The Portland daily press., 1898-11-08
BY WILLIAM lie QUEUX,
COPYRIGHTED. 1897, BY WILLIAM LIE QUEUX
Chapter XIV.
A WOMAN,S STORY.

"A WOAA4e . D4O1l1
When George Stratfeld's coffee was
brought to his room at the Grand Hotel
on the following morning thers lay upon
the tray note witch had been brought by
hand. The superscriptiou was in educated
unfamiliar writing, evidently a woman s.
Filled with natural curiosity he opened
the envelope and read the following in
French:- 1.-The writer would esteem
Ii personal favour If Monsieur Stratfield
would accord her an interview this even
| ing at any time or place he may appoint
As the matter is urgent she Will be
obliged if Monsieur would have the
goodness to telegraph a reply addressed to
Marie Blanc, Poste Resante, Nice, before
noon. -
read severla times. Who, he wondered,
was Marie Blanc, and what on earth did
she want with him? How indeed, did
she know his name? There was distinct
air of suspicion about 1T.
He tossed to strange letter aside, and
thougtfully drank his coff ee and ate his
roll.
Tncn, dressing, he went out. and stroll
ing along the Promenade past the house
where Liane lived he thought it over. His
first inclination was not to heed Ii. de
was sufficiently worried by his own
affairs, and had no desire to be bothered
about other peoples. Marie Blanc was
no doubt some woman who had seen his
name in the visitors list and wanted the
loan of pound or two. He had heard OF
such things happening at Continental
resorts. No, he ould take no notice OF
| it; so he tore the note into fragments ana
cast them to the wind.
he had not called upon Lame, or seen
der, since their meeting at Monte Carrie
She had forbidden him; and altho ugh
he had lounged about MP and down the
broad walk nearly the whole OF the pre-
vious day he had seen no sign OF her.
Evidently she had not been out, and was
purposely avoiding him.
Her attitude towards him had filled him
with grief and dismay. From her invol-
untary utterances it was plain that she
still loved him. yet her strange declara.
| ton that 1t was imperative she should
marry the Prince d 'Auzac perplexed him
to the verge of madness He had made
| in Quiry about this man. and on every
hand heard with ohagrin reports OF his
vast wealth, of the bril- lance of his tees,
and the charm of his personality he
was, without doubt, q prominent figure
in Nice society.
To one cause alone was George able to
attribute th is change in the manner of
his weli-beloyed, the fascination wea lth
exercises over women When he compared
his own 1owly position with that or the
man who had taken his place in Liane's
despair. Indeed, that very morning as
he lay awake prior to his coffee being
brought. he reflected whether 1t would
not be wiser to return at once to London.
But he loved Liane. He would not yet
leave her side. She loved him. too, and
although this marriags might be forced
upon her, yet she was nevertheless his
own well-beloved.
Throughout that morning, in the hope
of catching sight of Liane. he sauptered
about the Promenade, and sat for haitian.
hour in the Posada-sur- Mer drinking
vermouth, where from the open window
he could watch each person who passed.
But his vigilance remained unrewarded.
Time after time he recollected the mys-
terious request of his unknown cores
pondent and found himself half-inclined
to send telegram and meet her. 1t
would be an amusing adventure. If MOTH
ing else, he thought; and at length. while
strolling back to the town, he resolved
to do SO, and entering the nearest tele-
graph office. sent her reply asking her
to call at his hotel at nine O'Clock.
That afternoon he spent lonely and
dull. There was. it WAS true, plenty of
amusement going on, but in mis- frame of
mind 10 was in no mood for concerts, or
the mi d form of gam bling offered by the
Casino Municipal. He sat In the public
garden listening to the band until sun
down, then went for a stroll through the
town, dined leisurely, and went to one of
ths small salons in the hotel there to
await his visitor.
A few minutes after nine the door was
thrown open by one of the servants, be-
hind whom stood tell wel1-dressed lady
aged about thirty-aye.
"M'sieur ra-atfeeldr' she exclaimed
interrogatively. with very pronounced
French accent.
"That Is my NAME, he answered, bow
ing and inviting her into the room.
The spring nights are chilly in Nice,
and she was warmly clad in furs, and
wore neat toque with black veil, but
even spotted net was insufficient to con-
ceal that an eminentiy handsome face
was beneath.
Your room is warm and cosy she