Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-02-13
THE HEART OF A
WOMAN
BARONESS ORGY
George DoanCom panyl
By
BARONESS ORGY

ing there were. about a dozen men ana
| women. a brilliant throng of gayly plum
aged birds: now the ladies remembered
that they wanted to hear the latest in
FAINT prodigy. who had been engaged to
entertain the guests at the poSt-dlnnef
reception tonight, and the men. too feel
ing uncomfortable and awkward, made
| good their escape.
| People-the pleasure-loving people of to-
day-have no use for latent tragedy. EX-
element. yes, and drama; but only from
I the secure distance of a private seat at
| an Old Bailey trial. The murder of Philip
de Mountford could be discussed with
quite an amount of enjoyment between
dinner party and ball supper, but not
in Louisa Harris presence! By Cad. too
| much of a good thing, you know!
Within a very few minutes Louisa
! found herself almost alone, just the one
| or two near her to whom she had direct
I ly spoken. and-fortunate1y-Col. Harris,
in the doorway, come to look for his
| daughter.
| THE infant with the violin,'' he said,
as soon as he caught sight of Louisa. is
You promised you would sing next, Lou.
| What songs have you got?''
| Il was just making a selection when
you came, father What would you like
| me to sing?
With an unexpressed sigh of relief the
| last two of the original group of gossips
/ dwindled away into the reception room
beyond, congratulating themselves OH
having successfully engineered their exit.
| DOoced awkward, don't you know,
| Miss Harris asking questions"
! Il suppose she doesn't realize
she will soon enough
She ought to have broken off her en-
gagement long ago."
| isn't it awful? Poor thing"
Louisa, left alone with her father could
allow her nerves to ease their fearful
| tension. She had no need to hide from
| him the painful culver of her lips or the
anxious frOwn across her brow
DO you know she asked. anything
aboAt this awful business, father?''
There's lot of gossip he replied
| his voice was not only gruff, but hoarse
| which showed that he was strangely
moved.
But" she insisted, ''some truth in the
gossip
They say Philip dc Mountford has been
murdered.
Who says so?''
Some people have come on from the
theaters and men from the clubs. The
streets are full of it-and evening papers
, have brought out midnight editions, which
| are selling like hot cakes"
And do they say that Luke has killed
| Philip dc Mountford
| No" with some hesitation. they don't
say that,
'But they hint at it,
Newspaper tittle-tattle."
How much is actual fact?"
Il understand he explained. that at
|
| evening dress hailed passing taxicab
| just outside the Lyric Theater. in Shaftes-
! bury avenue and told the chauffeur to
drive to Hyde Park corner, just by the
| ratings of the Green Park. The driver
drew up there and one of the two men
got out. AS he reclosed the door of the
cab he leaned toward the interior and
said, cheerfully, ''S'long, old man. See
you tomorrow" Then he told the cliauf-
feur to drive on to 1 Cromwell road, OPP
posite the museum, and. turning on his
heel, disappeared in the fog: When the
chauffeur drew up for the second time no
one alighted from the cab. So he got
down from his box and opened the door"
The other man." murmured Louisa,
vaguely, was in the cab-deadi'
That's about it,
with his throat pierced from ear to
ear by sharp instrument, which might
have been a skewer."
You have heard it all, them
mo, nor she said, hurriedly.
Ihe room was sWaying round her-the
furniture started hopping and dancing.
life. felt as if the floor was giving way
under her feet. Memory was unloading
one OF her StorehouSeS, looking over the
contents of a hidden CELL wherein she
had put away strange winter scene i'm
Brussels taxicab, the ill-lighted boule-
ward, the chauffeur getting down from
his box and finding man crouched In
the farther corner of the cab-dead-with|
his throat pierced from ear to ear by an
instrument which might have been a
skewer. And memory was raking out
| that CELL clearing it in every corner try
| ing to find the recollection Of certain
morning in Battersea Park year ago,
when Louisa recounted her impressions
| of that weird scene and told the tale of
this crime which she had almost wit
| messed. Memory found a distinct i'm
preston that she had told the tale at
full length and with all the details which
g o he bpr Iixfp n
over, and, that when she did SO, the
ground In Battersea Park was crisp with
the frost under her feet, and an inquis-
tive robin perched himself on the rail-
ings, and then flew away, accompanying
her and another all the way along as far
as the gates.
Two pictures, vivid and distinct-that
evening in Brussels and the morning in
Battersea Park, her first meeting with
Luke after his letter to her-the letter
which had come to her in the Palace
Hotel, and which had made her the hap
piest woman in all the world. Memory
satisfied-had at last emptied the store
house of that one cell and left Louisa
Harris standing here, staring at her
father, her ears buzZing with the idle and
irresponsible chatter OF society jackdaws,
her mind seeing all that had happened
outside l Cromwell road-the cab stop
ping, the chauffeur terrified, the crowd
collecting, the police taking notes. Her
mind saw it as If her bodily eyes had
been there. and all that her father told
her seemed but the recapitulation OF what
she knew already.
Where she said after awhile, "is
| the dead man now?''
Il don't know he replied. II should
| imagine they would keep the body at the
police station until the morning. don't
! suppose they'd be such mugs as to dis
turb Lord Radcliffe at this time of night;
| the shock might kill the old man.
II suppose they are quite sure that it is
F, Philip de Mountford who was killed?'
why, yes; he had his pocketbook, his
cards, his letters on him, and money, too
robbery was not the object of the
| crime"
1T was Philip de Mountford them
Good God, yes OF whom were You
| thinking"
Il was thinking of Luke" she replied,
simply.
| (To be continued tomorrow