never bring poor father back to
life,” she murmured. "You’d best go
back to Feldwick, Joan. There’s the
farm—you and Reuben Smith could work
it well enough. Folks there will think
you’re out of your mind staying on here
in London.”
“Folks may think what they will," she
answered savagely. “I’ll not go back ul
Douglas Guest hangs."
The tea was brought; they sat and
discussed their plans. Cicely bad fol-
lowed her sister to London. utterly un-
able to live any longer in a place so full
of horrible memories. They bad a little
money—Cicely, almost enough to live on,
but she wanted work. Joan listened. but
for her part she had little to say. Once
as the clock drew near 7 o’clock she
grew restless. Her attention wandered.
She looked often toward the window
" "You’ll stay the night here anyhow,
sister 7” she sal at last.
“Why, I’d counted on it,” Cicely admit-
ted.
"Well, that’s settled then. This is most-
ly the time I go out. Are you going with
me, or will you rest a bit 7”
Cicely rose up briskly.
"I’ll come along,” she bald. "A walk
will do me good. The air’s so cruel dose
up here."
Joan hasitated.
"I’m a fast walker," she said, "and I
go far."
But Cicely, who divined something of
the truth, hesitated no longer, not even
for a second.
see that anything in connection with it
can possibly be of Interest to Scotland
Yard. Perhaps you will be a little more
explicit.”
The man bowed.
“You had a traveling companion, we
are given to understand. A young man
who entered your carriage at the last
moment," he added.
"I had a traveling companion, It is
true,” she admitted slowly. "It is also
true that be entered my carriage at the
last moment But how that can possibly
concern you, I cannot imagine."
“We should like to know his name.”
the man said.
.. Emily De Reuss shook her head slowly.
“I really am afraid," she replied, “that
I cannot tell you that.”
"Your ladyship may remember," he
bald, “that there was a shocking accident
Upon the train?"
She assented with a little shudder.
t “Yes, I remember taat.”
“A man threw himself from the train
and was crushed to death. His body was
quite unrecognisable, but from some pa-
pers found upon or near him. It was con-
cluded that his name was Douglas
Duest."
“I remember hearing that, too," she
agreed
“Well, there seems to have been plenty
of reason for Mr. Douglas Guest to have
committed suicide, as I daresay you
know, if ever you read the papers."
"I never by any chance open an Eng-
Ush one,” she said.
"Then you prodably didn’t hear of a
murder in a Cumberland village the night
before. No? Well there was one, and
the man who was wanted for it was—
Mr. Douglas Guest."
"The man who threw himself from the
Carriage widow™
“Apparently, ye:. We made searching
inquiries into the matter, and we came
to the conclusion that Douglas Guest was
the man, and that he had either commit-
ted suicide, or been allied in trying to
jump from the train. We were disposed,
therefore, to let the matter drop until a
few days ago, when we had a visit from
a Miss Strong, who proved to be the
daughter of the old farmer who was
murdered. She seemed to have got hold
of an idea that Douglas Guest had by
some means foisted his identity on to
the dead man, and was stil alive. She
absolutely denied that a part of the cloth-
ing which was preserved had ever be
longed to Douglas Guest, and she worked
Douglas Jesson had his opportunity, ac-
cepted it, and became one of the elect
He passed on to the staff of the Courier,
where his work was spasmodic and of a
leisurely character, but always valuable
and appreciated. His salary, which was
liberal, seemed to him magnificent. Be-’
sides, he had the opportunity of doing
other work. All the magaxines were
open to him, although be was tied down
to write for no other newspaper. The
passionate effort of one night of misery
bad brought him out forever from among
the purgatory of the unrecognised. For
his work was full of grit, often brilliant,
never dull. Even Drexley. who hated
him, admitted it. Emily De Reuss was
charmed.
Douglas’ first visit was to Rice, whom
he dragged out with him to lunch, order-
ing such luxuries as were seldom asked
for at Spargetu’s., They lingered over
their cigarettes and talked much. Yet
about Rice there was a certain restraint,
the more noticeable because of his host’s
gayety. Douglas, well dressed, debonair,
with a flower in his button hole, and
never a wrinkle upon his handsome face,
was in no humor for reservations. He
filled his companion’s glass brimful of
wine, and attacked him boldly.
"I want to know,” he said, “what alls
my philosophic friend. Out with it. man.
Has Drexley been more of a bear than
sonally. your statement confirms my own
view of the case. The young lady is ex-
citable, and has been deceived."
Emily De Reuss made no immediate
movement to rejoin her guest. It was
only now that she realised what she had
done. She had lied deliberately, had
placed herself. should the truth ever be
known, in an utterly false if not a dan-
gerous position, for the sake of a boy
whose antecedents she knew nothing, and
on whom rested, at any rate, the shadow
of a very ugly suspicion.
She walked slowly out to where Doug
las sat waiting. She sat down by his
side and glanced around. They were
alone and out of earshot from the win-
dows. <
"My visitor," sne said, “was a detec-
tive—from Scotland Yard. He came to
know if I could give him any information
about my fellow passenger from Accreton
on February 10."
"And you told him—what™"
She adjusted a bracelet carefully, her
beautiful eyes fixed upon his haggard
face. .
"I told him a lie," she answered. I
told him that my companion was a fel-
low guest at the house where I had been
staying."
A little sob of relief broke in his throat
He seized her hand in his and pressed
it to hts lips. It seemed to her that the
touch was of fire. She looked at him
thoughtfully.
"You are Douglas Guest then? she
2
6
k l----221
“Drexley is always a bear, and Sparget-
G's credit is a thing which not one of the
chosen has ever seen the bottom of.”
"Then what in the name of all that is
unholy," Douglas asked, “alls you?"
A rare seriousness fell upon Rice. The
nonchalance, whicn was the most pro-
nounced of his mannerisms, had fallen
away. It was a new man speaking. One
saw. as it were for the first time, that
his hair was gray, and that the lines on
his face were deeply engraven.
"My young friend,” he said, "I 'brant
you to listen to me. I am twice your age.
I have seen very much more of the world
than you. Years ago I bad a friend—
Silverton. He was about your age.
clever, ambitious, good looking. He
scored a small success—a poem, I think
it was--and someone took him one day
to call on Emily De Reuss. I do not
know where he is now, but two months
ago I met him rather advanced in con-
sumption, an utter wreck bodily and men-
tally. Yet when I spoke one word of her
he struck me across the Ups. Today I
suppose he is dead -pauper's funeral and
all that sort of thing, without a doubt.
I have taken his case first because he
reminded me of you. He had come from
the north somewhere, and be was about
your age. But he is only one of a score.
There is Drexley, a broken man. Once
he wrote prose. which of its sort was
the best thing going. Today he is abso-
lutely nerveless. He cannot write a line,
and he is drinking heavily That he has
not gone under altogether is simply be-
cause as yet he has not received his
final dismissal. He still has his uses, so
he is allowed to hang on a little longer.
Now, Douglas Jesson, listen to one who
knows: What you are and who you are
—well, no matter. I liked you when we
met here, and you have a splendid op-
portunity before you. Listen: Emily De
Reuss will care nothing for your safety.
Be a man and do the sensible thing. Too
many have been her vietims. It may
make your heart ache a little; you may
fancy yourself a HtUe ungracious. Never
mind. You will save your life and your
soul. Go abroad as soon as Rawlinson
will send you."
Rice’s words were too impressive to
be disregarded altogether. They stirred
up in Douglas’ mind a vague uneasiness,
but his sense of loyalty to the woman
who had befriended him was unshaken.
Rice was led away by his feelings for
his friend. ‛
"Rice," he said, “I know you're speak-
ing what you believe. I can’t quite ac-
cept it all. Never mind. I’ll remember
everything you’ve said. I'm not quite a
boy, you know, and I don't wear my heart
upon my sleeve."
"Hard to convince, as they alt are."
Rice said, with a wintry smile. "Never
mind. I’ll do my best to save you. Lis-
ten to this: Do you know why Drexley
behaved so disgracefully to you about
“I .will come," she said.
They passed out into the streets, and
the younger girl knew from the first
that their walk was a quest. For hour
after hour they walked steadily on—then
with a little sob of relief, Cicely saw
at last that they had reached their own
street. The elder girl produced a key
and drew a long sigh. Then she looked
curiously down at her companion.
"Youlgo back to Feldwick tomorrow,
or maybe Saturday, Cicely," she said.
"You understand now?"
"How long—will this go on?"
Joan drew herself up. The fierceness
of the prophetess was in her dark face.
"Till my hands are upon him," she
said. "Till I have dragged him out from
the shadows of this hateful city."
remarked, smiling. "We are going to
have dinner together—you and 1 alone,
and afterward I will show you that even
a town house can sometimes boast of a
pleasant garden. You needn’t look at
your clothes. We shall be alone, and
you will be very welcome as you are.
There is just one message I must send
to a stupid house where I am half ex-
pected to dine. It will not take me half
a minute.”
Dinner surprised him by being so
pleasantly homely. Afterward they sat
in low chain on a terrace with coffee
on a small round table between them, a
fountain playing beneath; beyond. the
trees of the park, the countless lights of
the streets, and the gloaming fires of
innumerable hansoms. It was the Lon-
don of broad streets, opulent, dignifed,
afire for pleasure. Wonderful sight for
Douglas, fresh from the farmhouse
among the bills, the Scotch college, the
poverty stricken seminary. Back went
his thoughts to that dreary past, and
though the night was hot he shivered.
She looked at him curiously.
. He shook his head.
I “I was thinking,” he answered.
A servant stepped out on to the bal-
cony and stood respectfully before them.
She looked up frowning.
"What is it; Mason?" she asked. "I
told you that I was not seeing anyone at
all tonight."
"The person, madame," he answered,
“is from Scotland Yard, and he says
phat his business is most important He
has called twice before. He begged me
to give you his card, and to say that
he will wait until you can find it conven-
ient to spare him a few minutes.”
She looked at the card—
MR. RICHARD GREY,
from Scotland Yard.
A tall thin man with grave eyes and
puls cheeks rose to meet Emily De
Reuss when she entered the siding room
Into which he had been shown.
“The Countess De Renss. I believe?"
She assented. A nod was quite sum-
dent.
“I have been instructed to call and ask
you a few questions with reference to
your journey from Accreton on February
10 last," he continued. "I am sorry to
trouble you, but from information which
we have received, it seemed possible that
you migbt be able to help us."
"I remember my journey from Accreton
SUNDAY, APRIL 30, 1922
your story?"
Douglas looked up eagerly. The .thing
had always puxxled him.
“No. Why?"
"Because he had orders from Emily De
Reuss to do so. She had given you her
address and bidden you go and see her.
You never went. So she wrote Drexley
to give you no encouragement. _It was
your punishment You were to go to
her."
"I don’t believe it,” Douglas declared
hotly.
"Then you don't believe me," Rice said
quietly, "for on my honor I tell }ou that
I have seen the letter.”
Douglas leaned his head upon his band.
"I’m sorry," he said wearily. "I be-
lieve absolutely in you, but I believe also
in her. There must be some misunder-
standing."
Rice rose up. Douglas bad paid the
bill long ago. A waiter, overcome with
the munificence of his tip, brought them
their hats and preceded them, smiling, to
the door. They passed out into the
street, and the fresh air was gratetul-to
them. Rice passed his arm through his
companion's
"I want you to give me just an hour,”
he said—“no more.”
Douglas nodded, and they made their
way through a maze of squares and
streets southward. At last Rice stopped
before a house in a terrace of smoke be-
grimed tenements, and led the way In-
side. They mounted flight after flight
of stairs, pausing at last before a door
on the topmost floor. Rice threw it open
and motioned his companion to follow
him in.
“My friend," he said, “I have brought
you here because I wanted you to see
my home. Shall I tell you why? Be-!
cause it is exactly typical of my literh
Bare and empty, comfortless, with nevek
a bright spot nor a ray of hope. There
is nothing here to dazzle you, Is there L
All that you can remark in its favor 16
that it is tolerably clean—all in my life H
that I can lay claim to is that I have N
managed to preserve a moderate amount J
of self-respect. This is my li: e. my pres- 9
ent and my future. I wanted you to see I
it." I
Douglas was puxxled. He scarcely!
knew what to say, but instinctively he I
felt that Rice's purpose in bringing him I
here had not yet been explained. So he I
waited. I
“I have told you," Rice continued, “of I
Drexley and of poor young Silverton. I1
have told you that there have been many]
others. I have told you that she even!
tried to do you ill that you might bel
numbered among her "ietims. Now I tel
you what as yet I have told no man. 1.1
too. was once tbe most pitiful of .her]
slaves." I
•Your / 1
A sharp, staccato cry broke from Dotal
las’ lips. He had not expected this. Rica
was suddenly an older man. The cared
less front he showed to the world wad
gone. He was haggard, weary, elderly!
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The Austin Statesman (Austin, Tex.), Vol. 50, No. 333, Ed. 1 Sunday, April 30, 1922, newspaper, April 30, 1922; Austin, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1457104/m1/30/: accessed June 22, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; .