Cut Bank pioneer press. [volume] (Cut Bank, Mont.) 1909-current, 1914-09-18
CHAPTER IV-contlnued.

CHAPTER IV-Continued.
There's the dusky princess peek
Ing out again. The truth is, Abby, If
/ could hide myself for three or four
years. long enough for people to for
get me. / might reconsider. But it
should be under another name. They
envy us millionaires. Why, we are
the lonesomest buffers going. We dis
trust every one; we fly when a won
an approaches; we become mono
maniacs; n thing obsesses us, every
body is after u money. We want
friends, we want wives, but we want
them to be attracted to us and not to
our money-bags. Oh, pshaw! What
plans have you made in regard to the
SEARCH"
Gloom settled upon the artists face.
Tive got to find out what's happened
70 her, Ted. This isn't any play. Why,
she loves the part of Marguerite as
she loves nothing else. She's been
kidnapped, and only God knows for
what reason. 1t has knocked me silly.
i just came up from Como, where she
spends the summers now. l was going
to take her and Fourier out to din.
ner."
who's Fournier?"
"Mademoiselle Fournier, the COM
poser. She goes with Nora on the
yearly concert tours"
Pretty"
Charming"
Il. see," thoughtfully. What part
Of the lake; the Villa d'Este, Cadenab-
bia?"
"Rellaggio. oh, it was ripping last
summer, She's always singing when
she's happy. When she sings out on
the terrace, suddenly, without giving
anyone warning, her voice is wonder
full. No audience ever heard anything
like it."
Il heard her Friday night. l dropped
In at the opera without knowing what
they were singing. l admit all you
say in regard to her voice and looks;
but stick to the whim."
But you can't fake that chap with
the blond mustache," retorted Abbott
grimly. Lord, / wish l had run into
you any day but today. Pm all in. I
telephone to the Opera from the
studio, and then we shall know for a
certainty whether or not she will re-
turn for the performance tonight. II
not. then I'm going in for a little de-
tective work"
ABBY, it will turn out Il be the
sheep of Little Bo-Peep."
"Hau0 un1Ir nuyn oha,,% IL -
When they arrived at the studio Alb
bolt telephoned promptly. Nothing
had been heard. They were substi-
tuting another singer.
Call up the Herald" suggested
Courtlandt.
Abbott did so. And he had to an
swer innumerable questions, questions
which worked him into a fine rage;
who was he, where did he live, what
did he know, how long had he been in
Paris, and could he prove that he had
arrived that morning? Abbott wanted
: hing the receiver into the mouth Of
the transmitter, but his patience was
presently rewarded. The singer had
not yet been found, but the chauffeur
OF the mysterious car had turned up
in a hospital, and perhaps by
night they would know everything.
The chauffeur had had q bad accident:
the car itself vas a total wreck. In a
ditch, not far from Versailles.
"There!" cried Abbott, slamming
the receiver on the hook. What do
you say to thatf"
"The chauffeur may have left her
somewhere, got drunk afterward, and
plunged into the ditch, Things have
happened like that. Abby, don't make
q cameIs hair shirt out Of your paint
brushes. What a pother about q sing
eri II IL had been a great inventor. :
poet, an artist, there would have beer
nothing more than q two-line para
graph. But an opera singer, one whs
entertains us during our idle eve
nings-hai that's a different matter
Set instantly that great municipal ma
chinery called the police in action
sell extra editions IN the streets
what adol"
what the devil makes you SO BIZ
teri"
was l bitter? thought l wa
phiIosophizing." Courtlandt consuite,
his watch. Half after four. Com
over to the Maurice and dine with m