The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1914-11-18
Copyright, 1914, by Harold MacGrath)

They were chatting pleasantly ABOUT
inconsequent things, when the maid
came in and asked Florence to- come
to Miss Susan's room for r. moment.
Florence excused herself, wondering
what Susan could want. She forgot
the mail.
AS soon as she was gone the count
ess, certain that Jones was not Turk
ing about, picked up the letters and
calmly examined their contents; n
among them she found this remark
able document: Dear daughter l
have never seen: I must turn the
treasure over to you. Meet me at
eight in the summer house. Tell no
one as my life Is in danger. Your loy-
ing father"
The countess could have laughed
aloud. She saw this nan Paror
hand; and here was the chance to be-
fool and humiliate him and send him
off packing to his cold amt miserable
country. She had made up once as
Florence, and she could easily do so
again. The only thing that troubled
her was the fact that she did not know
whether Florence had read the letter
or not. Thus, she did not dare destroy
it. She first thought of changing
the clock; then she concluded to drop
the letter exactly where she found it
and trust to luck.
When Florence returned she ex-
planned that her absence had been due
to some trifing household affair.
Said the Russian: Il come primar-
lily to ask you to tea tomorrow, where
they dance. If you like, you may ask
Mr.. Norton to go along. l begin to
observe that you two are rather fond
of one another"
20, Mr.. Norton is just a valuable
friend" returned Florence with a
smile that quite deceived the other
woman. II shall be glad to go to the
tea. But I shall not promise to dance"
Not with Mr.. Norton?" archly.
Reporters never dance themselves;
they make others dance instead"
81 shall have to tell that" declared
the countess; and she laughed quite
honestly.
Then 1 have said something wit
ty?"
Indeed you have; and it Is not only
witty but truthful. I'm afraid you're
deeper than the rest Of us have any
idea Of"
Perhaps I am" thought Florence;
lat least, deeper than you believe"
When the countess fluttered down
to her limousine-F1orence hated the
sight Of it-and drove away, Florence
remembered her letters. And when
she came to the one purporting to be
from her father, she read it carefully,
bent her head in thought, and finally
destroyed the missive, absolutely con-
fident that it was only a trap, and not
very well conceived at that. Norton
had given her plenty. of reason for
believing all such letters to be forger-
les. Her father, If he really wished to
see her, would enter the house; he
would not write. All, when would
she see that father of hers. so myster-
ious, always lowering near, always
unseen?
1t must have been an amusing ad-
venture for the countess. To steal
into the summer house and wait there,
not knowing if Florence had advised
Jones or the reporter. If caught, she
had her excuses Paroff, the conf
dent, however, appeared shortly after.
MY child" whispered the man.
And Olga stifed a laugh; but to
him it sounded like a sob.
II am worn out" he said. 81 am
tired of the game CT hide and seek"
You will not have to play the game
long," thought Olga.
The money is hidden in my Office
down town. And We must go there at
once. When we return we will pack
up and leave for Europe. I've longed
to see you SOL"
You poor fool! And they sent you
to supersede Leo!" she unused.
She played out the farce to the very
end. She permitted herself to be
pinioned and logged; and for what
unnecessary roughness she suffered
at the hands of Paroff he would pres
emily pay. He took her straight to
the executive chamber of the Black
Hundred and pushed her into the
room, exclaiming triumphantly:
Here is H~argreave's daughter!"
Indeed" said Olga, throwing back
her veil and standing revealed in her
mask.
"Olga!" cried Braine, laughing.
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